#what can you do other than just sit in silence and listen to his erratic heartbeat or change the subject

[dirt-str1der]

I have to go to bed not because its four thirty in the morning but because ryoma started crying and i wasnt equipped to handle hearing him do that shaky little breath uk the sound a guy makes when hes trying to breathe but his chest spasms with a mounting sob right before the fucking waterworks like god im here brother ill be here as long as you dont want to be alone

[mentally-gone002]

i’m right here…

summary: spencer is really upset about a decision you made in the field.

warnings: angstyyy!!

a/n: here i am with another spencer x reader💃 also i was actually on the cusp of death(sleep) while proofing this one so… if there’s anything i missed that’s mb lmaooo (yo girls tired af) also!!! this isn’t supposed to be within any specific season or anything it’s kinda just out there!!

———————————————————————

the door of spencer’s apartment was slammed behind you. he sounded angry the from way he did it, rightfully so, but you’ve never seen him this angry. you didn’t get the chance to fully react before he was grabbing your wrist to pull you away to his bathroom. he gestured for you to sit on the vanity counter. 

you stayed quiet. spencer’s face was contorted with pinched brows, clenched teeth and narrowed eyes as he seethed silently, reaching to carefully peel a piece of lightly blood soaked bandage from your forehead. he tossed it into the garbage can and started to clean the blood from your head. 

you’d gotten injured in the field hours earlier. you’d gone after the unsub the team was after because you thought you could detain her. of course, that plan of yours failed, ending with your forehead falling victim to the back of the gun the woman had. luckily morgan was there to detain her before she took a shot at you on the ground. 

spencer had been silent towards you ever since he heard of how you disobeyed direct orders from hotch. 

it was strange to not hear him talk for this long. it was going on five hours. five hours too long in your opinion. 

as he finished replacing your bandage you spoke up. “i’m sorry.” was all you said. it would probably be useless because all the other attempts to make him talk to you were just filled with more silence and maybe a disappointed look. he sighed heavily though as he looked away. 

“i don’t understand why you couldn’t just listen to hotch.” his brown eyes bore into yours when he said that. 

you shrugged. “i though i could catch her.” 

spencer got visibly more upset than he was before in a second. “you though you could catch her?” he asked. “she pointed a gun at your head.” his voice grew slightly louder.

you swallowed thickly and hunched down at the volume. “i didn’t get killed.” you muttered. 

he scoffed, stepping away from where you sat on the vanity in amusement. his jaw was clenched hard. “that isn’t the point here. you disobeyed an order and put yourself in danger.”

your head snapped toward him. “you think i don’t know that? this job, it makes us all put ourselves in danger!” your voice rose slightly. 

spencer clenched his fists at his side and breathed. “so that just gives you the right to rush into danger the second you want?” he wondered. 

you slid off the vanity to stand against it instead. “if that means that we get the bad guys, then yes!” 

his anger spiked, eyes widening and chest puffing out due to a heavy intake of air. “but you can’t just go off on your own whenever you want! especially when our unsub was as erratic as she was!” he explained with his hands waving in the air as a way of adding some emphases. 

“i wasn’t on my own, reid! morgan was right there!” you reminded him, stepping close as he stepped back, almost bumping the wall behind him. spencer seemed to be getting more agitated by the minute, especially when you called him by his last name.

“oh, okay! so since morgan was there i guess this is okay?” he asked. 

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “no. but he didn’t listen to hotch either, so don’t put this all on me!” 

“morgan isn’t here right now, so we aren’t talking about what he did,” spencer told you, “we’re talking about what you did!” he snapped, index finger pointed at your chest. 

you sighed heavily with a pang of guilt that intensified. it had been there since the case had ended. “why are you making this such a big deal? i already know that i was stupid to do what i did, i apologized to hotch, i apologized to you more than once, and i know that i risked my life. drop it.” you walked out of the bathroom into spencer’s dark apartment. 

he followed on your heels, not finished with the conversation yet. “drop it?” he repeated with sarcasm. you didn’t know he knew how to use sarcasm but there it was. “i’m not going to drop this!” 

“well you should!” you spun on your heels with your voice louder than you meant it to go. 

spencer stopped in his tracks with evident perplexity. “why? are you telling me to not be worried about you?” he asked. 

you nodded. “that’s exactly what i’m telling you, spencer! i’m safe and standing in front of you right now!” you stepped closer to him, craning your neck to look up at him. “i really expected you to act differently after this case. i thought you’d come up to me and help me or maybe hug me and say something along the lines of ‘im glad you’re alright’ but i guess not because all i got was the silent treatment.” you kept staring at his eyes. 

he looked stunned and not angry for the first time this evening. “of course i’m glad you’re alright!” she snapped. “i’m glad you’re standing here right now, but it’s only because of dumb luck!” 

you rolled your eyes. how was the this dense  and also a genius at the same time? “no, it’s because i’m trained for this job and back there… that was me using my training. so i’m sorry i was doing exactly what i’m employed to do!” you shouted. 

spencer shouted back, “so to you, doing your job means that you get to not follow orders?” he asked with heavy breaths. “do you realize how risky that is?” 

“yes, i do.” you nodded, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. “but im safe, and the monsters are in jail. that’s all that matters.” 

“what about me?” he asked. 

you crossed your arms. “what about you?” you wondered. 

“you really don’t know what it’s like to see someone you really care about after they’ve almost died.” spencer stepped closer and his voice got quiet. 

you frowned and tilted your head to the side to keep your eyes on his. he looked away at the floor. “i don’t doubt it was scary, but i’m here, spencer.” you smiled softly at him. “i’m right here.” 

he let his eyes meet yours again. the inside of his cheek was held between his teeth as he contemplated what to do next. he knew he was being too hard on you but he just didn’t want to loose you. instead of opening his mouth to say something else he stepped forward and wound his arms around you, holding you against him in a tight embrace. his face hid away in the crook of your neck. your arms didn’t go around his back in a returning embrace immediately, still on alert for the fight to continue. but it didn’t. he breathed shakily before whispering, “don’t ever do that again.” his voice was low and slightly muffled by your shoulder. 

“okay… okay, i won’t.” you rubbed your hands over the expanse of his back in a comforting motion. 

you stood there in each others arms for a few minutes, just relishing in the feeling of being held. it was also a silent apology from both of you, a reassuring apology. 

“you promise?” he asked. 

you nodded, closing your eyes. “i promise.” you muttered. “just don’t yell at me again.” you told him while pulling away just enough to see him. your hands rested on his waist. 

spencer nodded as he took your hands into his own, letting them hang between you both. his eyes were on the floor. “i’m sorry… i was just… still on edge from the case. i can’t stand the thought of loosing you.” he whispered. 

you craned your neck in a direction so that you’d find spencer’s eyes. “you won’t loose me.” you assured him, squeezing his hands. “and i won’t do that again okay? it hurt enough as it is.” you gestured to your head a little. 

he nodded as relief washed over his worried mind. he squeezed your hands a little before dropping them and wrapping his arms around your frame again. he breathed you in a few times, just to really be sure you were there. safe in his arms. safe in his apartment. 

“it’s late… or early.” you pulled away slowly from him. spencer nodded with a quick brush of your hair behind your ear. 

he glanced at his watch. “yeah. it’s been a long day and you need all the rest you can get.” he told you. 

you nodded. “will sleeping make my gash heal faster?” your hand was in his as you lead him to his bedroom. 

spencer nodded. “actually yes, getting good amounts of sleep can assure your hormones will rebuild that broken tissue because cortisol levels lower while your asleep.” he replied, rambling with information that made you smile. 

“okay, boy genius,” he pulled a face at the same carried on by the whole BAU team, “let’s get to sleep then.” 

he nodded and followed you with getting changed out of your clothes and climbing into his bed with the comforter pulled up to her nose. he grinned at you while he laid in front of you, hand searching to hold yours under the covers. 

you pulled spencer’s hand to your lips. “night, doctor reid.” you murmured, tiredly teasing him.

he smiled at that and closed his eyes. “good night.”

[mondaymelon]

first time in this account lol Idk if you're taking requests but I saw that post some minutes ago and... Idk, wanted to request something lol, if you didn't do it yet! What about headcanons with a reader who doesn't show physical attention until some years of knowing them? Like, they know each other for about 5 years and just then the reader decides to do some small act of physical affection... I wanted the headcanons to be with Childe, Arlecchino, Wanderer and Furina! If you can <3

₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐅 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔… | childe, wanderer, arlecchino, furina x gn!reader

( childe's part might be a little ooc. havent done that part of the archon quest yet cries. also mwah arlecchino we love her in this household !! )

[ You were always someone who wasn’t fond of physical attention. Fleeting touches and kisses to the cheeks were never your forte, yet what should happen if the lover you’ve had for years is suddenly on the receiving end of such affections? ]

"physical affection... ah- it's okay if you can't show that to me, there's plenty of other ways to tell that you love me!"

CHILDE was the one to say those words to you, and the held the most certain truth. You were his lover, and a hug or two couldn't sway the fact! While the harbinger is quite the puppy and often yearns for your warmth, he'll respect your boundaries and allow you whatever. A lover like Childe places your happiness as a priority over his, wanting more to see your eyes sparkle than his own.

"Love, you wouldn't believe what happened in the courthouse today." You glance up from your spot where you're curled up on the couch, snuggled into a fluffy blanket and holding a warm drink in your hands, one of Inazuma's light novels sitting on the armrest. You hear the door to the two of you's home shut and lock, and listen to... Childe's footsteps. How strange, is he stumbling?

Glancing up, you internally gape at the cuts on his body, your eyes instantly drawn at the red splattered across his features. "'Taglia, what hap-"

He lets out a dry chuckle, grinning sheepishly as he rids his shoes at the door. "No worries, the blood isn't mine. Most of it, at least. I managed to get out of there in time, so all's well, yeah?"

As if that'd provide you any comfort. You narrow your eyes, glaring at him unyieldingly, until Childe has no choice but to force out another tasteless chuckle. "Come on now, I'm home, so let's do something fun instead of just being mad at me, 'kay?"

"Tartaglia."

The man flinches, his deep ocean eyes rounding. When you call him that and not his nickname, he knew that he had landed himself in deep shit. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He says that, but the sentence rounds up in a change of his tone, sounding almost suspiciously like a question. "It won't happen aga-"

The world itself seems to stop.

Your head is buried into his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. Archons, can you hear how fast his heart is beating? You've made him into a complete and utter mess. He's blushing, his ears practically on fire, and any thoughts once in his brain have been seared away in single second. It takes him to the count of three to remember how to breathe once more, his chest erratically heaving up and down as his shaking arms wrap around you hesitantly, wondering if it'd be okay to do so.

"...Love?"

"Mhm?"

"I- I thought you-"

"If it's with you, I'm okay."

Oh, how those words tug at his heart. You look so perfect in his arms - yes, you looked simply perfect all the time, he'd admit in a split-second. The messy nest of hair atop your head when you woke up in the early mornings, the dark bags under your eyes when you didn't sleep until late at night, your smile, your laugh, even your scowl. It silenced any effort to not fall in love with you.

A smile tugs at his lips. A bright one, a warm one, if that was even possible. Perhaps his eyes are shining with tears, or perhaps it was merely a trick of light, but he holds you all the closer, not wanting to let you go.

"Love, I... Archons, I don't think I'd be able to love anyone but you." ₊˚ෆ

"..great. i don't want your filthy hands on me anyways, so there shouldn't be a problem, hm?"

WANDERER's words were just that, would it kill him to be a little nicer? It didn't matter... you knew your lover well, or at least well enough to tell that what he said wasn't the complete truth.

Sure, you had seen him shrug off and make expressions of disgust directed towards particularly touchy people that he'd become somewhat acquainted with. And you most certainly had witnessed his frustrated outbursts and rants when he returned home to your shared abode, whining and grumbling about any trivial error someone had made - that is, brushing fingers with him while passing him papers. Something that couldn't exactly be avoided, yet he had glared at the wall for a good amount all the same.

Ah, but then there were moments when he thought you weren't looking, and that was when his eyes would drink you in. Grazing over your eyes, to your lips, then to your hands, where'd they linger on your fingers for perhaps longer than they should.

And you'd catch the times where you were inclined to say something flirtatious - words that were never all that flirtatious in the first place, Wanderer just happened to be unusually susceptible. Chin resting on your hand, eyes staring into his, you'd say something about how pretty he was, and then he'd just about go into neurogenic shock, likely not speaking to you the rest of the day, the tips of his ears, if one squinted to a certain extent, pink.

"Love." You glance up at him, a slight pout fixed on your lips. He'd been immersed in minor tasks, and those pesky things were what stole his attention away from you. An ironic twist of fate, as you were usually the one to be drowning in work, and he'd be the one practically begging for affection.

He hums, yet doesn't even bother to look at you.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No."

"Go get something to eat?"

"No."

"Visit the... House of Daena?"

"No."

"Shall we feed the finches?"

A slight pause. "...No."

"Then... let's hold hands?"

He froze at your words, and it seemed that the male lost the function of inhaling, for he sat there unmoving for what seemed like hours, his expression petrified in its form of his large eyes, raised eyebrows, and mouth slightly ajar.

"...Excuse me?" It seemed that he doubted his own ears, for he set his work aside and fixed his focus upon you, fingers trembling just the slightest.

"Hmph, have you suddenly forgotten how to think?" You frowned, yet your eyes curved into crescents all the same, and Wanderer felt his breath hitch at how ethereal you were. The sly fox you were, you took his moment of shock, settling by his side and intertwining your fingers with his. "Like this, is it not?" You were smiling now, and for the first time you glimpsed the red on his ears, but now on his face too, a rosy red descending upon his cheeks.

"What's..." Perhaps you were right. His vocabulary had suddenly dwindled, and now he had nothing but questions - that, and the growing warmth in his chest. "What do you think you're doing right now?"

Whatever attempt he had to sound "mean" had failed. You knew him too well for that. "Holding hands, what else? Your hands are cold you know-" And at that he flinched. "But it feels nice."

D...Did it really?

"You, no... love, let's stay like this. You're... warm." ₊˚ෆ

"when you sought me, i thought it'd be a serious matter. there's no trouble in it, truly, so there's no need to look so dejected."

ARLECCHINO hadn't even batted an eye. Was there a reason to? Yes, this certainly crossed off any thought of romantic couple things like kissing and hand holding, but it wasn't like she'd gasp dramatically and fall to the ground, blaming you for setting boundaries-

As if she'd ever. Your imagination was running wild today, perhaps it was the lack of sleep finally catching up to you? It was a stark contrast compared to Arlecchino, who went days without rest, shuffling through paper after paper on her desk and constantly relaying messages to her subordinates. She was a hard worker - a trait most easily overlooked, but it was a point of adoration for you. A point among many. Arlecchino was an easy person to love, despite the bristling thorns she'd show at first glance.

"Darling, a cup of tea, please?" Her gaze flicked up from her work to you, a thin smile decorating her lips. It was more a less a habit the two of you established - that is, pouring her tea. Her favorite cup was the one you had gifted her when you first started your relationship, shaded in a dark hue and embellished with roses, their blooms, petals, and thorny branches spreading across the expanse of porcelain. You placed said cup on her desk with a breath of satisfaction, tilting you head in questioning at the unusual amount of papers on her desk.

"Arle, did something happen?"

She merely chuckled to herself, her eyes shining with delight. "Ah, why don't you wager a guess?" You were her "subordinate" of sorts, although your true association was far more intimate. You knew of her plans with Fontaine, and helped carry them out. She revered your loyalty, but your warmth far more.

"...Has the hydro gnosis been secured?"

She snapped her fingers in one swift motion, her small smile widening into a true one that played across her ruby lips. "Correct, I'd expect nothing less of someone as capable as my lover."

"Then, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet..."

"They've done well." It'd be hard to forsake the note of pride in her voice. Setting down the sheets in her gloved hands, she stood from her seat slowly, letting her eyes scan over your body. "You've asked your question, now shall I ask mine? Darling, I did quite well myself, did I not?"

Her expectant gaze read one thing, but instead of the usual quality time spending the two of you'd share, this time, you had rather differing plans. Smiling, you walked up to her, not letting the way her eyes sparkled just the slightest escape your sight. Promptly, sneakily, you flung yourself upon her, beaming as your hands found refuge winding about her torso, nearly instantly trapping her into your death hug. "You did, Arle~!"

"..." At her silence, you glanced up, only to be met with a sight that drew blush upon your own cheeks. Her usually composed, mystery-shroud features were now conflicted with crossing emotions... of what, however, was rather indecipherable. Arlecchino was a person of many masks, yet now it seemed that her "mask" displayed but one thing - love.

"Darling, I... you look perfect in my arms, so shall we stay like this a moment longer?" ₊˚ෆ

"is that so? a trivial matter, is it by law that i must hold you in my arms in order to prove my love for you?"

FURINA's multicolored irises and teardrop pupils twinkled, their shine dancing on the moonlit breeze. A hand daintily held a teacup, its fragrant contents swirling about the porcelain basin. Her laugh accompanied the cool evening wind, and she fluttered her eyes shut in a smile that brightened her expression. "Come now, why so shocked? Wouldn't this be expected from someone as benevolent as I?"

It was a scene that would remain forever painted in your mind, like a beautiful mural that one's eyes could not possibly forsake. The way her mouth tugged upwards and the manner in which her eyes curv-

"Hey, are you even listening to me right now?" A familiar voice tugged you out of your reminiscence of the confrontation months prior. Furina displayed a childish frown on her lips, her partly furrowed eyes sharpening her gaze into a rather particular one.

Oh, lost in thought once more. You let out a soft sigh, nodding sheepishly. "Yes, love, I am.."

"Mhm..." Your words left a no, you clearly aren't!" Furina sat up, her intensifying discontentment apparent on her features. "I said I got you access to front ticket seats to the hottest new court case! You know, the one involving the robbery... the one that's quite literally got the entire Steambird in a chokehold? Yet, you're not excited in the slightest!?" She sounded offended, and she likely was, for her cheeks were flushed the slightest in rash frustration and her narrowed eyes creased at their corners. "Appreciate my efforts, why don't you?"

"Appreciate" indeed.

Ah, but was a sudden, tight embrace overshooting it? For she tensed in your arms, her frame absolutely suspended in your hold, her slack jaw giving the slightest tremor. "Mon amour, just w-what are you-?"

"Come now, Furina, am I not permitted to hug my own lover now?" The jesting in your voice faded as the sarcastic grin on your face formed a smaller, more genuine one. "I'm... ah, I'm okay, if it's with you. I'll be okay."

She paused at your words, contemplation of them flashing in her gaze, and let out a gratified exhale. "Then..." she nearly melted in your embrace, leaning her head into your arms compliantly.

"Don't you dare think I've forgotten about your previous transgression, but... ah, it can be forgiven, can't it, mon amour?" ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) hc hc hc hc furina calls youfrench petnames because french oui oui baguette.. AHEM my sincerest apologies to any french or french speakers...

REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! please consider following me as i amm soosososoo close to a follower goal ive been wanting to reach and itd be crazy if i could reach it before christmas!!!

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

[luminiamore]

CORPORATE ESPIONAGE.

synopsis: in a world where vampires run powerful corporations, satoru gojo is a high-ranking ceo and a highly respected vampire. you, working for his rival corporation, are sent to infiltrate satoru's company and steal valuable secrets. it didn’t take long for him for to catch you, and he’s not gonna let you go so easily.

warnings: vampire satoru x black reader, enemies to lovers kinda? vampires use compulsion, wall sex, office sex, eater toru

——-

“You want me to what?”

You manage to break the demeaning silence in your boss’s dimly lit office with your sharp voice. Your breath was erratic, almost enraged by the words that had just come out of his mouth. The fucking audacity to even ask this of you.

He groans, shaking his head as he buries his hands in them, “Spy on Kisetsu no Bi.”

Oh. So, you weren’t hearing things. He really expects you to do this- spy on the rival company. Isn’t that a crime somewhere? This is illegal, right? I mean, what kind of boss even asks this of their highest-paid employee? No. No way.

