#She Thinks Part 3

[lupine-princess]

She Thinks- Part 3 (Final Part)

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: M? (just to be safe, since there is discussion of sex. Also violence in later parts.)

Pairing: Female OC x ??? (it's a surprise/choose your own-ish? There is a reveal moment, but you could easily put in whoever you want I suppose)

Warnings: implied rough sex/choking/etc., torture/violence in later parts, Not Beta Read, description of Bad Sex, Brief Attempted SA, Brief Discussion of SA (more mentioning that its not happening and is not going to happen), ANGST, Character Death

Word Count: 8358 (Ummm...this one got away from me I guess...sorry again? Though the chapter length will probably be the least of the things y'all are going to want an apology...)

Cross posted on AO3 @- Lupine_Princess

Note: I am *so* sorry it took so long! The muse was playing coy and I haven't had the time to really sit down and finish this. But here is it. The conclusion to my first fic ever. I literally finished this maybe 30min before this posting, so there are probably typos, but I wanted to get this out and not agonize and nitpick for days and delay this further. Anyway, as mentioned before this is a songfic and the Song and Singer credit will be at the end before people tags. There's a bit of irony to this being sung by this particular (freaking awesome) artist, but I didn't think about that until just now. Considering this is my first fic, and I'm a nobody in the Fan Fic world, this is probably not needed, but PLEASE DON'T REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE. Last thing, this is probably obvious at this point, but this doesn't have a happy ending. It didn't go exactly how it did in my head when I was planning it, but it was never going to be an HEA. So for anyone rooting for them to be together, I am *SO* sorry. I should have made it clear in the beginning, and I didn't think about it until tonight. I really am sorry. New tags are for this chapter only, and are things I didn't expect to be a thing in this story until I wrote it. Except for the last two. They were always going to be there for this part. Thank you for reading and giving feedback for those who have, I appreciate it greatly. No idea if I'm going to do this again, but never say never right? I'll probably at the very least leave fan fiction to the professionals for a while if nothing else. lol

Alright, here we go:

Part Three

The woman recalls the six months that had passed since That Night, and can’t help but notice things that she hadn’t seen at the time. In herself, she sees how she had changed. One encounter had not been enough, obviously. She had wanted more. Of course she had. How could a person experience something so visceral, so powerful, so intense, and not want, not crave, more? Even now it baffles her that anyone could or would not understand. Not that she had really spoken to anyone about it, but there had been questions, pointed ones, about Him and That Night. She had tried her best to explain the draw in terms that would not paint her in a bad or sordid light, but it was like trying to explain a sunrise to someone who has lived in a dark room their entire lives. She knew they didn’t, couldn’t, understand, and she felt sorrow for them. She had experienced something profound and felt changed by it to her core, but they had nothing to compare it to, and so couldn’t even begin to grasp it.

Even more concerning than that though, she realizes now, she had started to think of Him in terms of being her’s. She had planned in her mind what she would say to him when he inevitably called. What she would wear on their first date. The woman didn’t count either the party or the resulting inferno of lust as their first date, for obvious reasons, but she had planned out the evening that would count in detail in her mind. She had decided that she would have to return to her Mama’s lessons regarding sex though, which meant that there would be none of that for at least a few weeks. Despite this though, the woman looked forward to seeing him again. To just being around him. She longed for it. Craved him like a drug. So much so that her distraction was remarked upon by various people. She had always smiled and waved away their concerns, but it occurs to her now that they were right to be worried. Because, as with most drugs, the high she was on would not, could not, and did not last.

When He had not called a week after That Night, the woman had gone back to the motel. Sure that he would still be there, she had knocked on the door of the room he had stayed in, and had been shocked when a different man entirely had answered the door. The man and his wife were very confused at a woman they didn’t know, in a town they were merely passing through, knocking on their motel room door. The woman was supremely embarrassed of course and had given multiple apologies for bothering the couple before going to the front desk to ask about Him. The woman stops in her reflection for a moment and scoffs at her childishness as she realizes that she refuses to even think his name now, though she cannot bring herself to forget it. The problem with this realization, however, is that she also cannot force herself to use his name, even in thought. Even now. Perhaps especially now. Now it feels less like rejecting Him and more like protecting Him.

At any rate, the woman had gone to the front desk and asked the clerk about Him. Surely, she rationalized, he wouldn’t just leave without saying something to her. He had her phone number, she knew, and she couldn’t have missed his call, because he would have left a message or called back. But the attendant had told her that He had checked out the day after the party. Hours after she had left, so had he and she felt her heart crack. The clerk had given her a pitying smile, so the woman had straightened her spine, plastered her own smile on her face, thanked the young man, and left. He hadn’t even left a note for her.

The mind is an amazing thing, the woman muses now. In effort to stave off feelings of abandonment, rejection, and humiliation, her mind had attempted to come up with a different likely scenario. He checked out a few hours after she left, hadn’t left a message for her with the front desk, and hadn’t called her, so he must have had to leave quickly. In an act of what the woman still considers extraordinary mental gymnastics, the woman had decided that He must have gotten called to another case and had to leave without time to contact her. Which meant that he was probably too busy solving a case and bringing justice to the wronged that he had not had a moment of peace long enough to call. He would undoubtably call her when he finally had a moment and the two could plan for him to come back to town for their date. Perhaps she would even break her rule on carnality once more since he was working so hard. She had felt sympathy and understanding for him at the time, but a week after her ill-fated visit to the motel and still no phone call, the woman had begun to get angry.

Perhaps he lost her phone number? Inconsiderate, yes, but not unforgivable. An honest mistake. It could happen to anyone. This led her to seeking out the acquaintance who had introduced them to in order to either get His phone number or a message to him. Unfortunately, the acquaintance was once again out of town, so that would have to wait. In the meantime, the woman had decided to start her research into Him. She really should have started that earlier, but she had been distracted. Now that she had to wait on their mutual acquaintance’s return, she had time to do what she should have done from the beginning. As she settled in and got started, she had smiled to herself at the idea that she was going to learn everything there was to know about this man that had gotten past her defenses and Mama’s Rules. She was sure, using her usual resources, she would find a treasure trove of interesting information. Birth date, parents, siblings, schools, grades, college and/or military service. Since He was a federal agent, she knew she could also find out about cases he’d worked. Commendations. Current cases. Whereabouts, even, assuming the case was high profile enough. Which it must be, given they had needed him in such a hurry.

Nothing. The woman found…nothing. Not one bit of information. At all. She had wanted to scream in frustration then, and honestly, she still wants to, but didn’t dare. She had searched records all over the country. Every state. Nothing. Not even information that could lead her to information. She had called the FBI. The most local office to her and then the one in Washington D.C. They said they didn’t have an agent of that name with them and never had. Thinking she must have had the agency wrong, she had waded through the alphabet soup that was federal agencies. Nothing. The most hopeful answer she had gotten was that they could/would not talk about employees, past or present.

The woman was starting to get the feeling, a month after That Night, that something was wrong. He still hadn’t called and she couldn’t track down her acquaintance to ask about Him. Her frustration mounted when she realized another month later that the acquaintance had to be actively avoiding her. They were spending a lot more time than usual out of town and when they were, they were never with the group of people they and the woman had in common. Further, the woman had finally realized that the story she and the group was probably false and so nothing she had been told would or could have led to any information. When she had brought this up with mutual friends of her’s and the acquaintance’s, they were confused. They had said, maybe the information was wrong, that didn’t mean it was an intentional lie, and what did it matter anyway? He was clearly just passing through. The woman had not told them, of course, about how she had spent the night after the party. They may have judged her for her indiscretion. Or worse. Told other people.

Four months after the party, the woman had gotten tired of trying to organically meet up with her acquaintance and had gone to their house. Only to find that not only were they not there, they clearly hadn’t been for quite a while. It struck the woman as odd, so she asked the neighbors when they thought the acquaintance would be back as well as how long they had been gone. They neighbors said the acquaintance had left last over a month ago and while they didn’t know when the acquaintance would return, they were getting concerned since the acquaintance had never been gone this long at once before. They would be gone for a week, two at most, and then return home. Usually, they looked like they had some kind of ailment, a limp, a sore shoulder, scrapes, cuts, even bruises, but the neighbors said the acquaintance would take a week or so to recover and then leave out again and the cycle would repeat. But this time was different.

