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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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Not You

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: canon violence, mentions of blood/injury/death

Word Count: 2,392

Summary: sequel to 'Not Like This'. Based on chapter 24 of the Mandalorian. Loosely.

SPOILERS UNDER THIS CUT (sort of)

"i find my place in between your arms. in between your tender kisses. and soft whispers of 'it'll be alright'. in between the warmth of your embrace and the scent of your neck and the fierceness of your touch. i find my place lost inside your soul."

Not you. Not you. Not you. Din screamed the words in his head in hopes that maybe, just maybe, some deity out in the universe would hear his cries and offer a semblance of mercy. As the imperials dragged him down the hall, all he could see was you crying out in pain as Gideon stabbed you⏤ you collapsing to the ground bleeding. Maker, not you. Din couldn’t lose you. Fear began to boil into rage. He gnashed his teeth and his entire body stiffened. Not you. He wouldn’t let you go. Moff Gideon wanted to take his Creed from him? Fine. He could kriffing have it.

But, Din would not lose you.

Not today. Not ever.

Opportunity found he lifted his legs up, tucking them into his chest, and then used the nearby pillar to shove the Imperials off of him. The second he was free his lips briefly curled into a feral grin. They wanted to see his face so badly? Well, now they could look him in the eyes when he burned this place to the ground. Because he’d turn this place to ash before he let them take you.

You were hurting. Maker, you were hurting. It felt like someone had burned you from the inside out. Your organs were ablaze and every little movement worsened the inferno in your abdomen. A whimper left your lips as your eyes fluttered open and settled on a familiar t-shape visor.

“Din…” You mumbled. You reached out for the Mandalorian⏤ your hand leaving a bright red stain on the otherwise spotless silver beskar. When you tried to pull him closer, the helmet skittered away from the slick of your blood and that’s when it dawned on you.

Din wasn’t here. It was just his helmet. They had taken him from you.

Another whimper left your lips and you weren’t sure if it came from the kriffing stab wound in your side or the image of Din being dragged away burned in your retinas. You tried to lift your head but only managed to cry out in pain. You were dying. There was too much blood surrounding you for this to end any differently.

‘Not today, cyar’ika.’ A voice that sounded suspiciously like Din whispered behind you. ‘Get up. You need to get up.’

“I can’t.” You sobbed.

‘You can. Get up. Cyar’ika, get up. Get up!’

With a scream of agony, you pushed yourself up on shaky arms. Your entire body heaved with desperate gasps as you struggled to stay up. Just a little more. Just a little more. One more scream and you were on your feet. Wavering, but standing. You glanced around to see the bodies of various beskar plated imperials scattered about the platform. Amongst the white and black, you did notice a familiar shade of blue. You grasped Din’s helmet, hugging it to your chest desperately, and stumbled over to Paz.

“Paz.” You cried. “Paz!”

The large man didn’t respond. You collapsed to your knees by him and tried to shake him to no avail. Terrified, you reached forward, shoving his shirt away, to find a pulse. After a moment, you could feel one under your fingers. Faint, thready, but there. You shook the man once more, yelling his name, but all that you obtained was a moan.

“Get your kriffing ass up!” You spat. A Mando’a phrase came to mind from your limited mental dictionary. It had been one you heard while watching the covert train. “K’atini!” It’s only pain. “K’atini, Paz! Get up.”

Paz flinched and you heard his hoarse voice. “Go. Leave. This is my end.”

“The hell it is.” You hooked one weak arm under his and tried to tug up⏤ not that it did anything other than bother him. “Ragnar is waiting for you.” Paz grunted. “Your kid is kriffing waiting for you, so get your ass up!”

You stumbled back as Paz began to go through the same struggle as you did. First to his arms then to his feet. Quickly, you hooked one of his arms over yours while the other still held onto Din’s helmet. You both limped forward one step and nearly collapsed over again.

“You…” Paz grunted out as you both struggled for the door you had seen Din get dragged through. “Mandokar. You have mandokar.”

“I don’t know what that means.” You mumbled.

Paz chuckled then winced. “I get it. Why Djarin keeps you around.”

“Thanks. I guess. Kind of a shitty compliment.”

Paz let out another breathy chuckle, “Can’t give him too much credit. Kaysh mirsh solus. Idiot.”

“Yeah, well,” You tried to readjust your bloody grip on Paz but the action sent a wave of burning pain through your entire body, “Just⏤ Just think how much that idiot will owe you once we save his life.”

The two of you had luckily not run into any enemies. If even a single Imperial found you both it’d be over. You were bleeding to death, and though you didn’t know the extent of Paz’s injuries under the armor, you had a bad feeling he was in the same boat as you. You didn’t know how long it took to get anywhere. It definitely felt like forever. Maybe this was hell. Just an eternity of limping down a hall bleeding with no end in sight. It was sure beginning to feel that way.

Your legs stumbled and you would’ve collapsed entirely if Paz didn’t keep you upright. He grunted once, “Come on, little one. Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.”

The two of you rounded a corner and never before had you been happy to hear the sound of blaster fire and jetpacks. Mandalorians. Maker, you prayed it was the Mandalorians. Paz and you stumbled through a doorway and saw the air filled with Mandalorians and Imperials at war. You jumped, startled, when Paz bellowed out a phrase in Mando’a. It was the loudest you had heard him this entire time and you didn’t know where he found the strength to do it. Two Mandalorians broke off, already nearby, and landed in front of you.

“Take him. I think he’s fading.” You pushed Paz toward the two Mandalorians.

“No. Grab her. She… Djarin.” Paz grunted.

“I’m finding Din.” You said and shot a glare toward the Mandalorian who tried to take a step toward you. “Go. Go!”

Paz barked out in anger, but they listened. One said he’d get someone else to fly down and grab you, but the second they lifted into the air you turned and began to limp across the platform. Din. You needed to find Din, but your vision was beginning to blur. Din. You dragged your feet across the ground. Not him. You couldn’t lose him.