“If this wasn’t important, I wouldn’t have asked- especially because I know how much effort you put in-”

You scoff, “So, this is the thanks I get? A crazy request to do something illegal? I’m not a fucking-”

“This isn’t a request, ( ♥︎ ). It’s either you do it, or you’re out of a job; that’s final.” His voice gets lower in pitch, and you don’t even flinch when he slams his hands on the table, baring his fangs at you in a chilling hiss.

You stay in your spot by the door and allow the silence to simmer. He should know better than to raise his voice at you, even if he were your boss. His heavy breathing was all that could be heard. When he saw the furious expression on your face, he quickly sat back in his chair. Realizing this was not the right approach, he attempted to find another angle.

He clears his throat, “My bad, that was rude. I deeply respect you ( ♥︎ ), and you’re among the few people I trust. That’s why I’m asking for your help with this, for this company.”

You still don’t say a word, but at least a thousand thoughts are circling in your pretty head. Even so, you move slowly towards the chair in front of his table and sit down, crossing one of your brown legs over the other. You adjust your white blouse, covering the accidental peak of your black bra. A slight shift of your head lets him know that you are listening.

He grumbles, eyes trying to stay focused on your face and not your plump body, “You know our rival company is owned by a man named Satoru Gojo. We have always been second to that arrogant bastard, but if we—”

“By which you mean me.”

You watch Toji roll his eyes, “If you could find something, anything that could ruin him, it’ll finally put us on top.”

It sounds reasonable- to a large extent, but could you even get away with this? What if you get caught? What if the media covers this? Could it ruin you?. It’ll plummet this company to the ground. Though Toji may be second right now, he’s still highly respected, even overseas. Almost on the level Satoru is.

“Why don’t you hire a professional? Someone who actually knows how to do this might work better in your favor.” You mutter out.

At this point, you’ll create any excuse to get out of this.

“Everyone knows who I am, you can’t trust anyone to not spread it to the media- no matter how much you pay them.”

“Won’t he know who I am? I mean, I’ve worked here for like 4 years.”

A tired smile graces his face, “You work from home, sweetheart. You only come in once every month, 3 weeks if I’m lucky.”

“What if I get caught? Respectfully, this is insane, Mr. Fushiguro.” Your face twists into an exasperated expression. You didn’t sign up to be no damn spy.

A loud groan breaks you out of your thoughts, “Christ, I’ll triple your pay. Whether you get the job done or fail, you’ll be compensated for it.” There it is. Suddenly, doing this job didn’t sound too horrible. You try to fight the smile on glossed lips, but your boss can see right through you.

“Yeah? I should’ve started with that.” He chuckles.

This time, you roll your eyes, “Whatever. Quadruple it for raising your grown man voice at me.”

“Sure. You’re obviously going under a different name. I have your documents right here, and they contain everything you’ll need.” You watch him pull out a thick folder from under his desk.

When he hands it to you, you’re more than surprised at how much he put into this. There’s a fat document that explains your entire new persona. …Kami Smith? Really? There’s a fake Id, he even went got you a fucking passport. How long did he plan to drag this out? “Maybe change your hair a little bit, you never know if someone might recognize you anyway.”

“I change my hair every week, Mr. Fushiguro. How am I even gonna get a job there?”

He hums, pretending to ponder over your question, “You’re a pretty girl. Don’t get pissed, but apart from how smart you are, it’s the reason you got a job here.”

You narrow your eyes, and he winces, noticing immediately, “I said not to get pissed.”

“Is that all, boss?” You rise from your seat, ignoring his words. With another roll of your eyes, the yellow folder is clutched tightly in your left hand.

Though you want to pretend you’re thinking this over, you know you have no choice but to go through with this. At least you’ll be getting paid, and you don’t have much of a social life to worry about being on the media anyway. You just really hope you don’t go to court over this.

“That’s all, ( ♥︎ ). Be careful, yeah?” Toji jerks his head over to you, though subtle, genuine concern covering his features. It makes you smile, feel giddy even. Sue you for thinking your boss is hot.

You give him a pretty smile and a nod. Toji listens as your kitten heels clack on his tile floors, his eyes never once leaving your frame in that tight pencil skirt. He hates to see you go, but he loves to watch you leave.

He snaps his head up when your voice calls out once more, “Have a good night, Mr. Fushiguro.”

And with the soft click of his door, he’s alone in his office again. He huffs out a breath, spewing curses under his breath, when he accidentally nicks his lower lip on his sharp fang. “Damn.”

——

It turns out your boss was right. You are a pretty girl. Therefore, it didn’t take long for you to get an interview at his rival company, 2 days to be exact. You were rather impressionable, too, so much so that Satoru wanted to interview you himself.

Nervous was an understatement. Could you really pull this off? You never had a liking for Satoru. He was arrogant, self-centered, and a womanizer if the headlines weren’t so obsessed with him. You never met him, but you’ve seen enough online interviews for you to absolutely hate his personality.

His best friend and partner company is more tolerable, though. Even though he looks aloof and nonchalant, you could tell he’s just as arrogant - maybe even more than his white-haired companion. You pretended not to notice his piercing gaze the entire time you walked past him to the elevator, the one leading straight to the top of the skyscraper.

Your outfit was nothing short of professional— a tight dark grey skirt encompassing your wide hips and your burgundy Hermes Porosus bag hanging on the shoulder of your cream silk blouse. Your rouge heels clack on the tile floor with each step you take to the large white office, which the receptionist told you was at the end of the hall.

You lift your soft hands into a fist, and right before you’re about to knock, the door swings open. And lo and behold, there he is.

Satoru Gojo, in all his glory.

The top two buttons of his dress shirt are loose, and you have to fight for your eyes not to waver down to sneak a glance at his porcelain chest. He was attractive, you’re not stupid enough to try and deny that. His eyes had a pretty crystalline glow. They were penetrating- you felt like he knew everything about you with just one look. His hair was frosty, and it looked so... soft.

It was quick, a heated vision of your fingers running through them, tugging and—

“Enjoying the view, angel?”

You blink quickly, snapping your eyes away from his face when you cause a smirking dancing across his lips. Great, he caught you staring. “No. I’m here for our interview, for the job?”

His grin widens, and with a snicker, you hear, “You sure? Could’ve sworn you were drooling a bit there.”

“I was not.” You snap.

Satoru hums, obviously unconvinced, “You’re Kami, hm?”

Your loose curls shake as you nod. It was impossible not to notice- or overanalyze- the way he spoke. Almost like he was doubtful or suspicious of you even. Maybe you’re just overthinking it. There’s no way he already suspects you. Part of you thinks you’re also nodding to convince yourself of your inner turmoil.

He opens the door a little to let you in. An electric surge flows through your body when your arms graze his shoulder because he simply won’t budge until you completely come inside. He leads you to a soft couch with a swift grasp of your hand. As his fingers rub back and forth on your muscles, you can’t help but wonder if he does this to every new potential hire.

The room suddenly feels hot, and you find yourself slightly grateful when he breaks the silence as he’s rounding his own chair, “Where ya from, angel?”

You ignore the tingling in your stomach at the nickname “New York.”

Your answer is immediate. You and your best friend spent an entire day going over the document until you memorized everything. You covered all grounds. You're sure you can answer any question he throws at you about your background.

Another low hum as you watch him click away on his computer, “So, why are you looking for a job in Tokyo?”

“I decided to take my business degree oversees, I needed a new change of scenery.”

If you were pressed on the actual reason for your visit to Japan years ago, you would not be capable of giving an answer. Your memory has a gap between before and after you came. All you really remember is waking up in a Japanese penthouse with at least a million yen in your bank account.

Satoru abruptly stops his typing and leans back in his chair, his attention now and utterly focused on you. “You know, getting an interview here is not easy.”

Internally, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yes, Mr. Gojo. Which is why I’m very grateful for this opportunity.”

The silence following your sentence is so loud you could hear a pin drop. It makes you shift your position on the couch, and Satoru doesn’t grant you the mercy of not noticing. His low eyes actually don’t leave your frame once. They move from your thighs to your lips, to the fat of your supple breasts, and finally to your neck. It goes straight to your core, and you can’t stand it.

You clear your throat, “I can explain my-”

“You’re hired.”

You blink, once. Twice.

“I-uh- what?” A sputter in your words makes him stifle a chuckle at your perplexed state. You’re too cute.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he repeats, “The position you wanted? It’s yours, angel.”

There’s that pet name again. “Just like that? You haven’t even asked me five questions.”

Was it that simple? His tone and quickness make you question whether there are cameras in this place. Too many red flags go off in your head, but you don’t seem to notice that brewing gut feeling in your stomach.

Satoru nodded, his smile almost blinding with how wide it was, “Don’t need to. You’re gonna be working in the office next to mine.”

This is convenient. It’s way too convenient.

“Next to yours?” You whisper as if trying to make sense of this, and the tall man in front of you finds heavy amusement in your reactions.

“Next to mine, angel. That won’t be a problem, yes?”

He’s toying with you. He has to be. A fake smile graces your face, “Of course not. When do I start, Mr. Gojo?”

Satoru had no idea how much he had missed you until he saw you again. Changing your hair, growing into your body, or getting a few more piercings were irrelevant to him. He would always recognize you. How is it that you’re even more beautiful? Even more delectable. He hates himself for leaving you and protecting you in the worst way possible. You don’t even remember him— how could you? He compelled you to forget him.

He doesn’t know where you’ve been, who you’ve been seeing, or what you’ve been doing. But he saw you, overseeing the admissions director when they pulled up your application. He couldn’t help but think, is this fate?

“Today. Let me give you a tour, angel.” Satoru isn’t letting you go a second time. He lost you once, and he’d be a fool to do it again after this opportunity presented itself to him. How I missed you, my love.

——

Two weeks. That’s how long it took you to actually start your task in the first place. That’s because the owner of this company won’t leave you alone for a damn minute. Everywhere you go, he’s right behind you. Every time you try and get a minute to yourself, he’s there— pestering you.

The workplace was crowded, but one of the perks of being next to Satoru’s office was being away from the crowd. You tried observing when he leaves for lunch, but whenever he does, he demands that you take your lunch with him. He’s a busy man; you anticipate that he takes as many meetings as Toji does in a day, maybe even more. But for each one, you were requested to accompany him.

At this point, you’re starting to think he’s obsessed with you.

Today, you have a chance. Satoru hasn’t been in the office since this morning, and amid the daily gossip, you caught word that he won’t be in the office all day. This is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for; you just have to wait until everyone leaves by five.

4:55 P.M.

Your door creaks slightly after two soft knocks, “Hey, Kami! I’m leaving for tonight. Since you’re the only person in the office, you mind locking up?”

Shoko was always a kind person. She was one of the few people you spoke to every day when Satoru wasn’t corning you. You stop typing and glance at the gorgeous girl with a grin, “Not at all, you can just leave the keys on the door. Night, Shoko!”

The final ding of the elevator is what you wait for to get up from your seat. Even though you’re the only person here, you still try to make your movements as quiet as possible. You don’t question why Satoru doesn’t have a security code or why it’s open at all, but you are thankful for it.

His office is more.. organized than the last time you were in here. There are storage cabinets stacked on both the wall and his desk, as well as a bookshelf. You’re fast at getting to work. Starting near his wall, you open the first cabinet and shuffle through each folder. Blood supply contracts... NDAs.. employee files.. property deeds.

Nothing of importance is there, so your heels lightly clack on the way to his wooden desk. When you open it, the first thing you notice is a folder called The Red Files. Here it is, exactly what you were searching for. This file is stuffed with everything that could put him out of business permanently— money laundering, the files of all the individuals who were bribed and corrupted by this company, and even embezzlement.

You can hear a buzzing going off on your phone, and you’re confused when you read that it’s Toji calling you. He could have been phoning to check on your progress, but regardless, you decline and continue reading. The more you scan, the more you find illegal activities on top of illegal activities.

What the fuck kind of company is this—

“Find anything interesting in there, angel?”

You gasp, shoving the papers into his desk shelf instinctively as you stand up from your position on the floor. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’re so fucked.

You try to stammer out a response, but it’s honestly embarrassing how you’re tripping over your words, “M-Mr. Gojo? I— what?”

His slim body rests on his open door, his gaze unwavering at your slightly quivering frame. He’s wearing a white dress shirt again, but when you look a little closer, you notice that more buttons are popped open. His skin is so smooth, it’s easy to tell where his abs start. Why did he have to be so fine?

He doesn’t seem upset if you’re going by the smile on his smooth face. He seems amused, rather. His voice is slow when he speaks to you, taunting sensual even, “Well? Did you, ( ♥︎ )?”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you’re certain that your breath has been taken away. Well, now you’re double fucked. You didn’t hear him, how did he even get here? Then you roll your eyes again at your ignorance. Vampire. Right.

“..I don’t know who that is, Mr. Gojo. My name is Kami.” Your voice is tense, awkward because… what could you even say? You’ll deny this as much as you can before you inevitably give in.

Satoru rolls his eyes, “Wrong. Your name is ( ♥︎ ) ( ♥︎ ), and you work for that idiot, Fushiguro.”

Now you’re sputtering as you respond, “That’s not-”

“You woke up in Japan a few years ago, too, didn’t you? No clue how it happened, but you had a pretty hefty amount in that bank account of yours.”

Silence. You believe you’re too stunned to speak. How does he know that? He could see the expression on your face, and it made him laugh at your expense. Satoru began walking towards you, and with every step he took forward, you took a step backward. Right up until your back hit the wall, and you had nowhere to go.

His proximity resulted in the scent of his cologne hitting your nose. He appeared more.. bigger in front of you, and you’re almost facing his almost bare chest. Those piercing eyes stare down at you intensely, with so much passion. You’re internally cursing yourself for how you seem to only have these reactions when he’s near you.

You breathe, “I- I have to leave.”

He ignores you and instead presses closer to you. As he leans down, his hair brushes against your cheek, and you hear him breathe deeply. The hotness of his breath when he breathes out is a pleasant sensation for you.

He has to remind himself that you don’t remember him, but he sounds so broken when he says, “You spying on me? Really, angel?”

Your thoughts are confusing, and with how many of them there are, it’s making your head hurt. Why is he saying it like that? Like he knows you? Like you really hurt him. This is your first time seeing this man, but he’s acting like he’s in love with you.

“Mr. Gojo-”

His fang grazes your neck, descending right down to your collarbone, “Satoru. Call me Satoru, angel.”

You’re gasping when his fingers grip your top, pulling and popping one button off. Why aren’t you stopping him? Why are you letting this happen? Your breath is shaky when you speak, “Will I get in trouble for this?”

“In trouble? You’re asking if I’ll take this to the media? Course not, Angel.”

Satoru quickly savored your blood flowing onto his tongue after a small peck to your throat and another one on your chest. You taste so fucking sweet, just like you did the first time.

He continues, “But I won’t let you off so easy. Let’s teach you a lesson, hm?”

Your back is arching in an uncomfortable position on your boss’s desk while your chest heaves from the sheer pleasure running through your entire body. On his knees, the white-haired man holds your thighs in a tight grip while his tongue slides up and down your gushing mound. You’re not sure what lesson you thought Satoru had in mind for you, but it definitely wasn’t this.

The same hair you’ve been fantasizing about running your fingers through is shaking from in between your trembling legs. There aren’t any coherent thoughts in your brain besides ‘Satoru’ or ‘more.’ You can’t hold back your sounds even if you try, and Satoru finds that he wants to hear more of your tunes.

He slurps, his long tongue easily slipping inside you and devouring everything you have to offer. “God, you still taste so good.”

You’re babbling when you respond, you don’t even register his words, “Oh! Yesss- Right there, Toru.”

You’re bucking your hips into his awaiting mouth, it’s so messy and wet. Each time you spasm and try to run away from his onslaught, it just makes him go harder- go faster. His tongue slipped out of you, but the pressure never went away because he quickly slid in two long, slender fingers and began pumping.

You choked, tears brimming in your eyes as he easily nudged your g-spot, “Always so messy, f’me.”

Always? A pitiful sob is the response you give to a sharp pressure on the side of your inner thigh, just where your fat lips meet. You tighten your grip on him when his tongue wraps around your twitching clit. As you’re huffing, tears begin to fall, and burning pressure builds in your core.

The way your hips are grinding against his hand and your arousal is making obscene noises in the quiet of the office are uncontrollable. He curls them, arching them at an angle to penetrate the deepest parts of you. And damn him for knowing how to eat it like this.

There’s a pulsing shock flowing through you with every squelching pump. Your body was filled with euphoria, and Satoru’s eyes were tightly closed, immersing himself in your essence- it was giving you sensory overload. The only thing keeping you grounded in reality at this moment is your harsh grip on his hair.

Satoru needed only three more strokes of his fingers to have your sweet cream covering him. You’re even messier when you cum, even louder, too- he always loved that about you.

“Such a pretty girl. You want more, angel? Want Toru to give you more?” He abruptly withdraws and slaps your dripping lips violently, causing you to scream and cry in his grasp. Instead of giving you an answer, Satoru presses his lips on yours in a furious manner, sucking up the air you breathe and eating every sigh that passes through your lips.

Your soft ass makes it easy for the desperate man to lift you up from the wooden desk with both hands. Your skirt is long gone, and your blouse is completely torn apart when you are pressed tightly against the wall.

Satoru grips your chin and puts your attention on him, “Look at me, angel.”

And with hazy eyes, you do. You experience a plethora of memories as your mind spins. Memories of you and Satoru on a silk bed, on a private plane. Memories of him lying on you and memories of his cock filling you up over and over again start coming back to haunt you when he utters the word ‘Remember.’

You blink rapidly, your mouth opening into a wanton moan when you feel Satoru’s thick tip slide past your entrance. Jesus, huge doesn’t even begin to describe him. Your hands are immediately pressing against his stomach, trying to push him back because it was entirely too much. He grips them both with one hand and effortlessly presses them above your head.

You’re almost distracted by the fact that you’re face-to-face with Satoru. Your Satoru. Your words are a mix of a dragged-out moan and a curious tone, “Toru?”

He is quick when he answers you, almost reassuring you that he’s here. With you, “Yeah, angel. S’me.”

His next words come out in a pained groan, “Come on, take some more f’me. You remember how to, right?”

You’re nodding before he can even finish his sentence, your trembling arms holding on for dear life around his neck as he presses his face into your chest. He’s pushing deeper inside you, and you find it hard to remember how to breathe when he slaps his hips against yours in one go. You’re wailing, breath heaving when you feel your arousal dripping down your thighs.

You’re so full, filled to the brim with 8 inches of fat dick. Satoru was a fucking problem; he doesn’t wait for you to tell him to move— pulls his cock at a slow, agonizing pace before he slaps against you once more. Your pretty pussy is on fire, and you swear you can feel him in your throat.

Satoru is stabbing your womb with each thrust, and he is so proud of you when you start pushing your pussy out. Yeah, you remember how to take him.

He’s panting against your mouth when you tremble out, “Missed you- missed you s’much, Toru.”

He groans, pressing his lips against you for another quick, sloppy kiss, “Oh, I missed you so much more, angel.”

The man above you was quick and precise with his movements. He was punching that spongy spot in you so good if you looked down, you’d be sure to see the creamy paste that started forming at the base of his cock. He just wouldn’t stop talking, “You take it so well, fuck. I’m in your stomach, baby. You feel me?”

His unoccupied hand moves down to your tummy, right where he was poking with every harsh thrust he fed you, “Feel me right there?”

Your eyes roll in the back of your head when Satoru kisses the ankle dangling by his head, and you try to gargle out an answer, “I-I feel you! So deep- so good.”

There was an itch inside you that only Satoru could ever scratch. He always treated your pussy so well, and you’re so far gone on the feel of him every time he slammed into you. Your boobs bounce with every forceful stroke, and when Satoru looks down at you, the only thoughts running through his brain are how good you look.