It wouldn’t be for another two weeks after that, that the woman got some information of any kind. Though decidedly not the kind she wanted. One of the neighbors called the woman to let her know that someone was at her acquaintance’s house, but it wasn’t the acquaintance. The woman’s heart had leapt as she decided that it must be Him. He had come back and would have answers and apologies. As the woman looks back over that time, she realizes she was nothing short of delusional. Mama had told the woman, you can’t always get what you want, love. You will be denied sometimes. Rejected sometimes. But how you handle the situation, and yourself afterward, determines your future successes. Those words had never quite rung true for the woman, because she had never been denied or rejected. She had always gotten what she wanted. Now, it seemed, her luck had run out.

The woman had rushed over to her acquaintance’s house once more, eager to see Him again. When she got there however, He was not there, but an older man in a baseball cap driving a car that looked like it belonged in a junk yard rather than on the road. She had had to school her face and hide her disappointment, and replace it with concern for her friend. The older man told her, gravely, that her acquaintance had been in a hunting accident while away and he was there to clean out their house and put it on the market. She had expressed the required sorrow, sympathy, and shock, and inquired at how the man and her acquaintance knew each other, only to be told they had been ‘hunting buddies’ years ago and had made a deal with one another that whichever one ‘went first,’ the other would clean out their belongings, ‘put them to good use,’ and ‘offload the house,’ since neither had any other family.

After a bit more small talk, the woman had gone back home feeling…off. The older man had the same…presence as He did and, she had just realized in that moment, so did her acquaintance. It was an air of leashed danger and made them seem larger than life. On Him it had been incredibly sexy and massively erotic, on the older man and her late acquaintance, it made her feel anxious. Nervous. Like she needed to run away as fast as she could and not look back. She assumes now that, had she not been so ridiculously attracted to Him, she would have felt the same way in his presence. As it was, she had been so clouded by hormones that it had only heightened her interest in Him and all sense of self-preservation had flown out of the window.

Only once she was back home did she realize that she could easily have asked the older man about Him. She quickly decided to call the acquaintance’s home to try and talk to the man, but there was no answer. She called the neighbor that had called her initially, to see if they could get the older man to come to the phone, only to be told that he had left shortly after she had. The woman thanked the neighbor, hung up the phone, and threw it down the hall as hard as she could. It had taken every ounce of restraint she had, but the woman had managed to hold in her scream of rage and frustration until she could make it to her bedroom. Once there, in the safety of her room, she had snatched up the nearest pillow, held it to her face, and screamed herself hoarse. Unfortunately for the pillow, it hadn’t helped. It and two of its fellows had met grisly demises at her clawed, enraged hands. That hadn’t helped either. Not only was she still livid at her lack of luck, she had also had a mess to clean up and three pillows to replace before bedtime. It just hadn’t been her day.

The woman had indulged in a bit of a temper tantrum, stomping through her home, slamming doors open and shut, in search of her broom and dustpan, a bag to put the pillow remnants in, and extra pillows from her linen closet and guest bedroom to sleep on later that night. The actual cleaning itself wasn’t done in the most calm manner either, which only served to make the task take longer, which subsequently made her more angry. Seemed like a vicious, never-ending cycle of frustration and feathers, until suddenly the dam broke. One moment the woman was swearing a blue streak, the likes of which would have had her mouth washed out with the strongest soap available if Mama had heard her, and stuffing feathers and cloth into a garbage bag with rage filled vigor. The next she found herself sitting on the floor, still surrounded by feathers, sobbing her eyes out.

As undignified as it was, and pointless to boot, she had been unable to do anything about it. She had cried until the tears ran out and her body was weak. Too weak to move. Too weak to drag herself to her bed. She had spent the rest of the night on the floor, the occasional stray tear leaking from her eyes. When she woke up the next morning her body was stiff and she had a headache that could have put all other headaches to shame. Still, she couldn’t find the will or strength to pull herself off the floor even then. Her throat burned, and her stomach clenched around nothing. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before, and had lost quite a bit of water during her crying spree, so it made sense that she was hungry and thirsty like she had never been before. It only added to her despondency, however. Her overwhelming lack of desire to do anything at all should have concerned and motivated her to get up and take charge of her life once more, but she couldn’t even muster up enough energy to feel anything at all.

And so, she had laid there on her bedroom floor, surrounded by feather and destroyed pillows long into the afternoon and evening once again. When she had finally been able to pull herself up off the floor, she stumbled her way to her bathroom, thanking every God she had ever heard of that she had sprung for the extra-large tub, despite never having had anyone to share it with. The thought sent a pain rippling through her that she feels even now. As a matter of fact, digging through her memories of the past hurts more than anything she’s ever felt. Searching for answers she not sure she’ll ever find. She’s not even sure she wants them anymore, to be honest, but she still can’t stop herself from hunting them down like a bloodhound on a scent. Mama always said that if someone looked up ‘stubborn’ in an encyclopedia they would just see a picture of me, she remembers with a slight smile. That smile grows as she recalls that Mama actually had put her picture, not just in the encyclopedia, but also the dictionary under the aforementioned heading. It had been an inside joke between the two of them. Something that no one else would know or understand. Something that was just theirs and theirs alone. These thoughts on the back of remembered pain of that day allows for a single traitorous tear to escape her iron control.

Shaking off the feelings that have crept on her, she remembers the next days as though she is watching a movie. To totally honest, that’s how she had felt at the time. Like life was movie. Something she was only watching happen, and merely experiencing second-hand.  She can now see how she missed some very important clues, but even now she can’t exactly make sense of them. She had enough knowledge and understanding to see that she had been depressed following her epic crying spree even then, but there were some things that weren’t quite…right.

Her friends, her former lover and their wives, had begun to look at her with…pity. Even now thinking about it, the woman can help but feel indignant. They pitied her?! How dare they! She is not one to be pitied. She is better than that, she knows, and a familiar iced coated acid feeling creeps through her. With a distinctly unladylike snarl, the woman pushes the feeling away violently. It feels too much like fear and sorrow for her to accept it right now. She has better things to think about and more important issues at hand to deal with.

Aside from the unacceptable pity being directed her way, the woman recalls that the friend that had escorted her to the party That Night had also been changing. She had set him up with a few women she knew that would have been more than acceptable matches for him, but every time something had happened. The women would call her the day after the date and tell her in confused tones that he had not been the warm, hospitable gentleman they all knew him to be. Instead, he was rude and curt, almost angry. And cold. They said it was like he looked right through them, as if he didn’t have the time to even truly acknowledge they were there, until they had tried to talk to him about literally any topic, at which point they would wind up talked over, talked down to, or dismissed entirely. They all had said they had asked why he was in such a mood, only to be told it was “nothing that can’t be taken care of,” and they had then asked the woman if she had spoken to him and what they had done to deserve such treatment. Especially when the end of the date came. It seemed that despite his wholly unappetizing behavior, the woman friend had still had…expectations and made his dates very aware of them when he took them home. The only thing that could be said to his credit in the entire situation was that when the women had obviously told him they could not be less interested in anything he had to offer that night, he had simply nodded, said good night, and left. It was as if he hadn’t cared what the answer he got was either way.

Only one woman, the last incidentally, had taken him up on the offer he had made after their date. The woman recalled how the young woman’s voice had trembled slightly when she had told the woman of that night. It wasn’t anything like what the woman would have expected of her friend. Granted, she hadn’t kept track of his sex life in the past, but the young woman’s description had shocked and appalled the woman. Apparently, the cold, impersonal, overbearing demeanor her friend displayed at dinner had carried into the young woman’s bedroom. There had been no tenderness of any kind whatsoever. There had been only orders given in a hard voice accompanied by hard hands, and harder thrusts. There was no consideration at all shown to his bed partner. He had been wholly selfish, caring only for his own satisfaction, which had come blessedly quickly, and nothing for hers. The young woman had admitted over the phone that once he was done, he had appeared to want to stay for another round, but she had asked him to leave, not being able to stand another disappointing romp like the first. He had shrugged and left without a fight, but not before throwing a crude, “Thanks for the ride,” over his shoulder before the door shut.

