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jinwoosungs · 27 days

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{ 144 }

rose-colored boy.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ lowkey, no pressure | just hang with me and my weather! }

sung jinwoo was simply curious about you and how you were doing, that’s all.

he wasn’t inclined to watch you because he had the biggest crush on you, oh no. you were just… special to him.

that’s why he put so many of his soldiers within your shadow, (because he did that for all those he cared about!)

but he had to admit, there were a few times when he snuck glances at you through his soldier’s eyes, managing to catch you in some pretty… vulnerable moments.

from talking animatedly with your best friend,

to running errands and shopping for groceries,

and even while you enjoyed some time to yourself while drinking coffee at your favorite café.

sometimes, the shadow monarch couldn’t help himself when he caught you during these mundane moments, admiring you as you simply enjoyed your life.

but perhaps the moment that truly set his heart aflame was the moment he caught you taking a shower, seeing the sight of your bare back as the soap suds slid down your form was enough to make the entirety of his face turn a bright, tomato red.

he couldn’t escape the vision fast enough, hissing at his soldiers to keep their eyes closed as they continue to protect you from within the confines of your shadow. he wanted them to give you your privacy, but admittedly, his mind was still racing a mile a minute as he kept replaying that scene of you showering over and over again.

in the end, he felt so guilty for seeing you at such a vulnerable state, so much so that he invited you out to dinner with him, promising you that you could choose wherever you wanted to eat as he paid for it all (“my treat!”)

he was happy when you accepted his offer, but was still too embarrassed to tell you the reason why he wished to treat you to dinner. ever since that fateful moment he had seen you taking a shower, he had stopped watching you from your shadow, silently promising to give you the privacy that you deserved -

yet now, when he could feel his soldiers sending distress signals, filled with concern for you, he knew he couldn’t fight back his anxieties anymore. he closes his eyes and looks through his soldier’s eyes, his heart breaking at the sight in front of him.

in his vision, he sees you curled up in bed while wrapped within your thick blankets. a half-empty glass of water coupled along with some medicine helped jinwoo piece together that you had fallen ill with a fever. he takes himself away from the vision and makes his way out of his guild’s office.

“what…? boss, where are you going?” jinho calls out to him, but jinwoo simply waves him off.

“she’s sick.”

knowing from the tone of his president’s voice that he would not be able to focus on making any plans for future raids and partnerships when it involved you, jinho simply waves him off, promising that he’ll take care of any calls or reports that come by.

yet sadly, his words fall upon deaf ears when jinwoo shuts the door behind him, solely focused on getting back to you.

{ … }

your breathing comes out in heavy pants the moment you heard several knocks coming from your door.

a moan escapes from your chapped lips when you forced yourself out of bed. with the blankets wrapped around you, you tried to fight back the dizziness and pounding felt against your temple.

by some miracle, you manage to open the door as you saw jinwoo himself standing before you. you were about to ask what he was doing here, but ended up succumbing to one of your dizzy spells, forcing him to catch you within his embrace.

you were dimly aware of the sounds of plastic bags rustling as the s-rank hunter closes your door and carried you back into your room. you vaguely hear his words of concern, but couldn’t say anything to him due to your weakened state.

“…when did you last take your medicine?”

somehow, within what seems like mere seconds, you found yourself back in bed, with jinwoo already tucking you in. he brushes back your damp strands of hair while looking down at you, eyes filled with concern.

you swallow thickly and tell him in a raspy voice, “about an hour ago.”

a gentle smile paints his handsome features as he allows the pad of his thumb to caress at your bottom lip. “poor baby… here, let me take care of you. i’ll make you some rice porridge; something easy to digest that won’t upset your stomach too badly.”

your face felt flushed due to your fever, and you let out a gentle squeak in response, hiding your face within your blankets. “you would c-cook for me?”

jinwoo hums while gently ruffling at your hair. “yeah. it’s my mom’s recipe, and i always made this for jinah when she’s unwell. it’ll make you feel so much better, you just wait here for me, okay?”

“okay.”

you watch as he disappears, going into what you assumed would be your kitchen as he brought his groceries with him. your mind was still hazy, hearing the gentle banging and clatters of pans coming from your kitchen.

comforted by the sound of jinwoo cooking in your kitchen, you visibly felt your body relaxing against your bed. your eyes were a little heavy, feeling drowsy once more as your medication began to take effect-

however, the moment you could smell the delicious scent of chicken and garlic with a hint of ginger did your mouth begin to water. as if sensing your increased appetite, jinwoo reappears once more, this time with a bowl filled with the rice porridge he had made for you.

eager to try his cooking, you manage to weakly sit up from your spot on the bed, eyes glimmering at jinwoo.

“you shouldn’t have…”

he playfully shushes you, sitting beside you on the bed, feeling your mattress dip down with his added weight. as he picks up the spoon and fills it with the rice porridge, gathering tiny bits of scallion and bite-sized pieces of chicken with it, you could feel your mouth further salivating in response. all too eager to try it, you open your mouth wide and allow the hunter to feed you.

moans of absolute delight were heard coming from your lips as you absolutely demolished his rice porridge. with each bite he fed to you, you could feel your strength steadily returning, still eating the entire bowl until every last drop of it was drained.

jinwoo lets out a proud whistle, admiring the empty bowl while dropping the spoon into it, basking in its gentle clanking sound. “wow, i’m proud of you for having such a healthy appetite, even now.”

you pout and gently shove at his chest at the way he was teasing you. but he took no offense to your actions, simply smiling down at you with a fondness before standing back to his full height while taking the empty bowl.

“i’ll go ahead and wash this, then i’ll head on out. and no worries, i’ll lock the door for you using your spare key so that you can rest easy.”

before he could leave your room, your hands immediately reach out to wrap around his wrist, stopping him from leaving you.

you were panting slightly, and you hoped that jinwoo would assume that your heated face was because of your fever (not because of your desire for him to remain by your side.)

your eyes were pleading at him to stay.

“stay with me… please?”

the moment jinwoo’s gaze softens in response to your words, you knew that you had him wrapped around your fingers. he places the bowl back against your nightstand before joining you in bed.

you eagerly scoot over, making space for him on your mattress as his arms automatically wrap themselves around your form. feeling greedy, you bury your face within his chest while listening to the sounds of his beating heart.

you weren’t sure what kind of label to put on the relationship you had with jinwoo. you knew that on the surface you were considered friends with him-

but the way he treated you bordered more on the cusp of romance.

you knew that you had feelings for him, but had yet to truly come clean to him, confessing all of the emotions you felt for him.

but perhaps… now was a good time to tell him?

because really, could he possibly reject you when you were sick and at your weakest?

so, with a sharp inhale, you decide to let it all out in one go. removing your face from his chest, you meet his gaze and tell him, “jinwooiamsoinlovewithyou….!”

jinwoo frowns when he hears the plethora of words seeming to mesh together as they escaped from your lips. his eyebrows were furrowed, and he carefully replays your words over and over again-

before a huge grin was seen settled on his handsome face.

instead of answering your confession, he turns around so that he could better hold you in his arms, humming while pressing his lips against your forehead, grateful to feel the dampness of your skin as your fever slowly began to break.

“jinwoo… do you feel the same way?”

your voice was tiny and shy, making the young man chuckle as he kisses your hair in response.

“tell me again when you feel better in the morning, and i’ll tell you my answer. until that time comes, i’ll continue holding you in my arms like this.”

you smile in response to his words, burying your face within his chest once more while clinging to the front of his shirt.

you end up falling into a peaceful slumber while in jinwoo’s embrace, somehow knowing that you were deeply loved and cherished by him-

even if he had yet to say it out loud ♡

a.n. - and we’re back to our regularly scheduled fluff! hahaha, if you readers didn’t mind the plot and style of writing like arise, let me know, and i’ll be sure to add more ‘darker’ stories like it for jinwoo in the future 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #jinwoo sung #sung jinwoo #.stories

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em1e · 1 year

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⠀ 五条 + 夏 // RECUERDOS ⠀ ༝ ༝ gojo satoru + geto suguru ⠀ ༝ ༝ 3.2k words ⠀ ⚠︎ angsty kinda my b. this is a cyoe type story ! ⠀ — [ part 2 ] you were supposed to be dead, but by some miracle gojo's found you. geto, too.

i. dead

He thought he was going crazy, at first.

Who wouldn’t? You were supposed to be dead. Go on and call him psycho for seeing you in everything, everywhere.

The first thing he catches is your scent (it’s like picking up on something so vaguely familiar from childhood - an old memory that makes him double take and look around for what could possibly bring back the reminder of happier times). Gojo follows the smell absentmindedly through the busy streets, haphazardly bumping into other people and muttering half-hearted apologies without pause. He stops when he sees (h/c) hair enter a local grocery store.

It wasn’t possible, right? You were supposed to be dead. He follows behind without much thought, the soft chime of the doorbell making the clerk look up and greet him with a smile. He doesn’t acknowledge them, eyes set on your figure as you head towards the back of the shop - already knowing where whatever you have in mind to purchase is. Gojo keeps his distance, watching from three aisles over as you pick between two different apples, weighing and squeezing and examining until you decide the one in your right hand is much better than the one on your left. You bag the right one and put the left back in its place. From here, he can see your face clearly and he thinks numbly if there is a God out there, surely they are taunting me.

It’s you. You in every way he remembers you. The same soft gaze over everything your eyes meet, the same gentle but deliberate touch, everything done with confident intent. There’s small hints to prove you’ve grown older, that you have changed - more adult, more mature, but deep down he feels it. It’s you.

He finds himself following a few steps after you as you leave the store. He can feel his own heartbeat in his ears, mind traveling a million miles a second as he tries to come up with some sort of explanation as to what was happening in front of his eyes. You stop at a pop-up flower shop, laughing animatedly with the owner before deciding on a bouquet of your favorite and carrying them away in one hand, the other clutching the rest of your belongings and recently purchased groceries. And he watches as you enter a nearby apartment, watches through the window as you greet the doorman with a smile and offer him one of your flowers, and watches you disappear behind the elevator doors.

He leaves with a bitter taste in his mouth.

ii. reunited

You were supposed to be dead.

He’s brought back to that reminder looking at old pictures of when you went to Jujutsu High with him and Geto. Your smile so wide in each picture, your eyes crinkle in the corners with your arms thrown on either boy's shoulders - the bitter taste returns to his mouth.

He knows now, you aren’t dead. Some part of his mind rejects the thought, some part of him rejoices in the fact. Gojo’s done some research on his own (also read: stalking) to find you seem to have a normal life. What happened after that fight?

Memories flood back from that dreadful night ; buildings were crumbled around them, and all Gojo could manage to think about after the demolition was where you were. He watched you take a bad hit, watched you fall off one of the many now broken down buildings, and you had yet to reappear among the other faces. Geto, as if sensing his friend's stress, starts to scream out.

“(y/n)!”

Geto’s scream is met with silence, and for once in his life, Gojo can’t find it in himself to move forward. To join his friend in his search for something. A corpse, part of your shirt, anything that could show proof of your remains, to prove that you were even there in the first place.

Geto finds nothing in your wake, falling to his knees into the rubble and digging until his knuckles are all scraped from the cement and brick and glass and digging still when his fingertips are raw and bleeding, hoping to find anything.

But he doesn’t. Gojo remembers numbly how they buried an empty casket. Pronounced dead with no body to match the call. He’s brought back to wondering why. Why you never told them otherwise, why you never came back to the school, why you never fixed this wrong. Does Geto know you’re alive? Your death absolutely crushed him, molded itself around his heart and formed a tough shell that Gojo finds hard to crack.

He figures out your routine is just that - a routine. Very plain in every sense of the word, but easy to follow, easy to plan around.

So it’s no surprise to him when you leave that same grocery store, items balanced meticulously in hand while saying something to the clerk who knows you by name. Without a second thought, Gojo pushes himself away from the wall he had been watching you from, head held high as he walked forward with mock intent to enter the same shop and oops -

He’s knocked everything out of your hands!

And consequently, has knocked you down as well. You’re quick to apologize, despite being the one to take the brunt of impact, and go to gather your items as quickly as you can. Gojo crouches to assist you, waving off your apology hastily.

“No, no, no need to apologize. I wasn’t paying attention.” He ends with a hum, picking up a now bruised apple that rolled out of your bag and offering it to you.

Here, he can see your face up close, and he takes in every little detail from behind his sunglasses. You finally look up at him as you take the apple from his hand, giving a small smile that makes something in his chest twist.

“Thanks.” You shove the fruit back into your bag and Gojo offers his hand as he stands up, which you take gratefully. He grips your hand for a second longer than necessary, before letting his own drop back to his side, chin up and head tilting slightly as if he’s really thinking about something.

“Say, do I know you? Ya look familiar.”

Your own head tilts in mock of his, eyes scanning his face and figure before your lower lip juts out and you shake your head, “No, I don’t think so. What’s your name?”

His eyes narrow from behind his dark lenses, though he offers you his hand, “Gojo Satoru.” You shake it with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, no, I don’t recognize that. (l/n) (y/n).”

He drops your hand for a second time with a hum, “You must have one of those faces.”

You shrug, smile ever-growing at him and he wonders if the sun could ever be as blinding in comparison. “It was nice to meet you, Gojo. Sorry again for running into you!” With a final wave, you’re moving past him to go back to your apartment. He knows this because he knows you. He knows you have to go home and start dinner right before your favorite show comes on TV so you can watch it while you eat. Then you’ll clean your kitchen, brush your teeth, and read a chapter from your favorite novel right before bed.

Somehow, he also knows watching from a distance won't be enough forever. Things still aren't exactly clicking to him. Did you really not remember him? Or were you just saying that? He leaves with the hope of finding out.

iii. living

Gojo doesn’t intend to lose you a second time. He settles this with himself laying awake one night, room dark and mind heavy. If you left for good reason, he’s sure he could accept it. Maybe, with more thought, he could bring you back. Such a selfish hole to spiral down.

It doesn’t keep him away the next day, already shopping at your frequented store. You come in five minutes earlier than he expects, and to no surprise head straight for the fruits. A perfect apple already in hand, he pretends to look between the selection of remaining apples, head tilting back and forth as he examines ones he knows aren’t nearly as good as the current in his grasp, but putting on a show for no one in particular.

You step beside him, already giving him that big smile he’d recognize miles away and pick up an apple to examine yourself.

“Funny running into you again.” You pick up another and compare them with the squeeze test.

He pretends he’s surprised that you’re suddenly beside him, turning to look at you as if he wasn’t studying you the minute you stepped in the building.

“Oh, it’s you!” He says after a moment, offering a small smile in return, “Very funny running into you! You wouldn’t believe what I found.”

He passes you the perfect apple without much thought, not catching your amazed daze at the fruit as he reaches for his wallet to pull out the picture of the three of you and offering that as well. “I couldn’t get such a pretty thing like you outta my head - knew I recognized you from somewhere.”

You all but gawk at the photo, apple long forgotten as you take in every detail.

“Is this me?”

He watches your expression shift from behind sunglasses, unsure what to make of this statement.

“It is.” He says finally, “Do you . . . you don’t remember?” A small shake of the head is his answer. “This is you,” his arm brushes against yours slightly to point out the obvious, “this is me, and this is Geto. We were all friends back in the day.”

“You . . . knew me?” Your voice is so small, and Gojo forgets for a moment that the two of you aren’t the only ones in this store, in this reality.

“I . .. did, yeah.” He looks around and finally takes in the other patrons in the establishment, the workers joking and having a good time and Gojo hates that he’s potentially ruined your week with one photo. “Say, why don’t we get outta here and I tell ya all about it - maybe you can tell me what you’ve been up to, too?”

It’s like his voice breaks you out of a trance, doe-eyed expression moving from the photo to finally look at him. You offer a small nod, frozen in place for a second longer before giving one more look to the photo and then looking away again. “Sure, that sounds good. D’ya mind me finishing up here? We can go back to mine after and talk?”

For the first time in forever, you sound hesitant. Unsure. You don’t know what to make of Gojo or of that photo and everything blurs together until you’re stepping foot in your apartment, bags placed on the counter as Gojo enters your home. A silence surrounds you, though it’s not truly unwelcome. For a moment, he can see your discomfort with him - he’s uncertain if it’s because he’s in your space, or if it’s from the new found information. Part of him thinks it’s a mixture of both.

“Nice place.” He hums absentmindedly, sliding off his shoes with his hands in his pockets, taking in everything as an official guest and not some stranger staring in from the street.

“Thanks,” you’re moving to keep yourself busy, putting away things and picking up others to make it seem tidier than it currently is, “wasn’t expecting guests, sorry for the mess.”

Gojo honestly doesn’t feel like anything is out of place - it all feels so homey, so uniquely you that if you told him this is how everything was meant to be, he’d believe you without a seconds hesitation.

“S’okay, just seems lived in.” He’s careful to not rush in too quickly, not wanting to make you any more anxious than you already are. “Nothing wrong with that.”

You finally gesture towards the living room, grabbing waters from your fridge and passing him one as you sit on the couch. He takes this as an invitation to sit as well, keeping his distance while you tuck your legs under you with them crossed. He opens his mouth to start, but you beat him to speaking while openly staring at him.

“What’s with the sunglasses? I don’t think I’ve seen you take them off . . . well, ever.”

Gojo almost wants to laugh at the question when you ask. You used to know. Surely this wasn’t all an act, right?

“Light sensitivity,” he says simply with a shrug. A silence falls over you again, and you relish in it while looking around your apartment. “What kind of questions do you have?” He asks finally, deciding someone has to break the silence and he seems to be the one with less anxieties.

You suck in a breath, meeting his gaze and then looking away.

“Who . . . How do I know you?”

You know he’s already explained it to you, but it seems just partial. Clearly, there’s more. Other things, whatever they may be, are missing.

“We went to high school together,” he leans into the couch, arm slinging over the back, “you, Geto, and I were really close friends.”

“Were?” You parrot, practically begging for more than the small crumbs he’s provided you with.

“Were,” he repeats simply, “you disappeared one day after-” flashes of you falling from the building come to mind, “after school one day. We never saw you again.”

“Oh.” You say quietly. “Did anyone . . . look for me?”

“Yeah,” he feels his chest tighten, Geto falling to his knees and digging desperately, “never found anything. It’s almost shocking to see you here now, honestly.”

When he finally looks back over to you, you’re staring holes into the floor.

“I woke up in a hospital a couple years ago,” you say without being prompted, “I didn’t . . . Couldn’t remember who I was or what happened. The doctors told me there was an earthquake in the area and an older couple found me in the rubble of a destroyed building . . . I never . . .”

“Never got your memory back?” Gojo finishes for you, taking in how much you struggled to talk about this. You shake your head.

“Not fully. Eventually I remembered who I was, I guess, but not really anything else. There wasn’t any record of me anywhere so I was basically . . . I dunno, a nobody. Started from scratch.”

He watches you intently, trying to decide if this is really all true. You have no reason to lie to him, right? This couldn’t all be some ploy?