He can tell you’re close. Your screams are getting breathy, and your body is shaking more frantically under him. There’s no better feeling than this, he finds. No better feeling than your perfect cunt wrapped tightly around him as he fucks all coherence out of you. You didn’t look away from his eyes, from his face— he just looked so pretty when he was flushed and rutting into you like his life depended on it.

He breathes, his fangs poking right near your throat, “Looks like you’re gonna make a mess, angel. Gonna squirt all over me?”

“Y-Yess. Yes. M’gonna cum so-”

A groan in your ear makes you clench down harder on him, “Tell me you love it. Tell me you love how good I make you feel.”

You feel unapologetic when you desperately scream out, “Love it! L-Love the way you fuck me, I love you!”

“I love you, angel. Be a good girl and make a mess for Toru, yeah?”

You are being fucked out of your own soul as he goes even deeper than you imagined. When he bites harshly into your neck, your legs shake, and you can only gush all over him. He holds you like you weigh nothing as he holds the same pace, letting you ride out your entire orgasm.

Fuck, there's so much that it’s leaking on the floor, and that’s what does it for him. That’s all he needed for his balls to churn and for his breath to stutter as he dumps his thick cum inside your perfect haven. Your mind is so gone you don’t hear Satoru’s mindless whispers of how perfect you are.

You watch him as much as you can, as much as your orgasm allows you. You watch his perfect reaction, his brows furrowing, and the words getting stuck in his throat every time he twitches inside you from overstimulation.

Had it not been for the way he carried you and sat down in his chair, you would have assumed it was finished, but he ignored the juices leaking from you every time he moved. He’s still hard, painfully so— you didn’t have time to be worn out before he started slowly bouncing you on his erection again. Everything was messy, your fluids mixing and dripping beneath you two, and the blood from your neck dripping slightly onto your chest. You cried out on his shoulder.

You were aware that there would be a lot to discuss within the next few hours. How Satoru compelled you and forced you to forget him, and how you still legally worked for Toji. You had no idea what you would even say to him, but with each steady bounce on Satoru’s heavy cock, you just don’t find yourself caring at all.

check out my store :D

masterlist

@shokosbunny

@megantheestallion-ismypresident

[niki-phoria]

SAY YOU LOVE ME TIL THE END OF THE WORLD

pairing: hyunsu x gn!reader genre: hurt comfort word count: 719

notes: set in s1, i'm in love with him i can't help it, hyunsu cries, reader cries, hyunsu needs a hug and he gets one !! still haven't finished s2 lol

you’re not exactly sure how you ended up like this. it all feels surreal - being locked inside of your apartment building; monsters coming to life; blood and carnage visible wherever you turn. part of you wishes it’s all a nightmare. that you’ll wake up, safe in hyunsu’s arms in his apartment, listening to the soundtrack of a random drama or your neighbours arguing next door. but it’s not. 

the stairwell is stuffy. you’re almost certain it hasn’t been cleaned in months - if ever. spiderwebs decorate the corners of the walls if you squint hard enough. 

hyunsu doesn’t react to your presence. not when the door closing behind you echoes throughout the dingy space. not when you begin to make your way down the steps. not even when you sit down near the bottom beside him so close that your knees brush against each other. 

with nothing better to do, you begin to study hyunsu’s features. his eye bags have gotten worse. his shoulders sag - likely from a combination of stress and exhaustion. the slight frown on his face has become familiar, a fact that makes your heart ache.

“are you okay?” your voice is little more than a whisper. the words are shaky and uncertain. you don’t know what to say. you don’t know what to do.

hyunsu’s gaze remains unwavering. you resist the urge to push him for answers, instead turning to face the wall alongside him. there are chips in the multiple layers of paint - a of many symptoms of a decrepit building. layers of dust coat the stairwell railing, some older than others. 

“i don’t know.” you’ve been sitting in silence for so long that hyunsu’s voice nearly startles you when he speaks. he takes a shaky breath before he continues, still staring into space. “i’m… scared. what if…” he pauses. tears sting at the corners of his eyes but he blinks them away before they can threaten to fall, though it does little to prevent the way his voice cracks. “what if i become a monster?”

“hyun…” you can’t help yourself. you react without thinking - all but throwing your arms around him as if the tighter you hold him the easier it will be to mend the pieces of his cracked heart back together. 

hyunsu tenses in your arms. his breath hitches in surprise; his eyes widen and his heart beats erratically in his chest. a few agonizing second pass before he reacts. hesitantly. slowly. but he reacts. 

shaky hands wrap around your waist. hyunsu lets his eyes flutter closed as he relaxes into your arms, burying his head into the crook of your neck. thick strands of his dark hair tickle the exposed skin of your neck. you can just barely feel a few stray tears slowly begin to seep into the fabric of your shirt. 

“that won’t happen.” your hands grip his hoodie tightly, almost like he’ll disappear if you let go. pulling away, you reach up to cup hyunsu’s cheek with your hand. “i promise. i won’t let that happen.” 

a beat of silence passes. deep brown eyes stare into your own. leaning in, you press a kiss against his cheek. you can just barely taste the saltiness of his tears. hyunsu closes his eyes, further relaxing against your touch. this time there’s no tension in his shoulders or tremble in his hands when he pulls you closer. 

you kiss him again - this time on the other side of his face. and again. and again. and again. 

his skin feels warm against your own, in contrast to the unrelentingly cold air surrounding you. winters in seoul have always been unforgiving, only made worse by the lack of heating in the lobby of the green home apartment building. 

your touch is gentle when you brush your thumb against his cheek. you don’t hesitate at all when you lean in, pressing your lips against his in a sweet kiss. “i love you,” you murmur. “please don’t ever forget that.”

hyunsu doesn’t respond. at least, not verbally. instead, he intertwines your fingers together, stroking his thumb against your knuckles and tracing the dips and valleys of your palm. it’s soft. so simple you almost don’t realize it’s there - but it is. and you do.

a promise is written against your skin. i love you too.

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my sweet home masterlist <3

[mae-gi-writes]

Finders Keepers | Gally [TMR] - Part 6

In which Gally gets soft for one of the boys in the Glade, only…is it a boy? alternatively; In which Mai disguises herself into a boy to fit in the Glade, only to be suspected by the keen eyes of the Builder's Keeper.

taglist: @edynmeyer1 @ss28 @kurowvie @vaugarkel @marikittt @angelfrombeneth @undeniableadrenaline @persiar9 @ss28

Also available on Wattpad.

--

PREVIOUS | NEXT >>>

"She needs to be banished."

"I say we banish her!"

"She doesn't belong here!"

"She's a liar!"

The Homestead is filled with angry shouts and protests as Mai sits fingering the hem of her shirt nervously. There's no doubt that there is outrage at the prospect of her lying, but it's definitely the fact that she's a girl that's getting her into this big mess. But what could she have done when the voices in her head are so strong that she has no choice but to obey?

Last night had been terrible. She had nightmares, flashbacks of the night before, the look of Henry's face plaguing her mind until she woke up with a heaving chest. So fearful she'd been that she'd crawled from her mattress to the edge of Gally's bed, wishing to feel him close at her side.

Gally, who had still been sleepy when his eyes had blinked open at her, merely grunted before flipping his blanket open for her. The girl took this chance to burrow herself into his side. She hadn't cared about personal space or about the fact that the Builder would make fun of her for this. She'd only wanted to feel safe, and it's with Gally that she could have a peace of mind.

Which is how she found herself cooped up into Gally's arms in the morning, opening her eyes to see none other than his peaceful features. She'd spent some time admiring him alright, tracing them with her eyes and realizing that Gally looked years younger when he didn't have that permanent frown on his face. And when the Builder had slowly come out of sleep, the girl had quickly squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to feign sleep.

She'd felt him take a surprised breath, the arm around her waist tensing underneath her, before he'd gently tugged his limb out and moved away from the bed with the kind of surprising gentleness that she hadn't suspected he had. What he hadn't known however, was the way Mai's heart had been beating erratically against her chest this entire time she'd forced herself to stay still.

If she closes her eyes now, she can almost feel the sensation of his hands along her waist. It makes her shiver.

"Alright everyone calm down!" Alby's voice booms through the room and there's instant silence that prevails, leaving only suspicious eyes and reluctant looks at the Leader of the glade.

"Nobody is getting banished for anything," Alby continues despite the flurry of protests at his words. He raises his voice so that it booms across the room, "Mai is one of ours. She's a Glader just like the rest of you."

"She shuckin' lied to us!" One of the gladers spit out.

"And did that hurt you? No? Exactly," Alby points out, "as far as I know, she hasn't hurt anybody around here."

"I agree with him," Minho says from his spot, arms crossed and looking over at Mai with a wink, "if anything, she's the one that's helping to fees your stomachs, you stupid slintheads."

"But she still lied. Does that not count for anything?" another glader asks.

The choral of debates pick up and Mai can't help but cover her ears out of instinct. They're all too loud, so loud they make her ears hurt and she has half a mind to walk out of the room before Alby finally yells out for silence.

The noise ceases and everyone listens.

"Right," his voice rings out with authority, "this is what we're gonna do. It's true that Mai broke the rules by lying to us, but that does not mean she gets banished. She didn't hurt anyone. She's the one who almost got hurt." he turns to her then, a flash of sympathy swimming in his eyes. But she gives him a quiet nod, as if in understanding, "so one night in the Slammer is your punishment."

Mai will take it. It's not the best, but she'll survive.

So she doesn't protest or fight when Newt and Minho flank her sides, accompanying her to one of the Slammer cages. They help her inside before closing the door behind her with apologetic looks on their faces.

"Sorry Greenie," Newt says, "we'll get you out of here first thing in the morning."

"I'll come and slip you food," Minho reassures.

"Thanks," Mai's voice is weak and tiny as it echoes out of the cage. She doesn't say anything else as she settles down onto the hard muddy floor. Great, and now she'll have even more dirty clothes to wash.

The hours go by and time seems to lose meaning. Mai tries to occupy herself by counting how many roots she can find sticking out from the opposite mud wall but soon loses interest when the light of the sun slowly disappears and turns to a blanket of darkness. Soon, all the bustling and the clinking of tools, the shouts and the buzz of conversation still to a stop once the light of the day starts going out. And that's when the fear starts to crawl over her spine.

She tries not to think about what had happened with Henry but it's almost impossible to close her eyes without seeing all of him in display before her. Mai clenches her teeth together, arms wrapping protectively around her knees as she allows her face to bury into the small nook of comfort that it creates.

Crunch. The sound of footsteps cause Mai to jerk up, eyes flitting towards the black sky. Her breath catches in her throat as she waits, muscles tense. She's had enough adventure to last herself a lifetime and is in no need of more boys like Henry around. Especially right now.

But then, a voice slips through the silence and causes her to sigh out in relief.

"Hey Greenie."

Gally.

And there comes his face between the caged bars, frowning is usual frown as if everything displeases him. The familiar sight is one that is welcome by the said girl, whose chest fills with emotion upon seeing his figure standing a few meters away. She's never felt so safe with anyone but Gally and that simple fact brings back memories of them cooped up together in his bed. Heat flushes through her cheeks at the thought and she's glad it's night time, so that Gally doesn't have to see the embarrassment flooding her face.

"Hi Gally," she croaks out weakly.

He lets out a sigh. She hears him move about until she spots his figure as he takes a seat perched right atop the cage.

"Thought you'd be hungry," he proceeds to toss her a wrapped sandwich that Mai grabs without hesitation.

She unwraps it with barely restrained hunger and the first bite is amazing, flavours exploding onto her tongue and causing her to groan in delight. She hasn't eaten since morning and her stomach is practically growling itself to death at this point.

"You'll have to stay the night," Gally's voice echoes through the cell wall.

Mai bites down onto her lower lip, "I know." Her eyes flutter up to his. She's surprised by the gentleness she finds there. It's not something she's used to, "I'll be fine."

Gally doesn't respond for a while. Mai busies herself with the food in hopes that the awkward atmosphere will somehow dissipate. She's not quite sure how Gally takes it; the news about her being a girl. They haven't spoken about it since and something in her heart squeezes at the thought that he doesn't want anything else to do with her now that he knows her secret.

But then again, he wouldn't be here providing her with food right?

That is why she's surprised when he says:

"I'm sorry."

Mai blinks up, surprised.

"Why?" The words fall out of her mouth before she can stop them, "it's not your fault. If anything, it's mine."  The last few words trail off into a whisper, as though saying them aloud might bring back the memory of last night.

He takes a breath, exhales it out as one hand rubs at his hair. He has a very bad habit of doing that when something's on his mind.

"Gally," Mai calls out once she's done with her food and crumpled the wrapping paper up into a ball. When his blue orbs meet hers, dancing with the light of the lamp, she gives him a small smile, "thank you. For saving me."

He grunts as if to say you're welcome, and she swear she spots a blush crawling up his face. Grinning to herself, Mai settles back against the wall as she hears the soft chants of the cicadas signaling that the night will be long.

"You don't have to stay here with me, you know." she says suddenly, only to find Gally already looking back down with furrowed brows. The look on his face is somewhat endearing. She's learnt to love it, his grouchiness.

"It's either that or you're all alone, greenie."

"I can take care of myself."

"That's not what you said last night."

Mai flushes at his words. Well, he's not the greatest at softening blows now, is he? "Well, that was--it was just last night..." her words end in a mumble, causing a soft snicker from the said Builder.

"Try and get some sleep, Greenie." He settles himself more comfortably against the top so that he's lounging onto the edge, visible enough for Mai to see him without having to crane her neck or look about, "I don't need you being all cranky tomorrow morning. And--" he peers down at her with what looks to be a smirk, "--don't think I'll let you off the hook so easily just 'cause you're a girl."

"Slinthead," Mai mutters under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear as she nestles her head against the wall and curls up her legs underneath, "night Gally."

"Goodnight Greenie."

-----

The next few days are weird.

Weird, because Gally now has to re-train his brain into thinking that Mai's indeed, a girl, and that it's not just something that he's come up with as a theoretical explanation. No, she's actually a girl and she looks like one, even.

It's not just the fact that she's tiny and pale and looks like she could snap in two with just a huge gust of wind. It's not just the fact that she's always in the kitchens and is now able to tie her hair back with a bandana to keep it away from her face -- something that she'd avoided because it would make people talk back then -- not just the fact that Mai, he realizes, has soft and fine, delicate features akin to a doll, a complete contrast to the rough hands and the hardened faces of the boys in the Glade.

No. It's the fact that despite all of what he's just described as above, despite everything that he's listed out like a reason for him to blame upon, it's Mai's brown eyes -- those big, beautiful eyes framed by lashes and always looking at him like she's in a permanent state of surprise -- that has his heart skipping and his chest tightening for god knows what reason.

Maybe he's coming down with something. He surely is. He feels hot and cold and hot all at once, and that's proven to be signs of sickness.

But it's a harder face to ignore than most. Suddenly, Mai is the center of attention and all boys are basking, begging to be part of her circle. Some gladers are giving her a helping hand when carrying stuff to and from the kitchen, some are chatting her up whenever they find her alone and free, others are always asking whether she needs anything; someone to walk with her, someone to guard her showers, someone to help her pick up branches for firewood.

Gally's not too sure how he feels about that. So he decidedly puts a stop to all his feelings. And plus, the Greenie is now fine with everyone and seems to be getting along quite well. She doesn't look in need of his help any longer.

Nevertheless, a few days go by and finally it's time for the box to come up. They all crowd around it nervously, knowing exactly at what precise time the metal hinges will scream with effort as the box is dragged upwards. Gally is busy frowning down at the metal-clad hole in the ground with such intensity that he almost misses the soft tap on his shoulder.

He turns, eyes flickering over Mai's features as something in his heart tugs. A cold, he thinks to himself, he really needs to get himself checked out by the Med-Jacks.

"Gally," her eyes light up when she smiles. She has a pretty smile. How had he not noticed that before when she'd claimed to be a guy?

He nods to her, frown still in place as he turns back to the hole, "Greenie."

"I'm not going to be a Greenie anymore," Mai reminds him, "we'll get a new one today."

He glances back at her over his shoulder, "the name suits you."

She pouts and this particular expression on hers throws him off guard, heart suddenly clamoring in his chest and his hands suddenly aching to reach out and pinch her cheeks. God she's cute when she wants to be.

The familiar clanging of metal and the whirring of cogs steals his attention away. All Gladers turn to it expectantly as the box slowly crawls up to their level before finally coming to a stop with a screeching halt.

"Open it up!" Alby shouts as him and Newt grab both sides of the box. Gally leans over to help and they tug it out of the way to reveal a young, pudge-faced boy that looks no older than twelve.

"It's a boy!" one of the Gladers shout out in what sounds to be happiness and Mai can't help but scoff.

Since Mai is the greenie right before him, she has the responsibility of introducing the boy to the Glade. He's young and has a cherubic face, and almost bursts into tears the moment he is lifted from the box. Alby had had to calm him down and explain to him how the Glade works in the privacy of the Homestead as everyone resumed their work for the day, and after that the young boy was introduced to Mai as Chuck.

Chuck is nice and friendly once he gets comfortable with Mai's presence, and the two seem to hit it off once they get past the pleasantries of the Glade. He seems already a bit homesick and Mai is quick to reassure him that the Glade already feels like home to her.

"Don't worry," Mai says as she helps him tie up his hammock next to hers. Gally had previously forced her to move her hammock as close to his hut as possible in case of any inappropriate behavior from the boys now that her identity was out in the open, so she was now placed on the very edge of the Hammock space, right in front of the said Builder's front door. It's not a problem in the grand scheme of things. But it is an issue when Gally just has to glance at the new kid to make his eyes water.

"He's not that bad you know," Mai explains to Chuck as the younger boy settles himself into his hammock, "he's a bit grouchy sometimes. But he's got a good heart."

"Are you sure we're talking about the same dude?" Chuck asks, fingering the hem of the new t-shirt he's received from one of the Gladers.

Mai can't help but laugh, "yes, we are. I swear to you. His heart's in the right place," she pauses, hesitant to say the words that come next, "He was actually really sweet to me throughout my first month at the glade."

Chuck's eyes are gazing upon her with a childlike curiosity that has her squirming in place and Mai feels the heat of embarrassment crawling up her cheeks as she tries to blow out some air. That's when he drops the bomb:

"You like him?"

Her heart stops, head whipping up to his, "what?" she stammers out, "what do you mean?"

"You know," Chuck says with the calmness of her mature person despite the fact that he's two feet shorter than she is, "like when people like each other. Not just as friends. As something more. Do you like him that way?"

"I--" Mai's heart is pumping so loud she's surprised Chuck can't hear it. But if it's not her heart, it's her face flushing red that gives her away. She doesn't need to answer, for Chuck seems to have read it straight from her expression.

His face explodes into a mischievous grin, "you do like him!"

"No, I--"

"Yes you do. Look at your face, it's written all over it!"

"No no, not like that--"

"You do! You like him!"

"Who likes who?"

Mai turns, yelping in shock as Chuck almost falls from his hammock. The Keeper of the Builders is staring him down, eyebrows raised in suspicion before his blue eyes direct themselves towards Mai's face. He repeats his question, "you like someone?"

Somehow, the darkness in his tone is impossible to ignore.

Mai is quick to dispel his thoughts for fear that her red face is going to give it all away, "no of course not, I--"

"Yes she does, and guess what Gally? She--"

Mai's hand shoots out, slapping onto Chuck's mouth before she sends Gally an innocent grin. The latter doesn't seem quite as thrilled at the new statement, gaze flickering between Mai's uneasy smile and Chuck's struggling expression.

"She what?"

"Nothing at all!" Mai throws the younger boy a glare before shoving him back into his hammock and turning to Gally with a smile so huge it looks like it hurts, "what you up to, Gal?"

If he's noticed the nickname, he decides to ignore it in favor of crossing his arms and cocking his head at her. There's a ghost of a smile, just barely there, on his face, "I wanted to show you somethin'. " He then turns to walk away, glancing back at her over his shoulder expectantly like he wants her to follow him.