“Din…” You murmured softly. “Din…”

Din wanted to punch his fist through Moff Gideon’s chest. He wanted to make the man pay, but he didn’t have the time. Din needed to get Grogu to safety and then he had to go back. He had to go back. Not you. Not you. He wasn’t going to leave you behind. Besides, Bo Katan was doing well. The Armorer herself had dropped from the sky to come to her aid. Din had faith in them. He had his own agenda to accomplish.

He lifted his gaze and recognized a familiar Mandalorian take out two imperials in the air. “Koska!” He roared. She didn’t hear and he screamed it once more. “Koska!” She spun mid-air then hurried toward him. Din scooped Grogu up and ignored the pain that flared. He had taken a number of blows just to get here. Grogu babbled at him, panicked and worried, but the second Koska was in front of him Din set the boy into her arms. “You get him out right now. You hear me?” Grogu whined loudly and reached for him. Din furrowed his brow into a glare and forcefully pointed at Koska. “Do you hear me? You get him to safety now.”

“You have my word.” Koska replied and took off without a second of waste.

Din turned and began to sprint back toward the halls. Above all the noise of blaster fire and jetpacks blasting, he heard a soft whisper that stopped him in place. He had to be hearing things. Din turned his head and scanned the area around him. Another whisper⏤ a whimper⏤ and there you were. You were limping, soaked in blood, with a death grip on his helmet. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be relieved. You looked like death. Din was rushing toward you and he watched you collapse.

No, no. Not you. Not you. Din wasn’t going to lose you.

He slid on his knees to reach you and tried to lift you up.

“Din.” You mumbled. Weakly, you lifted his helmet to hold out to him. Your blood stained it.

In his desperation to hold you, he knocked his helmet from your weak grip and it clattered across the ground. He mumbled reassurances, ran his hand over your hair and face and anything he could touch, but you felt so limp in his arms. “No, no. Not you. Look at me.” Din was pleading for you to look at him again. A sob mingled in. “Look at me, look at me!” You were draped across his lap and he cupped your face. “Please, cyar’ika, please. Not you. I can’t lose you.”

Your eyes fluttered open to briefly meet his and the recognition in your eyes brought a relieved smile to his own features. You lifted a hand to set on the side of his face and he felt your hot blood smear across his features. It was short lived as your eyes rolled back and your head lolled to the side⏤ going limp once more. This wasn’t happening. This had to just be another nightmare. He’s had them before just like this, but usually he woke up before you faded.

“Din, we have to go!” Bo Katan yelled faintly. Her hand grabbed his shoulder and it made him realize that she hadn’t been far away⏤ his ears were just ringing too loudly to comprehend what was happening. She spun him around and a familiar helmet was shoved onto his head once more. “Leave! This place is gonna blow!”

Din pulled you tighter to his chest and used his stolen jetpack to rocket into the air.

Not you. Not you. Din was not going to lose you.

There was no pain when your eyes opened. Morning light filled the unfamiliar room, a sea of white sheets surrounded you. With a sigh, you rolled over and came face to face with a stranger. No. Not a stranger. Din. You knew this face, but you had only seen it in fear and in anger. Right now he was at peace. You lifted a hand to rake through his soft, messy brown locks. Fingers traced his eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose, over his lips, through the scruff on his jaw.

He let out a soft sigh of his own and slowly you watched his eyes open. Lids still heavy with sleep. The color of his eyes was warm. Just as he was. And, when they met yours you felt the air get taken from your lungs. Maker, he was beautiful. Was this heaven? If hell was dragging Paz, bloody and broken, down a hall then this must be heaven.

“Cyar’ika…” He mumbled in adoration.

“Am I dead?” You asked.

“No.” Din’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him in bed, and you relished in how real it felt. The weight of his arm draped over you was exact. “Neither of us are. Though, you certainly tried.”

Din pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, but he didn’t stop there. The man peppered kisses, faint brushes of his lips against your skin, anywhere he could reach. As if he were using his lips to caress your face. Finally, his lips pressed to yours and you couldn’t help but breathe him in. Din broke away too soon and you shook your head.

“This isn’t allowed.” You mumbled. “I can’t see your face.”

“It’s okay.” Din gave you a chaste kiss. “It’s okay, I swear.”

The weight of everything that had happened slammed into you and your eyes began to water. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to look at you. I didn’t want to⏤”

“Shh.” Din stopped your words with his lips. His thumbs wiping away your tears. “It wasn’t your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for. I was going to show you anyways.”

“But not like this.” You argued.

“Maybe not, but I don’t care, cyar’ika.” He replied. “You’re safe, we’re safe, and I have you in my arms. Right now, I don’t care about anything else.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Grogu? Where’s⏤”

“Safe. Downstairs with his uncle Boba and aunt Fennec who are surely spoiling him.” Din sighed and you let out a soft chuckle. Tatooine. You were in Tatooine. Boba’s palace. One of the safest places in the galaxy.

“And… And Paz?” You asked in concern.

“Oh, Paz is fine.” Din grumbled and buried his face into the crook of your neck, settling a kiss there. “He won’t shut up about you.”

You wrapped your arms around him and breathed in the familiar, comforting smell of him. “Good. I think me and him are best friends now.”

“That’s not allowed.”

“Oh, isn’t it?”

“No.” Din shook his head against you with a chuckle. He nipped at a spot on your neck and you laughed in surprise. Din rolled you both over so he could press you into the mattress. Din lifted himself up and kept his weight on one elbow so he could stare down at you. “And I don’t want to hear you say his name while in bed with me. There’s only one name I wanna hear leave your lips right now.”

You grinned up at him, “Axe Woves?”