“Can I see the picture again?” You ask so softly that Gojo doesn’t think he could ever deny you. He pulls the photo out of his pocket and gently passes it to you. You stare at it, taking in every detail like it’s the first time you’re seeing it again. “Who did you say this other person was, again?”

“Geto,” he hums, “he was one of our closest friends.”

“Was?” Your eyes shift from the picture to him.

He nods, “He and I sort of fell out, after a while. We don’t really talk anymore.”

You nod in return, seeming to understand. Silence washes over the two of you again, and Gojo makes no move to change it this time.

The two of you spend the next few hours trading questions between each other - you asking Gojo how things were in the past, and Gojo returning with how things are in the present. He learns you’re a school teacher at a local elementary school (and you love all of your students with your entire being), that you are still the kind hearted person he remembers you once were (how you go out of your way for others is admirable), and that you were thinking about getting a new pet (but you’re unsure if you’d be able to give them proper attention).

He leaves with more than one of his questions answered, and with an invitation to come back around anytime on your tongue as he walks out of the apartment. He knows the offer is something he will take to heart.

iv. memory

Knowing what you do now feels . . . weird. Gojo has made it a point to drop by every now and then, a ‘healthy check-in’ he likes to call it, but you suspect he just wants to rebuild whatever bond you’ve lost from the past few years. You don’t mind, honestly, happy to reconnect.

He happily talks about your past, retelling memories in hopes of maybe bringing something back, but it never does. He avoids talking about Geto (you suspect it was a bad falling out) and you don’t pressure him to speak about the male.

No one could imagine your surprise when you see the enigma walking around the streets on one of your days off.

He holds himself high, a confident aura surrounding him so thick you freeze when he passes you. You’ve never been one to be so direct, stunning even yourself when you turn on your heel and tap his shoulder gently. He makes it no urgency to face you, posture unchanging as he takes you in.

He eyes you up and down, and you almost wonder for a second if maybe he isn’t who you thought you were. The picture you’re basing his looks on is what, 15 years old? Should you really be betting the entirety of introducing yourself on that?

“Something I can help you with?” He asks, voice much softer than you expect it to be.

It pulls you out of your own stunned silence, blinking at him, “You’re Geto right?” You almost cross your fingers he says anything but no.

“I am, who are you?”

You breathe a small sigh of relief, shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I’m (l/n) - (l/n) (y/n), I knew you looked familiar.” You don’t see how his eyes widen slightly, too distracted by your own excitement to notice. “Gojo has been telling me about how we used to know each other, it’s crazy you’re here right now!”

“(l/n)?” He repeats, still taking in everything that is you. “Haven’t heard from you in a while . . .” You were supposed to be dead.

The thought weighs heavy in his mind, and he wonders for a moment if maybe this is some cruel trick by a curse. Maybe this is God punishing him for any of his wrong doings.

He doesn’t realize you were talking to him until you’re tilting your head at him expectantly, waiting for a reply.

“Sorry,” he waves apologetically, “I spaced out. This is just quite the surprise.”

“It’s alright,” you offer a smile, “I was asking if you’d like to catch up? If you’re not busy, of course.” You add quickly, not wanting to suddenly take up his day if he already had plans.

The curses at his side voice their concerns, their need to talk strategy and plan, but Geto returns your smile and gestures to a nearby cafe, “I have some time.”

You don’t realize how nervous you are until you’re sitting down with your drink, Geto sitting across from you with a smile that you don’t think has left his face since you got his attention.

“So,” he starts after taking a sip of his drink, “where have you been all these years?”

#salmon rowe #gojo saturo x reader #saturo gojo x reader #saturo x reader #gojo x reader #saturo gojo #gojo saturo #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto sugu #suguru geto #x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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smolvenger · 4 months

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A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Eighteen (Loki x fem! Reader Hiddlesverse Crossover Series)

Series Summary: Based on Sarah J Mass's A Court of Thorns and Roses series with the Tom Hiddleston characters. You are a woman of 1880's in Aldwinter in Essex, England, dying of tuberculosis. Never to be married to the local Lusty Vicar. When Loki appears to you and offers to heal you...if you spend a week of every month with him

Chapter Summary: Longing to return to your husband and friends, you take the next steps for revenge, both big and small. Your powers perform a miracle for the town to get you into their good graces. Then, an unexpected invitation arrives.

Word Count: 4K (for me, that's short. Don't wanna write super long chapter bc I fear people hate it)

Chapter Warnings: No smut, but mentions of sex and masturbation with references to and deconstructing the canon events The Essex Serpent the book, and the show, including not portraying Cora or Will or their affair sympathetically so if you don't like that don't read this, discussions of cheating and a brief mention of the fear of sexual violence. Loki gets jealous for a hot second. Some angst, but some humor. Supporting Women's Wrongs. Reader causing problems on purpose. Portrayals of religion. My saltiness slips out into roasts.

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

The first letter had its destination. You got out a piece of paper, writing down the address of the seminary that appointed him the vicarage of Aldwinter. Then you began writing.

“Dear sirs,

I have some unfortunate news. I suspect the Reverend William Ransome is not of moral character fitting his position here. He is engaged to marry…”

You hesitated. Thinking carefully, if you signed it with your name, Will would know it was you. No, you couldn’t risk that. You continued writing.

“... a Miss Y/L/N. However, an intact love letter from a woman named Mrs.Seaborne was discovered in his possession. It is dated during his still current engagement to Ms. Y/L/N. It is enclosed here. There must be an inspection in his vicarage to see if he encouraged Mrs. Seaborne and if there were other incidents. If found that he behaved in a manner not befitting godly character, it is doubtful he can have the right to sacred orders and to function as a public figure of the church at least in Aldwinter.”

Sincerely,

An anonymous member of the congregation.”

Stuffing both this paper and the first letter in an envelope, you then sealed with wax. Then wrote down the address of the council.

You hurried to the post office, paid postage, and quickly mailed it out before anyone could see. Too many talking mouths.

You heard Loki congratulate you.

‘I couldn’t have done better, my dear. You’ve learned from the best. You’re a wife to the god of mischief indeed.’

Once you got home, though you skimmed over the book of Matthew beside the fire, you weren’t focused on the scripture. You would have to figure out where to send the other two letters. One would have to get to someone in town, anyone who attended church would do. You’d figure out the how later.

But the third one would require research… Mrs. Seaborne’s ambition in life was to become recognized as a woman of science.

Too bad sleeping with another’s fiancee typically results in a woman’s utter ruin.

And now you had the evidence in hand. You had to figure out where to send it to. Which department of science? Who received her research? What if she wasn’t sending it at all, what then? Would she gather up her fossils as Stella loved to gather up seashells?

Your thoughts then returned to Stella… your friend who shared a fate with you.

Had you not been there…it would have been her. She would have married Will and fell in love with him. Been the dutiful, obedient wife who carried the Word in her mouth and his children in her womb. Stella, stricken with consumption, about to die…and for William to repay her devotion and life with him with inconstancy. Doomed to do nothing about her husband’s obsessive lust for another woman and in fact, smile at it.

His happiness was what mattered. His happiness. Not hers.

And she would have borne it without even speaking a complaint. She’d be their matchmaker like a dutiful little wife all while she never let her heart sway to another man, much less bring him to the marriage bed that her upright, moral, virtuous, godly husband had the freedom to. The marriage bed Will would have set on fire and destroyed into bits all while she smiled and laid in it and let him burn her into ashes.

She’d want them to be together. Content and not the least bit unhappy that she never mattered to Will in the first place. She’d even attempt suicide- end her own life- so they could be together!

The perfect wife to a man who couldn’t be decent.

…what would she get out of it?

At the end of the day, who was kissing their lover, and who was the one about to drown?

And even for her selfless and complete and utter devotion to Will…it wouldn’t be the same from him. He wouldn’t be willing to sacrifice or control himself for Stella…not one bit. He was a man who did not deserve her. Did not deserve the great, selfless love she had for everyone in her life…even you.

You were the same not long ago. The self-sacrificial, dutiful, passive wife who wanted nothing but his happiness. That was why you agreed to that bargain on that fateful day.

You had to avenge Stella. Even if now it wouldn’t happen, you had to. For you and she were one half of one whole fate. And in this one, the abandoned woman would not passively sit until she killed herself for such selfish monsters.

If Stella were the one destined to not fight….you would. For her sake as well as yours.

You paused, remembering how frightened she was in Grendel’s cave the last you saw her.

‘How is Stella?”’ you asked Loki. You knew you asked him a hundred times before. And he would tell you.

‘She was having nightmares keeping her awake. Flinching, bursting into tears and fits of great fear of anything involving Grendel…but she is getting better.’

“When will she be home? Her family keeps asking after her…they mourn her as if she died. I cannot stay long with them without weeping. It destroys me every time”

“She was in her house when Grendel took her…she doesn’t feel safe there now. So she wants to stay here...”

“Without it being safe for Thomas to deliver letters…They think she’s your whore for good now.”

“If I forced Stella to be my whore, I think my wife would have something to say about it. Not to mention Jonathan.”

“Oh, he’d say something. His fists can make a whole sentence itself.”

His warm laughter made you smile over the large, thick book in your lap.

“Oh, Loki, bless him-I knew from when he gave her those flowers. But I don’t think he’ll admit he is besotted with her already,” you added on.

“Jonathan is not a man who will easily admit anything, why else did he become a spy?”

In the night, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was still racing, refusing to shut off. You went to the window in your room, sitting on a chair to stare out. You looked outside at the country darkness outside. For only the stars and moon above showed any light on the little town.

Out of curiosity, your senses reached out. You sensed Will was not asleep at all and not in his house. He was in the field alone of all places! And standing before a bonfire. Then you could sense he was speaking…

“Oh Lord, I renounce my sins…”

Atoning and cleansing his sins? Looks like he was going to need a lot more firewood then.

You stopped your powers. But you went back to here and looked up at the starry sky. You missed them- all of them. Sif’s little glares when something annoyed her. Stella trying on the Asgardian dresses. Robert making quips as he lit a cigarette. Thomas happily chatting over whatever device he was working on Jonathan observing everything stoically, but when someone spoke gently to him, a beautiful smile on his face. Hal’s bright eyes as he taught everyone how to fight with a sword during training. Thor’s loud laughter. Queen Frigga coming in to ask over all of you, for it was her role as an AllMother to be Mother to all.

And Loki- dear, funny, charming, mischievous Loki, your True Love, your husband…you missed him most of all.

You had to be patient. It would only motivate you further. Once this was all done and you figured it out, you would return to see all of them without a minute’s delay.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The hairy dog that kept humping things was approaching your front yard.

His pet was with him.

“Ah, dear Reverend, will you stop by for tea?” your mother hurried off from your gardening together to greet Will.

“Yes, you are welcome,” you repeated, though your voice felt small.

He was in his overcoat and his formal green vest. The spaniel barked at his feet, tail wagging but held close thanks to the leash. You smiled and leaned down to pet him, for had you become married to the Lusty Vicar, the dog would be the most loyal man in your life.

“I only have time to stop and say my hellos- especially for the lady here, please,” Will greeted, his eyes shining at you.

You returned up. You fluttered your eyes down in a picture of docility and chastity.

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greeted sweetly.

He then did something you were surprised he did in your mother’s presence. With his free hand, he found the ends of your skirt and gently tugged you a little closer to him. He smiled up at you.

“Why, how are you, my dear?” he asked.

“Doing alright,” you answered.

“I hear your headaches have been better, are you getting rest?”

“Yes, plenty as I can, Will,” you answered.

“That’s good, my darling,” he replied.

You heard Loki cut in.

“That’s MY word for you!”

“Hush!” you sent back

“I just sent a telegram to Bishop Anderson. He has been promised there will be no disruptions and he will marry us next month,” he announced, his voice soft and almost on the edge of seduction. Completely unaware of the letter you sent to the council and the disaster about to hit him in at least a few weeks.

Loki cut in again- “You do know that every Thursday he goes to the ocean and relieves his seed in it to thoughts of Cora!”

“I’m not surprised- hush!” you silently urged your husband again.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” you replied, smiling at him.

“Are you going to be at the dance tonight, Y/N?”

The thought of being in there and having to endure potentially being in the same room as Mr. I-Can’t-Think-Straight-Around-Her and Cora and not screaming at both of them made you feel nauseous.

But he didn’t need to know that now.

“Oh, of course, I shall!” you replied.

“Ah, then I hope to dance with my wife then,” he prodded.

“We are not yet married,” you reminded him meekly, folding your hands and looking demurely down.

“Yet you are mine already in my heart. For nothing shall stop me from joining you in Holy Matrimony and for us together to spend a life doing God’s will. I shall escort you there tonight, Y/N,” he promised.

He wasn’t wrong about the first bit, as Grendel told you.

He took your hand and kissed it. You grinned up at him with a loving look on your face.

Yes, Y/N, smile. Be polite. Charming even. And never let him know you want him dead.

Then, urging his dog forward with his leash, he went about his way through the brown and white town.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That night was the promised dance. You kept your word and went with him.

So many others would gather- that dance hall with candlelight that made the brown walls orange. Some people dressed in dark colors, but young people eager to flirt and laugh. Tables full of punch, cake, and fruit. A piano constantly playing.

And Will in a tuxedo like the other men, ever the picture of handsomeness. You had three dances with him. The number permitted for an engaged couple. As tempting as it was to grab the neck of his bow tie and strangle him with it was there, you fought it back.

No, you looked up at him and smiled. Curtsied at the end of dances as people clapped around you.

Of course, Cora was there in her grey dress. But when she arrived, you put on a smile and curtsied and greeted her like any other person. Not talking to her more than you had to. You kept your eyes down for the rest of the party- sensing her like you were in the ocean and felt the presence of a shark. You knew Will would still stare at her intensely in your own presence. You would pretend like you didn’t know, and keep your eyes down again like a docile lady with no thoughts but love and marriage.

Maybe he had you both in boxes. For surely he thought you didn’t consent to be in Loki’s bed and that was why he pitied you as opposed to hated you. There was also the loophole- you were still considered chaste even though you weren’t. Since you didn’t want to bed Loki but were forced to.

You were his Virgin. Cora was his Whore.

He wanted to marry you because you fit being the chaste wife who sipped tea and quoted Philippians. And he could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted with Cora. One for his house and the other for his hand. Cora couldn’t be that wife for the vicarage. And you couldn’t be the one who could spit out some stupid science fact to make his penis erect.

He wanted both. To have his cake and eat it too, like what Robert would say.

But as the party progressed…it occurred to you that you might be a little wrong at least on your part. Will’s touch on you was still proper- an arm to drape yours over. But only slightly more amorous, sometimes a hand to touch your back. Sometimes a brief, chaste kiss. Becoming slightly more amorous.

It then hit you…Did Will…lust after you? It wasn’t just chaste affection or passion he felt for you- but did it include the Lusty Vicar’s Lusty Penis?

You stopped for a moment and mused on it. Will left you to talk to some friends, promising he’d be back.

Honestly, It flattered you to be desired. And you had to have the shield up to not hear Loki’s complaints of jealousy right now.

You knew Will wouldn’t urge you to his bed before marriage. At the most extreme, not publicly.

But…what if…what if that passion was still there? With the wedding re-planning, you knew it would happen soon. If you let time slip, you will find yourself a bigamist! You knew the Lusty Vicar would live up to his nickname and want to fuck you right after you said your I do’s!

At the most extreme, if that happened…you could say no. Will had done some disgusting and reprehensible things…but you couldn’t imagine him forcing himself on you.

Perhaps you could tell him “no” on your wedding night. Tell him you were still distressed from being the Trickster God’s whore. Tell him you weren’t ready to consummate your (second) marriage. Will would very likely comply. Maybe even tell him to sleep on the couch alone. Now- there was a funny picture! You- safe and snug in that blue bed and asleep. And the tall, hairy man curled up on his couch as much as his height would allow him. The cold air deflating the Lusty Vicar’s Lusty Penis like a balloon after a party.

But…how long would that last? He’d respect you but suspect something was up. Then, how could you discreetly get revenge on him after you wedded him?

You had to cool him.

But looking up, you saw with silent horror that he was staring at Cora again. There was a piano playing-a dance theme like you heard in your old dream. A song urging them to dance. Rage burned in the bottom of your stomach.

He needed not only cooling but the equivalent of a swift kick to the groin- and you had an idea of how to do both at once.

Looking over, you noted the tablecloth of the refreshment table was a dark green. Your True Love’s favorite dark green.

Perfect.

You went up to the refreshment table for punch, taking a little cup and going to the glass bowl. A few guests talked nearby- a couple of gentlemen including a young surgeon the town had. Dark hair and a round face, an apparent friend of the woman who ruined your life, and an expert in new ways of his profession. Chatting about amputation or other polite topics.

You then looked down and pretended to see the deep green cloth.

You dropped the glass in your hand it shattered on the ground. You let out a scream seeing the tablecloth. Conjuring tears and shaking, but careful not to step on the glass shards.

The party stopped, even the stupid piano trinkle music, to look at you.

You put a hand over your mouth and burst into tears. With the anger, the sadness, and the grief you had inside, it wasn’t hard.

“Why…what is the matter?” one woman in a dark dress asked.

“It’s Loki…like Loki’s-green like his-his-” you muttered out.

You then turned to the first man in that little group of men next to the table. Before Will could interfere, you flung yourself at the surgeon. Wrapped your arms around him in a shaking embrace. You recalled his name- what was it again? Oh, yes!

“Lucas! Oh, Lucas! Help me! The trickster god!” you cried.

You held him tight and sobbed into the white shirt of his suit.

“What, uh, is the matter, Miss?” he asked, unsure of what on earth was going on.

“It’s green! The very green like his bed was! The trickster god is going to get me! He’s going to force me to bed him again! Oh, Lucas- please! Protect me! Say you’ll protect me! Anyone, please!” you wailed.

There were a few whispers of pity from the crowd. Lucas was stiff and uncomfortable of being labeled as your protector.

“There there, Miss Y/L/N. Sure I-we will keep you, uh. safe. it’s alright, you’re safe, no need to make a fuss, shhh,” he patted awkwardly, rocking you back and forth as you clung to him.

You peeked out and saw Will look absolutely white and silently angry seeing you embracing the surgeon.

A taste of his own medicine.

You heard Loki’s voice.

‘Hal’s dying of laughter right now over this. Jonathan is cracking a smile despite himself. Stella is telling them all it is not funny and excusing herself to go to a corner and giggle.’ he said.

Lucas took note of Will and you heard a little panic in the surgeon’s voice.

“I, uh, think you should- should get home and- er, drink some tea and get some rest,” Lucas advised, desperately peeling you off of him before you went to Will. Pure terror on the surgeon's round face noticing the awkward situation he was in.

“I will escort my fiancee back home,” he said coldly, glaring at Lucas.

You were escorted sternly by Will, you pretended not to notice the jealous little huff in his voice when he said goodnight at your door.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The second Sunday was the right Sunday to do the next part of your plan- for it was bright and sunny.