So Mai throws Chuck one last glance of disapproval, "don't go anywhere alone. I'll finish the tour this afternoon." before she's off skipping in Gally's direction all while whistling a soft tune under her breath.

They make their way to the Builder's section, looking more like a garden with an array of tools scattered about the place while others are poised dangerously over overgrown tree roots. Gally calls out for the mess to be cleaned up and Mai's stomach clenches with sudden admiration. It's not something she'd say out loud but seeing Gally in his natural element makes her insides turn to mush.

He ducks into a small hut designed to keep his floorplans and blueprints. Mai follows, only to stop dead in her tracks at the piece of furniture sitting at the centre of the room.

"What's that?" She cocks her head curiously.

One of his hands go up to rub the back of his neck. He seems embarrassed, eyes shying away from hers to gaze at the furniture instead.

"That's a bed," he says almost reluctantly, voice scratchy and rough and making Mai yearn for more, "I thought it might fit you."

Surprise flits across her face, "thank you, that's—really kind of you." She shakes her head then, "but I'm not sure I have space to fit that in the Homestead—"

But the words get stuck in her throat when the Builder turns to gaze her head-on, those cerulean eyes like aquamarine storms of emotions flickering across his pupils like words that he can't seem to find.

"It's yours. Alby and I— well," he hesitates, "we thought you might want a Hut."

Mai stares at him. A hut? Just for her?

Her heart skips a beat and suddenly the air around her feels warm. Surely he didn't do that just for her right?

"But that's not fair is it?" She murmurs out, "all the other gladers—"

"Have eyes on you," he cuts her off with a firm stare, "it's better if you have a place of your own."

"But my hammock's right next to your hut. Makes it safe enough doesn't it?"

"I'm not always gonna be there Mai, I—" he swallows thickly, as if he'd stopped himself from saying anything else in case he might say too much. Pressing his lips together instead, Gally continues in a grumble, "it's better this way Greenie."

"I'm not a greenie anymore."

A semblance of a smile ghosts past his lips, "I know. It still fits you though."

Mai can't help but grin before she shoves him playfully. Although Gally barely budges. He's built like a brick wall after all. It's impossible to move him.

"Well, thank you Gally," she looks back towards the bed, "I'll take care of it."

"Right you do, Greenie."

----

[keraxxx]

HIII could you do something where the reader tells bf!ethan how bad her days was and told him someone was really mean and upset with her and they end up going missing the next day bc ethan obviously killed them?

A/N: Hi and of course! This idea is perfect! I’ve been wanting to write something like this omg. I hope you enjoy!

————

No one can hurt you.

Ethan Landry x Fem!reader

Warnings: crying, mentions of bullying, cursing, description or murder, not proof read.

————

God you were tired. After that long day at college you couldn’t take it, especially after that one girl keeps running her mouth. She always would talk shit about you and it ruined your day. You just needed to see Ethan and talk to him, hold you for at least a second. So that’s what you did, you went to visit him.

You walk to his dorm and gently knock on his door, trying hard not to get anger and pound on it. You wait patiently as you hear shuffling inside.

Ethan opens the door confused bit his face immediately lights up he was so happy to see you. You were his girlfriend and he loved you more than anything in the whole entire world. “Hey baby.. are you okay?” He frowns as he sees your eyes swell up like tears. He invites you inside immediately, his dorm mate no where to be seen.

“Ethan.. I can’t take this anymore.” You finally let out a sob as he takes you into his arms. “Baby.. what wrong?” Ethan hugs you tightly and rests his head on top of yours in an attempt to comfort you. You couldn’t form any words, you just cried. “Shh.. calm down and explain to me what happened.” He brings you to his bed and sits you down.

“This stupid bitch!” You yelled. “She-she won’t stop talking shit about me! What did i do to her? I just need someone to explain to me what the hell i did!” You vented and sobbed. Ethan just say in silence, listening to your cries. “I can’t stand her! I want her to disappear! Maybe then all these people will stop ruining my day with these stupid insults and rumors.” You wipe your face and look at Ethan.

His face was twisted into a frown, his brows furrowed. You could tell he was mad, words couldn’t even explain how he felt right now. “That’s interesting.” Is all he says as he holds your hand, his other caressing your face. “I need you to calm down.” He says calmly, his eyes look innocent but you can tell something inside him had just snapped.

You breathe in and out a few times. “I’m sorry..” He shakes his head. “No need to apologize I understand.” Ethan hugs you again and your arms wrap around his neck. “God i’m so sorry.. I just wish it was me and you.” You say softly into his ear.

“Don’t worry.. it’ll be okay.” He says as he pulls away to kiss you softly.

————

After you had left, Ethan was sitting in his room, his hands folded into each other. He was moving his knee erratically as he started to think. He didn’t want you to be upset about the girl but he also did want you to be worry for about why she was going to go missing the next day.

“Fuck it.”

————

You where scrolling in your phone in your bed as a news article popped up. A news article about your college. You immediately read the title.

“Young girl missing in College.”

You scroll down to see the image of the girl. It was her. The girl who always had something to say. Your eyes widened in shock as you gasped. You couldn’t believe it. Maybe the universe was on your side? No, this is bad. You had to show Ethan.

————

“I just can’t believe it! I was just talking about her yesterday right? God this is such a nightmare!” Ethan laid back as he watched you pace around the room nervously. “Everyone must be so worried! Her family, friends! I feel so bad.” You say as you pout and walk over to Ethan. You lay down next to him and you both face each other. “How are you not worried?” You say frowning.

Ethan chuckles. “Why should I be? She was rude.” He smirked before kissing your forehead. “Don’t worry about it.. She probably just passed out drunk somewhere.”

But he knew what you didn’t. He knew that she was screaming in the alleyway last night for help. He knew and you didn’t.

“I would never let anyone hurt you. You know that right?” He smiles softly and innocently.

————

[kimsohn]

𓇼 7:42 pm

pairing . sunwoo x gn!reader about . 559 words, fluff warnings . fire mentions

sunwoo doesn't think too much of it when he sees the firetruck pulled up at his apartment complex. his neighbor's cat, missy, tends to get stuck in the trees a lot, so seeing a lone firefighter every other month or so is a normal occurrence for him.

he does get a little worried though when he sees the smoke floating out of the window. especially since he lives on the fourth floor and that window has suspiciously familiar curtains framing it.

the elevator's preoccupied by the firefighters, so he has to jog up the stairs. by the time he's reached his floor, with a sinking feeling that the universe has it out for him today, he's out of breath and heaving.

he stops breathing though once he sees you, sitting on the bench next to the elevators.

his steps become urgent, and before he knows it, he's kneeling down in front of you. your head is in your hands, so you don't really notice his presence until he places a hand on your shoulder.

"what happened?"

the hands framing your face fall to the side, and you gaze at him with a guilty expression.

"i was trying to make something nice for you. a strawberry cake, since it's your birthday, but it kind of backfired."

you stare at his opened door, watching the firefighters jostling around, but his eyes never leave your frame, scanning incessantly to make sure you're okay.

"you didn't get hurt, right?" he asks, even though he already knows the answer. you suppose it'll help him feel reassured if you say it out loud though, so that's exactly what you do.

"i'm fine. i called the emergency department as soon as i noticed the fire. your kitchen might be worse in shape though..." you trail off, already failing to meet his gaze.

you two sit there in silence for a couple of minutes. you think he's going to hate you, break up with you, chew you out and then kick you out of his life, but instead, he does the opposite.

he brings you in for a hug.

"i'm sorry," you say, voice shaky against the lapels of his coat, "i'm really, really sorry. for fucking up your birthday and your apartment. if you never want to see me again—"

"stop it," he interrupts, clutching onto you a little tighter, "don't even think about saying that. i love you, and yes it'll be an inconvenience having to find another apartment, but you and your safety is a thousand times more important to me."

he listens as your erratic breathing slows, until you're calm and your sniffling stops.

"happy birthday. and i love you too," you murmur. "i love you more than that stupid strawberry cake i was trying to make."

he laughs as he pulls away, resting his palms on your shoulders.

"we can get that cake from the store, baby. and we can light the candles in your apartment instead and passionately make out afterwards. it'll be like nothing went wrong."

"knew i started dating the right guy. we can gaslight ourselves into thinking this never happened, if you ignore the big dent in your bank account from insurance."

he deadpans, standing up.

"just do me a favor, okay? let me be the housewife in the relationship. stay far away from the kitchen, please."

"hey!"

[ani-iu]

[𝟑] 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐃 | 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦 × 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: annoyances to lovers; forced proximity; mutual pining; developing relationship; religious imagery & symbolism; explicit language; misogyny; Adam being Adam; he falls first and harder; sexual tension; eventual smut; religious guilt; explicit sexual content; clingy Adam; happy ending; light angst; character study; not canon compliant. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: a gory description of a character's death, stalking, suicidal thoughts.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6,4k.

// what do you think it takes to get into heaven, little ballerina?

𝐘ou were always told that, after God, you should fear men.

The saying never sat right with you. Why did you have to feel that way about either of them? Wasn’t God supposed to be loving and kind? What is there to fear? And then there was the man. If God didn’t frighten you, why would you feel any different about someone created in His image?

In hindsight, you should have simply listened to what you were told instead of burdening yourself with insignificant whys and hows. Sometimes there is no deeper meaning to the words, only a bitter reality — that man is the most terrifying being out there, and God allows him to be that way.

And as much as you desperately want to forget and move on, that reality keeps coming back to haunt you.

Once your ears pick up the faint yet still persistent erratic beat of drums on the other side of the wall, not even the simple pianissimo notes filling the air with the help of a clunky CD player can drown the noise out. And although it doesn’t seem like the other dancers mind the disturbance too much, to you, it causes more than a few misplaced steps in a carefully crafted routine. 

The percussive sound slowly merges with your heartbeat, simultaneously pounding inside of your ribcage until even the clamorous voices of girls inside the studio become overshadowed by the dulled thudding.

Your body becomes frightened to the point you are unable to move. Just like all those times when you would sit with your back against the front door, motionless, and only the sheer forcefulness of the frantic banging — which always started with a deceptively light knocking — would manage to make your body noticeably recoil.

You never tried hiding somewhere in your home because, as hard to comprehend as it may be, the safest you ever felt was when crouching down behind that door. Knowing where he was and what he was doing made you feel like you were in control of the situation, even if you weren't.

Either way, there was no point in trying to hide from him — he knew you were on the other side. You could feel the perverse and sick pleasure seeping through the cracks with every loud thud that human flesh made as it collided with the door's wood, drawing frightened gasps from you.

You kept thinking about all the acquaintances and faceless passersby you might have offended, leading one of them to take such action against you. You never learnt what you did, because one day it all simply stopped.

But even after one year of complete silence, you still can’t find peace. To everyone around you, your stalker simply disappeared, and you need to move on, but you know it’s not that simple. You are just waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was quiet before the storm.

At present, by the time you stumble into the claustrophobic locker room at the back of the studio, you are hyperventilating. Your uncoordinated walk, unbefitting of a coryphée, causes you to miss the entrance, bump into the left side of the doorway, and then bounce to the opposite side, hitting a small table. The sequence of events leads to an empty glass falling and breaking into shards before your feet.

Just like that, the sharp sound snaps you out of your panic attack, and it’s quiet again — only a faint classical piece, barely audible, provides some sort of background noise to the dimly lit room and your overworked brain.

Like a child enthralled by the first snow, you maintain eye contact with the sharp shards of glass. Indeed, in various sizes and shapes, the shards shimmer on the ground beneath the fluorescents, resembling snowflakes.

Mesmerised, you bend to pick one of the pieces — the biggest one, so perfectly curved and seemingly broken off at a perfect angle, giving the edge a slanted look. It would be easy, so easy to just— fuck!

You loudly gasp and put your finger into your mouth. The blood from the freshly acquired cut coats your taste buds with a sickly sweet metallic flavour, and your stomach churns with disgust for yourself — repulsed by your own inner thoughts.

Stepping back, you bump into the edge of the table again, but this time grab it to stabilise yourself. You couldn't believe that you even possessed such thoughts somewhere within your mind. Sure, you could blame it on the moment of weakness, but it was also no excuse to contemplate hurting yourself!

You needed some fresh air.

Still slightly dazed, you scan your surroundings for the exit door, only now spotting another person in the room with you. The girl’s grey leotard and matching threadbare leg warmers tell you her name even before she can take her head out of her locker. It's surprising that she remained unfazed by all of the commotion that you have caused.

"Rina?" You try, but it doesn’t get her attention. "Hey, Rina! I’m going for a breather!" 

This time, she at the very least reacts, simply giving a thumbs up and going back to whatever she is doing without sparing a single word. She doesn’t even pull her head out of the locker.

That is enough for you as your hands push the heavy back door of the dancing studio, revealing a seedy alleyway — far from the glitz and glam of the imposterous fairytale fantasy that is ballet. But the state of your surroundings matters very little when you lurch over the railing and dry heave. One deep breath after the other, and you almost calm yourself until a voice shakes you to the core.

"Wow, hey, black swan. You okay there?"

An involuntary shiver runs down your spine as you turn your head to the side to look at a raggedy-looking guy crouched down on the bottom steps that lead to the bar next door.

At first, you ignore him. You distract yourself by slicking a few errant strands of hair back into your bun, but when you notice that he is still waiting for an answer, you feel guilty for unwarrantedly giving the stranger a cold shoulder. You know you don't owe him a conversation, but...

"Got a cigarette?" You brush the sleeve of your leotard against your lips and straighten yourself up.

The guy smiles at you and places his half-smoked cigarette between his lips while pulling a pack of Marlboro Reds out of his jacket. Definitely a musician, you silently speculate. Not to mention the pair of drumsticks peeking from the back pocket of his ripped jeans.

He taps the pack and presents you with a stick, which you take. You place it between your lips, and when your eyes flutter towards the stranger, he already has a lighter waiting for you. So, you lean over the railing, jutting your head so he could light it for you. 

You inhale the smoke, and the simple word of gratitude comes out of your mouth like a puff of smoke that follows it, "Thanks. You work here?"

"Heh, yeah. I play the drums for extra cash." He points his thumb behind him at the back door of the bar.

Called it, they all smoke the same brand.

"Thought you looked familiar."

He chuckles at that, and silence falls between you two. There is no need to break it; however, you can't shake the feeling that his silent stare gives you until he clears his throat and tries to restart the conversation again. 

"So, you’re here for the long run, huh?"

"Sorry?"

"Many ballet dancers have brief careers, or at least that’s what I heard! But your clothes look new. My sister wanted to be a ballerina—"

"What little girl doesn’t?" You cut him off, not liking the way the stranger analyses you, but at the same time, you can't help but berate yourself for assuming the worst from him.

"My point is," the brunet says, flicking the cigarette he’s smoking downward a few times to get rid of the excess ash. "That shit is expensive. You come from money, then?"

"Why? You want me to sponsor your shitty band?"

"Ouch," he chuckles, and stubs out his cigarette, having the gall to try and act coy. "It’s not shitty. And don’t you like that sort of music?"

At that moment, his voice grows lower, bordering on sultry at the end, if not for the insinuation his words carry. They stab you deep into your gut like a knife, and his cockiness seems to be twisting the blade to inflict more damage.

Most people, upon first meeting you, guess that because of your profession, your taste in music is just as classy. And even if, at one point in your life, you would have dismissed the man's words as light-hearted, perhaps even slightly flirty teasing, having a stalker changes a person's perspective on many seemingly insignificant things.

The man wasn’t just a familiar face or someone working in an adjacent building that you might have seen a few times in your peripheral vision to somewhat recognise but still view as a stranger. No, the man had been the source of all your suffering for the past three years. Even in the entire year that he was gone, he still didn’t fully leave — the damage he did to your psyche is irreversible, and no amount of punishment will ever be sufficient. 

You hold your breath, trying to remain calm, but standing so close to him is making you lightheaded. How long was he going to play with you?

"So, um, I was wondering—"

You don't wait for him to finish what else he might add once the awkward silence proves too uncomfortable for him — turning around so quickly it makes your head spin and your stomach curl in on itself. 

You need to get away, and you need to do that now. 

He scrambles onto his feet, the movement followed by the gritty sound of gravel and a desperate call of your name, which you didn't give him. The false saccharine tone is gone, in its place, a commanding warning of what he might do to you if you don’t listen.

You tug on the horizontal crossbar on the back door with frantic urgency, but the latch doesn’t budge. The metal is cold and dotted with raindrops from the morning storm. You hear him getting closer, but you don’t dare to turn and look how close he is. Too close. He will always be too close to you, and there is nothing you can do.

Your eyes blur with tears as you finally manage to pull the heavy door open.

"Rina—" 

But as you come face-to-face with her, the fellow ballerina's unblinking eyes cause you to lose your voice mid-speech. The milky whites of those round eyeballs stare back at you with a sick familiarity — as if you had seen something so bleakly empty before.

You can’t blink either. Blinking would mean you could escape those eyes. Blinking would mean you—

That’s when the whiteness blinks back at you, and that’s when your world falls from its axis — all of this is not real. It's not happening right now; it's just a memory. The stalker behind you won’t catch you, and Rina is not your friend but a lifeless stand-in for a real version of her.

You are in Purgatory.

You are dead.

Suddenly, a familiar figure invades the blank canvas that your view has become, pacing back and forth in a complete state of disarray across your line of sight. You didn't even notice when you got back from... whatever that was. 

"Can you fucking behave for one second?! Fuck, I was about to call Sera!"

The sudden loudness of Adam’s voice pierces the staticky ambience of the void, making you jump in your skin. In a blink of an eye, he towers over you, taking you by your upper arms and shaking your pliant body for good measure, as if the action will magically put your scattered thoughts back into place.

"I—"

Patient, the man is not. He doesn't give you a chance to think, not to mention put together a decent sentence.

"What did you fucking read?!" Adam shakes his hand in front of your face impatiently, which only makes you annoyed. "Hey?! Are you there?" 

"Fuck off, Adam! Can you let me digest everything first?!" You smack his hand away, but that’s when he takes your face into his grip, claw-like black fingers digging into your cheeks and pulling your face closer to his. You scrunch up your nose and furrow your eyebrows as you glare the beast in the face.

"Tell. Me. Everything. This is no longer the time to be petty. Forget everything that happened up to this point and speak, or keep acting like a brat, and I will have no choice but to tame you like one."

"The only one who needs to be tamed is you." You mumble back as best you can while having your lips puckered up like a fish from the way Adam squishes your cheeks. He clicks his tongue but lets go of your face, silently praying that you would start talking about things that matter right now. And you do, because Adam is looking uncharacteristically serious enough for you to comply. It's not as if you don't want to know what the hell was with that nightmare sequence of a memory. "I swear I didn't read anything! You gave me the colouring sheet, and the drawing on it triggered my memory. But it was different from other times. I used to just sort of hang around in the background while it all unfolded in front of me like a movie, but this time I was reliving it. I didn't even realise that I was in one. At that moment, I lived through my past like it was the present."

"It wasn’t all that bad, seeing you are still your insufferable self."

"It’s like looking into a mirror, isn’t it?" You hum, however, there is still something bothering you. "But I have to ask, is the Purgatory an entity and not a place? I feel someone watching me in my memories, and I highly doubt it's God."

Adam stays quiet for a moment. You stare at one another in complete silence until he breaks off the eye contact by turning towards the desk and picking up a page from the pile that is now smaller than it was when all of this began — the unread pile — only to shove said thing in your face. "Doesn’t matter. I need you to do one more thing for me."

However, you turn your head away just at the right moment.

"No, I don’t want to."

"It’s not what you want!"

"Leave me alone!"

"Stop being so difficult and do as you are fucking told!"

"You don’t know how it feels, Adam!" You cry out, facing him once again. He doesn't say a word as he silently stands with his hand on his hip — the dreaded document still in his grasp. "Watching yourself suffer and not being able to look away! My life was miserable! I had an active stalker, and I had to move around, leaving friends and family behind, only for him to find me over and over again! I don’t want these memories! I don’t want to remember anymore! I was happily oblivious until I got a taste of curiosity. I see why it killed the cat now."