With a disgruntled sigh, he pressed his hips into yours and devoured you into a kiss. One of your hands tangled in his hair while the other explored his bare back. Maybe this was heaven. If it were, you didn’t really care. You’d exist anywhere that had you tangled with Din Djarin in peace.

mando'a translations

K’atini : It’s only pain (suck it up)

Mandokar : the epitome of Mando virtue - a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty and a lust for life

Kaysh mirsh solus : He’s a a fool (idiot)

Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur : Today is a good day for someone else to die.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian fanfic #angst #fluff

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socialist-microwave-laser · 6 months

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the main thing that "leftist" goyim need to understand is that there isn't one definition of the word "zionism." "zionist" is not an insult, and it does not beget genocide or colonialism, because zionism for jews has many different meanings, each with their own interpretations of the state of israel and action points regarding palestine, with only a tiny portion of those advocating for any sort of violence against palestinians. if i had to boil everything down to brass tacks, i'd say zionism is the feeling that jews have a connection with eretz israel.* but there's so much that falls under that umbrella. there's christian zionism (which jewitches just did a wonderful episode discussing it and its genocidal roots with a very good bibliography [link here]), there's theodore herzl's definition that's like "yes i love colonialism let's do that!!!" (but also he was also toying with the idea of all the jews moving to argentina?). there's some (very few of whom are jewish) zionists who are uncritical of the israeli govt, there are some that want to see it dismantled immediately, and obviously there are many that lie somewhere in between the two. there are some jewish zionists who see medinas israel* as a miracle, and there are others who see it as blasphemy (either because of the belief that am israel* should not return from diaspora until the arrival of the moshiach (messiah), or because medinas israel has been doing a lot of monstrous, heinous, honestly un-jewish shit supposedly in the name of jews and judaism)

it is impossible to quickly sum up the wide scope of zionisms that exist today within judaism, not to mention those outside of it. however, it is important to note that for many jews, zionism is a word that merely describes longing, or even a longing for the ability to long. to quote my rabbi: "for me, zionism means i wish eretz israel was a place i longed to live." (the reasons why it isn't are the same reasons why any one of us critiques medinas israel—it is a horrid state doing horrifying, unspeakable things. to my rabbi and to many others, zionism means the eradication of medinas israel as it exists.)

there is currently a problem of people talking past each other, where some say anti-zionism is antisemitism and others say all zionists have blood on their hands. many of those in the camp of the former are often so broad in their definition of anti-zionism that that phrase is rendered nothing but unhelpful (at best), and many of those in the camp of the latter have such a narrow understanding of what zionism is that it completely turns off anybody who does have a more complete understanding of that word

this post is not intended to even scratch the surface of describing the meanings of all the different zionist movements and beliefs that haven't coalesced into any movement on any wikipedia page. rather, this post is to show non-jews who identify as leftists that are still open to learning about jewish experiences that zionism is not what the snappy, tens of thousands of note posts will lead you to believe. to those who say "death to zionists" please know that jews will not trust you, because you're calling for the deaths of a lot more jews than you think

eretz israel = the land of israel

medinas/medinat israel = the state of israel

am israel = the people of israel (jews)

these are all terms that are frequently used in jewish spaces and liturgy, especially the first and third. i have made the personal decision to use them in my daily conversations, because in liturgy that i interact with daily, "israel" means the third one, and i am very conscious to delineate the three, and especially to draw a distinction between the state of israel, the land that is so central to jewish liturgy, and the jewish people

#i made important text colorful bc i know big blocks of text can be hard for some people #also for the last time there are more zionist christians in the united states than there are jews on this planet #christians are using jews and muslims as pawns in their little game to summon the second coming of jesus #result in the complete eradication of all jews and muslims. we are their cannon fodder #and jews who have decided to side with them need to stop voting for the fucking leopards eating peoples' faces party #medinas israel #jumblr #zionism #anarchist #anti zionism #palestine #christian zionism #jewish zionism #jewish diaspora #tsiyyonus definition

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neuroprincess · 3 months

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Simili - The Executioner

Professor!Agatha Harkness/Student!Female Reader

Fanfic Chapter List

Summary: A series of murders start to scare the small town of Westview when young university students turn up dead on campus, soon Y/N seems to be connected to the victims somehow. Determined to find the author of these atrocities, she can trust no one, not her family, friends, and even less the local police, except the only person really willing to help her, the professor Agatha.

Warnings: Trauma in the subtext, sorry

Word count: +2500

"I watch attentively as the molten bronze falls through the mold, boiling, shining, filling every gap that will form a beautiful image, just as the fire fills and consumes me inside to one day become a person, for now I'm just a mold, even though bronze already runs through my veins, it's in my blood, it's who I am."

As an omen of dark days and in response to recent events, the sky has darkened, turning the bright ones into a mist of mourning. Everything is gray, the animated conversations have become murmurs and, even if they hide it very well, fear pervades the corridors. The academic staff have told everyone that there is nothing to fear and no reason to, but how could they not fear a brutal murder on campus? The image of the man in their memories, haunting some dreams, meanwhile seems to be the entertainment of others who can't stop talking about it as if it were a kind of gossip. Young people are stupid, that's what Y/N thinks as she goes along her usual route, trying not to stare for too long at certain groups that gather on corners, enthusiastic whispers and cunning words, dozens of theories being born. No one really knew Jareth Redd apart from the fact that the name was on the staff and his visits, which could easily go unnoticed among the suited men who administer the university. She... she remembers the yellowed and pointed teeth showing in a smile not warm at all, almost sickly from how forced it was, the eyes that lingered too long and the soft speech that could engage anyone. And she doesn't like to talk or even think about him. That's why she's silent while friends chatter away, trying to keep her mind off other things like new classes or the fact that it hasn't stopped raining, two days and three nights in a row, the puddles are piling up at the exits, there's no umbrella to withstand the gale and at the same time there are a dozen reporters surrounding every gate. It's annoying how they insist on asking questions that no one has answers to and when don't get what they want, induce those answers, distorting phrases to make headlines in the local newspaper, main posts on websites and bloggers too. After days, they're still seen standing on the other side of buildings, trying to take photos or at least catch a glimpse, it's hard to have a big news story like this in hand in a considerably small town. A promising opportunity.