You were already early there to help teach Sunday School as promised. You made sure to talk in a sweet voice as you handed out the little snacks for the children forced into stiff, fancy clothes. The older teacher fussed at them to remain still. You practiced looking at a window when they turned to her. The children sat bored and sleepy hearing about Jonah.

You saw one little light reflection out of the window flicker on the floor. Then it settled to normal before any young eyes could see.

For the longest time, you wondered why you had these gifts of moving light around- the flash from the sun, from windows, and its reflections. It wasn’t helpful against Grendel…but it would be helpful for revenge.

Service began, and people filed over the floors, made of clear tiles of white and black, almost like a chessboard. And what a move you had in store if it was successful.

You looked up at the light shining through that brown church so it no longer looked dreary.

The service began as normal. Blessed be God’s people now and forever amen and all that. A few hymns. Scripture readings. Will gave a sermon about King Saul and David. The men who were a part of Grendel’s army sitting in the congregation smiling. More intrigued to hear about swords and violence than patience and gentleness.

A prayer would be the right time. Everyone ducked their heads down to repeat what was in the Book of Common Prayer.

“Lord in your mercy,” began Will.

“Hear our prayer” the congregation intoned, as did you.

You stared at the sunlight streaming down all of the windows.

“Lord, hear us,” began Will.

“Lord, graciously hear us,” replied the congregation.

Taking in a deep breath, you silently urged the sunlight to move.

“God of love,” began Will.

“Hear our prayer,” responded the congregation.

The lights moved from the windows over the heads of all. First one stream of light, then another, and another. Everyone’s heads were down to pray, they didn’t notice.

The lights glowing on all the windows were directed at you like stage lights. You felt warm beneath it. You squinted beneath it, smiling, your magic keeping it at you. But kept repeating the prayer responses from the service.

“Lord, meet us in the silence,” began Will.

“And hear our prayer,” replied the congregation.

When their heads turned, they saw the sunlight was all pointing in your direction and beaming right at you.

There were gasps. You heard a few books of Common Prayer taking a tumble to the floor from people dropping them in shock. They gaped at you- the frightened and superstitious town. For many things happened that scared them…this was harmless.

The service went to a halt as they all looked at you.

“It’s a sign! From God!” one murmured.

“He blessed her!” whispered another.

“A blessed lady!” another agreed.

They lost interest in Will, whose mouth dropped wide, then broke into a smile. He saw a miracle before him.

The congregation turned to you. One woman went up to you and you offered your hand, she kissed it.

“God has blessed you, my dear- it’s a sign from him!” she gasped.

“He has redeemed her…redeemed her from the Trickster God!” agreed another.

They all loved and looked at you favorably, their eyes soft and their faces turning to smiles. You released the magic and suddenly Will had to re-direct everyone’s focus back to him and the service.

But they went up to you, smiling and in awe and admiration and coming in droves to smile in awe of you once it was over.

Now you had to keep it up for a good reputation in this town was as good as an alibi.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next day, you received something in the mail- something completely shocking you almost dropped it, but it was shaking in your hand.

“I do cordially invite you to a celebration of my birthday- held on the date below. Please write back if you will be there. We plan for only a few gifts here and there, some nice beef, and plenty of cake and ice cream. We shall prepare enough seats for the dinner.

Mrs. Seaborne.”

She invited you! She invited you! To her birthday celebration! What was she thinking?! Why? Did she want the new miracle woman in her circle? Was she trying to perhaps re-acquaint herself with you after sticking Will’s penis up her-

You caught yourself, catching your breath. When your parents arrived, they hurried and saw the paper. Their eyes went to you.

“I am only…only…”

Calming down your racing heart, an idea hit you. If you were at her house, you would figure out which departments of science she was contacting. You would know who to send the blackmail to.

You brought up a smile.

“I am only Thrilled! I shall write to her at once and accept! How fun!” you replied.

You would figure out where to send the second letter to ruin Cora there.

“Wonderful! Good to know your silly jealousy of her is done,” agreed your father.

“But there will be gifts- you must go and find something for her,” your mother reminded you.

…and a new idea came upon you. Another act of revenge on her, even worse than sending a few letters. One where none would ever suspect it to be you.

“I shall, mama.”

You knew what you had to do now, you just had to steel yourself and do it.

59 notes · View notes

mothwingwritings · 7 months

Text

Sanctuary

F!Reader X Kaoru Hanayama

Hello my little ghost, goblins, ghoulies, and all around babes! By some miracle I was actually able to churn out a lil Halloween fic feat. Vampire Hanayama for you guys to sink your teeth into ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) this hallow's eve. It was a lot of fun to write and I hope you all enjoy! Have a FANGtastic and funky Halloween tomorrow, my little morsels~!

(And yes, I realize I am posting two blood-centric fics in a row, I promise I don't have a thing for this heh heh heh)

WARNINGS!: Death, gore, blood, a horny and possessive vampire lord, an elderly couple having the worst day of their lives and terrible things happen to them, mentions of kidnapping and imprisonment/being held against your will.

There was a convenience store at the foot of the hill, the last stop right before you start heading into the mountains.

It didn’t have a name, the weather worn, paint chipped sign simply reading ‘GOODS AND SUPPLIES’. The building was so small it didn’t have a dedicated parking lot, and it had a touch of dilapidation that made the rare passerby wonder if it was even still in business.

But the old building’s lights always shined so bright through its foggy windows, drawing any would be customers to the warm luminosity. Though scant, the shelves were always stocked, and the older couple that had ran the place for the last 50 years always gave you a pleasant and warm greeting when you walked through its creaking door.

Though you were sure you must look like a strung out, malnourished, vagabond they never batted an eye at your appearance. They also never questioned why you came around on a somewhat consistent basis, even though all that surrounded you was endless forest and towering mountains, the nearest town miles and miles away. This shop survived solely by being the only accessible place for campers to grab necessities before starting their trek into true wilderness. Places like this didn’t have regulars, at least not until you started coming around.

Maybe they felt sorry for you, thinking you were some poor homeless girl that had holed up in the mountains somewhere just trying to get by. Each time you entered their establishment you wondered if they were concerned you may pilfer from their limited shelves. Not that you could blame them if they did, by all accounts you appeared sketchy. Donned in ratty hoodies, your shifty eyes and general downtrodden persona would have had anyone keeping an eye on you. However, your appearance never alarmed them. If anything they seemed genuinely pleased to see you, their eyes lighting up in recognition whenever they saw you meandering down their aisles.

If they were troubled by your presentation, ever sickened by the bruises that dotted your body or appalled by the shoddily hidden bite marks that trailed your neck, they never spoke of it. You wished you could tell them how thankful you were for that. The reminders on your body were bad enough to deal with on your own, someone else nit picking you about them would be too cruel of a reminder of just how futile your situation was.

This little Podunk store had become your lifeline, your only beacon of normalcy since Kaoru Hanayama had claimed you. You couldn’t slip away to it often, having to rely on the security of the sun’s rays to protect you from the great vampire lord, but when you could escape his estate you always ended up finding your way here. Often times you didn’t even have money, coming and going with no purchases made. Yet still you were welcome here, and you readily sought solace within its fluorescently lit walls, a reminder to yourself that you weren’t the last human alive on this god forsaken planet. It had become your sanctuary.

… Up until today.

You knew something was off the moment you stepped through the front door. The lights were all on, the glow of the welcome sign beckoning you with a brightness that cut through the shade of the setting sun. When you pushed open the door the same familiar chime announced your arrival, and the same old TV in the corner was playing whatever sport happened to be in season (right now it was baseball, and judging by the cheering, a player had just done something good). As usual, the radio was playing outdated pop songs softly over the speaker system, a bit of static barely noticeable as it blended with the jaunty tune.

For the most part, the store looked as it normally did. There wasn’t anything alarming about the old metal shelves holding new merchandise, and the coolers filled with varying beverages lining the back wall all hummed along as they typically did. The aisles were tidy, the floors clean, the racks orderly. If any other customer had stopped by to shop, they would be thoroughly convinced it was business as usual.

But you were the only regular they had, and you were savvier on how they ran their business. Someone was always at the counter, but today the position sat eerily vacant. Even when they had to step away for a moment, one of the two would call out a greeting as soon as you stepped through the door. Your arrival was always announced, but today no cheery voice welcomed you, there was no warm smile cast your way as you made your way inside.

The absence filled you with unease, a cold dread seeping into your bones.

Tentatively, you stepped closer to the counter, part of you wanting to call out to see if you get a response. Maybe you had caught them unawares-you did show up at a much later time than you typically did. Perhaps at this time of the day they are busy in back taking inventory or getting ready to restock. Was it really so strange that a small store like this didn’t have staff front and center at all times? It was just the two of them, after all. You can’t expect them to be stationed front and center 24/7.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling nestled deep in your gut that something was very, very wrong. The closer you inched toward the checkout counter, the more unsettled you felt. After a few steps in, a foreign noise came to your ear, growing clearer with every step. At first it was barely audible, a small and drawn out wheezing that sounded in weird intervals. It came from around the corner, near the back where the store room was located. You wondered if maybe the heating system was about to bite it, or an old cooler may be on its last leg.

However, a dying refrigerator didn’t explain the sudden wet sputter that rang out from just beyond your view, followed by a low, agonized groan.

Instinct took over. Propelling your body into action as you leapt across the counter, your legs taking out various snacks and energy supplements as you vaulted yourself towards the backroom. What if the owners had fallen, or something fell on them and they were trapped? Concern surged through you for the elderly couple. Surely there was a good chance if an accident occurred they wouldn’t have the means to pull themselves out of it. If they were in a compromising situation, who knows how long they had been stuck like that, who knows what position they may be in.

Nothing could prepare you for the sight that assaulted you as you rounded the corner.

Red was the first thing your eyes caught. It covered the floor, splattered the walls, coating the world around you. Its source was the kindly old woman whose warm smile you were greatly missing just moments ago. Her gentle, pleasant face was void of happiness for the first time since you met her, instead twisted into a look of abject horror and excruciating pain. She had a pallor that damn near made her look like a corpse, and you supposed that wasn’t too surprising judging from the amount of blood that was gushing from her neck, trailing in angry streaks down her body as it dripped down to the floor, adding to the mass puddle of human gore where her husbands decimated corpse was discarded.

You stifled a gasp, your hands flying to your mouth to muffle any cries or vomit that threatened to spill. Your body shook violently, a mix of disgust, fear, and anguish urging you to flee the scene, leave and never come back. Abandon your sanctuary, save yourself. They were beyond saving. They were beyond hope.

But you remained frozen in place, incapacitated by not only the shock of the situation, but also by the presence of the man that perpetrated it.

The woman hung limply from his mouth, much like how a dog dangles a toy when it’s trying to coax you into playing. His jaw latched to her small throat in a death grip, white fangs peeking through his snarled lips as his eyes caught yours. The only thing supporting the woman’s body was his bite, the ferocity with which he clamped down, the bob of his Adams apple as he greedily gulped down her essence, was quickly and efficiently stealing her life away. With her final burst of strength, her glazed over eyes looked your way. She raised a shaky hand towards you, one final rasp sputtering from her torn throat. Was it a cry for help, or a plea for you to run? Maybe she was cursing you for leading her to this fate. Whatever it was you would never know, as one final bone shattering chomp broke the woman’s neck, effectively ending her life.

Hanayama looked so out of place here in your secret spot, standing center stage as if he belonged here and wasn’t a blight on the ounce of freedom you had left. The whole scene was so surreal you felt as if you were trapped in a nightmare, your mind struggled to accept the horrors laid out plainly before you.

His imposing form nearly took up the entire store room, his height making his head graze the ceiling. Looking akin to a caged bear he was panting, his eyes wild as he released his grip letting the woman’s body fall limply to the floor, joining her husband. He was high from his meal, though you couldn’t imagine it being much of a thrilling hunt. The excitement surely stemmed from you catching him in the act. If you knew Hanayama at all, you knew the look of sheer dread plastered across your face was sure to send excitement coursing through him.

He was dressed to the nines in his tailored designer suit, shiny Italian leather shoes clicking away on the scuffed tiles of the floor as he started to approach you, each step adding a splatter of blood to his previously immaculate ensemble. His feral look had waned as he approached, giving him a more composed air. You imagined this is how he must have looked when he entered the building, his stony face littered with scars, inhumanly red eyes boring holes at the cashier, a dramatic shadow cast across his face from his swanky brimmed hat. He would have definitely caught the older couple off guard with how out of place he looked. Such a strange gentleman wandering into their quaint shop must have entranced them. These good-natured and trusting hosts were probably intrigued with his outlandish presence, interested in his story and what brought him so deep into the woods.

They would have never guessed what he truly was until it was too late. You just hoped that it had been quick for the husband, and that the woman’s suffering was not lengthy.

“So this is where you have been slinking off to.” His voice was smooth as he languidly wiped the blood from his lips, smearing the brilliant red across the once pristine white sleeve of his suit. You shuddered as he addressed you, and he instantly picked up on the quiver, though it was only momentary. He knew you like the back of his hand, all your quirks and fears, it was foolish to think he wouldn’t be able to ascertain that you were sneaking off when he explicitly ordered you not to leave the mansion’s grounds.

“I try and avoid the elderly. Past a certain age and the blood loses much of its flavor and vitality.” His eyes bore into yours, a cold smile tugged at his lips, “But these two were surprisingly delectable, even past their prime. Maybe it was their fondness for you that made them so delicious?”

“I didn’t…” the words died in your throat, burning as you choked them out. You cast your gaze towards the dead couple, the shop keepers glazed over eyes soullessly staring at you. They were still wet with tears.

“You didn’t think,” Kaoru seethed, taking another step forward, crowding your personal space. The coppery smell of blood was radiating from him in such intense waves that you could taste the tang of it on your tongue. “You made a decision, one that I warned you against time and time again, and now you must face the consequences of that decision.”

He grabbed your chin in a tight pinch, the blood on his hands still warm as it smudged your skin. Stepping aside slightly, his hand guided your head, forcing your attention back on the couple. His steady grip kept your head in place as he spoke in your ear.

“You caused this, (name). If you had listened to me and done as you were told, their untimely death would have been avoidable. You only have yourself to blame. May the weight of their deaths hinder you from making anymore foolish decisions in the future, little one.”

He sighed heavily, releasing your chin, “I took a huge gamble coming out here at this time of day. Even with the sun low in the sky it still poses a threat to my kind. I compromised my safety to bring you home.” His gaze softened, his hand relinquishing its hold on your chin in favor of dragging his cold knuckles softly against the back of your cheek.

“It’s good I came when I did. If I had taken even a moment longer, it was sure to cause issues. Before I entered the store I heard them discussing you, talking about their concern for you. It seems they misunderstood your living situation, seeing you as some form of victim, believing that you had some manner of backwater husband that was abusing you.”

He spat the words with disdain, casting a brief disgusted glance towards the corpses on the floor. “They were trying to formulate plans to ‘save’ you, even mentioning they wanted to bring the police into it. Ridiculous.”

A sob erupted past your lips at the revelation, tears blurring your vision as they began to torrent down your cheeks. Hanayama lowered his voice, placing his hands on either side of your shoulders as he pivoted your focus to him, holding you in place. “This is why you must stay inside, my love. They don’t understand us. Most humans have small, closed minds. They don’t have the capability to understand the nature of our love. They only seek to tear us apart, hell bent on placing an end to something beautiful.”

He scooped you up before your legs could give way, nestling you against his chest in a restraining hold. He pressed a rough kiss to the crown of your head as he stepped through the door, beginning the long trek back to the cold, dank halls of the mansion.

“It has been a trying day, and you need rest,” Darkness had overtaken the sky, the chill of the nights air stinging your wet cheeks. The brilliance of the full moon was your only guiding light as it shone down upon the two of you, making Hanayama’s pale flesh appear to glow.

“But the night is young, my love, and you have a lot of making up to do for the transgressions you have made against me this day,” There was a huskiness to his voice, the words were meant as a threat, but the underlying hint of lust made their true meaning crystal clear. “You are mine (Name), and I will enjoy taking my time engraving that reminder into your soul for as long as it takes, until you finally realize your place.”

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randomslasher · 1 year

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I wanted to share a progress update. So I have a chronic bad back (genetic and congenital issues) and I used to have what I called “Blow outs” every 6 months or so. In 2020 I started walking regularly. Just walking. That’s it. Walking. But in the intervening years I’ve brought myself from “I can slowly walk half a mile with a cane” to “I regularly hike 4-5 miles at a time no issue or cane needed.” I wasn’t so foolish as to believe I had completely eradicated the possibility of blow outs, but I hadn’t had one since 2018. I’m having one now--but the difference is night and day. I can still walk, move, function. I went shopping yesterday. I’m still working. I’m taking my cousin to the movies tonight. I’m in pain, yeah, but I’m still living my life. Anyway walking is a miracle and if you can do it at all I highly recommend it.

#I've also lost about 140lbs in the process #which has to be helping #because all my weight is in my belly which puts pressure on my spine #weight loss cw #intentional weight loss

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1americanconservative · 5 months

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𝔹𝕦𝕕…

@bud_cann

My wife and I have walked up and back down 5th Ave, NYC from Greenwich Village to Central Park hundreds of times in our 17 years living in Manhattan together. Beautiful 5th Ave, famous for its exquisite shops and iconic department stores, the Empire State Building, St Patrick's Cathedral, Central Park, the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Guggenheim Museum. There’s no forgiveness for a political party that purposely destroys every magnificent city they come into contact with. NYC, Chicago, and San Francisco, devastated with crime, racial tensions, homeless, and now, out of control illegal immigration. Joe Biden is just an ignorant, mentally challenged, malicious puppet, for a regime fixated on destroying America and rebuilding it as part of a New World Order. Barack Obama, a vile, manipulative, closet homosexual, racist, pulls Joe Biden’s weak aging strings, but whoever is controlling Obama is who we need be concerned with. NYC is ravaged with criminals, homeless, illegal migrants, and tens of thousands of pro-Islam protesters. The incomparable Miracle Mile in Chicago, is a diseased homeless encampment, and San Francisco’s amazing Tenderloin District is a homeless sea of human excrement, filth, and illicit drugs. If Democrats are voted back into power in 2024, the ‘United States of America’ will sadly complete its transition into a third world country.

https://x.com/bud_cann/status/1739795947922792833?s=20

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the-light-finds-its-way · 5 months

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Ya Titan is strong! Powerful!! Brave!! Enough so to realize when he needs to get help and assistance!! :)

I am physically disabled. The pain I feel in my legs and have felt all day every day awake and asleep since I was 11 years old, is finally becoming too much for me. I can still "walk" (read: limp). I can still stand. I can't do either very well or for very long, just a few minutes at a time, a few times a day. I can barely use stairs, and it's only gotten worse over the years.

So, I've decided to get an electric wheelchair. And that is great.