"Listen—"

"Did I kill myself? I did, didn’t I? That’s why I’m in Purgatory, right?"

"Pull yourself together, woman! If that were the case, you would be in Hell. No questions asked. It must have been something more convoluted." Adam tries to reason with you, and surprisingly, you don't argue with him, but from the way your eyebrows pull towards each other, Adam knows that everything he just said was nothing but empty words to you. "Well? Are you calm now?"

You nod, and Adam raises the page with a memory again to your eye level, which in turn causes you to screech as if blinded by the sun. And here Adam thought he made progress with you.

But something is not right.

"It's empty." You deadpan. 

"You don't say."

"How did this even happen? I thought you were in charge."

"The memory took you along with the ink on the document. It all evaporated in front of my fucking eyes! Only when you started reliving it did the words reappear one by one. If you are not living through it, I can't see anything. All of the remaining pages are like that." The angel gestures towards the piles. "Nothing like this has ever happened before. The Purgatory... it is an entity of its own — a type of archaic angel, and we are inside of it. But it does have a very black and white view on things, and that's why it needs to have someone who can supervise it."

"Look at you, acknowledging my question when it suits you." Your words are directed towards him, but instead of focussing on Adam, you look to the side, as if by some miracle the Purgatory just spawned the most beautiful scenery for your starved gaze to feast on. It's your petty attempt to piss him off some more for not telling you about the Purgatory when you brought up the topic to him. And speaking of the dreaded place, it looks like Purgatory needs someone not only competent but compassionate as well for it to do its job efficiently, and they decided to put Adam in charge of the whole place? He was about to send you downstairs without a second look!

"You should trust the first human a bit less, little ballerina."

By now, you know that the silence, no matter how short-lasting it might be, is like an open invitation for the shades to make themselves known. Their soft, silky, siren-like voices are akin to the ripples formed by a stone skipping across a pond — each undulating circle, bigger than the others before it, mirrors the way their voices grow louder. Sure, you have gotten used to their breathless, nonsensical whispers, but they have never provided commentary for the conversations you have with Adam.

"There’s no point in trying to pass through anymore. You’re already too damaged. Just like us."

Adam is saying something in the background — you can hear his voice but not the words he’s speaking all the while you continue to stare off into space, unblinking.

"You should stay. It’s a better fate than the off chance of falling to Hell."

"...Is that so?"

It looks like you interrupted Adam mid-speech.

"What?"

"The pages... they are that way because I didn't follow the rules, right? It's all my fault." You speak again after a minute of silence, right before Adam has a chance to. That's a surprise, usually, he's quite quick with his responses, so he must agree with you. Coming up with a soothing lie requires more time than speaking the ugly truth. "Then what's even the point? Just leave me here. I’m already a damaged soul. How useful would I be in Heaven, if I even went there in the first place?"

There is an air of despondency around you, and Adam's stomach drops as he searches your face for something. "…Is that what the shades are telling you?"

Your silence is enough of an answer for Adam.

"Come on, where did that sharp tongue of yours go?" He chuckles, but his smile is too weak and doesn’t infect you. "I’m not leaving you here." The angel declares stubbornly. 

"Stupid choice, really."

Adam is about to argue with you when he notices that, although you might be speaking to him, your eyes move to look to the side at something that is not there in the flesh but rather in spirit. Without wasting any time, he grabs your chin and redirects your gaze back towards him. "Eyes on me."

You don't argue with him. "So, how am I even supposed to trigger the memory if the memory page is empty?"

"Okay, let's see. Is there a dominant smell that you would associate with the previous memory?"

Rotting trash… piss… vomit… the herbal stench of alcohol from broken bottles mixing up with sewage water…

"Cigarette smoke?" You question as if Adam would now. However, he blindly takes your suggestion and goes with it, completely trusting your intuition. With a snap of his fingers, Adam summons a lit cigarette, making you panic.

"Wait! I don’t want to go back to that memory! Adam, don’t you dare send me back—!"

Your desperate cries fall on deaf ears as Adam takes a puff and blows the acrid smoke right into your face, causing you to choke on it.

Inhale. 

Exhale.

Inhale.

You exhale the puff of smoke as you lean against the driver’s side door of your car, mentally preparing yourself for the day before driving to the studio. A pack of cigarettes is still in your non-dominant hand as you look at it, deep in thought. That’s all you seem to be doing these days — getting lost in them.

A picture of a single opaque cornea stares back at you from the squished and torn box as you take another drag of your cigarette every few minutes while maintaining eye contact with the warning label. The cigarettes you are smoking were once your father’s favourite — he buys stronger ones now. When you bought your first pack, you got so overwhelmed by the variety that you picked the ones you had seen your dad purchase when you were younger. Years later, you still smoke the same ones. It’s the last thing about you that is consistent.

"I feel like an imposter at everything I do." You flick the butt of the cigarette to the ground and stomp on it before unlocking your car and getting inside. At one time in your life, you lived a walking distance from the ballet studio; now it takes you an hour of driving through the desolate countryside roads to get there.

Is it all worth it? You don't know anymore.

But even if the drive is long and boring, at least you know that nothing can get to you while you’re in your car, and if someone were to follow you, you could quickly get to safety. To you, boredom is good because it's safe, and your boring, metal safety bubble is the highlight of your horrible days.

Until you hear the click of a gun behind you.

You look in the rearview mirror only to see the man you have been trying to outrun this whole time. The reflection of his wild stare as he holds the barrel of the gun pressed into the skin at the back of your neck is like a nightmare you wish to wake up from. You weren’t secure anywhere, not even in your car. What more can he ruin?!

"You finally opened the door."

His voice cements the nightmare as reality, and your face scrunches up as the realisation of your situation's direness throws you into a whirlwind of despair. You don’t swallow down the scream fuelled by unadulterated hysteria anymore. You throw it up, making the small space of your car impossible to be in.

You don’t want to die. But perhaps your only escape from this — the ultimate solution — is death? Maybe it isn't, but in that split second, you seal your fate.

"You got into the wrong car, fucker. You want to kill me?! I will take you with me."

Suddenly, you press on the brakes, causing the man to jerk forward and lose his grip on the gun. Not wasting any precious time, you press down on the gas and force the car to swerve off the road into a guardrail at full force.

"You crazy bitch! Stop!"

The least you can do now is pray to God for your soul to find salvation. You close your eyes and tighten your grip on the steering wheel, feeling at peace despite your fear of pain and the unknown that awaits you. A death by your own hand will never be as painful as the one done by that monster's. You know for sure that he wouldn't grant you the pleasure of eternal rest inside a cold, dark casket. No, he would torture you, and you will not give him that satisfaction.

The next time you open your eyes, everything in your body hurts — no, burns. The way that ice burns. 

You don’t yell, don’t plead for help — the only sound coming out of you is this sickening hissing sound of a punctured lung as your chest moves up and down with every strained breath your body forces you to take in its efforts of clinging to life.

Near you lays the man's body, mangled without recognition, or it looks that way; the vision in your right eye is gone, so it's hard to tell for sure. Inadvertently, you drag your limp arm towards your face, only for your fingers to disappear inside an empty eye socket. That means that the milky eyeball in front of you, covered in gritty pavement crumbs, is your own. You stare at it until your vision blurs, and all you see is white.

You drown in it. In that white… blinding... emptiness.

"You killed someone."

It's impossible not to hear his growing acrimony towards you as he vocalises your sin. Adam’s voice is the epitome of nothing, devoid of its usual obnoxious tone and a barely noticeable rasp, which becomes more prominent when he hasn't spoken in a while and disappears as soon as he clears his throat.

"He was going to kill me! I—I had no choice!" Your hands shake as you put one palm against your mouth in absolute horror of what you just relived, but you also feel the need to defend yourself against the angel. "I didn’t want to die, nor did I want to hurt anyone! Even if that someone was a person that wished harm upon me! I had dreams, I had a future! It just—" you choke back on tears. "At that moment, I felt like that was it."

You wish you didn't have your memories back. Trying to explain yourself to Adam felt so humiliating, as his imposing height forced him to look down on you. You felt unworthy of his presence.

"You—" Adam feels his throat tighten. He isn't upset with you — he is furious at Sera.

As soon as you mentioned feeling like you were being monitored in your memories, Adam knew that it couldn't be Purgatory because it simply doesn't have consciousness. It's a dormant entity that — when it came into existence — was given simple instructions to either condemn or forgive. A certain seraph, on the other hand, not only had the motive but also a multitude of eyes to assist her. Perhaps Sera's curiosity was piqued by Lucifer’s brat’s childish delusions regarding redemption. That would explain why he couldn’t simply send you down like he did with other souls. You weren't special — you were a test subject. Despite being a truly good person who lived a virtuous life, you committed the ultimate sin, which is a direct ticket to Hell. Yes, you killed a terrible, poor excuse of a human being, but you had no right to do so because it's not up to humans to decide who lives or dies.

Sera wanted to see if Adam could judge a soul without bias.

Adam doesn’t believe in second chances. In that regard, he was no better than the archaic Purgatory. But who could blame him for seeing things as absolutes? Adam had a first-row seat to see what second chances amounted to. Eve, a woman who was created specifically for him and a literal second chance at love, betrayed his trust and left him, just like Lilith before her. But now, the normally clean-cut line between sinful black and divine white has become blurred into an uncertain grey, and as Adam looks at your terrified face, he realises that he doesn’t have it in himself to let you fall. 

No, Adam couldn't send you down to hell. Your doe eyes are too bright, and your skin is too fragile and porcelain-like, almost brittle to the touch — it would break the moment you stepped into the Pride Ring. You looked angelic, even as a human. He couldn't even begin to imagine how beautiful you would look with a pair of wings and a halo.

"Adam?" The said angel could practically hear your lips quivering. He didn't realise he had left you there with your thoughts, which were no doubt eating you from inside. "Adam, you must have someone you care about! "Please imagine them in my place, and then pass judgement on me."

Adam does have someone he cares about, and that’s why he is already thinking about his first kill for the next year’s extermination. You can't read his twisted, vengeful mind and interpret his silence as a sentence to eternal damnation.

"Oh," you say, your voice lower than usual. Not even in the afterlife do you have autonomy. You were stupid for trying to fool yourself into believing that you did. "I’m going to—"

"Shut up!"

You stop yourself mid-sentence from his outburst.

His next words are much softer, like hot milk soothing a sore throat. "I won’t let you go there."

However, before Adam can declare his final verdict on your soul's fate, the Purgatory acts according to its own evaluation. The white ground, which had not a speck of other colours on it this whole time, suddenly begins turning red — bleeding from underneath your feet and growing into a big puddle that surrounds you like spilt blood. You feel the heat emanating from it, and then it cracks.

"NO!"

Just as the ground gives in underneath your weight, Adam catches your wrist.

"Adam!"

"You are never going there." He declares, but you don't miss how his voice trembles a bit at the end. You look away from him and down towards there that he’s talking about, but Adam digs his sharp claws into the skin of your wrist, successfully bringing your attention towards the hurting part of your body. "You keep looking at me. I won’t let you even get a glance of that wretched place!"

And then you have the nerve to smile at him, "I think the choice is already made, and you don’t have a say in it." You ease your hand out of his hold. "I’m sorry that we got into that argument. I didn’t mean to. But you did say that my actions here won’t affect my fate, so I guess that doesn’t really matter."

"Don’t you fucking dare release my hand! You hold onto it, bitch, or I will get you something to be sorry for!" Adam tugs your dangling body up by your hand and hugs you tightly to his chest, wrapping his golden wings around you securely like a safety blanket for good measure. His face presses against the top of your head as you hear his voice booming in your ears. "Evaluation has determined that this soul is worthy of Heaven!"

Only when Adam sees the familiar surroundings around the two of you does he allow himself to loosen his grip on your body. Thank God that Purgatory doesn't have any influence on angels, because otherwise, he would have thought that he's dreaming this all up.

"Happy rebirthday, gorgeous. Welcome to Heaven." The greeting is nothing like the one he gave you when you first met in Purgatory.

But when he doesn't get any kind of response, not even a twitch out of you, his fingers gently stroke your cheek, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of you to make sure that he wasn't too late and didn't accidentally bring a shade into Heaven.

You are shaking like a leaf under his touch — terrified, still gripping onto Adam’s robes with white knuckles as if the possibility of falling is still there. As if you can’t feel the white wings sprouting out of your back and don’t see the shimmering, iridescent glow of your halo above your head casting a subtle shine on your hair. Your skin tone is a few shades lighter than it was when you were in Purgatory, but for the most part, you still look more or less very human. Adam is quite certain of that. After all, there is nothing in his way that could hide anything unusual from his eyes.

"I don’t have anything on." You finally tilt your head to look up at the first man with those big, infuriatingly beautiful eyes of yours.

"I have eyes, angel."

A thin layer of golden blush coats your face as you press yourself against Adam in hopes of hiding away. "Don’t look!"

His hands, resting on your naked hips, barely noticeably move up and down your body and supply Adam's starved mind with the most vividly descriptive images that no amount of ogling could ever successfully manage to capture.

"I won’t."

Adam would love to stay like this forever, but Heaven isn't a time capsule like Purgatory is, and although in the afterlife time is meaningless, there is more tedious bureaucracy to be done.

"Do you mind if we take a more scenic route? I doubt you are in any shape to use a portal."

"Walking is fine, but, Adam, I'm naked." You hiss, as if what you just said is the most blasphemous thing Heaven has witnessed. The real sin is that Adam can't enjoy the view.

"I will carry you, no worries."

He could conjure something for you to wear, but Adam doesn’t specialise in dressing up women. He has significantly more experience in undressing women, but that's unnecessary since you're already naked. And what you don't know won't hurt you. You can't be mad at him for not dressing you up if you don't know he can do that with a snap of a finger. But the lack of clothing doesn't seem to bother you too much.

Mesmerised, you peek your head out of Adam's embrace to look all around yourself. Having become accustomed to the stark whiteness of Purgatory, you are overwhelmingly awestruck by all of the pearlescent colours surrounding you. Heaven looks quite futuristic, unlike anything you imagined. Truthfully, you don't know what you expected — perhaps something more traditional-looking, Gothic even. It looks as though everything is made out of vibrant stained glass, from the sharp-looking corners and pointy sky-piercing roofs to the glassy ground. The entire promenade resembles a hall of mirrors at carnivals, easy to get lost in.

The building you two enter is commodious and bears a striking architectural resemblance to a Gothic cathedral, while still maintaining the soft pastel colour scheme of Heaven. The sound of Adam's heavy footsteps travels through space, catching the attention of small animal-like creatures who, you guessed, work here.

Adam carefully lowers you to the ground until your bare feet are flat against the cold marble. His next move is to open up the cocoon he made out of his wings, a decision which you are against until you notice that you are already dressed up in a white linen tunic that reaches your knees and completely hides your arms under its moderately wide sleeves.

While you are busy guessing where the clothes came from and wondering why you haven't felt them on your skin until now, Adam can't help but curse himself out inside his head. He couldn't believe he got jealous of the freaking cherubim getting a chance to see you naked that he took it upon himself to dress you up. But all self-deprecation disappears when you turn to face Adam with an excited smile. For a minute, he fears that you somehow read his thoughts.

"Well, do I look worthy of Heaven?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Adam shrugs, grabs you, and twirls you around to face a shiny column. It's the first time you see how you look after becoming an angel, but nothing surprises and excites you more than the wings — soon you are arching your back and twisting your neck just to look back at them.

"I can fly?!"

Before Adam has a chance to respond, the small cherub guides you by hand towards the front desk and offers you a leaflet. "Everything you need to know will be found here! And if you have any questions, don't be afraid to contact our headquarters. That's why we are here!"

"Oh, I thought," you are about to turn towards Adam, but the cherub swiftly seizes your attention once more.

"You’re in Heaven now, which means that you are under the care of our department, dear, not the first man. And after we are done with a few more documents, you will be free to live your afterlife as you please!" The little creature gestures to a desk behind them, and you noticeably shiver at the sight of the paper pile. Not again…

You turn back to Adam, feeling an ache in your chest that is difficult to ignore. You got used to Adam’s presence. As much as he could be an annoyance, he is the reason you are safe here.

"Oh, so... I guess this is goodbye? Will I ever see you again?"

"Hm, I don't know. I’m a busy guy, and you're not the only angel in heaven. You're gonna have to make an appointment if you want to come for a chit-chat." However, based on the way your face falls at his words, Adam’s joke is seemingly not as amusing as he thought it to be. With a sigh, he outstretches his arms, and you move in for a hug without any hesitation. "You are losing your edge, angel. Don't tell me you got attached or something."

You remain silent in response, then, after a few minutes, slowly move back and offer a small wave as a goodbye.

"Bye, Adam."  

I'm a huge fucking hypocrite, Adam thinks to himself as he watches you go.

"Bye, angel."

[alrightbuckaroo]

I'm not sure if you're still doing these, but 22 for the Spotify Wrapped Drabbles please 💜

Hello Dalawa! That'll be The Visit (She Was Here) by The Cyrkle (a fun little [now defunct] sunshine pop band from the mid 60s!) It's a bit of angsty song despite the sound so I hope you don't mind a little heartache that also ended up being much longer than I planned it to be:

Carlos' fingers are interlocked with TK's; they hold onto one another as if that's what their hands were made for.

Carlos has never been more in love and it scares him. Each and every day, Carlos finds himself falling that much harder and he's worried that one day he'll reach the ground and never know how to get up again.

Then TK will casually tell him something that's anything but casual, like, "I never liked that shade of yellow until I saw it on you," or "I never understood my mother's favorite song but then I met you," or "I dreamt about you last night, I can't believe I get to wake up to the real thing," and just like that, Carlos is no longer scared because this is a man who loves him just as much as he does him.

At the moment, they're walking through the farmer's market and making ridiculous puns that no one but them will find funny. That's fine though, who needs the rest of the world when the embodiment of your world is standing right next to you.

After leaving the farmer's market, they go home. Carlos tells TK he can call it Carlos' apartment but TK says he likes the way 'home' rolls off the tongue. As Carlos opens the front door, he hears the faintest sound of a beep, but chooses to ignore it.

Once dinner is finished, they both get ready for bed while listening to Neil Young's Harvest Moon. TK's a romantic so he loves romanticizing the mundane and Carlos loves letting him. As Carlos spits out his toothpaste, he hears that fainting beeping once again, but this time it's the tiniest bit louder

Now, they're in bed, treating the silence as their favorite song. Carlos is rubbing his thumb across the ridges of TK's knuckles, holding on because all he ever wants to do is hold TK's hand.

"I feel like I've dreamed you up," Carlos whispers, softly and tender. He presses an even more tender kiss to TK's knuckles and TK begins to chuckle. Carlos' eyebrows knit together at the sound, and he swears he can hear that beeping again.

"That's because you did, baby," TK pulls his hand away from Carlos' and leaves a trail of heartache in its wake. He runs his fingers through Carlos' curls but his fingers feel lighter than ever; almost as if he's not there.

"What?" Carlos can hear that incessant beeping start to get louder.

"You dreamed me up," TK explains, his touch feeling akin to the feather, it's there, but barely just. "I'm not here."

"But I need you to be," Carlos argues, reaching up to grab onto TK's hand but when he does, it's like TK's hand becomes sand in his palm; grains flowing through the spaces between his fingers.

Carlos sits up in the bed, trying to ignore that damn beeping, and he waits for TK to sit up and join him. He waits for TK to sit up and say that he's playing some cruel practical joke even if he's not known for playing them ever before.

Instead, TK continues lying down, looking up at Carlos with dewy emerald eyes and a sympathetic smile. "It's time to wake up, baby."

Carlos jumps awake, propelling himself from the sheets and breathing erratically. He looks over to the nightstand, grabs his phone and puts an end to the incessant beeping.