"I heard he had a mistress and the wife ordered his death..." Wanda whispers to friends, there had been several rumors spreading in her previous classes "And the mistress is a university student, from here."

"He wasn't married." Y/N comments without thinking, immediately dismissing another created story, although she knows that if he were married it would probably be true "There was no ring on his finger." she tries to take some of the attention off herself when realizes that the group is staring with curiosity.

"You're very observant, darling." Darcy compliments and smiles sweetly, approaching her who walks ahead faster than the others "Is everything all right?" she asks in a whisper, worried, since everything happened her friend has been quieter than normal, which isn't surprising considering how traumatizing seeing the scene had been.

"Hum, yeah... yeah... I'm just a bit distracted today. I still have a couple of classes to finish the day." she shrugged and sighed, feeling tiredness along with the sleepless nights take over her body "And you?"

"Just one more, how about we meet at the Planet later?"

"I'll come along!" the redhead says, just behind them, listening attentively "But I'll be late, our practice has been postponed until late afternoon."

"The debating club too." Monica says dejectedly, many classes have been canceled and events postponed "Maybe we won't go at all." she points at Jimmy, he agrees.

They quickly get back to chatting about trivial things, like celebrity affairs or how much they hate a specific professor; to Y/N's relief, Redd is no longer mentioned. However, the walk is long, too much for her taste, feeling exhaustion in every part of body. From neurons synapsing a millisecond slower to feet that don't seem to obey the mind screaming that at this rate she'll be late. A bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, illuminating the dim corridor and the noise makes all her hairs stand on end, like a dose of caffeine, it wakes her up almost immediately, senses heightened and eyes alert, suddenly there's a lot going on around. A bunch of architecture students, if she remembers correctly, walk past them, judgmental looks alongside curious stares, all pointed in one direction, Y/N. They don't even try to hide it. This irritates and embarrasses her at the same time, she has never particularly liked being the center of attention, since childhood preferred to be on the sidelines, just an observer and now, after letting instincts lead her to that scene, she has become the last thing wanted. She involuntarily stares back at them, until finally she loses sight, and swallows her saliva, realizing the consequences of that day. But she... needed to confirm what resembled one of the recurring nightmares she's had, the ones that still torment her in the middle of the night and make her feverish. All seems very surreal. The water running under feet, wet grass, red taking over green, white and gray, the statue she had never paid attention to appeared to express itself as it held him in arms, between pain and compassion for a loved one who was gone. Such irony, she thought to herself, smiling without noticing.

"Hey!" Wanda calls as she approaches, increasing speed to keep up with them "I have to do something before class, I might be late, could you save a seat for me?" and without giving a chance for an answer, the other girl takes off down the corridors, everyone there knows what she went to do and with whom, no one comments anything.

"Good luck with your new classes, I hope and pray I didn't scare you about SHE." the brunette whispers, feeling a bit guilty.

"Nah, I'll be fine." Y/N shrugged and winked at her "By the way, I don't want to be late, so I'm going. See you later!"

"See you..."

Without even trying to hear what her friend wants to say, she heads towards the stairs to the second floor, where the classroom is located. It's not as if she can pay attention to any real words or advice, it just goes in one ear and out the other, through the fog that her mind has fallen into. She's thankful that the floor is practically empty compared to the first, so she doesn't have to face the people staring at her or fill herself with questions about what the hell they must be thinking, away from judgmental, malicious and biased speculation. For God's sake, they don't even know her name and that doesn't prevent invented rumors from circulating in every part of the campus.

"I'm sorry, I was distracted..." she begins to explain immediately when feels herself hit another body, both almost fall to the ground due to the impact, but hold on to each other avoiding it, the younger raises face and, surprise, releases her, kept safe by the arms that continue to hold her by the waist firmly against herself, so close, face to face "You... I mean... Well, I, actually..." the words are jumble in the midst of so much nervousness, her throat dries up immediately and hands tremble.

"Watch where you're going next time." the woman says slightly annoyed and lets her go after making sure she can stand. Then straightens the coat she's wearing, fixes the glasses that slipped down the nose during the collision "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. And you?" she asks, nervousness evident in her voice. The woman, the same one who hugged and cried in her arms, is so different from how she remembers.

The eyes, previously swollen and darkened by pain, are a clear, soft blue, expressive and gentle, capable of seeing through any soul, from the purest to the most bruised, contradicting the indifferent expression on her delicate features. Long eyelashes frame them, accompanied by well-defined eyebrows, outlined nose and perfectly drawn mouth, a mature beauty that makes Y/N melt immediately. The air is stolen from her lungs and a sudden need arises to look minimally presentable, internally regretting her modest clothing, slightly disheveled hair and the miserableness of her appearance in general. A little embarrassed, she runs fingers through locks in an attempt to straighten them.

"More than fine." the brunette reacts indifferently and stares at her from head to toe, making the student even more tense "Now, if you don't mind." she mutters, checking the handbag before continuing to walk in the opposite direction, without a second glance.

The stranger's phantom touch makes her skin burn, a weird sensation begins to consume her, an emptiness that hits her straight in the chest. Y/N sighs in defeat, feeling the world trying to create a small conspiracy so that nothing is forgotten or, as she prefers, buried seven feet under next to his corpse. Very dead, waiting to be consumed by the worms, who, even though they are worms, are about to taste the dirtiest thing they've eaten in a short lifetime. The poison intrinsic in the cold and sickly flesh, time destroying it, just as it should with all the secrets and deeds in life. In the end, all she wants is for this person to disappear from existence, to leave her alone. No matter how much she's being pulled into the small loose parts of a complex puzzle, by which she means people and anything related, begging to be seen, she prefers to blind herself. Repeating, for the hundredth time in the week, that everything ended the minute a heart stopped beating.