There are days where I can do workouts, walk 4 miles, and be completely fine. Then, there are days like today, where I have to call out of work because I'm in so much pain that I can't get out of bed, let alone move anything at all, without wanting to cry.

Just because I have good days, doesn't mean I can't have bad ones, too, and that those bad days can't be made easier. And a wheelchair is going to make things FAR better and easier for myself, and my poorly body.

I don't remember what it's like to walk, only what it's like to limp. I've never been pain free, but I manage the pain by sitting down. I haven't run since I was 9 years old, and now, I'm in my mid 20s.

When I was born, my parents were told I'd have a 1/100 chance to survive my heart and organ conditions, and that if I did, I'd be disabled and likely pass on early in life. For a brief few years, I could run, I could walk. Things were normal. I don't remember those days much, but there was one day where I ran, and began coughing profusely. I choked. That was... strange. Maybe I was sick? I got bronchitis frequently (3-4x a year), so maybe it was that?

In gym class, I continued trying to run. Every time, I'd start coughing uncontrollably, and struggle to breathe. I chose to stop running, and that didn't sit well with my teachers. At all.

Shortly thereafter, I began to get cramps in my legs. Kind of like growing pains, but not exactly... And then, months later, I hadn't grown one bit. But the pain stayed. Everyone around me was growing! But I stayed the same height, 4ft11in tall. Others reached well past 6ft. Their pains went away, but I knew this was something more, especially when, after 2 years, I was stuck at that height, and still in pain.

I resorted to limping everywhere, my legs aching constantly in random places, never consistent or in any pattern. My parents continued to tell me, for another 3 years, I was just growing. I'd grow out of the pain.

By 14, even my mom knew something was wrong because the pain was still there, and I still hadn't grown, and I still couldn't run without coughing. She went ahead, called a specialist, and brought me to him. I got blood work done, and when he looked over it, he said I was too young for lupus or arthritis, so he passed it off as an unknown illness, and sent me on my way without anything else.

My mom was livid. For another 2 years, she sought doctors to help me, with no success. By a miracle, my grandfather went to the hospital for pneumonia, and his nurse was a doctor who helped tremendously. Somehow, my mom convinced this doctor to take me on, despite the fact that I was 2 years too young for her practice, and when the doctor heard about my problems, she immediately sent me for more blood testing, called me in the moment results came, and diagnosed me with arthritis and lupus. She sent me to an asthma specialist, who diagnosed me with athletically induced asthma, and allergy asthma after several tests. I got an inhaler, and finally, I could work out without coughing!

But I still couldn't run without severe pain. I was still limping. And I was told, that pain will never go away. It will never get better, only worse. And I have no choice but to live with it forever.

And ever since, I've gone on, suffering, limping, never going very far. I can't go shopping without leaning on a cart, or cane. I can't go up a single flight of 5 stairs. And so, I acknowledged at long last that I need a wheelchair, and it's ok. This isn't a failure. This isn't giving up. Just like I have to get therapy and meds for my PTSD, and other mental illnesses, I have to get a mobility aid for my physical well-being.

I learned, when I was diagnosed with my mental illnesses, and reached my breaking point, I had to get help, and that there is nothing wrong with that, and there's no shame in it. It shows how strong I am because it proves I know when I need to rely on others since I've done all I can alone, and that has inherent strength in and of itself because accepting help is a step toward being more powerful by yourself.

And getting a mobility aid, I realized, is no different. It's accepting help so I can be more powerful on my own.

My father made me believe for years that accepting any help is a sign of weakness, and shows you're broken. He taught me that wheelchairs are exclusively for those who cannot walk at all, who are paralyzed or deformed or don't have legs.

But I've met a few specific people who, they've shown me otherwise. They're like me: they can walk, but it's hard and it hurts. And they taught me, I don't have to suffer by pretending to be able bodied. I don't have to mask as abled just to please my father, or society, or whoever. Just as I stopped masking my autism, I'm going to stop masking my physical disabilities.

And my old teacher, who supported me in every way throughout high school when almost everyone else made fun of me, said I'd amount to nothing, and wouldn't make it as a creative, she messaged me last night saying she has a wheelchair she's looking to get rid of, that it takes up room, and she'd love to help me out by selling it to me for whatever I think it's worth.

So, happy holidays to me. :) I'm buying a wheelchair, and I'm regaining my freedom. The pain may never get better, but my life as a whole can. And damn. My 2024 is looking great. Concerts, LARPs, 2 or more Renaissance festivals, a trip to Disney with my friends, another trip to the Poconos with the same people just weeks later, and finishing off the year with the Texas Viking Festival. I've quit college to work full time and save up for my own place. And I know, finally, it's going to be ok. For the first time in my life, I'm going to be ok. :)

#long post #mun is a titan #not destiny #disability #disabled pride

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severalowls · 5 months

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Jesus christ my bank account has been totally locked because I tried to make a large payment and they won't unlock it without confirming my ID which means going in to the one branch they didn't close in a 50 mile radius and I work all day and they close at like 3 so it has to be saturday and to make an appointment they want you to log in.. to the account that's locked. And they close at midday on saturday. And in the wake of covid every fucking shop I tried to buy Anything for lunch at is card only and my card is locked and its a fucking miracle I had a few coins on me from emergency travel money last week to even get a bus home. I can't even contact their support properly because they want me to log in to talk to their fucking Chatbot and refuse to give out their phone number under any circumstances! Use the bot! Log in to use the bot! Contact support to unlock your account! Use the bot! If society goes cashless we are literally completely fucked.

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icallhimjoey · 2 years

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Only Temporary

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe needs a temporary living space, and you happen to have a spare room to let. One plus one equals two, baby.

CW / disclaimer: rpf (don’t read if this makes you uncomfy), fem!reader, swearing (lots), so far fluff only

Author’s note: this is the second part out of five. I'll maybe add onto the summary as the story grows, if it needs it. It's looking to be another slow burn (because I love those the most). We'll see! (rewrittern 14 nov 2023)

Wordcount: 5.1K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Big sigh.

It was always the same fucking issue. You contemplated why you even had a car to begin with at this point.

And yours sucked too, didn't seem to want to work when it had you behind its wheel for whatever reason.

Had you mentioned life being shit already?

You slowed down and idled along the tree-lined pavement. Leaning over your steering-wheel, top teeth tucked into your bottom lip, your eyes darted from side to side in your usual routine of looking for a parking space.

Coming back from visiting family, it was just past two in the afternoon, and you didn’t hold out much hope.

In all the years you’d lived in your flat, you’d never parked right outside it. It was always the same story, bumper-to-bumper all the way down your street.

You flung yourself back into your seat.

Shit.

You had to circle the block, probably about a dozen more times too, and then you’d probably still end up parking about a mile away, anyway.

You tried focusing on the positives. It would get your step count up, burn some extra cal-

Oh my God!

You almost missed a Range Rover pulling out of a parking space and you very nearly drove straight into it. You slammed the breaks and came to an abrupt halt. You looked up at the windscreen of the Range Rover and mouthed “Sorry,” at the driver.

It was him.

Your neighbour.

For a moment, you weren’t quite sure what to do, so you just sat there as he nodded a curt response, swerved around you, and roared off down the street.

Smooth.

You looked in your rear-view mirror and watched the grey swirls of fumes around his exhaust, listening to the noise of the engine as he accelerated away.

Typical.

You’d done it again.

Bumped into him like a complete idiot.

Depressed, you slumped over your steering-wheel and rested your forehead on the badge in the centre. You closed your eyes and replayed the last scene torturously in your head, the look he gave you as he drove off and- wait...

Hang on a fucking minute.

If he had just left, that meant…

There, where the Range Rover had just been parked, right opposite your flat, you saw what any resident of your street would describe as a modern-day miracle.

A parking space. *

“Do you think you have time for a quick trip to Zara? Help me buy something to wear for my date tomorrow?” your flight attendant friend had only just landed and had to make most of her time at home before she’d be jetting off again.

Only getting so many chances to see her, you’d given her a key ages ago so she could let herself in if you were still getting wine at the corner shop. Because when she was over, it was always wine o’clock, no matter the time of day.

“Afraid I’m busy later,” you knew a quick trip to Zara wasn't really a thing, as it would always lead to more visits to more shops and you didn’t have the time for it today.

“Too busy for Zara?” you friend was incredulous. “But there’s a sale on.”

“I know, but my new flatmate’s moving in today,” you explained.

“Ooh?" She immediately perked up. "Tell me more.” Folding her arms, she primed herself for more information.

“He saw the room on Saturday and was going to move in yesterday, but he had work? I don’t think he had work, but... it was... something, I don't know.”

“It’s a he?” your friend raised her eyebrows with interest.

“You can’t- do not test-drive my flatmate,” you warned her, stopping her in her tracks.

She looked at you indignantly.

“The thought never even crossed my mind.”

Now it was your turn to raise your eyebrows.

“Okay, fine, it crossed. But now it’s crossed back again,” she protested, waving her glass of wine around. “So, what’s he like?”

“He’s…” you had to think of a second. “He’s got brown eyes... um... shit, that’s all I know about him.” You confessed, realising you told him not to leave the toilet seat up, but hadn’t asked him anything about himself.

“I guess I’ll find out later,”

“Do you need me as a chaperone? Your personal sidekick?”

“I’ll be fine, thanks,” you did a mental time-check. Maybe if your friend would leave in an hour, you still had time to blow-dry your hair straight.

You caught yourself.

Jesus.

This wasn’t a date.

“Is that really safe?” warned your friend. “He could be a murderer.”

What she really meant was, he could be a single murderer.

“I doubt it. He seemed really nice,” you said, having seen right through her concerned-friend act. “Eddie liked him.”

Your friend gasped and looked around to see if she could spot him. Eddie disliked your best friend with fierce passion.

“That fucking bitch of a cat,” she started, but steered back within a second. “I think I should stay. Safety in numbers and all that.” She persevered.

“Yea but also, two’s a company, three’s a crowd,” you added.

“Well, it’s up to you. If you want to risk being chopped up into little bits and pieces, and placed into Tupperware boxes in your fridge... there's no lock on your bedroom door, you know,”

Sigh.

Fine.

You gave in.

“All right, all right. You can stay for dinner. He’ll be moving in soon after.”

Her face split into a huge grin and she stretched out both arms, hands with wiggly fingers, which you reached for and you let her giddily grab your arm.

“But please, no making a fuss,” you warned.

“A fuss? Me?” she instantly let go of you and clutched her ample chest, looking at you in hurt astonishment.

“Trust me, you won’t even know I’m here still.”

That evening, you watched as you best friend sucked in her stomach and reached for a bottle of wine, showing you her underwear as she leant forward.

“Any more wine?” her underwear had a little diamond heart on it, and you had the urge to twang it, like a catapult.

“It’s Joseph, right?” she pouted, her lips slick with lipgloss.

“Joe. It’s um... yea, it's just Joe,”

“If you insist. Any more wine, just Joe?”

The three of you were outside in the garden. It was one of those warm summer evenings when there wasn’t a breath of wind. The air was scented with a cocktail of jasmine, lavender and the sausages from your next-door neighbour’s barbecue - wouldn't a barbecue be fucking great to have? - and you had music playing on the little portable speaker balanced on the window ledge. You even lit a bunch of little tea lights and placed them around the shrubbery, which took forever as they kept going out and burning your fingers. It was worth the effort though, they really transformed your garden.

You glanced around and felt a glow of pleasure. In retrospect, you didn’t know why you’d been so nervous. Everything had turned out just fine.

Well, not everything.

As your eyes rested on your friend, who was wiggling around the table with her bum still stuck out, you felt a lump of irritation in your throat and flicked your eyes over her shoulder, all shimmery with body glitter, and watched as Joe lit another cigarette.

He had turned up with his things – a rucksack and a book bag – a couple of hours ago. When he had dumped both on his bed, he’d kicked off his shoes and dug out a packet of camel blues from his jacket.

He did mention something about another piece of luggage coming in later, as he had to take public transport and didn’t want to struggle on his way over.

He could take two trips.

From where?

You weren’t sure.

“Mind if I have a smoke outside?” he had asked, padding barefoot into the back garden.

“Please, make yourself at home,” you’d called after him somewhat redundantly as he’d already stretched out on a sun-lounger with Eddie purring in his lap.

Well, you couldn’t just leave him there, could you?

As his landlady, weren’t you supposed to be grandly welcoming him into your home and make him feel at ease?

But your ability to make small talk had completely abandoned you, so you hovered around for a bit, fiddled with things that didn’t need fiddling with, made a comment on the smell of barbecue being the best smell there was, to which Joe agreed, and then thanked your best friend for tottering in and taking over.

She had stepped out with two bottles of Pinot Grigio and a corkscrew, and had taken control of the conversation in full flight attendant mode.

“So, what brings you over?” she was now asking flirtily. “Business, or pleasure?”

“Business,” Joe answered in such a way that either he hadn’t noticed you best friend was flirting, or if he had, he was politely ignoring it.

“But before I bore you with any details, you’ll have to excuse me a moment,” he turned to you and asked where the bathroom was. A question you knew was only asked to be polite; your flat was small, and he’d seen where the bathroom was.

“Second on the left,” your friend chimed in before you could answer.

As soon as Joe had disappeared, you turned to your friend.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hissed furiously.

“Breaking the ice,” she simply said, all wide-eyed and innocent.

It didn’t fool you for a minute.

“Breaking the ice is asking someone about the weather,” you gasped. “What happened to, ‘trust me, you won’t even know I’m here still’?”

Taking a slug of wine, she sloshed it around her mouth for a moment, swallowed, then looked at you sheepishly.

“Okay, I’ll admit I’ve been a bit flirty.”

“A bit?”

Lies.

“Oh, come on. I just thought in case my date for tomorrow doesn’t work out, you know. It’s always good to have a plan B.”

“My flatmate’s your plan B?” you said indignantly, feeling suddenly protective of Joe, possessive even.

“Well, why not? You don’t fancy him.”

True. But–

“Oh, shit. You don’t, do you?” her face froze. “I didn’t know! If I had thought for a moment–”

“No, of course I don’t.” you protested hotly. “It’s just…” you trailed off sighing.

You didn’t know the end to the sentence you’d started.

Then, your friend leant over and squeezed your hand and said, "I know. I’m sorry," in understanding. "Maybe I have come on a bit strong."

“A bit strong?” you grinned ruefully. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring your aromatherapy oil.”

“Who says I didn’t?” she laughed, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but join in.

It was about an hour and a half later when you said goodbye to your friend at the door.

She was drunk, and her Uber was waiting so she had to scurry to keep her rating up.

The rest of the night had been fine, apart from the embarrassing questions your friend had thrown into the group. It had taught you that all three of you were single, which was nice to know, but outwardly asking the last time anyone had gotten laid wasn’t the best way to have gone about it, you thought.

Your friend telling Joe about your neighbour that you had feelings for but had yet to have a decent conversation with wasn’t fantastic either. You'd immediately denied everything of course, said your friend was drunk and didn't know what she was on about, but the flush of your cheeks had given you away entirely.

Luckily, Joe had been a real gentleman about it and hadn’t pressed it any further.

Back in the garden you saw Joe was gathering up the glasses and empty bottles. When he stepped inside and placed everything down on the kitchen counter, you hovered in the kitchen for a moment.

“Night then,” you said eventually.

“Yea, night.”

Another pause.

“You can use the bathroom first, if you like,” you offered politely.

“No, it’s okay, you go ahead. Ladies first.” he replied, equally polite.

“No, please, you’re the guest.”

“Honestly, it’s fine.”

Backwards and forwards it went, like tennis, until finally you won, and he disappeared into the bathroom with his toothbrush.

You went into your bedroom and started to undress, pulling off your T-shirt and jeans and tugging on your old tartan pajamas. When you turned to the mirror you saw that the elastic had perished at the waistband, so your butt looked all baggy as if you were wearing a nappy.

You froze at the sight of yourself.

There was no way you were going to be wearing those ever again.

Stripping them off and chucking them onto the floor, you yanked open your drawers, searching for another pair of pajamas you knew were in there, but you could only find the top.

Were you going to be walking around in your bare legs with your thighs out for Joe to see?

Was this the type of flatmate you were going to be?

Next door you could hear taps being turned on and off, teeth being brushed, the toilet flushing, a plug being pulled out and the basin draining. Any minute now it was going to be your turn, and you were going to have to make it from your bedroom to the bathroom without being seen.

When you heard the lock turn, you waited a second and pressed your cheek against your doorframe to peer through the crack. You could see a letterbox of light, floorboards, and your fern, which... shit, that desperately needed watering.

No sign of Joe.

Good.

With a flush of relief, you eased open your door and tiptoed bravely into the hall, bare thighs out and all.

This was your flat, after all.

You could have your thighs out a second.

Especially if no one was actually going to see them.

Turning into the bathroom, you shrieked.

“Oh, sorry. Did I scare you?”

Joe was still in there.

“Jesus Christ, yes – I mean, no – no, it’s okay,” clutching your chest, you tried to catch your breath. Which is when it dawned on you that Joe was naked but for a pair of checkered boxers.

Not that you meant to look.

“Oh, by the way, you never did say why you were visiting,” you blurted, in an attempt at casual chit-chat as you reached for your toothbrush.

You caught yourself eyeing Joe in the mirror, which wasn’t difficult to do when he was just standing there still, all naked flesh and muscle.

Joe saw you look.

Shit.

Eyes straight ahead.

Stop staring.

Your eyes shot down where you saw Eddie, twirling around Joe’s legs, tail up high, waiting and wishing for some attention.

You and me both, you thought.

“I didn’t?” Joe wrung out a facecloth you hadn’t noticed he was holding. Just like you hadn’t noticed that the bathroom was spotless.

No toilet seat left up, no soggy towel on the floor and or bristles on the soap. Huh.

“I’m here for my job, we’re on location for a bit, and it’s near here,”

“Oh, really?” you said vaguely, throwing him your best smile of approval.

Love a man with a job, you know, especially now that you didn’t have one.

You then reached for the toothpaste and noticed that the top was screwed on properly. Overcome with the warm glow of satisfaction, you knew you’d made the right decision of having Joe move in. You were going to get on great.

“What kind of job?”

Picking up his clothes as he walked out of the bathroom, Joe then went and spoiled it all by telling you something you really didn’t want to hear.

“I’m an actor.”

Well...

Shit.

A few days later you were stood in the hallway and watched Joe rehearse lines in his bedroom through the gap in the door, script in hand and all.

You clamped your hands over your mouth to suppress a groan.

Maybe it wasn't entirely fair to Joe, but your ex-boyfriend had been an actor, and everything about it had been awful.

The cockiness.

The dramatics.

The impossible work hours, and the selfishness that came with them.

“I know it's your birthday, and you've had this trip planned for months, but I've been invited to an award show, I'm going to have to cancel.”

Okay, asshole.

Add the climbing up social ladders you weren’t interested in and the feigned importance over people with bad personalities.

And the namedropping?

Ugh.

Just, that whole world?

So pretentious and absolutely awful.