The woman couldn’t believe her friend’s behavior. She had resolved not to set anyone else up with him until she could deal with him herself, which she had intended to be a few days later. Unfortunately, the day after the phone call with the justifiably unhappy young woman was the day the woman had found out about her acquaintance’s death and things had spiraled from there. Finally, things with the woman and her friend had come to a head about a month after her pillow destruction and crying jag. He had come over the woman’s home, with the stated intention of checking on her and seeing how she was, what had happened, and how he could help.

At the time that woman had been grateful, but even then she had noticed that something in his demeanor, hadn’t matched his words. Maybe it was his eyes. Always before, they were warm and caring when they looked at her. On that day, she felt like she understood what they women she had sent on dates with him had meant by ‘cold,’ It was like staring into frozen stones. Beautiful stones, the woman is willing to admit even now, like diamonds, or some other gemstone, but hard and cold all the same. Remembering those eyes sends a shiver down the woman’s spine and her throat tightens with fear.

Pulling her focus from his eyes, the woman returns her thoughts to the conversation they had had. Conversation, ha! the woman scoffs, that wasn’t a ‘conversation.’ His visit had been going well at the very beginning, despite the unnerving feeling of wrongness that had been crawling across her skin, when things had hit the proverbial fan. He had asked why she was so “down” lately, and the woman had thought that finally she could talk about the situation with someone who could understand. That wasn’t what had happened. The moment she had mentioned Him her friend had suddenly sparked to life like a firework in a spectacular explosion.

She was honestly still confused to this day about the sudden change in him. Not just with her, but with the women she had set him up with and even other people around town. It seemed like over night he had gone from the kind, funny, helpful, and understanding man they all knew and loved, to a cold, unfeeling man who thought nothing of other people and had a hair trigger temper. At the time she hadn’t noticed the changes as they happened, but that day in her home, she saw what everyone had been talking about. It had been shocking to say the least.

The woman still shudders when she remembers the look in his eyes as he raged at her. He had ranted about her fixation on Him, calling her a “pathetic, delusional whore,” and while she was reeling from that verbal barrage, he had continued raving about how her manipulative ways would come back to haunt her and that she needed him to straighten her out by any means necessary. Those had been his exact words actually. “By any means necessary.” She had been confused, shock, and more scared than she had ever been before. Even more than that one pregnancy scare between high school and college. Nothing had come of it, obviously, but she had taken that lesson to heart every bit as much as she took Mama’s lessons to heart. Since then, there had been no scares, and so very little to fear. It isn’t that she doesn’t want children even now, it just hasn’t ever been the right time, not to mention that she wasn’t and still isn’t married. The scandal of an unmarried mother may have lessoned with the times, but that did not mean that it was entirely gone. That and this town is a bit behind the times in general, the woman admits, somewhat begrudgingly. It had never been a problem for her before, in fact she was more than capable of making that state of affairs work for her rather than against her. The antiquated way of thinking that surrounded her had paid off greatly for her, so it had never been in her interest to challenge it overtly.

Off topic again, dammit, the woman growls at herself. Forcing herself to focus on that day, she shudders once again. From cold or fear she isn’t sure. She remembers how she had listened to her friend rail against her while she stood frozen, right until the point he had grabbed her upper arms, slammed her into one of her living room walls, and kissed her. Kissed?! Please! she scoffs, if that was a kiss then the lion must love the gazelle! And not as food! She can almost still feel his lips on hers. Teeth digging in to her flesh. Tongue forcing its way into her mouth. It was violent and painful, and decidedly not in a way she enjoyed. Just as she gagged on his probing tongue, her shocked mind had finally caught on and reacted to what was happening. He was pulling at her blouse, her knee, of its own volition it seemed, jerked up and none too gently landed squarely on his testicles. At the same moment, she expressed her displeasure with the tongue in her mouth by biting down. Hard. She had never thought blood would taste any way other than vile, but in this instance, it tasted sweet. Like victory.

His howl of pain wasn’t too shabby either, she remembers with a smirk. The smirk fades quickly when she recalls the enraged look on his face and the slap that followed. Stunned once again, her ears ringing, she only vaguely heard the names he screamed at her before he slammed out of her house, leaving with a slight limp. The woman had breathed a shaky sigh of relief that it was over and briefly considered calling Jordan and filing a complaint against her friend and asking for an officer to give her an escort her to and from work and home for a few days, or at the very least just to have someone aware of what had happened and give some advice on what she should do. Then she realized for advice she might be better off calling Brian, even though he would probably tell her to press charges, which she didn’t want to do. Her thought was that if she called Jordan and made a complaint, an officer would go and talk to her friend and make him stay away from her. If her friend ignored the officer’s warning, there would already be a record of what happened so things would be taken care of more quickly.

In the end, she decided not to call either Jordan or Brian. She honestly felt that this was just a hiccup for her friend. He was obviously going through something and a police presence in his life wouldn’t be helpful for him to get out of it. While the woman would never again trust her now former friend, nor would she want him around her, she still wanted what was best for him and to see him do well. Even a whisper of impropriety in which the police were involved could, and likely would, destroy his business, his credibility, and really his life in their town. He also probably wouldn’t be able to start over in a new area either, unless it was quite far away, which would cost more money than he would wind up having. She couldn’t bring herself to risk that happening to him. Not for the man he had become, but for the boy and the friend he been.

Despite her resolve, she had felt a nagging in the back of her mind urging her to tell someone what happened. She had felt it for days. After a week of the feeling, she finally decided the when she got home that night, she would call Zachary. Practical and pragmatic, Zachary would know how to handle things while being discrete. Her now former friend might wind up a bit worse for wear, but as long as he didn’t bother her, or any other woman if she knew Zachary as well as she thought she did, his life would go on overall uninterrupted. If he didn’t…well…people left town all the time without telling anyone else, presumably moving on to bigger and better things while avoiding awkward questions, especially if they had the kind of money her ex-friend had. What was one more person, right?

She had considered calling for an escort home that night, but decided against it. While it wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence, it would still bring up more questions than she was prepared to answer at that moment. Instead, she had finished out her day, long after her colleagues had gone home to their families, thinking not about the conversation she was going to be having when she got home, but rather about how much she longed to have what they had. A husband, someone who supported her and was her partner in every sense. Love. Babies. The perfect apple pie, white picket fence with a dog in the yard life. No, it wasn’t for everyone, but it was what she wanted. She had realized that she was lonely and tired of living her life the way she was. She wanted to settle down, and using Mama’s lessons and rules, the woman was sure she would find the perfect mate for herself the same way she had for others in her life. She understood it may take longer for her than it had for them, because she knew she was more…selective than they were, but she knew it would happen sooner rather than later. And so, with thoughts of white dresses, bassinets, and lullabies in her head, she walked to her car to go to her lonely, empty home with a resolved smile on her face.

She should have called for the escort.

The only thing she could remember was a soft rustling behind her, not unusual given the trees around the parking lot, then a sharp pain in her neck. Everything went black almost immediately. Almost. Just before the inky blackness descended, she caught a glimpse of a man. Her now ex-friend. And on his face was the most sickeningly sinister smirk on his face.

When she woke, she was on a bed. Her neck hurt, her head was screaming, and her vision was blurry. She had no idea where she was and her heart was racing in fear of the unknown. Naturally, she jumped to her feet to begin trying to figure out not only where she was, but also to find a way out of this place. Unfortunately, while she was able to get up without issue, she quickly realized that where didn’t matter nearly as much as what, and what was some kind of concrete room. No windows. One door. Metal. Undoubtedly heavy, and absolutely locked. She was trapped. The only way out was that one door, and she knew the only way it would open was if…when her ex-friend came into the room. He would be ready for anything she might throw at him, of course, so her chances of escape were very slim. She could only hope at that point that he would do what ever he was going to do, then let her go. She categorically refused to entertain any thoughts about what he might be planning beyond hoping that he would ultimately let her go.