"Right, right, everything's fine now." she murmurs, impatient for letting these thoughts, ideas and... some memories surface "Class! I have to be in class." quickly checks the room number on the timetable.

It takes her a while to find the correct number in the long corridor, among the various identifications that scramble in her blurry vision, sometimes she forgets how big the campus can be. From the high walls raised in raw brick to the statues molded by the hands of the graduates themselves, every detail drawn on Westview's timeline, the pride of the small town. The Mythology professor's auditorium lives up to this, rows of chairs down wide staircases, at least fifty empty seats, the walls are filled with paintings probably worth more than her life, along with dozens of historical decorations, at the end there is a stage that seems untouchable, so clear and organized, a large table in the center, behind it two shelves full of old books and a blackboard already scribbled on. The cursive letter written in impeccable calligraphy.

Heels tapping against the laminate floor attract attention and a figure emerges from the adjoining door, walking at a slow, glorious pace to the table, those thick-framed glasses stuck on the end of her nose as she seems to concentrate on reading the local paper.

"Are you going to continue staring at me or find a seat for yourself? Class starts soon." the woman, the same one from the fountain and the corridor, says loud and clear, sitting down without even looking up "And keep quiet."

Y/N just nods in shock and does as she's told, looking for one, having the privilege of choosing anyone since nobody but her has arrived yet, ending up somewhere in the middle. And not a single student shows up for the next ten minutes. She begins to wonder if there will be any more or if a second thing has happened in the week to bring everyone together, doubt makes the atmosphere tense, not only because of her concern, also for the indifference she feels coming from the other woman. It's almost as if she despises the girl without even knowing her, which only reinforces what Darcy warned about earlier and makes her believe that she is, in fact, an executioner. How will the next lessons be if this is just a taste of what's to come? Not to mention the visible connection between her and the late chancellor. As the clock ticks down, the hope of having a partner in the battle for the first class is fading and, like a heroine on a winged horse, Wanda finally appears. The loud banging of the double door draws the attention of the only people there, which earns her a disapproving look, she doesn't mind.

"Honey, I'm home!" she jokes, taking a seat next to Y/N "Can you believe I couldn't find him anywhere? So I gave up wandering around campus like a silly cockroach. Did I miss anything?"

"Class hasn't even started."

"At this pace it won't, will it always be empty like this?" she whispers noticing the older woman's deadly stare now directed at them, the newspaper forgotten on the wooden surface "I wouldn't be surprised at her fame."

"I have very good hearing, Maximoff." the brunette says suddenly, standing up and showing off her elegant figure without a coat; no one noticed that she had taken it off, revealing a beautiful navy blue dress that clings to curves and accentuates all attributes "And you should know that my fame doesn't even come close to what it's really like being in my class."

At this point, Y/N doesn't even care anymore about the reputation of an executioner or how the hell she's going to deal with it for the rest of an entire semester, her eyes are fixed on the lines that outline the impeccable body and she can't help but admire her beauty. If she didn't have the slightest bit of self-control, surely she'd be drooling with reason. But she's certain to be blushing deeply and is grateful that the attention is on her friend.

"Well, you two are new, so I'll be kind enough to go over a few simple rules. First of all, time, anyone arriving after the agreed time won't be allowed in. I'm not going to waste my voice for nothing, so be quiet, pay attention and take notes. And, most importantly, no smartphones."

"But..." Wanda tries to protest only to be interrupted immediately, with no chance to say anything or assimilate indignation.

"That's all!" the professor takes two steps forward and stares at them for a moment, blue irises fixed on Y/N before returning to speak "Welcome to Cosmogonic Mythology! I am Miss Harkness, besides teaching I'm in charge of the history department..."

The words become garbled and the younger can't concentrate on the introduction to the subject, even though she knows all the difficult words need to be written down and some knowledge absorbed, nothing seems to enter her head. She is paralyzed, without reaction. It's really happening, there's no escape. At the same time as being enchanted by the professor, she is also frightened, fearing that she might read her soul and pull out the deepest secrets, because, like a magnet, they can't take their eyes off each other.

taglist: @tryingmybest233333 @wastdstime @scarr0713 @dvrkhcld @heidss @xvyzxx @minszhuo @quailbagutte @imaginesmultifandoms @ctrlamira @milffilm @taurus-baby-34 @Starbucks-06 @Willow_Nox @grandtacoranchnickel @multifandomlesbianic @louderfortheback @h-doodles @moonzbluz @peggy082023 @willowshadenox

Join my taglist here ^^

#agatha harkness x reader #fanfiction #agatha harkness #wandavision #simili

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pomrania · 8 months

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Okay, so I should write stuff about what I’m planning to do this month, for art. It’s not going to start today or tomorrow, but yeah.

First off, it’d be for mutuals and half-mutuals. “Half-mutual” is a term I came up with, because I didn’t know of any other term, and it just seemed to fit. It’s for when you follow my blog, and I follow your sideblog. (Or the other way around, but I don’t have sideblogs that people follow, so that wouldn’t apply to me.) I know there’s at least two different half-mutuals I have, one where I follow their cat blog and another where I follow their art blog; there may be more, even ones that are regularly active, but this is just off the top of my head.

I’m limiting it to mutuals and half-mutuals because I don’t think I could handle it unlimited; therefore, it logically follows that I think I CAN handle it with the given limitations. Which leads back into the perennial problem of people going “I don’t want to impose” or “I don’t want to give you extra work” or “I want other people to have a chance”. STOP WITH THAT.

Let’s take it in order. “I don’t want to impose.” If I’m asking you to give me something, and you give me the thing that I ask for, that is like, the exact opposite of “imposing”.