A floorboard beneath your feet creaked. Shit. He was going to come out of his bedroom and catch you there. Spying.

You weren’t spying, though.

You just got home from shopping with your best friend and happened to be walking past, you thought frantically as you dove into the bathroom to avoid being caught.

You locked the door and turned on the taps.

So, you hated actors.

But you didn’t hate Joe.

On the contrary, he was a really nice guy and he even put the top on the toothpaste, you reminded yourself with satisfaction as you eyed it on the sink.

“Hello?” There was a polite knock on the door, and Joe’s voice. “Are you in there?”

“Yes,” you replied, startled. “Sorry, are you waiting? I won’t be a minute!” Worried your cover was about to be blown, you clanked around with the soap-dish to add a bit of realism.

“No, it’s fine, take your time. But when you’re finished, come outside to the garden.”

“The garden?” you mouthed at your reflection, wondering what Joe was up to.

“I’ve got a surprise,” Joe then added.

You took a few more minutes to fix up your hair and make-up, might as well, since you were in there, before emerging tentatively and padding down the hallway barefoot.

You were racking your brain for a possible answer as to what the surprise could be, so you could be prepared for it when, suddenly, a funny smell distracted you...

You sniffed the air curiously as you walked into the kitchen.

It was almost as if something was burning.

As the idea struck, you hurried to glance through the patio doors into the back garden.

It was full of smoke.

Oh, shit.

Panic set in.

Your house was on fire!

Did you remember to pay the household insurance? You knew it was on your list of things to do.

Frantically, you started looking around the kitchen.

You need something like– something like a jug.

A large glass jug of lilies sat in the middle of the table, so you grabbed it, dumped the flowers in the sink and dashed outside, water slopping over the edge.

Grey smoke was billowing from behind the glass of the opened patio doors.

Shit, shit, shit.

Vaulting over the step, you spun ‘round the side, your fingers slipping on the wet glass as you swung it back with all your might.

Only there weren’t any flames.

Just Joe.

“Tah dah!” He threw him arms wide and grinned as he saw you, but it was too late.

Like a pendulum, the vase had swung, which meant it also had to swing back.

Suddenly everything was happening at once, but it was as if someone had slowed the time right down and you were watching it on film. The water swooshing out of the vase, soaring through the air like a huge wave, every droplet magnified as Joe’s face came into shot and began its journey through a remarkable range of emotions – from happiness, to confusion, to open-mouthed shock as the water eventually hit him square in the face.

And then, you were back in normal time.

You saw Eddie scurry away, wet tail and all.

Joe, totally drenched, was standing there, dripping, blinking, gasping.

Still handsome, you thought.

“Um… what the fuck?”

“Oh, shit,” you muttered as you watched him wipe his wet face and hair with his apron.

Apron?

Joe was wearing your frilly apron over a white shirt. And he was holding tongs in one hand and a packet of sausages in the other, standing in front of a shiny metal object that looked suspiciously like…

“A barbecue?” you blurted.

“It’s a housewarming gift – well, for my housewarming. I thought you might like it, seeing as you mentioned you liked the smell...”

As he was speaking, you glanced down at his feet and noticed he was now standing in a puddle of water.

“But if I’d known I was going to get that reaction, I might have stuck with a scented candle.” Joe scrunched his nose.

“Shit,” was all you could muster.

Joe tipped his head and shook it like a dog, spraying you with drops of water. Not on purpose, you reasoned, stepping back so he didn’t drench you in the process.

“I’m so sorry, I thought something was burning.”

“It was the sausages,” Joe paused and looked at your facial expression.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” and the embarrassment on his face only made yours grow deeper.

“No! No, it was a great idea!” you protested. “I mean, it is a great idea. I love the barbecue, and I love sausages.”

Enthusiastically you grabbed a fork and leant over him to pluck a charred object from the grill. For a moment your bravery wavered, but then you smiled cheerily at Joe in a bid to save the situation.

He smiled back interestedly.

Backed into a corner, unwilling to lose face, you forced yourself to take a bite.

“Mmmh,”

Joe watched you with what you could swear was a glimmer of amusement.

“I wasn’t sure how long to cook them.” He confessed.

“Mmmh, mmh,” you continued as you began to chew.

Shit.

Pain shot through a back molar as you bit down hard on a tough bit. This wasn’t what sausages were meant to taste like.

“Yea? Is it good?”

“Delicious,” you replied, covering your mouth, and swallowing with great difficulty.

Free of your penance, you breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived.

“Great, have another,” with the tongs Joe popped a few more onto a plate and held it out to you. “There’s plenty.”

“Erm, no, thanks. I’m fine for now.”

But he insisted.

“Oh, come on, it’s my treat.”

Treat? This was torture.

“Eat it.” Joe then said, a whole lot more stern than you were used of him. You weren't sure if you were at the stage of friendship for that tone of voice to be acceptable.

You struggled to smile as you took the plate, wondering if there was a way to distract him so you could quickly hide the sausages in the shrubbery.

“Great, thanks,” you stammered, at which point, Joe burst into laughter. A loud belly laugh, making him throw his head back first before bending over, followed by a loud snort as he took a breath.

You were astonished.

“That face,” he doubled up, his hand slapping himself in the chest as he laughed.

“That careful bite,” Joe mimicked you, and you tried not to smile, but it was impossible.

“You bastard,” you muttered, mouth twitching.

“Can you blame me? You threw a big vase of foul-smelling water at me!”

You started giggling at the memory.

“I guess that just about makes us even,” Joe held out his hand for you to high-five.

Feebly you brought your hand up and then down against his.

“For now,” you couldn’t help adding.

—–

The Taglisted: @ghostinthebackofyourhead @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @jssmth5 @nobody-000 @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @munsonmunster - add yourself

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weministertomonsters · 1 year

Text

Werewolf (Camden) x human female reader - Part 1

When you come home from work, your boyfriend Camden is on his knees in front of your apartment, furiously scrubbing at your door and growling something under his breath.

"Hey!" You greet him and he almost knocks over the bucket of water, swinging around to face you with wide, yellow eyes.

"Hi! You're home early! I was just trying to clean the... I mean, the door was dirty." He stammers, shrinking in on himself.

You've never seen your 6"8 boyfriend look so ragged. His fur is unbrushed and his tail has sunk low against his legs. He dropped the scrub brush when you called out, which means you startled him. With his werewolf hearing, that's even stranger. He should have heard you coming from a mile away.

"Are you alright? You don't look so good." You say in concern.

"I'm... Uh, I'm okay. Fine!" He glances nervously over your shoulder. "Since you're here, can I come in?"

"You're always welcome," you grin and unlock the door. "I was going to eat and maybe watch a movie, but it'll be so much better with you here."

"Okay... Um, yeah, I guess."

You close the door and peer at him. "Are you sure you're okay? Something feels off."

"It's just been a long day," he smiles wolfishly. "I missed you."

You hum and stand on your tiptoes, tugging on his shirt to get him to bend for a kiss. He smells faintly of greasy bike chains and oil from the bike shop he runs with his brother. You've officially been together for a couple of weeks now and haven't ventured further than kissing. You crave for more and you're sure he does, but you're trying to take this slow and make sure you both want this.

"You, sir, need a shower. You've got mud in your fur," you tease, breaking away. "You sure are one messy werewolf."

"I wouldn't want to waste all your water. Do you have any idea how much water it takes to wash all of me?"

"I worked in a pet saloon for a couple of months, so that gives me a rough idea," you say, dropping your keys in the basket on the sideboard. "That is if your fur can literally absorb water like mine seems to do. I get it. As a girl with big hair problems, I always use twice as much water and shampoo than other girls."

You turn to grin at him. "I need a shower as well, so if you wouldn't mind joining me..."

His gaze flickers to the walls, the ceilings, and everywhere but you and for a moment you think he's going to back out, but then he inhales in one shuddering breath and agrees.

"I understand that this is different from your usual experiences with werewolf girls. I'm not as strong and uh, I'm not sure I can handle everything you have to give, but we can work it out, I think," you say brightly as you step into the bathroom and turn on the shower to allow the water to get warm.

"You're wrong," he says, stepping into the bathroom and clicking his claws against the countertop. "I'm uh, new to all of this. Everything."

You pause with your fingers on the buttons of your blouse. "You mean you've never been in a relationship?"

His shoulders hunch. "That too."

"Wait... Are you saying you're a virgin?" You giggle.

He blinks and his ears flick. His claws tap incessantly on the countertop. You grab his hand and squeeze it.

"Sorry for laughing. It's just that I find it hard to believe. You're so hot, it's a miracle that you haven't been already taken by a werewolf or human."

"Thanks?" He stares at you. "But you know, most people still don't accept couples like us. Werewolf and human..."

"Who cares what they think? They probably think the earth is flat too!" You begin to unbutton your blouse, turning to check the temperature of the water.

It's nice and warm. You turn back, slightly hesitant. You're not even wearing a matching bra and panties. But you don't begin your old habit of drowning in insecurity and small details. Not with the way he's looking at you like he just realized how hungry he was.

He sees the stretch marks on your breasts and hips, your soft belly, and the moles that speckle your skin. He takes everything in and licks his muzzle, half-groaning.

"Oh god, I can't..." He whimpers, curling his hands into fists to keep from scratching the countertop as he leans against it and stares at you. "You're so beautiful, you shouldn't be mine."

"I wouldn't want it to be anyone else right now. I want you, Camden," you say softly.

For some reason he remains where he is, trembling lightly.

"I'm afraid I'll hurt you. I'll be too rough," he grits out. "And you're so fragile."

"My silly werewolf," you laugh. "I trust you. Besides, I don't mind a tiny scratch or two. It's nothing you can't fix with your tongue, right?"

He growls at the idea of licking your skin, healing any damage he might have done.

"Get in the shower. I'll join you," he says, rolling his shoulders.

You peel off your panties, not surprised to see that they're soaked. You drop them with the rest of your clothes and step into the shower, relaxing under the warm spray. Camden joins you, running his claws through his fur to help the water soak in.

You help him, offering him the bodywash while you run your soapy fingers through his fur, gently using your nails to work it in. As his fur gets wet and slicks down, it begins to show just how muscular he is underneath; muscles that tense up underneath your every touch.

Neither of you is trying to make this sexual but it still is. Your breaths come out in synchronized pants. Camden squeezes soap into his palms and goes to work it into his fur, but you grab his hands and plaster them against your chest. You're tingling and hot all over and that's not because of the water.

His hands remain where you place them for a moment, and then he spreads his finger and cups your soapy left breast, his claws resting against your skin. He has to move slowly, to be careful not to prick you with his claws and it's like exquisite torture. You lean back against the shower wall and let him touch you.

"You're everything I've ever dreamed of," he mumbles as he trails his fingers over your ribs and stomach. "Can... Can I touch you?"

"Do you even have to ask?" You reply.

He's definitely thought of this beforehand because, by the time you've realized he can't use his hands, he's already slipping onto his knees and flicking a shy glance up at you. He presses a soft kiss to your mound and flicks his tongue out to taste you. His eyes almost glow as his tongue laps across your folds and the soft broad tip teases your clit until your pussy is throbbing with desire.

"Camden," you whimper. "I need more."

You kneel beside him and tenderly kiss his muzzle and taste your juices on his tongue. You cup his face with one hand, stroking his semi-wet fur and inhaling his musky scent. Your other hand slips down his chest and belly until you find his sheath, hot and heavy.

You're intending to massage him until his cock comes out to play, but the instant you touch him down there he yips and scuttles away, cupping himself like you just knicked him with your fingernail. You're pretty sure you didn't.

There isn't much room in the shower and he ends up falling on his ass, accidentally sitting on his tail. He yips again and his back leg swipes through the air inches away from your face as he loses his balance, coming close to taking out your eye. It all happens so fast that all you can do is gape at him with soapy water running into your mouth.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"No, it's fine-"

"It isn't. I could have seriously hurt you just now, and all because I let them get into my head..."

"Let who?" You ask gently. "You can talk to me, Camden. I promise to listen."

He gives you an anguished look. "I know. It's just... I can't. It doesn't matter anyway. I'll end up hurting you."

"Camden-"

"I'm sorry," he says rather flatly, looking away.

"You know what? We can just forget what just happened and shower and watch a movie as I had planned." You pick yourself off the floor and reach for the tube of bodywash.

"I should get going. You know how the traffic is on Friday nights," he murmurs, ducking his head under the shower head to rinse the soap out of his fur.

"You can stay over if you like, and then just leave in the morning," you say casually, trying not to sound too desperate.

He sighs and says, "I don't think that's a good idea. I'm sorry."

"Nevermind. I guess we can see each other next week or something," you say lightly. "It'll be fine."

It doesn't exactly feel like rejection because you know he wants you. Even now, you can see he's trying to twist sideways to hide his arousal. Nothing feels fine either. It's painful to see him hurting like this and at the same time, you have no idea what the problem is. You hate being unable to help him.

~ ~ ~

I wrote this and had it ready to post on Christmas. Posted it to Wattpad but Tumblr just didn't want to cooperate with me. Oh well, it has worked now.

#werewolf #monster x reader #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster smut #terato #finally I can use the monster boyfriend tag because Camden is actually your boyfriend #exophilia #tw monsterfucking

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newtonsheffield · 1 year

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Mollyy, can we see Kate and Anthony from my hand some years in the future??

With Anthony being the absolute dad with his three ducklings??

I mean it's really hard to see it now, but one day they're going to be really happy.

One day, their kids will toddle around the back of the bakery hanging onto the back of Anthony's apron like little ducklings and they not so secretly like Kate's cooking more than his and it's so hard to believe that there was a time before this. A time when Anthony was afraid, and Kate thought she was alone in feeling this way.

Anthony was in trouble. He knew he was. That's why he had sweat trickling down his neck as he built this bloody thing while the children bounced around the living room.

He knew he shouldn't have taken the kids with him this morning, he knew he should have dropped them at Mary's on the way to the shops and left it at that. Would they have looked up at him, clinging to his legs with their pouty little eyes staring up at him while they said please let us come with you papa? Yes. But, that day, he would have survived. This version of events: he might not.

Charlotte bounced in front of him, her hearing aid abandoned for the day, and Anthony's heart pounded in his chest, just looking at her. It stopped any time he looked at any of their children. Three little miracles he'd almost never had. That he'd almost been too scared to let himself have. He could hardly imagine what his life would have been without them, without Kate. It would have been dark, lonely and desolate he knew that much. But instead, he had Kate, and three of the most incredible children anyone could have ever had.

Instead he had tears pricking at his eyes every single day as he watched Kate with their children. He had to hold back his tears when he saw Kate kneeling in the kitchen, straightening Neddy's coat, and fixing Miles's earmuffs and sighing at Charlotte as she bounced around while Kate was trying to tie her shoelaces.

Signing gently "Charli, are your ears on or off, sweetheart?"

"Off!"

"Okay."

She always kissed them on the nose, all in a row, oldest to youngest, signing gently, though she knew Miles could hear her perfectly well.

"Mummy loves all of you."

It caught in his chest, ached there as she always turned back towards him with her eyes smiling and her hand out for him to take. Every day he loved Kate and their children. Which is why he couldn't say no to them. Ever.

"Papa, is it ready?"

Anthony sighed, throwing gravel into the bottom of the enormous tank "No, Chick, not yet."

Charli sighed, her brow furrowing just like Kate's did. three years old and already so much like her mother. And that was why he found it particularly hard to say no to Charlotte. Why they'd walked into the bloody petshop as they passed in the first place. Charlotte had her mother's dark ringlets just like the boys did, but, were it not for her calling him Papa, you could have been excused for thinking he'd had any input into her DNA at all. She was Kate born again, the same way the boys were his mirrors, they all knew it. Cheeky and mischievous and perfect. Just the way the boys were.

"When will it be ready?"

"Hopefully, before Mummy gets home."

"Why?" Neddy tugged on his sweater, his eyes curious.

Anthony sighed distractedly, "Because then she can't be too mad at Papa."

Something tapped Anthony's shoulder making him startle as he spun around to find his wife standing there, her eyebrow raised and an amused smirk curling her lips even as she knelt to kiss the children's heads in turn as they rushed towards her piling around her, her hands moving gently.

"There's my babies."

Anthony swallowed, nudging the large aquarium castle out of the way with his foot that he'd been about to place in the tank, as if that would help.

"Darling!" Anthony said brightly, "You're home!"

"Just in time, it looks like," Kate smirked, pointing to the fish tank. "What's all this, babe?"

"Oh it's..." Anthony trailed off, "It's just a... fish tank. The er... the kids and I walked by a pet store, today and we went inside to look at the kittens, which I managed to convince them not to get but um... We thought it might be nice to get some goldfish." He nudged Charlotte forward, carrying the goldfish in a bag. "This is Herbert."

Kate's eyes flicked between their children and Anthony several times, Miles resting on her hip before she sighed, "Well, we did manage to trick Papa today, didn't we?"

"They did.!" Anthony leapt on it. "They were criminal masterminds, actually. I think we should be worried."

Kate sighed, leaning forward to brush their lips together before she pulled back, "Don't think I didn't see the swing set waiting to be put up either."

"Like I said, Kate, your children are evil geniuses!" Anthony huffed, "What am I supposed to do? Say no to them?!"

#my hand was the one you reached for au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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threadsun · 9 months

Note

Ok, here is the entire intro fic in one piece, enjoy!