He looks to the other side of him and sees that one half of the bed is still made. He sighs when he remembers; this is what he was scared of.

He wakes up, goes through his morning routine in a bout of silence that seems especially loud. He listens to the weatherman say that there's winter storm coming and Carlos thinks it's fitting, he's in hell so why not have it freeze over.

He makes breakfast for one before going to work; after work, he comes home and has dinner for one.

Later, as he's showering, Neil Young's Harvest Moon begins to play through the speaker and Carlos couldn't be in more of a hurry to try and change to the next track.

Now, he's in bed, waiting to go to sleep and scared that when he starts dreaming, he's going to do it all over again.

send me a number 1-100 and i will try to write a short drabble based off whatever song that corresponds to in my spotify wrapped - here's #63

[spilledkauffie]

Still Having Nightmares

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1.8k T/W: nightmares, trauma conversations, fluff A/N: MY HEART IS FUCKING BROKEN!!! Do you hear!? All because of this gif set— spoilers!

Song inspo: Nightmares - All Time Low

You squeezed your eyes closed, trying not to let the tears fall. But they weren’t for you— from outside the door, down the hall, and into the living room, you heard the soft mumbling. The desperate “no’s” and the heavy breathing. Rolling over in bed, you placed your hand where he often began the night, right next to you. Knowing he liked to fight this struggles alone, you methodically bit at the inside of your lip, furrowing your brows. 

However, when you heard the static of metal tension, you couldn’t ignore it any longer. Sitting up, you tossed the covers aside. Taking a moment to calm yourself, you quickly wiped the tears off your cheeks and took a deep breath, wanting to be in the best state to help him. Opening the bedroom door you stepped out into the hallway gently. Attempting to make your footsteps as light as possible, you made your way to the living room doorway. Bucky was laying on the opposite side of the apartment’s room from you. 

Watching him toss and turn, sometimes jolt, was difficult, but you always tried to think of how best to help him if you could. As you debated waking him up to end the night terror, something did that for you- hearing him yell your name he completely sat up. You blinked back some tears, hating that you knew his nightmares forced him to see himself losing more than he already had. 

“God-” he exhaled as if he had been forced to hold his breath for five minutes, it was a painful first few breaths. Shoving his hands through his hair, he set his elbows on his knees and tried to steady his breathing, he clearly hadn’t seen you yet, “shit,” you heard him say in a broken voice, though you couldn’t see them, you knew there were tears from the way he sniffled with an inhale every other breath. 

You shifted your weight onto the opposite foot, accidentally catching his attention.

“Hey,” he suddenly said as if nothing had happened, quickly turning his face away from you, rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes, trying to get rid of any proof of tears. Clearing his throat he exhaled, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Tilting your head with a heavy sorrow that he just wanted to push everything aside, you reached for the light switch.

“No!” Bucky exclaimed, before looking down, surprised at his tone, “no,” he said softer, looking back up at you, “can we leave it off? Please?”

“Yeah,” you answered hoarsely, feeling a tightness in your own throat, “of course, baby.”

Walking over to where he was, you settled on the floor, sitting next to him, facing his direction. There was just enough light from the apartment windows for you two to see each other in dim lights streaming in. He tried again to subtly brush away any tear stains, while you joined him. Pushing the top of his wrist against his lip, he dropped his hand, and finally turned to you. 

“Did I-” he swallowed, you saw the tension in his jaw, “did I wake you?” 

“No,” you whispered, raising a hand to fluff back some fallen strands of his messy hair.

“Really?” he perked an eyebrow, “then why are you awake?” 

You hold your breath trying to think of an excuse, but you’d rather say nothing than lie to him again. 

“I didn’t mean to leave tonight, I just-” he quirked the corner of his lips, trying to find the right words, “I’m not used to it, but I didn’t want to leave- I just-”

“I know,” you assured him, free hand touching his forearm, calmly stroking his chilled skin.

He dipped his head shaking it, before giving a disappointed laugh, “you know I thought I was over this,” he admitted, your hand still brushing soothingly through his hair as he stared straight ahead, you swore you could see him thinking of another time. 

“Tell me about it?” 

He pressed his lips together, debating if he wanted to say more, so you let the quiet come between the two of you, and that was okay. Time was needed and you were more than willing to wait for him.

“You know sometimes I can see myself, at different times, and I just keep thinking- when I see that kid, signing up for the army, he looks at me,” he smiled for a second, but it faded faster than it came on, “he had no idea what he was signing up for.” Looking down to the metal replacing his arm, Bucky nodded to himself,  blaming himself for it all.

“Victims never do,” you said, “because it’s not their fault.”

“Victim?” He scoffed, raising his eyebrows in disbelief at you, “have you seen my count-”

“Bucky, what they did to you-”

“But what I did to others-” he started.

“What they did to you,” you repeated, more firmly, stopping him from interrupting you, he waited for your next words, “what they did was cruel and monstrous, but that doesn’t mean you are.” Bucky tilted his head, “you signed up because you’re a brave soldier, what came next was out of your control, but now, you’re back on the path you first started.”

His grey blue eyes were fixed on you when you finished, “tell me about tonight’s nightmare?”

He was quiet again, so you pressed your hand against the middle of his chest, covering his dog tags, before you curled your fingers around the metal and glanced down to study them in your palm. Rubbing your thumb over the raised letters- one tag spelling out his name the other simply saying “Winter Soldier,” you bit the corner of your lip. Bucky never took his gaze off you, studying you studying the tags. 

After a moment of silence, he leaned in closer, slipping his hand against the side of your neck, fingertips pushing into the roots of your hair at the nape of your neck, while he brought his mouth to the opposite side. You tightened your hand around his dog tags as his skin brushed against your knuckles. With the way his chest was already rising and falling and the hum of his moan against your neck, you almost got lost in it. Slowly moving his other hand up your thigh, to your hip, you felt the metal, smooth and cold as ever. Closing your eyes, you focussed for a moment on his hot desperate kisses, his lips felt so good against you, but you knew what he was doing.

“Bucky-” you said softly, but seriously, knowing what you needed to do.

“Mhmm?” he hummed, lips ghosting against you as he waited for you to continue, but when you didn’t, he pulled back to look at you, his hand still caressing the nape of your neck gently.

You stared at him, amazed at how well he was trained to shift from emotion to emotion or just hide them altogether. It seemed wrong that there was so much pain and hurt in you form sympathy when he was the one actually fighting through it. As you stayed silent, his gaze fell to your parted lips. Bucky took his opportunity and met your mouth with a deeply passionate kiss, when you hardly responded he paused the kiss, lips still touching yours as he spoke.

“What is it?” he asked, caressing your cheek.

“I love you so much,” you took a deep breath, placing your hand on top of his and bringing it away from your cheek setting your interlaced hands in your lap, looking back to him, “but that won’t make them go away,” you stated eyebrows knitted together, shaking your head softly, “I need you to talk to me,” you stroked his jawline with your thumb, still holding his hand with your other, and speaking as gently as you possibly could, “so we can work this out together, I want to help you, I want you to be able to stay a whole night with me.”

Taking his hand off your thigh, you heard the metal adjust as he shifted his weight onto it.  

“Alright, in my nightmares. . .I keep hurting you,” his words broke the silence, “different ways, I tell myself it’s not me, it’s that shadow I used to be, but all the same in the end.” 

Listening carefully you placed a soft kiss to the cooled skin of his shoulder, where the scars met metal, encouraging him to continue with gentle stroking motions of your fingertips on the back of his hand. 

“Every time. . .I’m in a place from my past, but you’re there,” he confessed, tightening his grip around your hand, “and you die, all because of me.”

“You’d never hurt me.”

“But I did...I do,” tears were returning and he didn’t understand; the one happiness in his life was being twisted by his past and his mind, he remembered certain things, others a blur and now past and present were blending. . . 

“James,” you brought him to face you with your hand against his cheek, “you’d never hurt me.”

“I’m just-” he said cautiously.

“Bucky,” you said almost disappointed he’d question himself on this.

“I’m just scared I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from hurting you,” he confessed in a louder voice than intended, making you jerk back, but keeping your hand in his helped ground him, “I’m sorry,” he said, calming himself down. 

You could see the tears falling even if he didn’t want you to see them.

“There’s no chance of that happening,” you pressed your forehead against his, “I know you, Bucky, you love me.”

 “But you’ve seen it, if- if someone knows those words- with that book- they reset me and I can’t-” 

You heard him exhale, heavy with pain and hurt and panic. His chest began to rapidly rise and fall. 

“Bucky, Darling,” you moved yourself closer and brought your arms around him, to which he responded by wrapping his around your frame, pulling you even closer, and burying his face against your neck, “it’s okay, we’re okay.”

Feeling his hot tears against your neck, and his erratic breathing, you tilted your head up, trying not to cry yourself. Stroking across the back of his bare shoulders, you softly combed your fingers through his hair, embracing him against you. It wasn’t easy for him to show this much emotion and you could sense that, staggering breath and long periods of tension, as if he was trying to hold it all back. Feeling him tighten his hug and squeeze his eyes closed, you just held him to let him know it was okay.

“We’ll get through this, I promise,” you whispered, “no one is ever coming near you with that book ever again, and if they do. . . now they’ll have to get through me first.”

Pulling away from you just enough to press his forehead back against yours he smiled softly, staying there for a moment, “how’d you get so tough, huh?”

“I live with a fighter,” you smiled back, “he’s taught me to survive just about anything,” he gave a small laugh with his smile spreading, “so together,” you stole a kiss, “I know we’re unstoppable.”

[iovchlde]

the little things.

what are the little things that they do to show that they love you?

featuring zhongli, xiao, childe

author’s note.

another headcanon that was long overdue OOPS. i’ve had this sitting in my drafts for so long and i was just like 🙂 it’s about time i stop being lazy

zhongli

zhongli is a great storyteller, and you never fail to remind him of that fact. but as you two bask in the presence of one another, he’ll find himself looking forward to listening to you.

it’s become routinely at this point— at the end of the day, zhongli would invite you to sit with him at a place the oversees the sea of clouds. whether it’s for tea or casual chatter, it was always something you’d both looked forward to at the end of the day.

he likes listening to you ramble on about your day. like how you saw this one gorgeous glaze lily on the way to qingce village, or how you’ve come across that one breathtaking waterfall. you tell him that you’d like to bring him there, and he finds him nodding along, with a burning sensation at the tips of his ears.

he’s glad that the sun is no longer there, and the yellow shade the light casts hides his blush. but if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed that your face was flushed red too.

zhongli can’t help but throw a subtle glance your way as he takes a sip from the cup of tea in his hands, lingering for a second too long before he finally tears away. your gaze is distant— your eyes trained on the sea, and your face is placed comfortably into the palm of your hand. on days like these, he knows you have a lot on your mind, and he’s more than willing to listen to them.

“mind sharing your thoughts?” he asks quietly, his voice low and only loud enough for you to hear. there’s a beat of silence as it snaps you out of your line of thinking, cocking your head to the man in front of you, and it’s your turn to look at him. he holds your gaze tenderly; there’s something about the way it’s late and the way the space suddenly felt so intimate. and so you both look away before you could register the flutter of adoration in your chests.

“well,” you hum, and you resort to idly twirling the spoon in the cup of tea. a part of you felt childish that you couldn’t even look at him properly. feeling like a teenager facing their first crush, like a teenager confessing to their first crush. you’d been mulling over asking him to accompany you to your favorite spot, but the words always got caught in your throat whenever you saw him, and so you’d found yourself stalling. “i was just thinking about this one waterfall— it’s far off in qinqce village— and it’s my favorite place to visit whenever i just need time to myself. but,” and you trail off.

“but?” he raises a brow at you, urging you to continue whatever you wanted to say. there’s a hesitance that lingers behind your eyes, and you almost back down and scrap the idea.

but rather, you clear your throat awkwardly, staring hard at the scene ahead of you. “i’d like you to accompany me there one day. i’d like to share a special place with you.”

the words— zhongli likes to stop himself from looking deep into words, but he can’t help but feel a little flustered the longer he thinks about what you’ve said. in actuality, it’d been only about three to four seconds since you’d said it to him, but his mind was quick to absorb. “oh,” he says.

you’re about to retract your words, taking his one-word answer as a form of rejection, before he interferes.

“it’d be a pleasure of mine to share a special place with you too.”

xiao

a man not known for his affection— but is the type to hold your hand as you sleep. he’ll make sure that you’re deep in slumber before threading his fingers between yours, and smiling to himself at the feel of your hands against his.

as an adeptus, xiao doesn’t need to sleep much. but he has enough understanding to know that you, a human mortal, needs sleep to function properly.

he doesn’t know when he’d started doing it, but he’ll often find himself holding your hands when you’re fast asleep. there’s the erratic thump of his heart in his chest, and his pulse beats abnormally hard, and he feels a little giddy— the idea of you catching him flusters him to no end.

whenever you stir in your sleep, he’ll freeze. for a moment, he’d be too afraid to look at your face, in fear that you’d have an eye peered open; in fear that you’d catch him. but when he does glance at you, he’ll let out a sigh of relief when he sees that you’re still asleep.

it was one of those nights. he’d felt particularly lonely, a part of him felt hollow and bare, and he had nothing better to do. you were fast asleep, and your soft snores could be heard behind him, as he sits upon the windowsill across from the bed.

xiao moves silently, dragging a chair along with him, and seating himself beside you. your hands are dangling loosely at the edge of the bed, and he smiles a little to himself— glad that he doesn’t have to make much of an effort to hold your hand. cautiously, his hands would draw nearer to yours, until the tips of his fingers are ghosting your skin.

(he’d noted to peel his glove off of his hands, afraid that the cool feel would shock you awake, which was a less-than-desirable outcome.)

slowly, he’d thread his fingers with yours, taking as much time as he could. he relished in the way your hands fit so nicely with his, or the way your hands subconsciously molded itself with his as he comfortably holds it. it’s warm— a contrasting feel to the slightly cold room.

he admires your hands, and he can’t help but stare. xiao wonders how it would look like with a ring on your finger, how much prettier it’d be with a shiny band adorning your fingers.

little does he know, you smile a little as you feel his grasp tighten softly on your hand.

childe

childe’s not home often, due to the demands of being a harbinger, and so he does his best to make every minute worth it when he has a day off. he’ll wake up early in the morning to cook breakfast for you, and if possible, serve it to you in bed.

it’s hard to ignore the enticing smell that sifts through the crack underneath the door— even in your half-asleep state, you could tell that childe was cooking another one of his favorite snezhnayan breakfasts. it was something he looked forward to showing off, whenever he had the day free from work.

it’s not long before childe is peeking his head through the door, his hair messy and lazy smile plastered on his face, with a tray of food in his hands. it’s a meal for two, something you note as you see two glasses placed on the tray.

you’ll insist on doing the dishes after eating, but childe simply traps you in his arms after setting the tray aside. there’s no way he’s letting you out of his arms— at least not for another hour or so, and that’s only if he has something planned.

“good morning, love.” you can hear childe’s slightly groggy voice call out from the door to the bedroom. you shift over in your bed, turning to your other side so you would face him, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see a tray full of food placed in his hands. there’s a grin on his face as he saunters over to you— a grin that was either proud or smitten, it was hard to tell.

“what’s this?” you ask, as he places the tray in front of you. the bed dips slightly as he sits in front of you, his legs crossed, carefully not to nudge the tray and spill anything over. there are dishes you’re not familiar with, but it’s hard to deny that they look appetizing. “it looks amazing, though.”

“thank you,” he responds back brightly. he takes his time pointing out each dish in detail, telling you fond memories that he associates with the dish; things like how it reminds him of his childhood, or how it made him feel better on days he didn’t feel so well. he has a different reason this time, a different reason just for you. “i made this dish because i wanted you to associate it with something good— a good memory of us!” childe beams, and you can’t help the fond chuckle that escapes past your lips.

“thank you,” you tell him softly, reaching across the tray and holding his hands with care. “this means a lot to me, you know?”

and in that moment, he thinks he doesn’t mind doing this for the rest of his life— as long as you stay by his side.

[spenciebabie]

blurb: post prison spence not being able to get himself off and ur sharing room together on a case and he’s in the bathroom and u can hear him super frustrated so u knock and are like let me help u then u jerk him off very sweetly but then he wants to thank you so he fucks u very hard

this one turned into a way longer thing than i was planning on writing but here you go! enjoy!

—

he’s been gone for way too long. too long that it was almost worrisome so you couldn’t help your curiosity. hopping out of your own bed and wandering over to the bathroom you press your ear against the bathroom door.

the noises on the other side sound almost pained until you hear a small breathy ‘fuck’ and it clicks. those are moans, and when you listen closer you can hear some more words, and you can just about make out a frustrated ‘come on!’

you’re not really sure what compels you to, but you knock. and all the noises stop.

“um... spencer?” you ask, wincing as you speak.

“yes?” his voice is almost shaky

“i— you’ve been— you sound frustrated” you sigh, putting it all out there.

“you can hear me?” he all but gasps

“yeah, i guess, i just wanted to know if maybe... can i help?” you can feel the heat creeping up your neck and to your cheeks as you say it, and you want to take it back immidately until you hear shuffling on the other side of the door, and then the handle turns.

spencer’s standing there in just his boxers, the outline of his hard cock is painfully obvious through the white cotton but you have to force yourself not to stare.

“what are you asking?” he whispers, his eyes drifting over your own body.

“i want to give you a hand spencer” you say, reaching your fingers out to run along the waistband of his boxers and he lets out a groan.

“are you sure?” he asks, his own hand reaching down to grip your wrist and hold it still for a moment, so you look up at him.

“ive never been more sure of anything” and his hand leaves yours, allowing you to roam down and grab his bulge over the fabric, palming it for just a second before letting go.

“go lie down on the bed for me” you instruct him, and he does without hesitation. so you join him, kneeling down next to him on the bedspread, and your hands are on him again. trailing your fingertips gently down his torso as his breathing starts to grow more and more erratic. once your hands are in his waistband it almost ceases entirely.

and then you’re pulling them down, finally getting a look at his flushed pink cock. it looks so painfully hard, and it’s leaking so much it’s no wonder he sounded so frustrated.

“tell me what’s wrong?” you ask, soft and sweet as you trail a finger along the underside of his shaft and he shivers.

“i just couldn’t— I don’t know, my head is— fuck” he groans

“well how about i help you out up there too” you lean down to whisper against his ear, “tell me what you like to think about dr. reid”

as he mulls it over you start to pump your hand up and down softly, at an almost teasing pace.

“would you believe me if i said it was you?” he says, just shy of a whisper, a blush creeping up his chest to his neck.

“well you’d have to tell me a little more than that” you tease, and he lets out a breathy laugh.

“i think about the—uh! the same thing a lot” he moans, “when we have to share a room like this it’s— fuck! worse!” as he speaks you continue to work your hand up and down his length as it twitches in your grip.

“im usually thinking about fucking you” he groans as you begin to place kisses along his exposed throat.

“please elaborate” you moan against his ear, “but that’s got me wet already”

“uhh! fuck, that feels so good” he whispers, “i usually think about bending you over the desk in work. pulling up one of those little skirts you wear— ah! ripping your panties and pounding into your tight little pussy” you can feel the way his words turn you on, so you leave him hanging in silence, waiting for him to continue.

“but— fuck, when we share a room like this it’s worse. i can’t sleep half the time because i just want to throw you down onto the bed and fuck you until you can’t take it— oh fuck! until you’re crying ‘cause you’ve cum so many times, until the rest of the team is banging on the door to tell us to shut up— god im so close!”

your hand starts to pick up the pace then, pumping up and down his slick cock, savoring the filthy sounds it makes.

“and who’s on top spence?” you moan right against his ear and his eyelids flutter.

“me! fuck! im on top, but you’re face down so i can get deep”

“but then ill just be moaning into the pillows baby?” he shakes his head as he swallows down a gulp in his throat

“not if im— ah! pulling your hair while i make you— fuck, im gonna cum”

his chest is covered in a light sheen of sweat as he gets closer and closer before he’s moaning and gasping as he spills all over your hand and his stomach.

you lazily work him through it as he catches his breath, collapsing down beside him in he bed once he’s done.

you both lay there in silence for a minute, chests heaving, minds racing.