“I don’t want to give you extra work.” I’m not on salary. I’m not some minimum-wage employee getting paid the same amount regardless of how much I do or have to do. Heck, I’m not getting paid at ALL for this; it’s something I do because I WANT to do it. And if I feel like I can’t finish all of a thing in one day, you know what I do? I carry it over to the NEXT day.

“I want other people to have a chance.” This is actually a valid concern, but don’t worry, I have a system for dealing with that, and it’s worked very well in the past. Basically, you can only make a second (or third, fourth, etc) request once your first request has been done and posted; and that new request goes to the bottom of the list, like all new requests. I can explain it in more detail if needed -- either because you don’t get what I’m saying (totally possible) or because you don’t see how it solves the problem -- but it boils down to that the only way someone can monopolize stuff, is if nobody else makes a request.

If you keep following me, you’re prolly going to see the above stuff a LOT, as it keeps being a problem for every damn request-based art event I do. So like, just trust that I know what I’m doing, and I’m capable of making my own choices, and don’t try to make those choices for me.

Okay, rant over, what’s the other stuff I’ll need to talk about....

Subject matter. It’s “drawing pets as monsters”. Last year I got a lot of “vampire” requests, and I don’t know whether that’s because I put ‘vampire’ in the list of examples, or if people just really want to see their critters as vampires. I’d rather not, in general. Mostly because there’s only so many different ways to represent “vampire” and it can get boring after a while. I mean, I’m not OPPOSED to drawing critters as vampires, but I’d prefer that either a) it’s something you really want, as in “oh boy I can’t wait to see this critter as a vampire”, or b) you give me something more descriptive than just “vampire”; doesn’t have to be a vampire from a specific folklore or anything, “cute little vampire like you’d see on spoopy decorations” or “monstrous blood-sucker” would also work quite well for purposes.

Duration. Uhhh I have no idea; I think I’ll start with requests open for a week, and then see how that goes. And I’ll have to remember to put that in the post too; that it might be open for just a week, and it might end up as more than a week, I don’t know.

OH something else I need to make sure everyone knows, although I might not need to put it in the post itself. That once requests close, that does not mean that the EVENT closes; I’ll still be drawing requests that came in. This is something that people keep getting wrong and worrying about; is there a better way of phrasing it, that’ll be easily understood?

Also, my normal rules wrt the definition of “pet” will still apply; that is, a critter you have some type of connection to, past or present, and you can give me their name. The “name” thing is important because that’s what I do for file names, so without a name I can’t get past super-rough sketching (because I’m only going to put actual effort into a piece once I’ve saved it, which I can’t do without something to name the file, and I refuse to depart from my naming scheme).

#no fandom #not a reblog #personal

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aziraphales-library · 2 years

Note

Hi. Do you know any fics where Anathema and Newt and the them (maybe Shadwell and Madame Tracy too) are still part of the story? It could be slice of life or a new threat after the apocalypse or before, i don't really mind i just love to see that group interacting with the ineffable husbands. Thank you!

We have some recs featuring the apocalypse bunch here and here, or on our #found family tag. Here are a few more for the collection...

Springtime Tea, With... Nipples? by flatfelledyetstillundone (G)

It had all started because Anathema had insisted on having the Very Extended Family (as named by Anathema -- the rest were British enough to simply sigh and accept her American need to create a name for her fellow Nopocalypse participants) over for Spring Equinox to celebrate Springtime with her and Newt.

----

Or: In this Found Family, Shadwell is the reason no topic can stay on track. No teenagers were harmed in the making of this ridiculous conversation.

La Vie En Rose by daeodon (G)

A weddingfic in which Aziraphale and Crowley are both so nervous, Anathema plans weddings like a boss, Newt and the Them are so supportive bless them and Gabriel the Bastard Man gets what he deserves.

Christmas in Tadfield by SentientBentley (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley travel to Tadfield to spend Christmas with Anathema, Newt, and The Them. Crowley hasn’t let go of the suspicion that Hell could still be on his tail. Aziraphale is determined to have a good time. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

all i need, darling, is a life in your shape by deadgreeks (G)

After everything, Aziraphale and Crowley, by unspoken agreement, begin sharing their lives. --- Why? Aziraphale wanted to ask him, why millennia of the way things were, and now this?

But while Crowley seemed to have little issue upending every unspoken rule they’d ever written for themselves, Aziraphale was not so flexible, and they had spent thousands of years never quite addressing whatever it was this had stemmed from. Words, Aziraphale had always felt, were for bickering about where to eat for lunch, or hashing out ontological debates, or other trivial nonsense; there was no need to trifle with the imprecision of language, with phrasing and the possibility of being misconstrued, when it came to important matters if the other person simply understood, without needing it said. Six thousand years ago, when Aziraphale had met Crowley on the wall of Eden, watching the first two humans set out to begin the rest of history, something deep within him, more central even than his Grace, had thought, oh, it’s you, and that had been enough for him--for both of them, he assumed--for three millennia.

However much he wanted to ask, he didn’t know how. The words simply weren’t there.

My Dearest Warlock by Sassyandsarcastic15 (T)

Biological family doesn't always mean everything. Biological family can hurt you, break you, mock you, or leave you. Blood doesn't always mean everything. True family isn't defined by blood, but rather by true love that can never be taken or forsaken.

Warlock Dowling was more than happy to receive the news that Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis are willing to take him and raise him as their own. Although, he did receive a rather large shock upon learning the identity of his former nanny and gardener. But that doesn't really matter, all that matters is that Warlock has the family he always wanted.

With adventures that only God could have though up and romances that have been boiling for centuries, the small little town of Tadfield is in for an awakening that no one expected. And sometimes, the unplanned things are the best.