She had no idea how long she had been unconscious, and so had no idea what time it might be. She only knew that she was incredibly hungry and thirsty. Almost as soon as the thought had entered her head, however, a flap she had missed on the bottom of the metal door opened and a something was pushed through. On inspection, she saw that it was two pieces of bread and a paper cup of water on a tray. In her hunger, she snatched up the bread and devoured it, before gulping down the water. It barely took the edge off, but at least it was something.

She jumped when the flap opened again and the tray was yanked through in the opposite direction as before. Upon realizing that someone (she could easily guess who) on the other side of the door had known the tray was empty and had taken it back, she started to talk. Well…less talk, more yell. Questions abounded. Answers were demanded. None were given. She refused to plead, so decided instead to bargain. Assurances that if he only let her go, she would never tell anyone about this occurrence. They would get him help with whatever was going on with him. She would help him. The bargaining ceased when she heard, barely, another door, further away, close. He clearly wasn’t interested in what she had to say and had left.

And so, things had gone for what she could only assume were the next 4-5 days. Three times a day the flap in the door would open, two pieces of bread beside water in a paper cup on a tray that was retrieved as soon as the three items where removed. She had continued to try and talk to him. She still wouldn’t plead and would die before she begged, but she asked for answers and bargained to the best of her considerable abilities. She even lied. Lied like it was her job. It is, or was, but it seems uncouth to say the quiet part out loud like that, the woman muses with semi-forced humor. Forced because there is nothing even remotely amusing or humorous about this situation. She had yet to get any answers, let alone any interaction whatsoever beyond the push of the tray and its retrieval.

Throughout it all, the woman imagined her life outside of this place. The things she would do once she got out of here. The places she would go. She knew now that there was nothing in this town any more. She knew everyone and none of them were to her standard for a husband, though that standard had somewhat lowered in her time in the large concrete box that was her current residence. She thought she might try to find Him, but she had no idea where to even start. Maybe she could find that older man that had been at her acquaintance’s house that day, but she was struggling with remembering him name. Usually she was good with names, but between the high emotions she had been feeling at the time and shortly after, coupled with the knowledge that he wasn’t staying, and her current fear, hunger, and dehydration…well, simply put her mind wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders. Even now, she casts around in her mind for that name. Ronald? Richard? No. Not an R. Not an R…a…B? Yes! B…something! the woman recalls excitedly. A breakthrough finally! B. B. Brandon? No. Bartholomew? Absolutely not. Shorter…Bill? Billy? Billy! she decides. She’s still not entirely sure she’s right, but she can’t be bothered with that reality right now, because frankly, she desperately needs even that small win.

Because her circumstances had changed. And not for the better. She couldn’t be sure how long ago it was really, but it had to be a day or two there had only been two trays. The first had half of the rations she’d been getting which, while they hadn’t been nearly enough before, she really couldn’t afford to lose. She spent the day curled up on the bed, shaking with hunger pangs worse than ever before. Her throat burned and her head pounded. When it can to about the time that the second tray would be delivered, she had pulled herself up and over to the door to wait patiently. She had waited in vain. The tray never arrived. The disappointment had nearly crashed her and her resolve wavered. Wavered, but did not collapse, thankfully. Her disappointment coupled with the overall insufficient food, however, had left her unable to go back to the lone source of comfort in the room. For hours, she laid on the floor in front of the flap, willing it to open and provide her with a nourishing, filling meal. Eventually, her will prevailed and the flap indeed opened. The tray was passed through and upon it, while not the meal she wanted, were the standard two bread slices and paper cup with water. She had sighed in relief.

Naturally, she tore into the bread and gulped the water in a most unladylike manner, but she didn’t care. She was quite literally starving. It wasn’t until she noticed that the tray hadn’t been retrieved that the thought that something might be a bit suspicious about this particular meal. That’s when the first wave of dizziness had swept over her and she felt herself falling backward. She heard more than felt her head hit the cold concrete floor, and mused that it would probably hurt when she woke up. If she woke up. The last thing she was aware of was the heavy metal door opening and her now very much EX-friend walking into the room. The same sinister smirk smeared across his face. She was all but certain that this was her last moment.

But she was wrong. Although on further reflection she wasn’t exactly sure that was good thing. She had woken on the bed again. But this time was different. She was naked. And bound. Shackled actually. As soon as she realized the vulnerable state she was in, she immediately began shivering. Cold and fear. Fear and cold. The war between the two feelings was never fully won by either, so they traded off for the role of most prominent. Outweighing even the burning thirst and vicious hunger. Something she hadn’t thought was possible, but now she knew she was wrong about that, too.

And so, it is. Since the moment she had woken up chained to this bed, naked as the day she was born, she hasn’t moved, hasn’t been able to, other than the occasional shift or to bang her head back in frustration. She is more uncomfortable than she has ever been. Her arms and shoulders ache, but had largely stopped hurting other than a sharp twinge here and there, which honestly would have concerned her if it weren’t for the entire situation as a whole, but things being what they were, she can’t be bothered to care. Other than to be grateful that part of her discomfort has ended. The rest though is all but unbearable. Because she can’t get up and pace like she normally would when she got bored, she has to lay there with her mind spinning desperately searching for something, anything, to alleviate the boredom. She can’t warm herself or at least cover up with the blankets, so she is fully exposed, which is a different kind of discomfort, but still valid, and she is freezing. She is losing feeling in her feet and legs, though whether that is because of the tight bonds holding them to the bed immobile, or the frigid cold, she can’t tell. She also hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since ingesting the clearly drugged bread and water. The only silver lining, if it can be called that, to that particular issue is that she has stopped feeling the thirst and the hunger. Either because they have disappeared, or because she has gotten so used to them, she has no idea. And to add insult to injury, because she is chained down so securely, she can’t reach the single hole in the far corner of the room that had been serving as her toilet this whole time. She is filthy, having had not opportunity to bathe since she had been brought to this place, and now she was covered in her own waste. If there was anything at all beneficial about starving and being critically dehydrated, it was the fact that particular indignity had all but ceased as well. Again, something she would ordinarily be concerned about, but in her nearly delirious state, she can’t force herself to look passed the fact that she isn’t getting any dirtier.

Somewhere in her mind she knows, though. She knows that she is not long for the world and that her time now is likely being counted in hours and minutes, rather than days, weeks, and years. As that simultaneously depressing and comforting thought skips across her mind, she hears the metal of the door clang, creak, and open. Her heart leaps to her throat. Fear yes, but it’s also been so long since she’s seen anyone else face, she doesn’t care that it’s the face of the man she used to think was her closest friend. The relief is short lived. As he enters, he begins to talk. And the things he says…he tells her that while her absence has been noted, no one actually cares. The town gossips hiss to each other that it’s probably her own fault and that it’s likely for the best. Her friends don’t feel that way of course. They are saddened by her sudden disappearance, “What a pity,” they say, “what a loss.” But ultimately, they can’t be bothered to put forth any real effort into finding her. They are wrapped up in their own lives and won’t bestir themselves to much on her behalf. Even the police investigation into her disappearance was token at best.

Her outrage at the knowledge that she has been cast aside and forgotten by those she benefited and benefited from the most is tempered only by pain. Because while he talks, the man wearing her friend’s face, for that is how she thinks of him now, (they can’t be the same man. He can’t have changed this much. she tells herself trying desperately to soothe and distract), he cuts. He carves. Red lines racing over ever inch of flesh. During his monologue about how all of her insipid dreams are all for naught, he makes her bleed. Sometimes he lays down the blade for another implement, each is a new level and type of pain she had never thought to experience, but he always returns to the shiny, straight metal and continues his “artwork” as he calls it.

He tells her over and over that if she had just noticed him, given him the time, accepted him, loved him, he would have given her everything she ever wanted. A home, warm, welcoming, and safe. Love. Acceptance. A partner. Children. Beautiful babies to sing to and tell stories and teach and play with. He would and could have given her everything. On a never-ending loop he berates, belittles, and taunts her. Her friends don’t need or miss her. The town she thought she ran is still running and better in the one week she’d been gone than it ever had under her watch. Her home had already been emptied out, her belonging stored until an auction could be arranged, and the building itself already sold. No one had wasted any time completely erasing her from their lives and the town. She will never leave this room. All of her dreams and ambitions will end here with her. She will never have a husband in her arms or a child on her hip. Her memory, such as it is, will swiftly fade for everyone and when someone does think about her it will be with pity before they shrug off the thought and move on with their lives. And all because she had chosen some man, some stranger, she didn’t even know over him. If she had chosen him that night, instead of “whoring around” with Him, she wouldn’t be laying here right now. She would be safe in bed with him, her friend and new lover, dreaming of wedding bells and strollers, but instead she decided to make the wrong choice, once again, and he would make sure it was the last one.