“did you mean all of that?” you ask. he sits himself up a little so he’s leaning over you.

“every word” he smiles

“well, do you wanna maybe bring your fantasy to life?”

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE FOUR || CURSE WOMB MUST DIE

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + ryomen sukuna + ijichi kiyotaka from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : swearing + violence + mention of blood + mention of poison + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 23 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 6.1k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : girl of steel

↳ next episode : curse womb must die II

↳ barista’s notes : i am back again with another episode of jujutsu kaisen everyone ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ i hope you guys haven’t gotten bored with this whole series, to be honest i forgot how long they take to write since it is a whole epsiode i am trying to retell with a new character in ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ ALSO i have created a masterlist for it as well as future stories i might write in the future! are you excited?  ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

Destructive Curse Spell number one: Sho : 3:26-3:34

Binding Curse Spell number eighty-one: Danku : 3:03-3:07

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing

Shutting your dorm room door closed, you carefully wrapped yourself in the thin white cardigan you had brought out with you before quietly making your way outside the Jujutsu Tech dormitory wanting some form of fresh air due to your incapability to sleep for the time being.

As you began to walk around aimlessly, you quickly looked down upon your phone - nearly blinded by the brightness of the screen -  to find out that it was exactly 2 am making you come to the conclusion that everyone was probably asleep and that no one would find you out for the time being. 

To be honest, it wasn’t a surprise that you couldn’t sleep, it wasn’t like you never had these types of nights before. Although, they were becoming a bit more common than what you would have liked during your lifetime, especially at the age you were now where sleep was essential.

Finally making it to the track field (where you were supposed to be in the next few hours for training), you slowly crouched down to take a seat on the stone steps that lead to the tracks itself before cuddling into the warm cardigan since the light winds were slightly colder than what you have imagined.

‘It’s such a drag knowing that I have to be here, later on, to train with the second-years,’ you thought to yourself for a second before letting out a sigh of frustration, while running your hand through your hair as if it was some coping mechanism for the pending stress that was about to explode anytime soon.

“How long has it been?” you quietly uttered to yourself before looking onto the field as if there was something interesting insights or someone was going to answer your rhetorical question.

“A week? Two?” you continuously questioned yourself, before gently placing your hand on your upper arm as if you still felt the linger cursed technique you had used during the battle you had with him.

‘You possess such intellect, such skill, such power and such talent and yet you refuse to go against me with your full potential, are you mocking me?’

“Maybe,” you whispered your answer, before going back to the electronic device you had in your hand to open Spotify as you decided you needed something to fill up the silence with hint sounds of the wind, grasshoppers and passing cars that were surrounding you. 

However, before you could press play on the chosen song you deemed was quiet enough to play out loud, there was a sudden presence your felt from behind causing you to raise your index finger to hit them with some sort of curse spell to warn them only for a familiar voice to call out.

“It’s just me”

Turning your body around, you found a tall male with erratic hair standing behind you with a non-expressive face before looking down at the dog that was right beside him with what some people say a happy grin on its face. 

Turning back around, you shut your phone off before placing it in the pocket of your black joggers that you wore to bed, allowing the shikigami sorcerer to sit beside you with a gap while his divine dog took the opportunity to sit between the two bodies as it processed to rest it’s head on your shoulder, which you allowed since it was adorable not to deny.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked Fushiguro, as you processed to look onto the field while raising your hand to pet the dog’s head causing it to let out a happy sound before further resting itself upon your shoulder.

“Yeah..same for you?” Fushiguro then questioned, leading you to let out a hum in agreement to tell him you were in the same situation before silence took over between both you and him once again.

To be honest, the silence between you both wasn’t awkward at all, it surprisingly felt natural. Although, even if it was comfortable between you and Fushiguro, you both still have questions for each other, well rather Fushiguro had more questions for you than you had for him. 

He just didn’t know where to start.

“L/N?” Fushiguro called out quietly (so quiet that some people might not be able to hear), leading you to turn your head towards his direction while his divine dog’s head covered your vision slightly. “How strong are you?” he then asked, causing you to express a confused look before turning back to the track field in front of you as if you were trying to find the right response to answer his question as if it wasn’t an easy one to reply to.

“Not that strong,” you replied in a nonchalant tone, leading Fushiguro to look at you with widened eyes as your returned response didn’t make any sense to him. 

It really didn’t at all.

However, he didn’t have the strength to question your answer.

If he had listened to you back then, would your other classmate be alive with you all right now?

“Fushiguro?” you now called out causing the sorcerer to give you a hum informing you that he was listening in to what you had to ask or say. 

“How long has it been since that day?”

                                              ꕥ

The rain was currently pouring. However, it wasn’t too heavy nor was it too light but it was enough to make the mission that you, Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki were assigned to be eerier than it considered to be.

“Our window verified the curse womb three hours ago,” a man, who you recalled was named Ijichi Kiyotaka, mentioned before continued with, “once ninety per cent were successfully evacuated, they made the call to seal off the centre, citizens within a 500-metre radius has been evacuated, as well”.

‘Only ninety per cent? That means either the other ten are missing in there…..or dead’

“Ijichi-san, question,” Itadori stated before raising his hand as if he was in a classroom asking a teacher a question, “what’s a ‘window’ here?”

“A window is a member of Jujutsu Tech who can see curses, they aren’t sorcerers, though,” Ijichi explained as his arms were behind his back in a professional manner.

“Oh, okay,” Itadori muttered, as he understood the explanation that was given to him.

“Let’s continue,” Ijichi quickly stated as it seemed he had more information to be given to all four of you. 

“Detainee Block 2, at present, five detainees remain there with the curse womb, if this curse womb is the type that metamorphoses, we predict it will become a special-grade cursed spirit,” Ijichi announced in a serious tone causing you, Fushiguro and Kugisaki to express a stern look upon your faces.

‘Special-grade? Wouldn’t they make a special-grade sorcerer take the job instead of us? Unless….’

“Hey, so...I still don’t really understand what ‘special grade’ means,” Itadori expressed with an innocent face as he looked at the three of you leading Fushiguro and Kugisaki to give him the fed-up look, while you just shifted your eyesight at your classmate since you understood why he didn’t understand any of the terminologies that were thrown at him, your adoptive father wasn’t the best teacher when it came to non-practical work after all.

“Then allow me to explain it so even idiots can understand,” Ijichi stated as if he was calling Itadori an ‘idiot’ causing you to zone out of the quick lesson to look at the detention centre that was in front of everyone right now. From what you could sense, there was an overwhelming presence beginning to loom over from the building that the other sorcerers didn’t seem to feel causing you to look at Itadori will a worried expression since you knew he didn’t have control of the newfound cursed energy he had gained from eating Sukuna’s finger.

Looking around to make sure no one noticed you, you quietly went up to Itadori from behind before hovering your hand over the back of his neck before using your cursed energy for the spell you were trying to prepare for him in advance.

‘This should protect him for one hit if we come into a surprise attack, but there is nothing else I can do without the other’s noticing’ you thought in a frustrated mindset before silently taking a step back to where you were previous to make sure no one noticed that you had planted a protective spell on your classmate.

“That’s real bad!” Itadori shouted, causing you to zone back into the conversation that was in the process.

“Normally a jujutsu sorcerer on par with the cursed spirit would take on the mission. On a day like today, that would be Gojo-sensei,” Fushiguro explained into further detail, while Kugisaki seemed to now paint a worried expression on her face.

“I-I see,” Itadori stuttered as he looked at the erratic-haired sorcerer before looking around as he then asked, “so where is Gojo-sensei?” which made sense since none of the sorcerers in front of you had ever fought with a special-grade from what you could sense.

“Away on business,” Fushiguro answered in a serious tone, which caused Itadori to give him a confused look as he then stated, “he’s not someone who should be loafing around that school in the first place,”.

‘But that doesn’t explain why four first-years have been sent to deal with this situation...”

“Unfortunately, we’re constantly short-handed in this business, you’ll often have to undertake missions beyond your power,” Ijichi expressed as he pushed up his glasses. “The current case, however, is an abnormal one, and most urgent. Do not fight under any circumstances, if you encounter a special-grade, your options are to either run or die,” Ijichi then stated with a serious tone leading you to internally scoff at the warning he gave.

‘That’s easier said than done’

Even though you knew he cared about the safety of everyone that was preparing to go in, it was ridiculous to say to any sorcerer not to fight since once you knew once you encountered a curse, there was no way of getting out of the fight at all, you knew that from experience.

“Please just listen to your fears, do not forget that your mission here is strictly the verification and rescue of survivors,” Ijichi repeated.

“Sorry, but as we are talking those ‘survivors’ in there are most likely dead, there is only a one to five per cent chance that there are any survivors,” you commented with a straight face causing all three of your classmates to look at you with a surprised expression on what you just said, but before anyone could deny your statement.

“Excuse me! Excuse me, where’s Tadashi?!” a worried voice cried, causing everyone to look, only to find a woman waving her hand while guards tried to push her back, preventing her to come any closer to all of you.

“Is Tadashi...Is my son Tadashi all right?!” the woman asked in a panic, leading you to give her a sympathetic look before you slowly walked up to her with a calm expression on your face. 

‘If someone asks if someone is okay at the beginning of the mission, take it like a way a doctor calms down a patient or how a police officer informs the public about a case, dear. Imagine it from your perspective, you would want to know if I was okay, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yeah, I would mother’

“Ma’am, we are going inside to see if there is anyone else in the building, if we find your son, we will inform you as quickly as we can, is that okay with you?” you gently asked the worried mother since you needed to calm her down in the worst-case scenario that you, your classmates and she had to prepare for. 

Looking at you straight in the eye, she timidly nodded at you causing you to present her with a small smile to help calm her down further. “Please, I need you to step away for the time being since there is a possibility that someone has spread a poisonous gas throughout the centre, but I can not give you any more detail than I can offer,” you explained to her causing the mother’s expression to turned into a shocked one before dropping onto her knees as she grew numb.

“Please find my son,” she begged quietly as tears flowed down her face.

“We’ll try our best ma’am,” you answered her before turning back to your classmates as they looked at you with amazed faces since it seemed like you had done this a million times before - like a profession.

‘Let’s hope that one to five per cent change is in your favour’

“Fushiguro, Kugisaki, Gojo, we’re gonna save them!” Itadori announced in a determined tone causing everyone to turn to him with a determined expression on their faces.

“Of course we are,” Kugisaki answered.

                                          ꕥ

All four of you were now walking towards the entrance of Eushi Detention Centre’s Detainee Block 2 after you have given your black cloth bag that was holding your katana for Ijichi to hold since there was no need to hide the weapon anymore.

“Be careful,” Ijichi said, before raising his fingers to prepare the sleeve that was needed to consume the detention centre, so the outside world didn’t see what was going on inside.

Suddenly, a dark blue aura was cast onto the middle of the sky before slowly descending on all sides like a dome covering a plate of food causing the sky to darken to Itadori’s surprise.

“It’s becoming night!” Itadori shouted as he took a full preview of what was going on, leading Fushiguro to take a glance behind him to inform his obvious classmate that it was the veil Ijichi was placing.

“There’s a residential area nearby, so the barrier conceals us from the outside world,” Fushiguro explained, leading Itadori to express his amazement while Kugisaki gave him the irritated look as well comment since it was basic sorcerer knowledge to know what a veil was.

Suddenly, you heard a loud clap that echoed around the area causing you to look in the direction on where you heard it, only to see Fushiguro’s hands be in a position that was familiar to you.

“Demon Dog!” Fushiguro said before a shower suddenly took form from his to summon the white divine dog that you knew so well from the first time you met him to appear as it howled in response. “He’ll let us know if the curse gets close,” Fushiugro informed you all as the dog looked in his master’s direction.

“Oh, I see!” Itadori said in a light tone before he made his way towards the shikigami to pet it’s snow-white while chanting ‘good boy’ to it as he then expressed his gratitude for its support. However, it seemed like the dog was interested in something else as it stood up on its back legs to make its way towards you before whining as if it wanted something from you.

Looking down at the dog that was now staring at you with its yellow eyes, you couldn’t help but rub its head leading it to relish your affection that you were giving it as it moved it’s head further into your palm as if it can get more out of you.

“I think it’s time to go to Fushiguro don’t you think?” you asked the dog in a light tone, causing it to whine for a moment before going back to its master so it was prepared for the mission that it was about to undertake.

Pushing the door open, Fushiguro and Itadori were in front while Kugisaki and you were behind as everyone prepared themselves for what they were about to go into. “Let’s go,” Fushiguro stated before taking the first step leading the dog to follow in next as well for the rest of you.

However, before you took one step closer into the building you realised something was not what it seemed. From what you can recall, according to Ichiji, the building was said to be a two-story dorm and not the one, you were standing in front of right now, there was no possible way, it was too high up.

‘It’s not a maisonette, it’s too advanced for that,’ you thought as you continued to analyse the surroundings before concluding what you had dreaded, ‘it’s an incomplete Innate Domain, meaning the curse has already fully developed!”

“Hold up!” you shouted at the three sorcerers behind you causing them to pause before turning to look at you, only to find you staring up which led them to do the same leading them to realise why you had halted their movements in the first place.

“Right now, we’re in the middle of the development of an Innate Domain! Is there a door behind me?” you asked in a panic, causing everyone to look at you, only to discover the door had disappeared.

“Th-The door’s gone!” Itadori mentioned in a surprised tone causing you to look at him with widened eyes before turning around to only discover he wasn’t lying to you at all.

‘Shit! How the hell am I going to get everyone back safely? They don’t know how to deal with a special grade from what I can tell, let alone an incomplete Innate Domain’

“How?! We just came in through here, didn’t we?!” Kugisaki mentioned in a stutter as she pointed at the direction where the door should have been while Itadori nodded at her with a few cold sweats dripping down his face.

“What do we do? Ah, what do we do about this?” Itadori and Kugisaki sang as they danced in circles, in a way trying to ease their stress and the tension that came along with the whole situation nearly causing you to giggle at the sight.

“It’ll be fine, the dog remembers the scent of the entrance,” Fushiguro interrupted as he looked annoyed at the two dancers, while the mentioned dog looked back to check on everyone.

“Oh, my~” Itadori and Kugisaki warmheartedly expressed before they started to pet the dog once their mood was lifted with them shouted how they were going to give him jerky later and how much of a ‘good boy’ it was, letting the dog once again relish in the attention that it was being present with.

“You are way too calm!” Fushiguro angrily expressed at two since the mood didn’t match the setting they were in at all.

“You really are dependable, Fushiguro!” Itadori expressed with a grin causing Fushiguro to snap out of his anger. “Thanks to you, we’ll be able to recuse people and save ourselves, too!” Itadori then commented, leading Fushiguro to look at the ground before you suddenly decided to take the first step of carrying on since you were being cautious with the three other sorcerers with you.

‘How long has it been since I faced a special-grade in a fight?’

“Let’s keep moving,” the shikigami user commanded in a stern voice since he saw you making the first way through, letting the other two know that they needed to start moving as well.

While walking, there were the eerie echoes of your footstep causing you to wonder where the actual curse was before entering what seemed to be the centre of the domain. However, you suddenly paused leading the other three to wonder why you came to a halt before looking at the sight that you were looking in the direction of.

Being the first one to react, Itadori rushed to what seemed to be someone’s body - well half of it - and maybe as the second victim since there was a full skeleton that was seemed to be curled up in an excruciating way next to the main body causing you to give your condolences to whoever the person was before observing the area around you to make sure the mention special-grade curse wasn’t near at all.

“Atrocious,” Kugisaki commented in disgust as she stared at the corpses insight.

“That’s...three people, right?” Fushiguro questioned as he quickly took note of how many more victims or survivors there could be - if there were any at this point.

Crouching down, Itadori didn’t answer his classmate’s question, as he then tugged on the detention centre’s dark blue uniform to check the person’s identification, only to realise something that he didn’t want to happen.

“Let’s take this body back,” Itadori suddenly stated, causing confusion to rise within the group since they didn’t know what caused the salmon-haired boy to comment something like that.

“Huh?” Kugissaki asked in confusion.

“It’s that woman’s son,” Itadori regretfully stated, causing you to close your eyes before letting out an internal sign of disappointment before coming to the realisation that you weren’t really surprised at the outcome.

‘Sorry, Ma’am, it seemed the one to five chance wasn’t with you for today’

“But…” Kugisaki slowly stuttered out before being interrupted by Itadori as he then explained that the victim’s face wasn’t mangled and that they still had to give the body back to the mother since it wouldn’t be hard to accept that fact without the body, yet before he could carry on with the plan he was unexpectantly coming up with, he felt someone pull him back by the hood causing him to be surprised at the sudden movement.

“We have to find and verify two more, leave that body behind,” Fushiguro once again commanded, which caused Itadori to shout at him back as he didn’t understand why the body should be left behind.

“Quit joking around! We turned around, and the way we got in here was gone! We won’t be able to come back for it later!” Itadori stated.

“I didn’t say come back for it! I said to leave it behind!” Fushiguro argued back in the same volume of tone, trying to make Itadori understand the situation that they were in and it was not possible to bring the body back at all - there was no point to him. “I have no intention of risking my own life to save someone I had no intention of saving in the first place!” Fushiguro frustratingly stated, only leading Itadori to grab his collar in return as a way to rebuke.

“No intention of saving him? What do you mean?!” Itadori asked in a perplexed tone, confused on what Fushiguro meant when it was their mission to save the remaining survivors that might be in the centre right now.

“This is a juvenile detention centre, Jujutsu sorcerers are granted access to all information about the scene beforehand,” Fushiguro declared before continuing his explanation by stating, “this Okazaki Tadashi hit a little girl on her way home from school while driving without a license, it was his second offence of driving without a license,” leading Itadori to look at his friend in vexation and surprise at the news he was receiving about the man he was going to ‘save’.

“I know you’re stuck on saving lots of people and guiding them to proper deaths, but what are you going to do when someone you saved kills someone else in the future?” Fushiguro asked with a stern tone trying to make his point of view understandable to the boy in front of him.

“Then why did you bother saving me?!” Itadori cried out, as a way to rebuke his statement due to the situation of him being the vessel of Ryomen Sukuna, only to gain nothing but silence from the shikigami user in front of him as he tightened the grip on the collar he was grabbing.

“Oi stop being such drags, I didn’t come to Jujutsu Tech to hear your reasons for being a jujutsu sorcerer, get moving!” you demanded in a menacing tone before unhooking your katana that was secured on your lower back horizontally, preparing to use the weapon to separate them.

“Cut it out! Christ, what are you two doing?! You’re both idiots” Kugisaki shouted in equal frustration with you, as she made her way towards the two boys with her fists in the air.

“Think about the time and place if you-”

However, before she could continue the angry rant, she was suddenly sucked into the floor causing you to quickly react by trying to grab her hand, only to be too late when she was fully consumed into the hole that was created.

“Kugisaki?” Itadori called out in confused, only for Fushiguro to become shocked at the new situation that had occurred before turning forwards to see the sudden and dreadful outcome of his divine dog that was supposed to detect if any curses were near leading you to look at the same direction before suddenly feeling a presence of what you should have felt earlier.

‘If those two drags didn’t distract me with their argument, we shouldn’t have to worry about our wellbeing right now!’

“Itadori! L/N! We’re running, we’ll search for Kugisaki la-” Fushiguro panic before you suddenly screamed at both of them.

“DON’T MOVE!” you screamed, once you suddenly made eye contact on the curse that was standing right in near them, causing you to grip on your katana tighter as all three of you stayed completely still while you were coming up with a plan to see if you could put a distance between the curses and your classmate.

Suddenly, you saw Itadori’s shaky hand reach over to his weapon as he unleashed it from the leather casing before violently swinging it to cut the curse in some way, only for the sudden decapitation of his hand to be the result of his attempt causing massive amounts of blood to spill like a fountain.