You still can’t fucking believe you’re doing this, how did you get here again? Oh, right, the letter. Not a letter in your mailbox, or even under the front door, no, that would make too much sense. This letter was tucked safely under your pillow next to a concerningly sticky spot right next to your head. The letter was about your dad, he had recently passed and he left you his house and his whole ass cult in his will. No, really, in the will it says “and my whole ass cult” Apparently your father had a sense of humor

Your mother warned you not to go, urging you to come with her to flee the country, but something about this was too insane to not delve into. You also felt bad for all those poor people your father must have tricked, people don’t just decide to move to a commune because they’re in a good place in life, maybe you could help them out, change some lives. Or maybe the thought of having a whole town under your control sounded just a little too good to pass up. Either way, you packed everything important in a few bags and suitcases and plugged the address into your GPS

It was a few hours drive, and your car was making some concerning noises an hour or so out, but you pressed on, hoping this little town had a mechanic. You manage to get your car to pull through just long enough to get you into town and into a gas station parking space. You noticed the gas station had clearly seen better days, not because it was dirty at all, but because of how old it looked, the pumps didn’t even have card readers on them

While looking around, wondering just what you should do next, you read the sign of the shop right next door “Jo’s Repair Shop” You guessed it was common sense to have a repair shop right next to a gas station. As you walk over you spot a guy on his smoke break, you’d hate to bother him but you did need your car looked at. Yep, that’s it, that's the only reason, it’s not just your excuse to talk to the handsome stranger, definitely not, that would be silly. Oh wow, he’s built like a brick house, can you even talk to this guy? Oh, fuck he’s looking at you, quick, just don’t be weird

“Howdy” Howdy? Your one job was to be normal and you open with Howdy??? Wait, he laughed, god he sounds nice, at least he thinks you’re funny instead of stupid. You ask that after his break he looks at your car because of the noise it keeps making “Oh, that was your car? I thought someone was killing a dog out here” He chuckles and you can’t help but feel a bit flustered, you can’t tell if the feeling comes from having made that noise on the road for about an hour now, or because of how nice his voice was to listen to

He tells you it’s no trouble and puts out his cig, saying “I really need to quit anyhow” before letting you lead the way to your car. He gives your car a good once over before looking back at you “Well, I’ll be honest with you, it’s a miracle you got this far, doll. Your breaks are shot and your engine almost looks like it’s been cut with something. Sorry to say, but I don’t think I can get her up and running again, at least not cheaper than just buying a new car”

Great, just great, moving into a new town with no car, awesome. You sigh and thank him for the trouble, asking how much he wanted for the once over. He tilts his head “How much? I just looked at it, doll you don’t gotta pay me anything” …Doll? Doll??? Is this man trying to kill you? It didn’t register the first time he said it but it sure is now. You stutter out a thank you and ask how far out the founder’s house is “Oh…uh, from here it’s about a mile, but there’s not much of a reason to go. The founder died about a week ago” His eyes glaze over as he speaks, like he’s not even here. You tell him you know about your father’s recent passing, and apologize for bringing it up, saying he clearly meant more to him than he ever did to you

Joseph takes a moment, you can almost hear him trying to grind the rust off the gears in his head “Wait, father, like…like he’s your dad? Or was, I guess, but you’re-you…you’re the founder’s kid?” You have to stifle a laugh before confirming that yes, your dad was indeed your dad “...Holy shit-uh, sorry, I shouldn’t cuss in front of you, unless you want me to? God, you saw me smoke” He runs his hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down “Sorry, let’s start over. I’m Joseph, it’s an honor to meet you, your grace”

You’re a little taken aback by his shift in tone but also a bit flattered. You tell him your name and that it’s nice to meet him as well, not missing the small shudder that runs through him when you say his name. He quietly says your name, testing how it feels on his tongue, the way he looks at you when he says it sends up to your cheeks “Well since you’re moving in you probably have quite a bit in your trunk, so we’ll need someone to move it. I mean, I don’t have a doubt everyone in town would pitch in to help you out but you look a little overwhelmed already”

You nod, you’ve only been here for about fifteen-thirty minutes and you’re already a bit shaken, the long drive here probably wasn’t helping things “Hm, why don’t I take you over to Laurent’s place? The actual restaurant is closed because Jean broke his arm but the bakery and frozen section are still open. We’ll get some food in you and I’ll talk to Berry about bringing his car over to haul your stuff” You agree, thanking him for all the trouble, he just laughs, and you can’t help be notice just how fake his other one’s sounded in comparison “If this is trouble I’d love to see what you think doing someone a favor is. Now come on, let’s get you something to eat” You make sure to lock your car before walking off with your new acquaintance, still nervous but excited to see where today will take you

================================================

The bell above the restaurant’s door rings as Joseph holds it open for you, the wonderful smell of freshly baked bread and something sweet surrounding you as you walk in. It’s a quaint little restaurant, more the size of a cafe than anything. A few booths and tables are scattered about in an area off to the side from the main counter, above which are prices for various frozen treats, and below are display cases for baked goods

Behind the counter is a very… normal-looking man. You don’t mean that as an insult it’s just the best way you can describe him at first glance, besides being ginger “Hey, Berry, someone sick or something? You usually don’t run the counter” The man behind the counter, who you now know as Berry, just shrugs “I thought I’d take Mariah’s shift, something told me today would be rather interesting. Who’s this?” As he looks at you you can feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up, you swear you’ve heard his voice before

“Oh, right, Berry this is the founder’s child” The way his eyes widen almost looks practiced “Really? Well, welcome to Laurent’s Place. Would you like some froyo? I’ve actually been working on a new flavor just for you” You try to decline his offer as politely as you can, saying you’d prefer something warm. Berry pouts at this “Oh, well maybe next time. As for warm foods, I’m afraid Jean’s still in his cast after the scene at the funeral. I’ll talk to Rory about making something, I’m sure he wouldn't mind if it’s for you” You could swear his smile got a bit wider when he talked about whatever incident left one of the chefs in a cast, but you shake it off, there’s no way, right?

Berry exits through a door to what you can only assume would be a kitchen as Joseph walks you to one of the empty tables “...So, I know you haven’t been here long, but do you like what you’ve seen so far? The town, I mean, you know I-I wasn’t talking about me or anything, just, um, yeah” Poor guy, you can tell he’s nervous, his blush starting to spread to his ears at his clunky attempt at small talk

You give him a reassuring smile and say everything you’ve seen so far has been great, the people too. His smile is so wide, it’s like he just can’t contain how happy he is. He looks away bashfully and you notice just how small he looks like this, just how cute he is burying as much of his face as he can in the hand he’s propped up on the table. You didn’t have long to admire his blush, his face paling as he saw Berry bringing you food over

“Here you are! Hope you like them” Berry sets a stack of pancakes on the table, made exactly how you like them. It’s almost scary how perfect they look, and taste you find out as you take an experimental bite. You thank Berry and give your compliments to the chef “Of course, I’ll let him know” Berry turns to leave before Joseph stops him “Actually, I know you’re busy today but their car broke down and I was hoping you’d help haul their stuff to the founder’s house, or, old house, I guess”

Berry’s eyes light up at this “Of course, anything for the child of prophecy. I’ll get on that right now” Joseph stands up a bit too quickly “I’ll come too! I mean, you know, cuz I know where their car is” You only now realize how pale Jo’s face gets while talking to Berry, how tense he seems. You tell the two that you’ll need a minute to finish your food “Oh, don’t worry, we can handle it just fine. You just relax here while we go move your things, we won’t look into anything, promise” The way Berry says it is almost sarcastic, like he’s just waiting for you to call him out on it. You just nod and thank them for the help

Berry sticks his head in the back and yells something before leaving with Joseph to move your things for you…to move your things for you. Wait, why the fuck would you ever agree to that? This is nuts, you don’t fucking know these people why do you just keep saying yes to them??? Because they’re hot. Yeah, ok, what’s a good reason you keep saying yes? … Yeah, that’s what you thought. God damn it, at least the pancakes are good, a bit salty but it’s a welcome addition to be sure

Everything just keeps happening, it’s a little hard to keep up. Most of your day has been on the road in your own little world, only stopping once or twice for gas and bathroom breaks. While this all sounded new and existing on paper it’s a little terrifying in practice, you’re already getting a little homesick, though the pancakes do taste like the ones your mom made for you. Yeah, your mom’s awesome, you wish there was just one familiar face around here. As you’re about halfway done with your stack the front door rings

================================================

You hear the front door ring as another customer walks in and orders their “usual” from who you can only assume to be…oh fuck, what did Berry say their name was? Tori? No, damn, this is a small town you have to get better at names. Before you can ponder what truly is in a name you hear the customer walking towards you. They look familiar, but you can’t quite place why. They seem to be just following their routine as they sit down in the booth across from you, not even looking up to see if it was taken

You just sit there a moment before clearing your throat in an attempt to get their attention “Hm? Oh, oh gosh, I-I’m so sorry! I wasn’t even looking, I just always sit here to wait, I’m so sorry” You tell them it’s fine, asking them if the Monday fog is still hanging around. A nervous laugh escapes them “Y-Yeah, you know how it is, um…oh, shit. I’m so sorry, but I can’t seem to remember your name” You explain how you don’t think you’ve ever met before and tell them your name

Their eyes go wide and they clutch their chest, you think something’s wrong until they start fumbling inside their shirt and pull out a necklace. That necklace, holy shit, the necklace, the red hair, the freckles, that cute little stutter, it’s Ian! Words begin to fly out of your mouth at record pace, asking how he’s been, what he’s been up to, if his mom’s still a bitch, and apologizing for not recognizing him sooner. Ian just sits there, his mouth opening and closing, as if trying to say something but nothing comes out

Then he starts to cry, he tries to keep it in but fails miserably, he never could hold his tears back. You get up and move to his side of the booth, rubbing his back like you always did when he was upset, and just like back then he wraps his arms around you and buries his face into your shoulder. You let him cry it out for a while until he calms down “You…you don’t hate me?” He croaks out. You explain to him that you’ve never hated him, and that it would be a little silly for little you to ask him out if you did. He laughs, sounding relieved “Ye-yeah, I guess so, huh? But…if you didn’t hate me, why did you leave?”

You explain that you’re not really sure why you had to leave, all you remember is your mom putting you into the car when it was dark and driving as fast as she could. Ian’s eyes darken slightly “Oh…so it’s her fault. Huh, well, at least you’re back now. Oh, sorry!” His hands recoil from your waist, almost as if the touch had burned him, and he straightens up “Sor-sorry, I wasn’t, it’s just that, it-it’s been so long, I just-” You cut him off and tell him it’s fine, remembering that he will just keep going until you stop him

“Right, um, well here, let me pay for your food. It’s the least I could do” You go to decline when you hear “Ian, your order’s ready” You stand up to let him out of the booth to grab his box of donuts “Um, hey, are you sticking around for a while? I-I’d love to keep talking but I have to get these back to set, and get my makeup on again, why does Shaun keep making his monsters covered in fur? Uh, do you think we can talk again?” You tell him you’re here to stay and you’d love to catch up sometime “Really? Awesome! Well, I need to go but I’ll see you later, bye!” The poor guy nearly slams into the door from his excitement before turning around and pushing it open with his back

You smile to yourself as you eat, reminiscing on just how much has changed, and just how much really hasn’t. Ian’s still a bit of a mess, and everything still looks pretty old, except this restaurant which looks pretty modern all things considered. You always thought your little kindergarten boyfriend was lost to time, but there he was, a full-grown man now. Wait, was Ian a man? Looking back on things he had some solid egg vibes, oh fuck you didn’t even ask for his pronouns, their pronouns? Oh damn it, have you been assuming people's genders this whole time? When did all your pancakes end up in your stomach? How long have you been looking at this empty plate?!

Ok, ok, fuck, no, you’re ok, everyone’s fine, nobody died. Just take a deep breath in…and out. Ok, you’ll just ask them for their pronouns later, you’re usually good about this, maybe how old everything looks is making you assume shit? Who knows, either way, you need to pay for those delicious pancakes so you get up and head over to the counter. There’s a register so it’s probably safe to assume this is where you pay, and you are a bit curious as to who apparently made your pancakes. After a moment someone in a similar uniform to Berry’s walks out of the door that leads to the kitchen, a basket of fresh rolls in their arms “Sorry for the wait, I couldn’t let these babies burn”

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The chef (baker?) puts the rolls in their spot and straightens back up to look at you “Can I help you?” Now that you can see their face properly you notice they’re wearing face paint of some kind, must be good stuff too, it’s such a bright pink but it doesn’t look cakey at all, ironic for a baker “Are you gonna order something or are you just going to stare at me?” You snap out of your little trance, apologizing for staring and asking how much for the pancakes

they tilt their head in confusion “Uh, unless I made another stack in my sleep Ian just paid for them, you don’t owe me anything” You feel your face get hot, both from how awkward this interaction was getting and the fact that you let them pay for you like that. You ask how much it was so you can pay Ian back later. Rory chuckles at this “Don’t worry, they were about five bucks, nothing to sweat over. Besides, Ian’s loaded nowadays, but if you are gonna have a heart attack over it could you do it outside? I really don’t feel like getting the mop out”

You chuckle, appreciating their attempt to lighten the mood. You tell them you’ll make sure to reschedule your heart attack for a later date and ask for their name “Damn, you really are new, huh? I’m Rory, Rory Rainberry, pleasure to meet you…?” You tell them your name, and then tell them your full name to mimic them “Huh, so it really is you. Everyone was talking about how you were gonna come back after the founder died but I was a bit skeptical. Glad to have you here though, you seem alright, as long as you give all this your best shot I’m sure you’ll do fine”

You can feel a bit of weight come off your shoulders as they speak, the way they talk making it seem like they’re an old friend rather than some stranger. You thank them for the assurance, telling them that today’s already been a bit of a whirlwind and you’ve only just gotten here “Yeah, that’s how folks here can be. A word of advice? Don’t be afraid to say no, you’re the boss now and everyone wants a piece of you, but they would never go against direct orders, especially if you can get Bo back in shape”

You ask who Bo is “The founder’s guard dog, poor thing’s been wasting away ever since he passed. Don’t be fooled when you see him though, at peak strength he can break through bone, just ask Jean'' Your eyes widen, Berry had mentioned someone in a cast but you just assumed they fell or something, a bit of a silly thought looking back on it but being around that guy was making your fight or flight go off a bit more than usual so you think it’s fair that you weren’t really pondering it before. You ask if this Jean is ok “Oh, yeah, he’s still in the cast but he’s back to doing shoots. Won’t be in the kitchen for a while which has its ups and downs''

You ask how so “Well, up side, I don’t have to deal with him telling me what to do. He’s an alright guy but man is he bossy in the kitchen. The downside is now Berry’s coming to me to pick up the slack, but up side to the down side, he does keep giving me free froyo” You ask him what flavor is his favorite “Oh, well you can’t get it. It’s a special flavor he saves for employees, says he puts his “secret sauce” into it, whatever that means'' You get an odd feeling from the phrase “Berry’s secret sauce” but choose to brush it off for now

You’re about to ask them another question when the front door rings, it’s only now that you realize you’ve been keeping Rory from actually doing their job, though something tells you they don’t mind. You turn to see who walked in only to be met with possibly the largest chest you’ve ever seen, you hear a chuckle and look up to see its source. They’re big, like, Joseph big, how many hulks does this town have? You stutter out an apology and step to the side, telling them you weren’t ordering anything

“Oh, you’re fine, I completely understand. It’s hard not to get roped into conversation with Rory” The way they say Rory sends a shiver down your spine, you can only imagine what it does to them. Well, no, you can see the puddle Rory’s melted into clear as day. Where a confident slightly sassy guy once stood is now a blushing mess. Rory takes a strand of hair between their fingers and starts to twirl it “Hi” You don’t think you’ve ever heard a word filled with more puppy love in your life

The large person leans over the counter and gives Rory a quick kiss, melting the last little bit of composure they had “I’m going to go visit Jean, he just got back from getting his cast readjusted and I thought I’d get him some coffee cake. Wanna come? I’m sure he’d be happy to see you” Rory opens their mouth to respond before their face falls. They sigh “No, I’m the only one here right now and if I close early again Berry might actually kill me” The stranger presses on, kissing Rory’s cheek “Come on, you know I’d never let anyone hurt you” Rory giggles, the kiss on their cheek tilting their head towards you

You suddenly realize that you’ve just been staring at this couple for some time now and you can feel your face getting hot again. You internally smack yourself for just gawking at these two but Rory doesn’t look offended, if anything they look pleased with themself, maybe even enjoying your voyeurism. No, that’s stupid, they’re probably just laughing at you in their head. Why is everyone in this town so hot?

“Oh, what if you take them with you? Jean’s been talking about seeing them again since forever” The stranger looks over to you, giving you a once over “...Who is that?” Rory giggles again “That’s the founder’s kid” The stranger’s eyes widen “Oh, golly, forgive me your grace, I’ve never seen a description of what you look like” You tell them it’s fine and that you look pretty different from what you did all those years ago anyhow “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, I’m Sunny Day Jack, but everyone just calls me Jack” You tell them that it’s nice to meet them and give them your name

Rory reaches down into the display case and puts a few pieces of coffee cake into a bag and hands it to Jack, giving them a kiss on the cheek “As much as I’d love you to stay you shouldn’t keep Jean waiting, you know how fussy he gets. I’ll meet up with you after my shift, ok?” Jack leans down and gives Rory a proper kiss, melting them all over again “Alright, can’t wait sunshine. Your grace, would you like to join me?” You nod, unsure of what else to do with your time, and a bit curious about this Jean guy. You swear you remember that name but you can’t quite put a face to it. Jack holds the door for you and you two start to walk to Jean’s house “So, what’s your favorite color?”

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Favorite color? You can’t help but ask them why that’s the first question they ask you “Someone’s favorite color can say a lot about them, and it’s something most people know off the top of their head. It also probably comes from how many kids I meet” You tell them you were wondering why they were so colorful “Oh, well that’s because I’m literally a clown. Though I guess all my bright colors do make me look like I’m from a cartoon, huh?” You two chuckle and you agree with them, saying that they’d make a great action figure

Jack laughs at this “Aww, you’re too kind, I’ll let you know if our merch team ever makes one. I’d love to see you play with me” A shiver runs up your spine as their voice dips into something lower, seductive even, before snapping back to his original tone “How’d you like Rory? He’s pretty great, right?” The tone shift makes your head spin for a second before responding, agreeing that Rory is nice to talk to “Yeah, he’s really sweet when you get to know him, he’d make a great harem member if I might be so bold” You chuckle and ask if he has a harem “Huh? Oh…you don’t know much about what leading the cult entails do you?”