The woman’s heart breaks over and over and over as a man she used to love as family tears her apart physically, mentally, and emotionally. The one thing, the one line he didn’t cross, was that he had not touched her. He hasn’t violated her in that way. It was one experience she was assured she wouldn’t have, but not because he wouldn’t cross that line, but because she “she didn’t deserve” him and she was “even too filthy for” him. She got the feeling he wasn’t talking about the layers of dirt and refuse she had accumulated, but she can’t find it in herself to care. It doesn’t even necessarily make sense really. She is going to die. She knows it. She has known it, but somehow, she takes solace in that one thing. And if her dalliance with Him had been what prevented that act from taking place, she can and will find it in herself to be grateful for that even though this whole thing is His fault.

The woman loses and regains consciousness several times over the course several hours. Every time returning to the waking world to hear her Not Friend ranting like a mad man, laughing at her pain, and layering more and more of it one top of the other. She has long since broken her vow against crying not to mention screaming, but can’t beg, not coherently at least, even if she wants to. Since she had woken chained up on the bed, she had been securely gagged. A gag that had now been soaked in blood and other bodily fluids generated during her ordeal. If she could, though, she would beg. She would beg him to have mercy and let her die. She knows that’s a fruitless wish though. He has no mercy. Not for her at the very least. He has made that perfectly clear time and again.

Finally though, finally, blessedly, she feels the end, the Reaper, Death himself, approach. She almost sighs in relief, but holds herself back just in case her Not Friend finds a way to bring her back from the brink. The thought of this agony, this hell, continuing cannot be borne and she prays one last time once again to every God she’s ever heard of that this really will be the end. She can still hear her Not Friend rant, though now it is muffled, like someone talking from far off. He is asking questions now. Demanding answers she hopes he doesn’t expect her to give. She couldn’t if she wanted to. Not that she does want to. Maybe if he gets angrier, this will end quicker. Either way, at this point anything that makes him unhappy pleases her. Probably twisted, but no less true. Slowly, she turns her head toward him, very purposefully. She can actually feel her heart slowing and see the final darkness at the edges of her vision. She has nothing to lose anymore. She doesn’t care anymore. It makes her brave in her last moments.

Again, her Not Friend demands an answer to his question. Her Not Friend wants His name. Apparently, he can’t remember it, and for some reason it’s important to him. He also wants to know what she knows about His whereabouts. She can’t imagine why. Still, one last push and it’s over. And it’ll do her slowing heart good to see him stymied one last time. She is dying and he is the one killing her. She is entitled to be a bit mean she feels. And so, strength fading quickly, the woman grins around her blood and spit-soaked gag showing bloody cracked teeth, and very intentionally, deliberately, slowly turned her head away from him. His rage was hysterical. If she could, she would have laughed, though one thing does confuse her. Just before he is out of her sight for the last time, she would swear she saw his eyes flash black. And there isn’t enough blood in her body for her brain to work properly, so she probably imagined it, she reasons quickly. It doesn’t matter anyway. The darkness the had been on the edges of her vision has almost completely covered it. Her Not Friend’s screams and yells mean nothing to her anymore. But one thing does. She can’t believe it, but she wants her last thought to be of the man who ruined everything. The man who made her feel alive and got her killed. Him. Slightly resigned to her own sentimentality, but resolute nonetheless, she calls up his image in her mind. How he looked went she first saw him That Night, but also when she last saw him, asleep, hair a mess, back covered in red lines, justifiably exhausted. She smiles to herself one last time, and with her last heartbeats, her last precious moments, she thinks

His name was John.

Song Credit- Reba McIntire "She Thinks His Name Was John" (side note: this song is about something very different and very real, and I have the utmost respect for that and Ms. McIntire for doing it in the first place. This fic came about because I binge watched Supernatural after listening to this song and my sleeping brain mashed them together. It turned into a massively rabid plot bunny that I had to write. But go listen to the song and prepare fore chills at the very least. I tried to do it justice, but I'm not sure how successful I was.)

Please comment and let me know what you think now that its complete. Good or bad, I don't care, but please be nice about it. Constructive criticism instead of flames. And I don't feed trolls. I block them.

@kittenofdoomage @holylulusworld @impala-dreamer @imanuglywombat

#Supernatural #She Thinks Part 3 #She Thinks #Dean Winchester? #Sam Winchester? #John WInchester? #Winchester at all? #OFC #Seriously I'm sorry guys #Runs off to hide from any angry ppl

[watchingwisteria]

listen there really was just something about how in the book, snow’s 3-page descent from hesitant lover boy to deluded psychopath happens entirely in his mind. lucy gray gives him no indication whatsoever that she suspects him, that she’s going to leave or betray him. he’s just sitting quietly in the cabin waiting for her to return when that seed of calculated suspicion, which he has needed to survive the capitol, takes a hold of him and chokes the life out of any goodness left inside him. it really drives home your terror as a reader that “oh my god did he kill her? did she escape? what happened to her? why would he even think that?” in a way that when the movie had to adjust for visualization it lost some of that holy shit this guy has lost it emphasis.

#seeing some discourse and im not saying lucy grey didnt know #im saying she never dropped the kind of hints that she knew like she did in the movie #or if she did snow isnt worried about them until he very suddenly is consumed by them #snow is not concerned about whether or not she believed him. of course she did! hes snow! #but then shes gone…. for a while…… #and its the sudden immediate drastic unravelling that comes across so clearly in the book #that i knew wouldn’t translate to screen yet still cant help but miss #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #tbosas #lucy gray baird #not a crime or anything just a note that i cannot stop thinking about #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #this is all from memory of reading it quite a while ago. so maybe 3 pages is an exaggeration #but i remember it happening VERY quickly and without much external cause #like we as the reader have no indication as to whether shes nearby or not. #snow has no idea either. he just SUSPECTS. and his suspicion breeds the hatred that has been bubbling inside him all this time #he hates how she undoes him. he hates that he WOULD run away with her if shed let him keep his secrets #and he HATES more than anything that she makes him WANT to tell his secrets #he wants to be vulnerable and reveal the ugly nasty parts about himself and still be loved #but he does not let himself and it is everyone’s downfall #he chooses cruelty bc it is easy and familiar and makes him feel more powerful than the vulnerable give and take that real love requires

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 3: Enveloping Feelings.

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4 (soon))

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #lan wangji #Yungmeng Jiang training arc AU #I wanted to try out a different paneling style for this one - sorry I'm a day late! (there will still be a post tomorrow to keep on track) #The original 3 panel comic idea was fine but the point of this new schedule was to take time to push myself a bit more. #I was taking a look back through some comic artists I felt inspired by #and I really loved how Lynda Barry fills her gutters with patterns and doodles! #Obviously I'm not going as absolutely wild with it as she does but it was a great exercise! #I truly think the gutters are the most important and most overlooked part of any comic. There's lots going on in that space. #It's the same with timeskips. The implied movement between moments that we don't see changes depending on how wide that gap is #You're here for the funny tags so here's some that ties this time talk together: #I think LWJ was thinking about that second note from day 2 but it took him 7 days of hazing to commit it to paper. #I think he sends it a day later and immediately regrets it. Chasing down the messenger and everything. #You know if something actually happened to his brother he would never ever forgive himself for putting the bad vibes out there. #Third time skip was the hardest because there was so many possible flavours of jokes here. Day 8/9 was a personal favourite. #day 14 was also funny (week by week). I think the debate on 'how long does lwj take to catch feelings' is more or less: #'how long does it take for him to arrive at a particular stage of grief and yearning (and awareness of it all) #This is a symphony. There is an act by act structure. Every day he is fighting to keep his old sensibilities. He is losing so badly. #(I'll be returning to the main comic soon but there is more of this AU to come!)