“Itadori?” Fushiguro's voice shook while you were in the opposite of that mood right now.

Swiftly, you slide your feet around, landing between the boys before raising your katana making sure the tip on the black wooden casing was pointing at the special-grade curse’s face. 

“Destructive Curse Spell number one: Sho,” you chanted, causing your curse energy to travel from your arms to the length of your sword before a small shot of cursed energy to thrust its force against the curse’s face leading it to be violently pushed back against the concrete wall before turning towards Itadori with an angered expression, “I told you not to move and you decide to go against me!” you screamed in frustration before quickly turning back to look at the direction on where the special grade was flung in a confused but equally concentrated manner.

‘That curse spell isn’t even that strong, it’s my weakest, yet it managed to make it fly across the room, is it really a special grade by nature…..or did it eat something?’

“I can’t escape after it’s gotten this close! Hey, Sukuna! If I die, you die too, right?” Itadori determinedly asked, causing you to look at him with a startled expression.

‘Does this guy have a death warrant? Are you even listening to me?!’

“If you don’t want that, then help me out!” Itadori commanded leading you to further look at him like he was the craziest person in the world right now.

“Are you stupid?!” you screamed, only for Itadori to ignore you as Sukuna’s eye and mouth appeared on his cheek.

“Nope! Even if the parts of me inside you die, there are eighteen other fragments of my soul. Still, irritatingly enough, I don’t have control of this body, if you want to switch, go ahead and switch,” Sukuna taunted as he continued with his threats, “but once you do, I’ll kill that brat before the cursed spirit can, then I’ll go for that woman, she’s a lively one, I’ll have fun with her then I’ll go to her right there, she seemed like someone that knows how to fight,” leading you to place your weapon inches away from his eye.

“Stop talking, you’re making me lose concentration Sukuna,” you stated in a nonchalant tone before going back to find an explanation on why your cursed technique managed to give so much force to the special grade that was now starting to stand back up on its feet.

“I’m not going to let you do that!” Itadori declared in an inflamed tone, only for the King of Curses to taunt back without any hesitation.

“I bet! But if you’re too focused on me, your friends are gonna die,” Sukuna teased, causing you to look at the small eye and mouth with an annoyed look on your face.

“I said stop talking, you’re making me lose concentration,” you threateningly stated, only to suddenly realise that the special-grade was about to attack once again, leading to your cursed energy to flow from the palm of your hands to the tip of your fingers as your placed you left hand up like you were stopping someone.

“Binding Curse Spell number eighty-one: Danku!” you chanted, leading to the familiar large rectangular defensive wall to form in front of you, Itadori and Fushiguro, protecting you from cursed energy that the special-grade it was about to attack you with, but the concrete that wasn’t behind the wall didn’t seem to survive since the concrete turned into debris leaving evidence of its strength for you and Fushiguro to observe.

‘Pure cursed energy? So it doesn’t have any cursed techniques….ah what a drag…’ you concluded before turning to Fushiguro only to see him with widened eyes to that attack causing you to predict that he also thought the same thing as you.

“Fushiguro! Fushiguro! Fushiguro!” Itadori yelled out, trying to get the skikigami user’s attention before his third call caught his awareness as he turned to look at the screaming boy. “Take L/N and Kugisaki and get out of here!” Itadori demanded, causing you to look at him once again with an astonished look on your face, yet before you could grab his red collar in a way to argue his point, Itadori continued with, “I’ll keep this one bust until you three are out, as soon as you’re out, give me some kind of signal and once you do...I’ll switch with Sukuna,” to which Fushiguro screamed at his reckless plan. However, you were too focused on the curse in front of you, wondering why it was considered a special-grade then it took some sort of damage from a weak technique of yours.

As of right now, the curse seemed to be enjoying itself even when you managed to damage it and deflect its attack with two simple cursed spells. There was no point in letting your katana out of its wooden casing, it wouldn't be able to take the damage but there was the situation with Kugisaki being somewhere in the building as well, so there was a risk of taking your weapon out.

‘It’s definitely ate something, but what? There is a chance that it is Sukuna’s finger but that’s rare, besides it seemed like the fool hasn’t sensed anything from it to be his finger’

However, before you could even prepare your next attack to exorcise the curse to end the life and death situation Itadori and Fushiguro were in, you surprisingly felt someone grab your wrist before pulling you away from the battle that you had started leading you to look at the culprit to find out it was Fushiguro, who was dragging you away from the situation.

“What are you doing?!” you shouted before trying to pry your hand away from his grasp, only for him to tighten his hold in a way to not let you escape.

“We’re running, we need to find Kugisaki before giving Itadori the signal to get out of there,” Fushiguro explained in a stressed manner leading you to scream back at him on the thoughtless decision that had been made without your input.

“Are you crazy? You need to take back Itadori and let me fight that curse Fushiguro, he won’t be able to survive at all!” you yelled out in anger.

“Are you the crazy one? We don’t know what grade sorcerer you are and you want to exorcise that thing?!” Fushiguro argued back.

“So what makes Itadori capable? He doesn’t know how to control cursed energy or any techniques, TAKE ME BACK!” you panicked, only for his grip to tighten more at your comment of going back.

No one words were exchanged.

                                            ꕥ

Within a flash, you and Fushiguro managed to grab Kugisaki before she was devoured by the curse she was fighting against while both of you were trying to find her.

At this current moment in time, you were outside the exit with Kugisaki in Ijichi’s arm, Fushiguro on the floor tired from running while you were standing behind the other divine dog that was giving Itadori the signal. However, even though you knew the signal was for Itadori to switch with Sukuna, you were conflicted on the idea leading your body to move forward towards the entrance to enter again. 

However, you were stopped by the black dog using its body to push you back, once it was done with the signal it was giving to Itadori.

“Stop it!” Fushiguro stated as he stood up to put his arm in front of you to prevent you from moving forward. However, you were angry, pissed off and frustrated at this point.

“You should have listened to me, you drag!” you screamed at him before gripping the arm that was blocking your path. However, while you were looking at the erratic-haired sorcerer with pure rage in your eyes, Fushiguro was startled about the immense amount of cursed energy that was surrounding you as he was shocked that he didn’t notice it earlier when he had met you, it was alarming and intimidating to him as he didn’t even stand a chance to dominant his over you, it extended in power and strength than he had ever thought it would have.

How did you hide it so well?

                                             ꕥ

Currently, you were at the gated entrance to the Eushi Detention Centre, where you had laid Kugisaki down at the back seats of the car before closing the door to stand in the rain with Fushiguro - much to your annoyance.

“Please explain the evacuation area to ten kilometres,” Fushiguro stated in a serious tone since he didn't know what could happen next since Itadori was still inside the building. Expanding the evacuation area was the best thing to do right now.

“What about you and Gojo?” Ijichi asked in a worried tone as he turned to look at you both through the gap on the window of his car.

“We’ll wait here for Itadori to return,” you stated in a serious tone to which Ichiji understood since you were so adamant to enter back to the building despite the many attempts Fushiguro tried to stop you.

“After I take Kugisaki-san to the hospital, I’ll return as quickly as possible,” Ijichi declared, only for Fushiguro to give a discouraged look to him before stating, “no, there wouldn’t be much point in you-”

“I need you to come back but I want you to stay at least one kilometre away from the evacuation area, at this rate if Itadori has switched, I want you to be as safe as possible but in the end, if you don’t hear from us at least an hour when you come back, go back to Jujutsu Tech immediately,” you interrupted Fushiguro by pushing your body in front of him while giving Ijichi the instructions you needed him to hear since you didn’t know the possible outcome that this was going to go to. 

“If you can, please send a grade one sorcerer or higher but that won’t be necessary if I don't die,” you sternly commented, leading both Fushiguro and Ijichi to shiver at the statement you just announced.

Still shaken at what you had just said, Ijichi sent himself off before closing the window to prevent any cold raindrops from coming at him as he drove away from the area you and Fushiguro were standing in right now.

“If you don’t want to listen to me, I ain’t going to listen to you at all then Fushiguro,” you stated with a frown painted on your face before looking back at the building behind his body.

Taking your katana, you looked at the bottom of the handle to find a metal loop at the bottom with a red charm tied before it was simply slowly unwinded by you as you prepared for the worst that was about to come.

“What are you doing L/N?” Fushiguro asked in a worried tone, causing you to turn to look at him with a deadpan expression.

“Just preparing for the worst Fushiguro”

 © violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[sunatooru]

I was wondering if I could send in an emergency request, I don't want to bother you so pls ignore it if you're busy

Tw/ arguments, panic attack

So I was having an argument with my friend and they said some hurtful things and mentioned how I was insecure even tho it had nothing to do with the argument??, and so I told them to leave me for a while to cool down

but they just kept following me around all day and it got really stressful because they wouldn't leave me alone until I finally broke down.

I started having a panic attack and crying and I kept telling them to leave me alone but they still didn't leave.

Also there wasn't anyone with us idk if that makes it better or worse

They were yelling at me and asking why I was crying and that just made it worse. I was yelling and shouting at them to leave me alone and to get out and that I didn't want them but they still stayed.

And then they started walking towards me and telling me I that just need a hug and that I'm just stressed out

I was in the corner of the room and I had nowhere to go so it started freaking me out because I was cornered and I didn't want to be hugged or touched my them. I don't usually yell and I had never yelled so loud before, and my friend knows I don't liked to be touched my them so I thought they would understand but they didn't

I started to get overwhelmed and panicked even more and I felt like I couldn't breathe

And then they hugged me and it felt really suffocating it was really hard to push them off me but I eventually did. They wouldn't leave the room until they had to go, and eventually I calmed down after they left (since they were the trigger)

It was a very overwhelming and scary experience

So I was wondering if you could go do mattsun, bokuto, iwaizumi, and maybe kuroo if you can, how they would react in such a scenario, and how they would get the person to leave, and how they would calm their s/o down.

Hii sweets, I'm sorry you went through all that. That friend sounds terrible, especially not leaving you alone and making you feel overwhelmed. And pls don't feel like you're bothering me haha I'm here for you and whoever needs comforting <3 I hope you're feeling much better and that these help in some way xx

~

Warnings: gn!reader x mattsun, bokuto, iwaizumi and kuroo, arguing with a friend goes out of hand, reader breakdowns and feeling overwhelmed, crying, mentions of panic attack, hyperventilating,

~

Matsukawa

* He generally doesn’t try to come between you and your friends if you fight as they never really get out of hand

* so when the the argument between you and your friend ends up more than a little bicker, he steps in

* He can hear you crying out to be left alone but your friend ignores you

* He marches towards you both, stepping in front of you as a shield

* If your friend tries to push past him, they can’t

* His body rigid as he looks down at them, his face unimpressed by their childishness

* “You’re quite brave acting like you’re not the one hurting them.” He raises his eyebrow

* Will continue to block you friend with a little ‘oops’ when they walk into him

* When he catches you scrunched up in the corner, he feels his heart drop

* He knows you don’t like being touched in this state so he grabs a glass of water and tissues for you

* He puts them in front of you and whispers that they’re gone now and it’s going to be okay

* “Everything they said was wrong. Don’t listen to them, okay? You’re wonderful, in so many ways, I can’t even describe. If they were really your friend they should’ve understood your behaviour. Drink some water and take some deep breaths for me.”

* He’ll wait until you’ve drank at least have the glass and then count your breaths

* He won’t try to force physical contact unless you indicate for some

* And when you do he gently dabs your face clean and caresses your check

* “My pretty baby.”

Bokuto

* He wasn’t with you when the fight started

* He only saw what was happening when he came to see you and heard you yell

* He instantly runs towards you, stopping in his tracks when he realises your friend is there too

* When you yell again he knows that you want them to leave

* He does his best to get your friend to leave, repeating that it’s what you want and that they should listen

* When he finally gets them to leave, he frowns at your shaking body

* He squats down in front of you, arms hugging his knees

* “Baby..” he whispers so softly

* “I made them go. It’s going to be okay now.” His voice is gentle, he looks over you and chews his lip

* “I promise. I’m here now and I’ll make you feel better.” He claims and inches his hand closer to yours on the floor

* He keeps it a few centimetres away and wait until you close the gap - an indication you’ve relaxed a little

* He’ll link his pinkie with yours until you’re ready for more

Iwaizumi

* Iwaizumi always protects his loved ones

* So when he sees your friend invading your space after you repeatedly tell them that you need space, it angers him

* He takes in your tense posture, red eyes and tear stain face

* He looks dead into your friend’s eyes after shooting out an arm to stop them from taking another step towards you for a hug

* “I think you’ve given them enough. Leave them alone.” You friend just stares at him and reluctantly leaves, but not without telling you they’ll call you

* He turns to you and hates the way you’re sobbing

* “Love…we don’t need to talk right now but take a seat for me, please.” He requests and points towards the bed

* He sits next to you, close enough to be there for you but always far enough that you’re not overwhelmed again

* “I don’t think you should be friends with them.” He rubs his face and looks at you

* “If they cared about you, they wouldn’t have said anything like that or make you feel worse. They don’t deserve you. You don’t need to say anything…but I’ll be here.” He assures you

* You both sit in silence besides each other, his shoulders relaxing when you start breathing regularly again

* He can’t fight the smile growing on his face when you lean over and rest your head on his shoulder

* He kisses your forehead, getting closer and letting you hold onto his as you like

* Definitely puts your favourite movie on and grabs some snacks if you don’t feel like moving, or doing anything

Kuroo

* He was meeting with you anyways so he came around yours a little earlier, a surprise wouldn’t hurt

* What he wasn’t expecting was to see your friend cornering you as you start hyperventilating on the floor

* He rushes in and shouts at your friend

* “What the fuck are you doing? Can’t you see what’s happening right now?” He scorns at you friend, glaring hard as he practically scolds them out of your place

* He curses when he turns back to see you, quickly falling on his knees and trying to grab your attention

* “Baby, breathe with me, okay? Follow me.” He holds eye contact with you and starts inhaling and then slowly exhaling

* He continues this until your erratic breathing subsides

* He then finds some tissues and gently dabs at the corner of your eyes

* “I’m here baby, I’m here.” He mumbles, sitting opposite you and giving you a small smile

* “I don’t know what happened but you didn’t deserve it. If your friend does that again…” he inhales deeply

* “Please call me if it does. No matter what, I’ll come for you.” He declares

* After a while, when he sees you slowly feeling better, he’ll suggest making dinner for you both

* A special candlelit dinner, some music in the back and a tight hug promising you that you did nothing wrong and that everything will get sorted out

[nincompoopydoo]

heyy congratulations!!! i would like something about george weasley with “ i can’t let you go. ” and “ what world do you live in ”. <3

NATURE MOURNS WITH THE MOURNING

PAIRING: George Wealsey x reader WORD COUNT: 1.1k SUMMARY: You and George finally find solace after the Battle of Hogwarts A/N: So uh this broke me. Anyways, thank you nonny for requesting! WARNINGS: Mentions of death. Grief. Mourning. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

You see him, red under the moonlight, glowing in the darkness of the night. Through weary eyes, it’s the sight on his back that calms your erratic heart. The nights have been sleepless, dreamless—you will only dream of resting your eyes for once though they never seem to do just that. How could one rest with the aching and sorrow of one’s heart?

When you do sleep, for short minutes during the day, you dream of Fred. He seems to be always present, always watching in your peripheral vision but never speaks. Always there. Fred Weasley was the happiest and cheekiest boy you have ever met paired with intelligence and a slightly off moral compass.

Without him, things are never the same. The magic of happiness is forever lost in the creaking of the Burrow as the Weasleys scurry up and down the winding staircase. The smell of gunpowder will forever lose the hint of mischief that Fred held. He was a brother, a son, a friend.

You don’t know how George can breathe without the heaving breath of his brother.

George. He’s an anchor and has a huge heart with so much love to give.

His hair gleams like firelight against the greens of nature surrounding the house, sitting on the trunk of his father's Ford Anglia. He stares ahead and into the dark, mind drifting somewhere but the present. Reality is too hard to grasp upon.

He doesn't hear you approaching, light feet padding against the grass. The crickets hum the tune of a song for the lost. The trees are beginning to slant. The summer breeze tingles the strands of your hair against your cheeks as if wiping the stains of your tears.

Tonight, nature mourns with mourning.

"Hey, you."

Your voice is soft, trembling with the leaves that rustle in the passing wind. George turns to you, saddened eyes meeting your own. The last time you saw them was when you wrapped your arms around him, kneeling over the lifeless body of Fred. A part of him died that day. You will never forget the agony that tinged his teary gaze.

"Hi."

It comes off as a whisper, raspy and thick with hurt.

He’s trying to hold it in, but you see right through his facade of solemnity. It’s like shattered glass, holes peeking through the secrets of his mind. Even in sadness, you are still awestruck by the beauty of his heart and soul.

Without a second thought and a spoken word, he shifts in his seat, making room for you as you swiftly hop onto the trunk. Your shoulder brushes against his.

"Did you get any sleep?"

This is the longest he has spoken in weeks.

"No, not really. It’s just that, every time I sleep, I keep seeing—"

You cut yourself short, realizing how your tongue spits faster than your brain.

A moment of silence passes, your heart returns to its once erratic heartbeat. It was weeks of treading carefully, just wanting to be enough for George. But, you are afraid that with the name that never slipped your tongue but the intention is clear, you will lose him forever.

Maybe, he is ready to speak the secrets of his mind.

"Fred," he says with an odd air of contentment. Not with grief, screaming the name of his dead brother. George is different now.

You turn to him, attempting to hide your wide-eyed gaze. He continues to speak, "I see him too. Not just in me, but in everything. Everywhere. Every time. As if he's still here with us."

The steadiness of his tone disappears. You just sit there, next to him, listening.

Like a montage of life fully lived, you see snippets of your time with the twins, swimming in stacks of parchment from your Potions essay as you watch the two experiment on an invention like mad scientists creeping at night. You always smelled like gunpowder. No one would ever come near you except for the twins, of course.

You remember how fell for George. You remember how Fred found out about it and teased you for being upset when George asked Alicia to the Yule Ball.

Gone are your melancholic teenage years but your love for George never faded.

You watch him swing his eyes to the sky, blinking at the stars above. “I thought it would never happen. That he will be the first to leave. But, now...now, this world feels like it's crumbling and everything is burning...I don’t think I can ever be happy again.”

It’s the stinging of eyes that made you notice the return of your flowing tears.

“You know what Fred would say?”

George turns to you through his own flooded eyes too. You heave a trembling sigh.

“What world do you live in? The bloody dark ages?”

You’d imagine the sarcasm in his tone, said through the laughter of disbelief. He would nudge his brother a little too hard and George would respond, hissing in pain. The two will bicker and you will be there, rolling your eyes as you continue to submerge yourself in the sea of homework.

Now, it’s only the two of you, with the silence of the night.

George deserves to be happy. Fred would want that.

You hear him snort and your heart flutters.

“That was a really bad impression.” Despite his words, he still looks amused. You hum in response, a vague smile playing upon your lips. “I know.”

Maybe, it was the overwhelming sense of yearning for the embrace of someone because as soon as the two of you fall into silence once more, he takes hold of your hand. Through the bitterness and the sweetness of the unfortunate never-ending events, the warmth of his touch manages to seal the wound that was open for the world to see since the battle. For the first time, you see him. You truly see who George Weasley is amidst the chaos. He is just as scared as you are, no matter how strong he tries to be.

You then bring his head into your chest, running your fingers through his ginger hair. He holds you like you’re the only thing that’s keeping him together.

“Please don’t ever leave me.”

It’s a plea and you wonder why he would ever think such a thing. You shake your head, holding him closer. “I won’t leave you. And you know very well I can’t let you go anywhere without me. I will always be around.”

Tonight, it’s just the two of you, holding each other and left with the lingering thoughts and memories of a shared lost one.

Tonight, nature mourns with mourning.

Tonight, nature loves with the loving.