Your face falls, that familiar feeling of anxiety pooling in your stomach. You ask him what he’s talking about “Well, there are a lot of things the leader is expected to do but one thing you’ll have to establish is who gets to be in your harem. People will flock to you once they all know you’re here and all of them want to please you. The harem is a system that makes sure people don’t do something stupid like try to have sex with you in public” You laugh, they don’t

You look at him for a moment before asking if he’s serious “Oh yeah, it was a real problem before the founder established his. If you’re still unsure who you’d like to be in it by week's end just pick someone you’re friends with to hold them off. Though make sure you tell them they’re just there because they're your friend, don’t wanna kill anyone now, do we?” even though you’re both outside in the afternoon sun you feel ice cold, you’d expected weird shit, it is a cult after all, but this is just something else. You can’t even tell if they’re kidding about your rejection killing someone, the way he says it is so flat, like they’re telling you the sky is blue or fire is hot

You tell them you’ll keep it in mind and you start to look around as you try to think of another conversation topic. As you do you notice all the houses look nearly identical, not an uncommon occurrence in neighborhoods to be sure, but it’s more than a little uncanny. Every now and again you see a group of children playing after school, all of them wave at Jack as you pass by. You remember them saying that they talked to a lot of kids and decide to ask them about it

“Oh, I’m the elementary teacher! Though I also do counseling for the older kids. It can be rough going through life alone, I just wanna be there them” It’s only when their voice drops do you realize they’ve been performing this whole time. Their voice has been light, almost bubbly all this time, but in that moment they sound so down to earth, like they really care about these kids. You can’t help but smile

“Oh, here we are!” Their voice regains its bouncy quality as he walks down someone’s driveway “Now, I’ll make sure to tell him who you are but don’t be surprised if he gives you a bit of a death glare when he sees you. Jean’s never been fond of newcomers” You thank them as they knock on Jean’s front door. It takes a minute but eventually the door opens, the man inside looks a bit awkward, having to cross his left arm over to open it. He gives you your warned death glare before it turns to something more confused “Hey Jean, I thought I’d bring you some coffee cake after your readjustment. This is-” Jean’s eyes widen and before they can get it out, Jean says your name

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You finally piece it together, Jean, spoiled bitch Jean. He was always nice to you but it was never really personal, like he didn’t really know what having friends meant. You greet him by name, commenting on how tall he’s gotten. Jean chuckles and welcomes you both in, as you walk inside your mouth starts to water at the smell coming from what you assume to be his kitchen. He holds out his left arm and you go in for a slightly awkward side hug

“It’s so good to finally see you again, how have you been?” You tell him you’ve been good and that it’s nice to see him too. Man, Jean has really changed from when you were kids. Where Ian still has a bit of a baby face Jean looks almost like he was sculpted. Sculpted? Really? One of the first things you point out is how hot your old friend is? Maybe a harem wouldn’t be too bad for you, when was the last time you got laid- “Your grace?” Jack places their hand on your shoulder and you snap out of your little daze

You shake your head slightly and apologize for staring, Jean simply chuckles “Oh, you’re fine. Please, sit” He gestures to his couch, the upholstery having a few claw marks on the armrests but otherwise looking rather new. As you sit down you hear a chirping sound from under the couch. A ball of white fur crawls from underneath the couch before hopping into your lap. Jean opens his mouth but then shuts it, seemingly mulling something over “Uh- Princess, get off there, you’re getting your hair all over them” You laugh and say it’s fine, your hand petting her soft fur

After a second Jean’s eyes widen “Oh, Jack, didn’t you and Shaun have that meeting today?” Jack almost flinches “Oh, shoot, that was today? I better get going then, uh, here’s the coffee cake, goodbye your grace” Jack sets the bag of coffee cake onto Jean’s side table before giving you a small bow. Once Jack leaves Jean closes the door with his back and sits next to you on the couch. You ask for the cat’s name “Huh? Oh, uh, Princess, I said it earlier, remember?” You tell him you remember his folks not letting him have a cat and that once he got one he probably named it out of spite, so, what’s its name? “...I just call her Fucker” You knew it!

Jean laughs “I guess you did, you were always the smart one” He goes to touch your hand but Fucker bats it away before rolling onto her back and purring in your lap. Jean’s face goes from serene to pissed to something bashful all within a few seconds. He sighs “You always did have a way with animals” You thank him, actually, while you’re at it you ask him if he’s still cool with he/him stuff “Yeah, do you go by anything different now?” You tell him your pronouns “Alright, I’ll make sure to pass it on” His tone is full of confidence before seemingly remembering something “I-I mean, if you want me to”

The way he just talked sounded so much like Ian that you could swear he’s making fun of them, but he’s not making any faces or anything so it comes off as oddly genuine. Maybe they hang out now? A lot of time has passed, surely Jean’s bullying has toned down to some extent. You tell Jean there’s actually something you wanted to ask him “Oh? Well, whatever it is I don’t judge. You can tell me anything”

Jean leans forward slightly, looking up at you through batting eyelashes. You tell him that you remember his family being pretty close with your dad and ask if he can tell you anything about what running this place actually means. Jean’s face falls for just a moment before perking up again “Of course I can, I was one of the people closest to the founder before he died, what would you like to know?” You ask about your every day, if there’s a schedule you have to follow

“There’s no strict schedule except for the weekly sermons and any speeches or appearances you have to make” You ask what the sermons are like “A bit bloody if we find a decenter but other than that it’s just us praising your name. Except for the ones at the start of the month, that’s when the founder would make predictions of what would happen during that month” You can feel the blood start to drain from your face. You ask what happens when the predictions are wrong, Jean looks at you like you’ve just admitted to liking pineapple on pizza “They aren’t? They are predictions from our god, they are never wrong. If you’re worried about it, don’t be. You’re our god taken human form, I’m sure your predictions will be the best yet”

You feel like someone just ran up to you and punched you square in the diaphragm, knocking all the wind out of you. Fucker decides you’re not petting her good enough and starts rubbing her face on your shaking hand. You ask what he’s talking about, Jean sighs “That awful woman didn’t tell you anything, did she?” He takes one of your hands in his good one, he starts by saying your name “You are our god incarnate, the one who will raise us from the dark times after our founder fell. You are our future”

It feels like the whole world is slowly spinning around you, your brain desperately trying to make sense of all of this. You can feel your panic start to bubble to the surface, starting in your chest and spreading. You can feel it crawl down your arms and legs and you don’t know where you’re gonna go but you can’t be here-...He’s petting you. The long delicate fingers of Jean’s left hand weave into your hair to scratch your scalp “It’s ok, you’re ok, everything is going to be just fine” He gently places his hand on your left shoulder, moving you to rest your head on his chest

You feel yourself melt slightly, enough of your stiffness leaving you for you to wrap your arms around him “I want you to focus on my voice, ok? It’s just us here, you don’t have to worry about any of that right now. Can you tell me something you can smell” You tell him his cologne, a deep cinnamon mixed with some kind of wood. You can smell the faintest whisper of smoke on him too, it’s nice, complementing his cologne. You also pick back up on the smell from the kitchen, now that you’re focusing on it you can tell it’s some kind of roasted chicken. You breathe out a small laugh as you realize your mouth is watering

“Good, very good. You’re doing such a good job for me” Something about his praise mixed with him petting you like this makes you feel warm. It’s not like the fiery heat of embarrassment you felt earlier in the day, it’s softer, it feels nice, almost too nice. His hand moves down to your back, slowly rubbing up and down, you’re reminded of how you did this for Ian back at the restaurant, did it feel this good for him too? You hardly even know Jean but something about him feels so safe, so familiar in all this chaos. A small chuckle escapes you as Fucker butts her head against your leg, clearly miffed you’re not giving her all your attention

“There you go, just relax into me. You’re so cute like this” His hand slides up a bit higher than before, his thumb brushing the base of your neck. Now that he’s made you focus in on your senses everything just feels so much…bigger than it did a few minutes ago “You know, if you’re this worried about doing a good job, I could help you. Like I said, I was really close with your dad. I could be really close to you too” He leans his head down just a bit, his lips brushing over your ear making you shiver “Or maybe even closer” Jean’s hand moves to your cheek, cupping your face gently. He tilts his head, you can feel his hot breath on your lips and-DING DONG

Both of you damn near jump out of your skin as the doorbell rings. Jean looks to the door, to you, and back to the door. He lets out a groan as he gets up to answer it. He just stands there, knob in hand, for a second to collect himself before opening it “How can I-...oh, it’s you” A deep voice comes from beyond the doorway “It’s meeee!” Jean huffs “What are you doing here? Don’t you have some murder fest to be filming?” The voice chuckles “Well, I did, but then Jack came and told me he was sorry for being late for our meeting that starts a week from now. And after he told me their grace was left here all alone with you? How could not come pay you a visit?”

Jean looks back over to you before trying to close the door, the person from outside easily keeping it open “This is my house, Shaun you can’t just barge in here like this!” Shaun steps inside so you can now properly see how massive they are. They’re not as tall as Jack or Joseph but they seem a bit wider? Not chubby, just wider, maybe it’s bone structure? Maybe it’s Maybelline. Oh shut the fuck up

“Listen, we’re allowed to do whatever is needed if there’s an emergency our leader needs to take care of remember? Or are you going to admit you had no good reason to take the founder away every time I wanted him to review my edits?” Jean stutters on his response “Hey, it’s not my fault the founder was such a good taste tester. What else was I supposed to do? Just feed the public food before it’s perfect? What kind of a man do you think I am Shaun?” Shaun laughs again, they have a good laugh, a deep warm belly laugh, even in this rather tense situation “I’d tell you, but I’d rather not use that kind of language around their grace, speaking of” Shaun turns to you “I wasn’t kidding earlier, there really is something you need to take care of. Mind coming with me your grace?”

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You shake your head, trying to get out of the weird headspace you were just in before agreeing. As you stand from the couch your legs feel like jelly, honestly your whole body feels a bit sluggish after your panic attack. Jean’s eyes fill with fear as you start to walk to Shaun “W-Wait! You can’t go yet, you, um, you haven’t had any tea yet! If you just give me a second I’ll-” You tell Jean you’d love to stay but you can’t if there’s an emergency “Thank you your grace, at least someone here has there head screwed on right”

You’re almost out the door when you turn to say one last goodbye to Jean, he looks dazed, like he’s trying to remember which way is up. You go to ask him if he’s ok but Shaun takes your hand, leading you down the road to wherever this emergency is. You two run down the road for a minute or two before slowing down to a walk. You ask them why you’re slowing down “Well, there is an emergency but you’re gonna need Nick there with you to deal with him. So I figure, why rush? Nick won’t be on set for another fifteen” You ask them why you started running in the first place

“You think I was leaving you in that house? No way in hell. I mean, I’m sure you can handle yourself but new faces are Jean’s specialty. Any longer and I’m sure he’d have convinced you to add him to your harem” Why is everyone talking about your harem? You tell them Jean was just trying to help you after you started panicking “And what made you start panicking?” You were asking Jean questions when he told you were like actually a god and how you were super important and…oh, oh fuck

“Yeah, that’s Jean for ya. Damn snake, he’s got almost the whole town’s pity after his accident too. Don’t worry, anyone that actually knows him knows how fucking awful he is” You ask how many people actually know him, Shaun’s face falls “Not nearly enough” They clear their throat before attempting to lighten the mood “But that’s enough of that, how are you holding up? Today’s probably been a lot huh?” You sigh and agree, you’ve already met so many people, and you’re bound to meet so many more

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, most people around here are in bed by nine so everyone’s already starting to wind down for the day. People don’t fully know you’re here yet so you have until at least tomorrow before shit gets crazy” You ask him about the emergency “Oh, well, yeah ok things are gonna get a little crazy tonight but Bo is pretty low energy these days so…I mean that’s not a good thing, but he’ll be easier to manage”

You ask how Bo’s doing “Well, he’s still kicking, so there’s that” Is that really the best news about him? Shaun sighs “Yeah, poor guy, hasn’t eaten anything since the funeral” You ask how long ago that was “About a week now, Nick’s been able to get him to drink a bit of water but that’s about it” You ask how he’s still alive “The guy’s strong, even like that he’ll still growl at anyone who tries to enter the founder’s room that isn’t Nick. That’s why I’m not sending you in there without him”

You give Shaun your thanks and you two walk in silence until Shaun takes a turn off of the cobble road. You follow his lead and eventually you get to a small filming set over by the forest. Wait, film set, wasn’t- “Hey, Ian, I’m back!” “Oh thank god, Shaun I love you man but you can’t just leave me in charge like…oh” You greet Ian as he realizes you’re there “Uh, hi, hello, how-uh shit how are you?” You give a shrug and tell him you’re fine “Hey, how come you aren’t in costume yet?” Ian sighs “Sorry Shaun but as soon as you left Daniel damn near set the forest on fire with one of the props” “Again? I swear, that kid has got to get it together”

It’s fascinating to see Ian talk to Shaun like this, he’s so casual about it, so fluent. Who is this man and what has he done with your Ian? Wait, your Ian? Ah, shut up shut up! “Hey, thought I’d swing by early. Hope that’s cool”

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You turn to see, well, an e-boy. You don’t mean it in a rude way, that's just the best way you can describe this guy “Nick! Perfect timing, change of plans. I’ll get your opinion on my latest edit later. Do you think you could take their grace to see Bo?” Nick’s eyes light up when Shaun calls you your grace but they otherwise hold their cool expression “Of course, follow me your grace” Nick gives you a little bow before turning to leave “W-Wait, you’re already leaving?”

You turn back to tell Ian you have to go, but you’d love to hang out later “Yeah, and besides we gotta get you into costume if we wanna stay on schedule” Ian visibly relaxes a bit “Oh, ok, I’ll see you later then” You bid them farewell and head off to go see Bo. You two walk in silence for a while when you hear a clinking sound, it’s not metallic, it kinda sounds like if you knocked two pieces of porcelain together. The sound comes from Nick’s pocket and you ask him if that’s his fidget toy

“Hm? O-Oh, yeah…sorry” You tell them it’s fine, whatever helps you get through the day, huh? “Heh, yeah” …Cool, cool cool cool, this conversation is going great. You decide now’s a good a time as ever to ask their pronouns “He/him, you?” You tell him your pronouns “Cool, cool” Very cool, so cool, you’re so very cool right now and definitely not wondering if he hates you, that would be silly…Yeah, ok, this is a bit silly. You’re sure this guy thinks you’re fine, you’re just panicking again. Just breathe. Geez, how many anxiety attacks can a person have in a day? Why can’t that number be zero?

“Hey, are you alright?” You tell him you’re fine, just stressing out over…everything, you guess "Damn, god's relatable" That manages to get a laugh out of both of you "Sorry, I guess I just wasn't expecting that. It's cool though, nice to know I'm not the only nervous one" Wait, he’s nervous? Nick pauses for a second "...I'm seeing god for the first time since I was seven, yeah, I'm a little nervous" He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and you guess it kind of is. These people think you’re a big deal, it would be weirder if they weren't nervous around you

You tell him that there's no reason to be nervous, you don't bite "Aw, I was looking forward to that" Nick slaps his hand over his mouth "I am…so sorry. I can't turn it off" You laugh and tell him you get it, saying you do stuff like that all the time “Right, thank you your grace, you’re too kind” You want to correct him and say that that’s the normal response but you don’t know if that’s safe. It’s gonna be your job to pretend to be god now, fuck, how are you even gonna do that? Ok, you can question that later, right now you need more info

You ask him about Bo "Oh, yeah, he drank some water yesterday. He's not doing great but I'm sure once he meets you he'll be on the mend. He just needs a new purpose, a new master, I'm sure of it" His reasoning is pretty good but he sounds more like he's trying to convince himself than you. You tell him you're sure he'll be fine, and that it sounds like he's been doing a great job taking care of him. Not everyone's strong enough to take care of a dog like that. You watch his face turn from as pale as porcelain to firetruck red "Huh…thank you your grace"

As you continue to walk your eyes are drawn by the giant fucking house in front of you. Holy shit "Yeah, it's pretty big, huh? You like it?" You shake off your surprise and tell him it's massive "Yeah, don't know how the founder lived there personally. All that space would drive me up the wall" …what?

That's your fucking house? Nick chuckles "What you and the house get up to is none of my business but I'd say so" you're pulled from your bewilderment when you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up "Well hey there, and here I was thinking you'd never show up" You turn to see Berry who is…right next to you? How did he "We managed to get everything inside but we couldn't bring it into your room with Bo in there"

You thank him and take a half step back to try and get him out of your bubble but he steps with you staying uncomfortably close. You try to look for anything that isn't Berry to focus on when you see Joseph leaned up against the house. You wave over to him to catch his attention, he seems to flinch at your acknowledgement and gives you a meek wave in return "Well it's a good thing you showed up when you did, that mutt probably would have keeled over by tomorrow if you didn't show up"

You hear the clinking of Nick's fidget toy getting louder but he doesn't say anything. You tell Berry Bo sounds like a strong dog and probably could have held out a little longer. You're not sure if you believe yourself on that one but Nick seems to relax as you say it "Huh, if you say so your grace" Nick starts walking towards the house and you follow him, thankful for the out "He might growl at you but as long as I'm here with you he won't bite" Nick opens one of the front doors for you, the heavy thunk it makes as it closes making you wonder if the damn thing was made of stone. You two walk up a flight of stairs and down a hallway before he stops in front of a door, your things neatly stacked next to it

"Ready?" As you'll ever be. Nick opens the door and his voice becomes a bit softer "Hey Bo, how are you feeling?" You hear a growl and then a voice? "Why is he here?" Is there someone in Bo's room? "Huh? Oh, Berry and Joseph were just delivering their grace’s things" You look past Nick to see someone lying on the bed, their voice is dull and hoarse "Their grace? They're here?" Nick opens the door fully and you finally see it, their ears and tail, their voice, the way you can see the bones in their face from here, Bo

He perks up as you say his name “Your grace?” You can tell his energy is low and yet he spends whatever he has left into wagging his tail for you. You have to walk to the other side of the bed to get a proper look at him, he looks sick, pale and boney where you’re sure he was once full of life. You greet him, telling him your name before extending your hand to him to sniff, you see his face drop as he does “Why…why do you smell like him?” You ask who “Berry, I mean, not all the time, but sometimes he smells like that in the mornings” You can feel the blood drain from your face, no, no no no, don’t be silly

You tell Bo you probably just use the same soap or something, does he not like it? “Wha? No I…If it’s yours I like it” It’s only once Nick reenters the room do you notice he ever left, man he’s quiet. You see he’s holding a stick of jerky and ask Bo if he could maybe take a few bites, for you? Nick smiles at you and hands you the jerky “Mhm, I-I can do that…I’ll be good” You hold the jerky up to him as he takes a few bites. You can feel Nick’s excitement radiating off of him as you let Bo eat from your hand. He’s slow, chewing each bite thoroughly before taking another, only eating a bit before he stops

“I’m sorry, I feel so full already” You tell him it’s ok, gently patting his head as you tell him he did such a good job for you. You smile as you hear his tail thumping on the bed behind him “Thank you your grace” You see him start to tear up “Please…don’t go” You cup his cheek with your hand and tell him you’re here to stay, which means he needs to get better for you, deal? He giggles “Deal”

I reread the whole thing and it's still so good!!

#panie-wanie-dean-bean #sunshine #cult town au #cult town main story #so many little things I noticed that I didn't notice before #like the engine looking like it was cut 👀#and Jean looking dazed after Shaun walked in!!!#oughhhhhh this au lives rent free in my brain forever #Moon and I keep talking about how our OCs would be if they were in it and it's so fun!!!

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smolvenger · 1 year

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A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Two (Loki x fem! A Court of Thorns and Roses Hiddlesverse AU)

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series is reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters. Especially the events in the second book: A Court of Mist and Fury. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him. Opening you to a world of more magic and danger than you ever could imagine...

Chapter One

Chapter Summary: You recount the details of the deal only to the lack of belief from your loved ones. On your wedding day, you uncover a letter revealing a shocking and heartbreaking truth about William...

Chapter Warnings: Cheating-Not Loki, But discussing William's canonical actions in The Essex Serpent and portraying them as *checks notes* bad, so Will Ransome fans and Lusty Vicarettes- you have been warned. Reader having bad self-esteem. A bit of fluff but then a LOT of angst. Discussions of sex. We wait for Loki to appear. A cliffhanger.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85

It took much searching in the library and bookshelves of neighbors, but you found a book of Norse Mythology. Once you did, you asked to speak with Will and your parents alone one evening. You sat the book down on the table before them. You flipped the pages. You found the first page introducing Loki and then pointed to it. You then showed it to the three people at the table- your parents and fiancée.

“That was him! There!” you said.

Your mother put on spectacles to read further and then looked up at you, shaking her head.