[courtmartialme]

woag .. otp

#fma #royai #riza hawkeye #roy mustang #talking to user chrysopoeias reminded me of this doodle i posted on twitter ages ago #im too dumb to make analysis textposts with my opinions so you get (checks notes) royai experiencing post nut clarity #about how funny i think it is that riza bases all her self value into how useful she is or isn't being #while roy is like wow.. i love riza can't believe she still by my side after all i've done .. #in the hospital scene after the lust fight where roy is scolding her there's a part he says he's going to keep trusting her with his back #and she looks genuinely surprised as if she really expected him to just throw her out because she failed and lost her utility #when he's mostly angry because riza gave up on life so easily and he doesn't want her to die. he can't live in a world without her #riza babe ur so mentally ill <3

[saphushia]

|| part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 coming soon... ||

man sabo really thought he'd get away from ace that easy, huh? well tough shit buddy you just got the attention of one of the most stubborn men on the seas. i do wonder how this'll play out now that sabo's cornered... hehe >;3

textless versions below the cut for those who want to look at. pictures <3

(skipped page 5 due to. y'know. it not having any dialogue)

#see this is why i don't give estimations on when updates will come #because literally 3 days ago someone asked when part 2 was coming and i said at least a week or so cause i only had 1 page done #and then i just got in the grove and cranked out 3 1/2 pages in 2 days dfkghsdjkf #consistant workflow? what's that lol #warlord!ace au #one piece #sabo one piece #sabo the revolutionary #portgas d ace #hmmm koala's here but i don't think enough to tag her #cause she's entirely offscreen #ah well #art #comic #warlord!ace au update #feels wierd to post textless because like. the bubbles are a very important part of the page balance #but i'm also the kind of nerd who likes to look at that sort of thing so i get it akjbdfkgj #i'm posting this so late but whatever. your welcome uhhhh australians? maybe? sdfkbgk #pleaaase let there be no more errors i've corrected like 4 since starting the post and i'm so worried i'll post it and find another

[a2zillustration]

tfw u come across someone else who can't remember certain things and it hits a little too close to home for a second

| First | | Previous | | Next |

[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

#Ok so listen I know this is Shadowheart's Whole Thing #1) I didn't know this part of Croissant's backstory when you first meet Shadowheart and she can't remember stuff #2) I think it would be different with someone who can't remember anything v. someone who can't remember one or two important things #Secret Croissant knowledge only I know :^))))) #It has nothing to do with Shar if that's what you're thinking #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #act III spoilers #house of grief #croissant adventures #arves #shoutouts to anyone who finds this searching the arves tag LMAO #tav #comics

[rexscanonwife]

Uhm uh uh...I have no excuse for this 😔 PPG self insert who is secretly an alien! I imagine her intro episode would have her having a little romance with the professor when he comes into a bookstore she works at/owns and the girls being (rightfully, given the prof's dating history) suspicious of her. Wacky capers ensue where they try to prove that she's up to no good, only to find that she genuinely is just chilling and wants to live a normal life on earth!

Well, normal as she can, now that she knows this family! I think she'd fit right in 😉

Taglist♡: @crushes-georg @changeling-selfship @me-myself-and-my-fos @tiny-cloud-of-flowers @sunstar-of-the-north @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @squips-ship @cherry-bomb-ships @miutonium

#artfarts #self insert #self ship #self shipping community #self insert community #oc x canon #self insert x canon #the powerpuff girls #professor utonium #crush: 🔬 #ngl im not exactly sure why i chose alien i just thought itd be cute and aliens were on my mind #and i was remembering a little song that i learned in elementary school called interplanet janet :3 #and i was talking to asuka about it and tbhhh #ok listen #being an alien as an allegory for my autism is SUPER fitting #and tbh the professors pretty dang autistic himself 😂😂 #i think being able to connect and relate to someone based on the ways they DONT fit in would be rly sweet 👉👈 #idk if its bad representation to have the reveal be that shes an alien but idc #this is my self insert and IM HAVING FUN #but them bonding over misreading social cues and the urge to infodump and being able to listen to each other!! #and all the little quirks she'd have would be ones i have too 😂😂 #like sometimes mixing up parts of words so they come out reversed #and lots of other stuff waaah #im hungy i gotta make dinner soon #but this is the result of watching nothing but ppg for like 3 days 😂😂😂

[messiahzzz]

assorted morena dekarios headcanons:

she possesses a sharp wit and is very perceptive, but is also incredibly kind and gentle

strong presence & really eclectic taste. she loves bright colors, extravagant patterns, collecting paintings, and all kinds of knick-knacks. her house is a reflection of her personality: warm, welcoming, and cluttered with ✨precision✨

has a penchant for big jewelry (especially necklaces)

gale deems her “unavoidable” because she has a way of seeing right through him, sometimes even going beyond motherly intuition (and because you’d spot her everywhere)

she always strongly supported gale’s individuality and wanted to give him every opportunity to grow into the person he wants to be

this often clashes cause she does worry about his safety constantly

on that note: would do absolutely everything for her son

her ex-husband had little interest in raising gale and deemed him too exhausting/high maintenance. morena eventually encouraged his decision to split, knowing his presence would do more harm than good

loves books but doesn’t bother to keep them in good condition (much to gale’s horror)

as he got older their dynamic grew to resemble a friendship, which is also why he refers to her by her first name

they banter a lot and it is very entertaining to watch/makes their similarities even more obvious

surprisingly strict whenever the situation calls for it. it’s a sudden 180. don’t mess with morena dekarios

claims she’s not interested in gossip, but is very curious nonetheless

possesses extensive mixology knowledge, but hates being drunk. life needs to be experienced to the fullest with all senses at all times

she’s a natural dancer despite not having a whole lot of practice

very welcoming to a romanced!tav and the rest of gale’s new friends. she has already been filled in by tara and withers. naturally, as long as her prince is happy she is as well

almost rivals gale in the duration of his crying during his own wedding. once he begins to read his vows she’s immediately brought to tears

actively tries to get to know a romanced!tav and makes sure they feel included in their family whenever possible, but will also respect if there’s no interest/some apprehension

she is very respectful of gale’s privacy and knows when to step back, albeit no less worried

she has dark, long, curly and thick hair that is hard to tame. (the envy of all her neighbors her age) she usually puts it up in a claw

tara has her own corner in morena’s sitting room, including her very own cozy armchair. no one else is allowed to use it.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #morena dekarios #gale dekarios #bg3 headcanons #it speaks #will forever mourn that we didn't get to see these two interact #it would have been so nice to get the added context to gale's story since she is obviously incredibly important to him #(and actually integral to his character. but oh well) #contrary to popular belief i don't think she's that overbearing #nor ditzy. quite the opposite actually - this woman KNOWS #i also think that she and gale share many similarities. part of the reason why they get along so well

[velidewrites]

Wow, Feyre, your hair looks just like Starlight!

— Feysand as Sophie and Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle ✨

Part 1/3 of my dear friend’s @azrielshadowssing birthday gift! I love and cherish you so much - I hope you like this little Feysand treat! 💕

You can find Part 2 here!