Here Be Monsters by Zeckarin (T)

The Archangels have been punished for trying to destroy Aziraphale: stripped of their powers for five years, they will have to live like humans on Earth. Sandalphon is very not happy about it. But how to take revenge on the Principality when he has been ordered to leave him alone? Easy: Aziraphale is very close to Hell's traitor. And destroying demons is an Archangel's duty, right?

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #found family #anathema device #newton pulsifer #the them #warlock dowling #mod d #apocalypse buddies

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asterjennifer · 2 years

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Mystictober 2022 | Day 8 - Favorite Antagonist

Summary: What's her fault? How far did it reach to claim her as the bad guy?

She's debating it all with herself.

─────◇◇◇★◇◇◇─────

There's only one thing to evolve around. She couldn't let herself be seen in any critical situation if she'd like to keep her people calm and above all; obedient. Or at least that's what outsider would phrase it like.

Sometimes she sat on the chair in her room, trying to brush the static out of her bright blonde hair which never seemed to find their satisfaction as the curls did whatever they wanted. In such rare occasions she's nobody but a woman dealing with everyday life struggles.

It's almost smoothing; to think she's not very much different from the other woman all around the world. She's just harder in her assertiveness, not that she's blaming the fears of others who weren't able to cope the same way she did.

Eventually everyone endured their breaking point to move onward into disdainfully methods. Or what's classified as such by hypnotical social rules, it made her blood boil whenever she thought about their double standards.

It's outrageous, to say at least. If there's anything for her to predict in absurd anticipation; then it's the fall of the outside system by how self-centered everyone acted without considering both the environment and their fellow human beings.

Whose world was it? The one of the narcissist, the survives or the entire ecosystem? Asking that question alone sounded ridiculous, it reciprocated with arrogance most of the time. The worst.

She sighed as she leaned closer into the mirror; trying to get her appearance done the way everyone's used to, she despised the red eyes coming to life only because she couldn't help the tears earlier. It's a hideous sight for herself, yet she had no intentions cleaning it all up.

People perhaps weren't allowed to acknowledge she's weak or heaven forbidden, even weaker than the rest, but she had nothing left for covering the humanity inside her veins. A God might not cry; she's just not that. She's a Savior and although they're better than the rest of the world, she felt they are still human.

It's beyond understanding of most what exactly she's supposed to represent, considering whenever she asked someone to specify it, they called her the Savior.

Not wrong in theory; but going further to explain what exactly that meant for her power and entire being, it's often disappointing getting a confused stare in return. She's not judging because there were days she couldn't tell herself.

A longing desire to be perfect's what made others see her as whatever they lacked and if she'd been honest; at times it's better not knowing what that missing piece might be.

She simply accepted to make them feel more secure in this horrible world, there's no need prying and come across as repelled when trying to archive the opposite result. All she had to do was keeping the mask alive.

Having her wonder who the villain was at the end of the day. She, for her extreme routines of scaring the loved into happiness or the outside world for pushing her, much like all the other, over the edge to go that far in the first place.

The knock at her door didn't surprise her in the slightest. “Enter, Saeran.”

After the door's pushed silently, her faithful Believer found her green eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He looked drained; tired due to the never ending hours of work. Regardless, he bowed in his polite manner while his rough voice filled the room.

“My Savior,” She could tell he took elixir moments ago. “The report for the last week is finished up. The other Believers are waiting in the hall.”

It strung in her chest for about a millisecond before she responded with a little smile. “Thank you, Saeran. I will be present in two minutes, go and tell them.” With that, he nodded.

She watched him leaving and found her own eyes in the mirror again. Something about him had changed over their years together; although she must've changed in some sense too. Even if she couldn't tell in which.

Either way, her people needed her guidance. She stood up and put the mask onto her face to complete the look. A little bit of privacy's like closure in such moments.

Therefore she put it right with one last gaze into the mirror. Her old friends would presumably believe she's in the wrong by how well she knew them. It's another world and with that; a piece of the past. She didn't have to think about their thoughts, as she had to focus on thousand others.

In here she's the Savior and one day she would prove she wasn't wrong; that the world was the true antagonist of every story in existence.

#mm mystictober2022 #mm_mystictober2022 #mystic messenger #mm #rika #mm rika #mystic messenger rika #savior #saeran choi #saeran #mystic messenger saeran #angst #ff #au

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abbacchiosbelt · 3 years

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Someone Great | Yandere!Satoru Gojo x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k.

CW: Manipulation, yandere behavior, kidnapping. SFW but allusions to not sfw acts.

"What's wrong, sugar?"

Gojo's sing-song voice makes you cringe - he knows what's wrong. It's just like him to play the fool, to pretend that he was innocent in all of this and that you were the one with the problem. You glare at him and he holds his hands up, the grin on his face never faltering.

"You know I'm just doing this to keep you safe. How many times do I have to tell you—"

You cut him off, repeating the phrase he had attempted to drill into your head back to him. "You're the strongest. No need to tell me again."

Gojo shrugs, unbothered. "I'm the strongest." You roll your eyes at his need to repeat what you'd just said, the words only meant to stroke his out-of-control ego. Gojo plops down where you're tied up on his couch, snaking an arm around your shoulder. Even if you pulled away, there would be no escape from him. Some bullshit jujutsu sorcery kept you bound to your current spot, unable to move. Gojo squeezes your shoulders with his broad arm, making you wince. "C'mon, at least look at me. You know I love you."

Anyone else in the world would be lucky to see Gojo's eyes and hear those words from him - you'd felt lucky once, too. But that was before Gojo took an interest in you, before he took control of your life.

"Baby," he sighs, pressing a peck to your cheek. "You've gotta get used to this. You can't keep fighting me forever. I know you love me too."

"It's been a week," you spit. "A week since you trapped me here."

"And haven't I treated you well?" Gojo replies, calm.

"I would never hurt you. You'll realize one day that this is what's best for you."