“Really, Y/N. The Norse god Loki was who healed you?” she questioned.

“Yes. It was. I am not joking, mama- I am completely serious,” you said.

Your father perked up. When he flipped a page, there was an illustration of the dark-haired trickster god grinning as he petted a few cats.

“I’ve heard very often those dying of tuberculosis have hallucinations…” your father mused.

“I thought he was a vision too! But he-he was tall and lean and had dark hair! He was wearing black and green robes! And he-he looked a little like you, William!”

William looked down at the illustration, his eyes squinted, trying to find the resemblance. But there was a failure to see the resemblance between his curly reddish-blonde hair and Loki’s dark hair. Nothing with Loki’s gaudy grin and William’s serious frown.

“Did you visit her that day? Perhaps she saw you and hallucinated the wrong hair color!” your father asked.

William clenched his jaw.

“No, I did not. I had to take stock of my tithes from the people. Not until after dear Y/N’s miracle.”

You folded your hands on the table.

“If Loki was a vision- then how would that explain why I am already completely better? The doctor didn’t visit me at all that morning, and he gave me no treatments, no medicines! Even if he did-This was quick and sudden!” you cried.

“It’s a miracle from God-you are just misplacing where your faith is,” your mother said.

You then opened your hands to show it to them. A hand flew up to your mother’s mouth- the sight never failed to shock her. Though they had seen it.

“Then explain these!!! How did this happen?!” you argued, exasperated.

They examined it, all looking at the mark and touching it, pulling your hand to examine it carefully.

“Usually, a scar from something like an illness is red…these are jet black! They haven’t come off yet and I’ve washed them fifty times!” you continued.

Your mother sighed through her nose. They dropped your hand. Though Will peeked at the book again, putting a hand to his mouth as he flipped to look at the different pages.

“Y/N…we just find it hard to believe…” your mother said.

You looked at all three of them. You clenched your jaw and your hands rolled up to fists. Hardening your gaze, you spoke:

“I told all of you the truth. And if you believe me or not, that is up to you.”

Your mother reached over and took your hand.

“Sometimes…miracles do occur. And you don’t ask why or how they happened…you learn to accept it…”

Your father began to nod. Will perked up, his eyes glistening. He even smiled, perhaps noting to mention that in a future sermon.

That you could accept.

When you were alone with Will the next day, you both went on a stroll. The luxury of privacy was included with the engagement to marry. With the brown dog barking by your side, both of you walked out to the fields outside the town. It was the first thing you did after you were engaged, and you recalled smiling from the warmth of the coat he draped over your shoulders to guard you against the chill. Despite the grey clouds that day, you paused your steps and looked up at him, opening your hand to show the star mark.

“I must tell you- this is the price I paid. I must go to him. Even after we’re married- you won’t see me for a week every month,” you reported.

“This Norse god?” he asked.

You nodded. It didn’t matter whether or not he believed you. It didn’t matter if he would be forced to send you to a madhouse or keep you in an attic. He of all people had to know his wife wasn’t abandoning him.

“Yes! I will have to be there-one week of every month! Please- I know it’s against the Bible but-lie!” you begged.

“Lie?!”

“My own parents don’t believe me! Say I have a cold! Say I’m visiting your family in the next town! Say I’m out walking! Say I’m doing some ministry work for an orphanage or something! Anything!” you insisted.

He patted your arm, smoothing it to calm you down.

“Of course…of course…”

You wondered how much he believed you. Perhaps he only half believed you. But one detail you had to confide to him. One that would land you in genuine trouble if word got out.

“l I must tell you…he did flirt with me. But…I resisted him. And should he try anything when I’m with him…I’ll fight him off…because I…”

Your eyes blinked, but you broke into a smile. His shoulders lowered.

You then grabbed his hand.

“I love you, Will. I love you. I really do. I’ll do anything for you. And I did this- I did this for you. So, you wouldn’t be alone. So, we could be married! Because I love you and I want to be your wife! It was a sacrifice I made for you-and so I promise, when I’m there, I will ignore him. I will tell him I’m a married woman and shut the door in his face! I’ll box the smug grin off him, too!”

He laughed a little and you laughed despite yourself. Then you smiled up at him and gave him a hug. He smelled the grass. He put a hand on your back to rub it lightly. Then he released the hug, taking both of your hands. How large his hands were! How many of your fingers could make up his mere thumb! How comforting!

“I love you too, Y/N. I am only glad you are well and that we can be married.”

As you both walked off, you changed the topic.

“How is the search for the Serpent?”

Bodies appeared in the grass. Some claimed a giant, magical snake was on the loose. Many said prayers and kept indoors at night. William told you he wanted to consecrate it. Mrs. Seaborne wanted scientific research. They teamed up to find the creature.

But things were quiet. As if it never happened. Some seemed to whisper about it and then ignore it to go about their lives. But the looking continued.

“Oh, very well! Tracks were found!” he recalled.

“Oh, good! You and Mrs. Seaborne make quite a team! You will be careful, should you see something, William- please! I don’t want you hurt!”

“I always am careful, my dear…the tithing will be soon. The town will come to me to give me their yearly dues and I must count them next week. You shall be there, shall you?” he asked. His curls flew in the wind.

“Yes, I shall. I am ready for those duties already. I am ready to be your wife,” you smiled as you wrapped an arm around his.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Weeks went by. Now it wasn’t just the Serpent that seemed to be only a dream. It was Loki. Perhaps you did hallucinate him. Perhaps the sickness was only a bad dream.

But one thing was a reality-your wedding to William.

Before you knew it, the day of the wedding arrived. It was a bright spring day. The sun beat down. Flowers grew and bees hummed. It felt a little warm and you noticed some flowers beginning to wilt in the vase at home. You shrugged it off- there would be new flowers in your new home where he lived.

Everyone gathered at the church for preparations. Your bridesmaids fluttered around you like pastel bubbles in their dresses of various colors. They gathered around to help you adjust your wedding corset to how you liked and fixed your hair.

Stepping into your special dress- white lace with a bustle- everyone cooed and admired you. You always thought it was pretty. Decorative and special- as a wedding should be. It had a high color buttoned up with a cloth blossom and long sleeves down to your wrists. You put on lace gloves to hide the stars.

One bridesmaid handed you a bouquet.

“I added the blue violets- those are for faithfulness! Oh! And an orange blossom! That’s for you two to have many children!

All of you began to laugh a little bit. Then your mother and Williams’ own mother stepped in, admiring all of you. Though you stood out like a drop of snow. Your mother gasped and went to hug you.

“Oh, how beautiful you look!” your mother cooed.

“Yes- won’t he be beside himself!” cried Mrs. Ransome.

“And speaking of many children…Y/N…we’ve discussed this…some, but…I have to tell you.”

She looked at the bridesmaids too, perhaps thinking of this as an extended lecture. They kept their eyes forward, but their lips were sealed tight.

She held both of your hands.

“You know what…happens between a husband and wife, Y/N,” she began.

“Yes, I do. You told me…specifics…” you nodded.

“I must tell you…it is never pleasant for the woman. But you have a duty to fulfill to your husband. It hurts the first time, and it is awkward and uncomfortable every time after…but you shall do it. William expects you to do it.”

You noticed Stella’s eyes widen. She blinked and seemed to soften her posture amid all the discomfort of the bridesmaids. Warning them of when it would be their turn to perform their own duties to their husbands. But out of all of them…Stella did not seem afraid.

“No- my worst fear would be to let him down! I shall do it, mama, I promise!” you insisted.

“Very good.”

Your mother kissed the top of your head. Several bridesmaids shivered and then went out to distract themselves and see to their own preparations. You swallowed hard in your own fear, looking down at the bouquet in your hands.

Stella ran to you, like a butterfly in her light blue bridesmaid dress. She touched your shoulder.

“Your wedding night shall all turn out well, Y/N! Don’t worry!” she consoled.

“You heard mama…it’s not going to be pleasant…” you mused.

Stella turned around to make sure no one overheard and then leaned back to you whispering.

“I heard from some of the Fishermen’s wives. I was talking to them by the ocean. And they said…they said…the act is actually nice!”

“What- nice? The marital act?!” you gasped.

Stella smiled a radiant smile that could have made a king beg for her.

“Yes- the marital act! I don’t know myself, but they said they loved doing it! That it was pleasant for them! That they wanted to do it with their husbands! And then listed all the men they wish they could do it too!”

She turned bright pink and leaned closer, softening her voice.

“And do you know who they put on their list?”

“Who? Wait…no! They didn’t say…” You began to stifle laughter.

“I’m not! They listed Will! I heard them! I kept blushing but I couldn’t help but listen! They talked about how every Sunday they wished they could sin with him!”

“Stella!”

“Their words! Not mine! See-you’re the luckiest, happiest woman in all England today! So don’t worry-it’s probably nicer than you think it is!” she continued.

“I’m still nervous thinking about it!” you confided.

“Think of it this way- you might be like those women and want it from him instead of him wanting it of you! I! So don’t worry so much! You shall be fine! You can tell me all about it later!”

She gave you a hug and you hugged back. How soft she felt-she always knew people so well that she could say the right things. Then her mother appeared at the door and asked for her. She gave you a grin and then walked away.

You were left alone. And there was time before the ceremony- your last minutes as a single woman.

You walked out of the room. Down the hall. You overheard the church organ practicing the music. The wind rustled and the sun burst through little windows. You smelled musk and old wine down here.

Today, the door for William’s office was creaked open. Glad for a moment alone, you tiptoed in there with your skirt swishing behind you. That space you would have to become far more acquainted with later. You were rarely in there and only then you were accompanied. You had forgotten what it looked like.

It was a plain room. Not too decorative- only packed bookshelves and illustrations of Jesus on the wall.

But turning, you saw a letter on the desk. You walked closer to read it. Will’s handwriting- of course, you knew it. It was dated today! Curiosity and delight rippled in you from the opening line.

“To my most beloved woman…” it began.

Oh! A love letter? On your wedding day?! How romantic! You thought. You kept reading.

“I dream of you night and day. I think only how I wish to see you. I have so much I’ve written, yet I couldn’t get the words. How I wish you never catch me staring right at you as you go about. And how I ache and long for you…”

You began to giggle despite yourself. Oh- dearest man! He was always so calm around others! Now to see him this vulnerable and sentimental! You smiled brightly.

“You are truly not like other women!”

That was an odd compliment. You felt a lump in your throat. Sometimes men said things that, though well-intentioned, were not completely thought out. Was there something…wrong with the other women? You decided to ignore it and keep reading.

“You are the one thing I long for. And you haunt and torment me so much, darling…”

You placed the letter on your heart, giving it a kiss, then read on.

“And now, the day of my wedding to Miss Y/N approaches…The day I grow from fiancée to husband. Oh, to see her dying!”

You paused. You reread it.

Her. Not you. Her. Should it be “Oh, to see you dying?” He was educated in seminary but couldn’t get the tense of his letter, right? How did his professors grade him?! Why did he do that? Was he trying to be like an author with a novel?

“How tormented I am! But my heart will long for you since the day I kissed you and danced with you, but remember…I will never stop seeing you. And I shall always be there, my sweet Cora.”

Your smile dropped. Your heart picked up. You began to read it. Then re-read it. Then read it again to make sure you were not making it up. That you read what you read.

This is a love letter…to Cora Seaborne…but I…I am his fiancée…I’m about to be his wife…so that means…that means…

You tasted bile in your mouth. You felt yourself blink and the room became dizzy. Everything spun except for the letter. You caught yourself on the chair. The letter fell from your shaking hand and you picked it up. You re-read the date- today. This morning. He was going to send it to her this morning.

Then you noticed a box under his desk. It was left open. And there were papers- papers with writing. You grabbed it and found your worst fear was true. They were letters. Letters from Cora. Love letters from Cora. All dated very recently. Beginning from the time she arrived after your betrothal.

You caught onto the chair for support. You wanted to retch onto the carpet. You wanted to faint. You wanted…wanted to run. But you couldn’t take a step. You set down the letters, back in their places. Then you caught the chair, clinging to it.

No….no, I thought…I thought he…he said he loved me…he said he was mine…said he adored me…he said. He said…

There was a knock on the door that made you jump. You put the box down where you left it. In was Mrs. Ransome.

“Ah! Y/N! There you are! We were worried you might have run away!”

You felt your jaw clench and you looked at them, quietly. She dragged you away back to the rooms where they got dressed. Though now bridesmaids and every one of your mothers was filling it up. They all began talking.

“Here- let me give you some reminders! Of course, you understand what it means to be a vicar’s wife. The immense responsibility it carries. For now, the women shall all look to you as an example and it’s one you must set!” Your mother advised.

They began to touch up your veil and dress as they spoke to you. But you passively stood, letting them talk to you. Trying to hear the words. They did not make you feel any better with distraction.

“Make sure you always sit in the front row of church every Sunday. You must always watch your words and your behavior. We know you’re a good woman and suited to this- but you must be careful now! A wrong step or word and his image and ministry are in ruin!” Mrs. Ransome advised.

“Support him no matter what and support his ministry, Y/N. Support him in his emotions without complaint. Encourage his advancements as you keep the balance between his home and family. Keep the house peaceful. Do not do anything to upset him or disturb him or the town. Be humble, Y/N, appreciating everything and demanding very little…” your mother began to speak.

So much work. So much sacrifice. So much…for nothing.

“And should you have children- you will raise them perfectly. You will make sure they do nothing that shall turn anyone against him and his ministry,” another woman advised you.

Yes, children. To lay in his bed. To do the act. Your duty. Knowing the truth. Knowing who it was he would rather do it to. Coming to him with a heart filled with love and adoration…thrown to waste.

“And do not yourself give into sins of greed, bad temperament, or jealousy!”

Jealousy, jealousy. I am a good person. I am not jealous, I am not jealous, I am not jealous of her, I’m not. I’m not. I’m good, I swear, I’m good you thought. All lies. You knew.

“And you shall always pray for his strength to overcome temptation and for him to flourish, shall you, Y/N?”

Yes. You always shall. You always did pray. But the wrong prayers. You should have prayed for his avoidance of temptation. Of his adherence to all the Ten Commandments, like the Seventh one.

And here you were about to marry a man who could not follow his own instruction. He was praised for being open-minded. Now not even that sin bothered him anymore.

The Lusty Vicar indeed.

“Could I…could I speak to Will? Before the wedding? Please…” you babbled out. But you only had half your voice.

The women all shook their heads.

“No! It’s bad luck! And it’s about to begin very shortly!” your mother refused.

Is this who you were going to marry? Who was this man? Was he a madman? Was this Will? The Will you agreed to marry? The Will of your dreams who you looked so forward to? The handsome Will? The Will who gave you his coat? The Will who said he loved you? The Will you loved?

They dragged you up before the doors of the church. You began to nervously fidget with the bouquet. Everyone got into the line in their places to enter. You broke off and turned to Stella.

“I…I have to…have to talk to you…” you began.

“Oh no- what is it? Are you nervous? Every bride is!” she smiled.

You shook your head. You felt yourself shaking, wishing you didn’t have to believe the words struggling to come out.

“It’s not that…Stella…I…I f-f-found…I found, uh-I found-uhm…”

“What did you find?” she asked.

In answer, there was loud music at the beginning of the ceremony. Her mother pushed Stella to be in place by a groomsman.

The music- so loud it could have rattled your bones and made your ears bleed-began. Then off they went. You were pushed to stand by your father.

“Oh, what a lovely day! And you look beautiful as an angel, Y/N!” he assured you.

One by one they filed. Out they went. Then it was your turn.

The white walls, wooden beams, and humble wooden chandeliers once comforted you every Sunday. The candles from the ceiling hung over you like vultures. The two rectangular windows next to each other high above the wall behind the altar watched you like the eye of a god waiting for you as the sacrifice on the altar. No number of flowers could make up for it.

People stood up and smiled. You took a few steps forward.

You glanced back at the congregation. People were smiling at you like you were something wanted and valued. Something to be treasured. When you were really a joke. A laughingstock. They were going to all laugh at you any second.

You saw plenty of women in the crowd. Other women. Other women.

It was Cora who was the special one. And you who were the “other women.” The “less than” women. The “not good” women.

Your dress was hot. It felt heavy against your skin. It was itchy against you. What on earth were you thinking picking this dress?! Once you adored and squealed and twirled it childishly in your house. Once you loved it. But now you hated it. Everything in how it felt against you like it was trapping to stifle you. The flowers In your bouquet trembled. You then saw none other than Cora herself there. her maid holding her three-year-old son. A son from her first marriage with her late husband. A marriage that was so horrible, that even after the man's death... that she robbed you of yours. It was like she opened the door for a burglar to sneak inside and shoot you. The third person in this marriage. The real beloved of Will all this time. She knew your existence and commitment and promises to William…and it didn’t stop her. She never stopped to think this would hurt you. Maybe she didn’t care. Though you were the one in white compared to her in her grey coat- she was the one crowned best of women from the one you loved most. The one you sacrificed so much for-would sacrifice so much for. You turned and saw him at the altar. Will. Resplendent in his tuxedo as always. The tuxedo you swooned over- once. His beard was trimmed for today. He was smiling. Like he was all yours.

But you knew the truth.

You found your steps slowing down so that your feet dragged against the church floors.

But then you felt every eye on you. Every eye and that included…you turned, glancing at her. Cora.

And you would never be good enough for him.

Your stomach heaved. You stared down at the floor. You were going to become sick and vomit there in the church in front of everyone. Tears welled up and you felt them pouring out of you.

You stopped your steps.

Your father nudged you, urging you to go. You refused. He tried to pull you and you jerked away. Tearing yourself free from his arm. But you kept your eyes on the floor before you. You couldn’t take another step.

You were going to fall apart right there in front of everyone. They expected a smiling, beautiful bride flouncing her way up. But that was not the image you could give them. You did not feel beautiful. You felt disgusting and hideous. If you burst into tears right, there-they would know. They would know and they would all laugh at you.

You saw the sun in the high window above the altar start to fade. Though it became cooler you wondered which would get you first-being boiled alive in your wedding gown or becoming sick.

William took a step forward; he offered up his hand.

“Y/N…” he said.

He took another step forward and on instinct, you retreated. The congregation murmured. His blue eyes widened. If you ran out of the church right now, there would be scandal and ruin. If you walked up to the altar, you would spend the rest of your days living a lie.

Help me-someone please help me. I can’t go through with this. I cannot do this. Someone, please help me, get me out of here you begged silently.

There was a crash of thunder. Out of nowhere for a bright, sunny day. The church darkened as candles blew out. People screamed- you screamed from the scare. Then they went up again and there was a wind-flower petals and ribbons flew with it, a few falling apart. People began to panic a little in their seats. A couple cried “The Serpent!” and “God protect us!”

The door flung open. Only a few candles in the church relit themselves against the dark sky.

When you turned around to see, you stopped at the sight.

Loki, smiling and adjusting a tuxedo with a frilly white blouse, was there at the doors.

“Hello, Y/N darling,” he purred.

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