#I wanted to commemorate us watching howl together and screaming FEYSAND CODED #EVERYONE GO WISH J A HAPPY BIRTHDAY #and tell her how wonderful and talented she is #parts 2 and 3 are coming later because personally I think you should be celebrated all week #feysand #feysand au #feysand art #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #feyre acotar #rhysand #rhysand acotar #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #myart #velidedraws

[haunted-xander]

You raised a child together Thancred what did you expect

+ a bonus I came up with while drawing this lol

#it mustve looked so weird for everyone that didnt go to the first for thancred & urianger to be so close #and basically being joined at the hip with how they constantly are together #like for everyone that was on the first it makes perfect sense like they did spend a significant amount of time together over 3 years #but for anyone who didnt see that/doesnt know that? #it must look weird as hell #despite being friends for a long time thancred & urianger never seemed particularly close up until shb #do u think the nation leaders or like lyse or someone sees how tight-knit they suddenly are and just go #'what the hell happened here. how did this happen. huh???' #actually i think itd be funnier on lyses part bc she worked with them for YEARS and even shes surprised #anyway this is barely relevant to the post but i think its funny #thancred waters #urianger augurelt #urithan #thanuri #final fantasy #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #ff14 #ffxiv #art #my art #xanders art #digital art #fan art

[swordmaid]

cers 👑👑

her pose is based off this screencap of shiv succession just because i thought it fits [:

#cersei lannister #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #mine. #i wanted to do something detailed so i can get back in the groove again.. however.. underestimated the 'detailed' part #tbh the cape is supposed to have brocade too but my sanity 😭😭 #and the fashion inspiration for this is everywhere but has ice and fire ever claimed they were historically accurate? no? exactly. #i usually put her in green but i thought red would be fitting this time. tbh i was debating that colour bc that seemed typical for her alas #i craved. and i actually had like 3 more sketches for her hair + outfit but this one took so long i dont think ill ever get around #to rendering those loool. and this is also why i dont draw her often. she just has SO much.......... SO MUCH details #i cry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #but i do like this series tho. where its more like a fashion exploration. i feel like redoing cat's to give her a better outfit #but i should do someone else lol

[blueskittlesart]

deeply refreshing to see someone critical of Swift who also like, genuinely likes her. Like i'm neutral to positive on her, but the online discourse has been absolutely rancid. flipping between "Taylor Swift has never done anything wrong ever and she's a fucking genius" and "Taylor Swift is the worst lyricist of all time and also a bad person" is exhausting, so thank you for like. nuance or something lmao

not to make it serious for a sec but i genuinely think that being able to like things that are bad is really important. like I think that it's an important skill to be able to look at something and see what you personally enjoy about it and then take a step back and acknowledge that objectively it's flawed. and to also be able to acknowledge that liking something isn't necessarily an identity or a moral stance. and i think that fandom space in general could really benefit from more people taking the time to learn how to do that. it's okay to like things that are bad

#people ask me sometimes why ill occasionally talk about something i like and then go 'but it's bad' and the answer is usually because it is #i love teen wolf. i love genshin impact. i love detective conan. and i fucking LOVE taylor swift. that doesnt mean theyre good #it just means i like them. and recognizing their flaws actually helps me better identify what i like about them! #it's like. in my mind bad > good is the x axis and i like it > i dont like it is the y axis yk. they're not mutually exclusive #tldr it's not that serious. we can all relax a little #irt taylor swift i do also think she has done some real harm to her fans in enabling them to deflect all criticism of her as misogyny #and i don't think it's fully the fault of these people who are parroting that response bc so much of her marketing has deliberately #reinforced this idea that to be a swiftie is to be a part of a sisterhood and that any attack on taylor is an attack on all of those women #who are in that in-group. when that's obviously not the case. but she's marketed herself as. for lack of a better term. 'girl music' #to the point where it makes her fans feel as though any criticism of the music or the woman responsible for it is an attack on their #personal experience of womanhood/girlhood/sisterhood/etc. and that's how you get all of thess bad-faith accusations of misogyny #i don't necessarily think this was her deliberate goal with her marketing tho because like. on first glance such a strong sense of communit #among fans sounds like a great thing. the friendship bracelets i got at the eras tour movie are really genuinely special to me. #but it does present a problem when your fans are unable to separate how they feel about the community and experience your music has fostere #from how they feel about you as a person. especially when you are a billionaire who absolutely CANNOT be above criticism in this economy #anyway. tldr i love taylor's music and i don't think swiftie hivemind is as deliberately malicious as it may seem #but it's obviously necessary to be able to take a step back and look objectively at what you're participating in. #anyway stream ttpd or don't idc <3 #taylor swift

[adh-d2]

All in favor of christening that maneuver the Phee Fall say 'aye'

#I cannot be the first person to have thought of this right? #Tumblr's search function is dogshit so I can't tell #but just know I was so blown away by my own wit when it occurred to me that I think I bluescreened for a second #Anyway I adore Phee she is such a badass #she and Tech were made for each other #He'd be equal parts horrified and turned on by that little stunt #the bad batch #phee genoa #tech x phee #techphee #tbb tech #tbb spoilers #tbb season 3 spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #sw tbb #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #the bad batch season 3 #tbb meta #the bad batch meta #tbb discussion #tbb season 3 #tbb s3e12 #Juggernaut #ADH-D2's Patented Bullshit

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #imposter au #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #arlecchino #lyney #furina #you do NOT wanna know what i got put thru writing this fic #trying 2 find out where arle was in the few times we DO see her and going down a rabbit hole of fuck fontaine and its layout actually! #I spent like 3 hours looking it up and checking in game it gives me a migraine thinking abt it. ew #anyway trying to write a really smart character is surprisingly difficult when ur as dumb as rocks #also used an actual chess match for this and gave myself an even worse migraine trying 2 make sure i didnt repeat moves or smth #furina doesnt get a spotlight yet just imagine her sitting in the corner trembling like a wet kitten you found on the side of the road #arlecchino goes thru a crisis more at 11 #shes a tired single dad shes isnt getting paid enough for this okay #hands u a fic over half the length of the other THREE PARTS #ehe :] #is arle actually on ur side??? is she gonna double cross u???? who knows!!!!! #shes unpredictable she might stab u for funsies #anyway im gonna go nap in a ditch now this took SO LONGGGGG OH MY G-D #also just think acolytes who arent buddy buddy w reader and even resent them is so tasty #bc how r they supposed 2 know reader was a human vibing 5 minutes before their got eebied 2 teyvat.. #reader gotta roll up their sleeves and get 2 WORK sometimes murder IS okay #they gotta fix some shit around here and that means committing several crimes all at once. sometimes more #a group can be g-d (just got here) their dragon (neuvi) their cat (archon) their dog (wrio) and their wolf (arle)

[twelverriver]

Ilsa Faust + being a ghost (or why I think she's still alive)

Fallout Script / Dead Reckoning Part One / Dead Reckoning Part One Soundtrack / Dead Reckoning Part One / Mission: Impossible (1996) / Light The Fuse Podcast: Interview with Christopher McQuarrie / Dead Reckoning Part One

#some delusions about why i think ilsa is still alive <3 #she's a ghost!!! #they were all trained to be ghosts #i just !!!! #mission impossible #mission: impossible dead reckoning #dead reckoning part 1 #dead reckoning spoilers #mi7 spoilers #ilsa faust #jana.txt

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

you know i adore you (3)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader (soulmate AU)

TW⚠️: gojo's being a little manipulative, angst, mentions of death and blood, mostly fluff tho

1: what you see, i see

2: where you go, i go

A/N: gojo is so 1989 coded

Her phone had buzzed for the tenth time during her student council meeting, and for the tenth time, she ignored it. She didn't have to look at the caller ID to know who it was.

Who knew Gojo Satoru would be so clingy? And here she thought she would be the one hanging on his coat tails. Not that they were dating because they weren't. They were friends with emphasis on friends - she had decided that after the high of finally seeing each other face to face.

The morning after was very clarifying for her. She tried to remember her dream the night, only to realize that Satoru had not slept the entire night - he had been watching her sleep the entire night. It was especially clarifying when her mom knocked on her door, and she processed that not only did she have a strange boy in her room, but that he was also soaked in blood. A hectic morning of her hiding her soulmate in the bathroom. It didn't help that he was complaining the entire time - it was a miracle her mother didn't hear him.

Fact of the matter is it would be irresponsible for her to start seeing him romantically without actually getting to know him first and she was a responsible person. So responsible that for the time being, she had to put student council duties first over her friendship with him, especially with the festival coming up.

She would call him after the meeting was over, "Now, do we have everything prepared for the festival tomorrow?"

Everyone nodded as they checked classrooms, and fixed decoration, and they put up the banner outside of the school that would be welcoming everyone in. After this task was done, she would leave.

From atop a ladder, she tied the elastic ribbons into a bow and smoothed the banner over with her hand, "Everything alright on that side?"

Her peer smiled at her from the other ladder directly on the other side of the banner, "Yeah!"

She climbed down the ladder and looked at their handiwork. It was perfect. All that was left was to go get her things.

One of her classmates giggled besides her, "Your boyfriend's here again."

"Who's boyfriend?" She asked.

The girl pointed at the entrance of the school, "Yours." She smiled cheerfully at him, "Hi, Gojo!"

And there he was, walking over to them - pouting.

This was her fault she should've known he would show up if didn't at least answer one of his calls or texts.

"We've been over this." She said, "He is not my boyfriend."

"Does he know that?" The girl said.

Another classmate chimed in, "Why not? he's super cute."

She hoped Satoru hadn't heard that. His ego was big enough as it was.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist as he nuzzled his head in her neck, he said, "Yeah, I am super cute. Why not?"

Of course, he heard them. He looked at her expectantly over his glasses. He really was adorable when he wanted to be, enough that all of her classmates (boys and girls alike) practically swoon for him when he does anything.

She ignored him, "Meetings over. Everyone, go home."

Satoru huffed in annoyance but didn't let go of her, "Why don't you answer your phone?" He tilted his head so she could see more of his vibrant blue eyes despite his glasses, "A text would've been enough."

She fought the urge to run her hands through his hair, "I told you I had a student council meeting today." She twisted in his arms to face him, "and I told you that I wasn't going to be able to call or text until after."

He buried his face in her neck again and groaned, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you did."

This was a little more than friendly, she knew that, but she also learned at the beginning of their friendship that he also didn't know what personal space was. Besides, she would stop him before he got too far, but she would admit, she liked it when he daringly pressed his lips on her neck to test just how far he can push the boundaries she had set for them. But today, she would enforce them.

She tugged his head back from her neck, "I have to go get my school bag, Satoru."

She stilled as he leaned in and kissed her in the corner of her mouth. Another thing he did to see how far he could go.

She pursed her lips, "That's more than friendly."

He raised an eyebrow, "You mind today?" And let out a dramatic sigh, "it's cause people are watching, isn't it?" He shifted all of his weight on her, "I'm a dirty little secret!"

She finally hugged him back. Not to actually hug him but keep them from toppling over.

She heard footsteps and giggles as her classmates walked past her and Satoru, "Yeah, he's totally not your boyfriend."

She saw a glimpse of Satoru's cheeky smile before he stuck his lower lip out and rubbed his cheek against hers.

And like clockwork, "Aw~"

She glared at her peers, "Do not encourage his behaviour."

They all snickered as they left.

She rolled her eyes at them and grabbed Satoru's cheeks with one hand forcing his lips to pucker as they looked at each other, "Stop." She pushed him off of her and finally, went to go get her belongings.

She sighed when Satoru slipped his hand in hers. If she pulled away he would whine for the rest of the day, so she let their fingers intertwine.

His eyes wandered away from her from time to time. She closed her eyes for a second. Little spectres were staring at them, peeking their heads from their hiding spots, and whenever, Satoru directed his gaze at them they'd duck back into their hiding spots in fear.

Oh.

She opened her eyes and quickened her steps. Her soulmate kept up with her new pace with ease. She opened the door and quickly picked up her school bag, but Satoru took it from her hand before she could sling it around her shoulder and swung it over his instead.

"Those curses shouldn't scare you. You know, they're too scared to come out and hurt anyone," he said, "They're too weak."

She grabbed her phone from the table, "You know I can't see them the way you can."

He pressed a kiss on her temple, "I can handle them, no problem."

She rested her head on his arm. He was right if any curse dared to rear out their ugly heads against them he would excorcise it easily. She was safe. They were safe.

She flipped her phone open as they walked out of the school.

47 MISSED CALLS from Gojo Satoru

He was not serious.

83 TEXT MESSAGES from Gojo Satoru

Oh God.

2 TEXT MESSAGES from Geto Suguru

Geto.S: He's being insufferable

Geto.S: Answer so he'll stop whining to me and Shoko

She shoved her phone in his face, "For real?!"

"You weren't answering!"

She shook her head as she went through the text messages.

Gojo.S: Wanna go check out the new boba place <3

Gojo.S: Whatcha ya doing? :3

Gojo.S: Oh right student council

Gojo.S: How long is it gonna to take?

Gojo.S: it's been 30 minutes :(

Gojo.S: Pls answer the phone </3

Gojo.S: meeting boring

Gojo.S: Ditch :D

She skimmed the rest of texts until she got near the end.

Gojo.S: The decorations look great!! :b

Gojo.S: r ya seriously going to check every classroom?

Gojo.S: For real?????

Gojo.S: ______ <3

Gojo.S: Suguru punched me :(

Gojo.S: kiss it better pls

Gojo.S: How much longer?????

Gojo.S: A ladder for what???

Gojo.S: :'(((((((((

Gojo.S: <////////////3

Gojo.S: I'm heading over there

She flipped her phone close, "You are such a stalker, Satoru."

He gasped offendedly, "I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"Am not!"

"Really?" She said, "What about the time you were literally watching me sleep for hours?"

"I wasn't myself that day." He quickly added, "and you were sad all day! What kind of soulmate would I be if I didn't let you know I was okay?"

"How'd you know where I live?" She retorted.

"It's a cute little bakery!" He smiled, "how is anyone supposed to miss that."

"Uh huh," she hummed, "suuureee~"

She was right, Satoru had somewhat stalked her that day and with how empowered he felt - he tracked down the very little cursed energy she did have with his six eyes.

"You stalk me too!" He pushed back.

"Hardly."

She was lying, but there was a difference between his stalking and her stalking. She only wanted to make sure he was safe. After what happened a few months ago, she couldn't help it and she only stalked him when he goes on missions not for everyday things like he does.

"Liar," Satoru said, "I can tell. I have really good eyes and senses."

She blushed, "It is not the same." Stupid six eyes, "You stalk me for no reason."

"It's not for 'no reason' - I miss you." He readjusted the straps of her school bag on his shoulder, "Besides, you don't have to worry about me like that anymore. No one can get the jump on me like that again."

She knew what he meant: I'm stronger now. Don't worry, I'm not dying anytime soon, and he was right. Nothing could touch him anymore unless he wanted it to, even her. Still, he didn't know what it felt like to have him gone from her soul. It wasn't a fading feeling of him slipping away - No, it was violent and soul wrenching - he was viscerally ripped from her. She was left cold and alone with her heart being the only one left beating. She was with him the whole time when he was desperately trying to learn and understand reverse curse technique to heal his bloody and dying body. All Satoru knew was that she cried.

Soft lips pressed against her cheek and then to the other. It was so sweet, so wonderful she hadn't realized she was crying.

"Is that why we aren't dating yet?" He continued to kiss her tears away, "you scared?"

She hadn't cared for him then and she fell apart. Imagine the damage it would do to her if she was in love with him? Her lip quivered at the thought. With a shaky breath, she buried herself in his chest in a hug, and nodded.

Satoru soothingly ran his long, slender fingers through her hair, "My girl's a bit of a little cry baby, ain't she?"

Her heart fluttered, my girl.

"I have every right to cry," she mumbled stubbornly in his chest.

He kissed the top of her head, "Yeah, you do." He tilted her chin up so she would look at him, "Boyfriends give more kisses you know."

She smiled as she wiped her tears, "No fair, I'm emotionally vulnerable right now."

Satoru's lips pressed ever so softly on hers. It was barely even a kiss, but she melted in his arms all the same. It would be so easy to fall into him and he would catch her every time. Yet, he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers.

She was right. He shouldn't take advantage.

He sighed... if time was what she needed then he could wait a little longer.

Part 4: i'm crazier for you

Gojo: y'all be scared to double text? Not me! Ding ding ding it's me again bitch!

Part 5: baby, you're the life of the party

Part 6: something's made your eyes go cold

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

@phoenix666stuff @96jnie @mr-underhills-things @whatamidoing89

#gojos got that annoying rizz #he just wants to be her boyfriend #but hes stuck in the special friend zone #special cause friends do not do what they do #reader is a bit of a crybaby #leave her alone she's trying her best #i dont think geto gonna turn evil in this au tbh #this is happy au me thinks #gojo satoru #jjk #gojo satoru x reader #teen gojo #gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #part 3 #a part 4 if anyone wants it #gojo might be a little out of character??? #geto makes an appearance #jjk soulmate au #suguru be like #if you dont come get your man #i gonna 🤜 gojo