There was a distinct divide in the world you lived in - there were civilians, and there were Jujutsu Sorcerers. With the sorcerers came curses, although the average civilian wasn't meant to be aware of curses or what they entailed. You, however, had become a frequent flyer when it came to needing the help of Jujutsu Sorcerers.

When you were born, a curse attached itself to your back. Later, you'd learn that there was a man in the hospital room with your parents meant to dispatch the very thing that had attached itself to your back. You were only 5 when your grandmother had told you about the family curse - each child born in your family was cursed upon birth. It had been happening for centuries. Allegedly, one of your ancestors had done something to anger an obscenely powerful curse. Your life would be filled with troublesome events, she'd said. But it wasn't all bad. There were people in this world who could dispatch such curses. They could see them, unlike you or your family. Your life wouldn't be easy, but it wasn't over before it began.

It wasn't easy. People tended to avoid you, even when you were young and innocent. It was hard to make friends, and most of the interaction you got aside from your family involved the sorcerers dispatched to take care of the ever-returning curse on your back. They were kind to you, but they were always distant. You did the best you could, hoping that one day someone would be able to see past the gloomy aura that followed you around.

That someone came in the form of one Satoru Gojo, dispatched to dispel your curse when you were in your mid-twenties. You had recently moved and registered with the local technical college. By now, it wasn't a big deal to you to tell people about your curse, especially to jujutsu sorcerers. They always were a bit odd, and though you had never grown close to any of the sorcerers who had serviced you, their presence was more calming than the presence of your peers.

Gojo had been sent to your home, the technical college hoping to ease your burden (and unknown to you, hoping to offload Gojo for just a couple of hours) by not making you take the train. His arrival was like no other jujutsu sorcerer you had met - he'd barged in your house without knocking, a broad smile on his face and stylish sunglasses covering his eyes.

The shriek you made at his surprise intrusion was undignified, but the white-haired sorcerer didn't seem bothered. He had laughed and rubbed the back of his head. "Aah, sorry. I thought this was an urgent deal." He raises his eyebrows as he watches your lips contort into a frown. "I'll knock next time."

"You'd better," you mumble, and Gojo smiles.

"Or else?" He quips, taking a step towards you. You didn't even know this man, and he was acting like this? This is who the technical college had sent over?

"I'll request someone else." You respond, curt. He laughs, loud and jovial. What was with this man?

"They didn't tell you about me, then?" He crosses the distance between the two of you and sticks his hand out, tongue poking out of his mouth. You take his hand, dubious, and he shakes it with vigor. "I'm Satoru Goju, and I'm the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer."

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. He really had an ego on him. He takes your silence in stride, still smiling. "I know. You don't meet people like me every day. But trust me, I'm here to help you. Don't you feel better knowing that I'm here?"

As much as you wanted to tell him no, that he's a certified, over-bearing maniac who just barged into your house... You can't help but bask in the comforting aura he emits. Something about him, despite his manic personality, felt safe. The air in the room felt calming—

Gojo notices your sudden shift in behavior and tilts his head, still smiling "When we shook hands. No need to worry about it coming back for a while."

"Oh," you reply, amazed. It didn't take the other sorcerers long to dispel the curse on your back, but it usually was a bit of an affair. Satoru Gojo had gotten rid of the damn thing without needing to lift his pinky finger. "Well... Thanks." You shift from side to side, suddenly feeling small in his presence. Maybe he really was the strongest.

Gojo puts his hands in his pockets and leans back, relaxed. "If you really want to thank me, let's go into town. I'm starved."

The awe you felt immediately dissipates and turns back into annoyance. Sure, he had done you a great favor, but it was part of a contract you had with the college. Now he wanted food? Still... You couldn't deny that you were curious about him, even if he was managing to press all your buttons upon your very first meeting. You sigh, resigned to the fact that you knew you would regret it if you didn't take him up on his offer.

"Fine. Let me grab my bag." Gojo claps his hands together at your response, humming contentedly.

"Great! I have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I hope you're okay with sweets for lunch..."

Gojo goes on and on about his favorites while you grab your bag, fighting with yourself not to roll your eyes at him. What had the college gotten you into?

II.

As time passes and Gojo visits you to remove your clingy curse, the two of you grow closer. It's slow, at first. He gloms onto the fact that he annoys you and revels in it, smiling with glee every time you roll your eyes at him. At one point, he removes his shades when he arrives and teases you about the expression on your face for the rest of the day. It's like he can read your mind - you want to kick yourself for being so obvious, but it's impossible with someone like Gojo around. No matter what he does or how much he makes your blood boil, the calming aura surrounding him never falters. You feel at home around him. When you start to feel something tugging at your heart whenever he's around, you know you're at the point of no return.

You don't expect anything, though. Gojo is beyond your level - it's not a judgment of yourself, but simply a fact of life. Besides, Jujutsu Sorcerers were hesitant to get in relationships with civilians from what you'd learned over the years. You couldn't blame them, as their line of duty would put their partner in harm's way. The least they could do was be with another sorcerer who was able to defend themselves.

It comes to a head one evening when Gojo had stopped by unannounced. You weren't due for another curse removal, but you didn't mind his company. You had answered the door in your pajamas, not expecting anyone other than perhaps a neighbor wanting to ask you a question. Instead, you opened the door to see Gojo standing there dressed to the nines and holding a gigantic bag from the sweets store you and he frequented.

"U-uh." You stammer, feeling at a loss for words. "Gojo?"

He shifts from side to side, and you catch the tiniest hint of nervousness from him. Odd. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by. I know you're curse-free right now, but I always want to check on you."

You balk at how smoothly he'd confessed, ushering him in without saying another word. You weren't sure what to say - had Gojo really just said what you think he'd said? He always wanted to check on you? Surely he meant it platonically, there was no way he looked at you romantically.

Gojo sits down on your couch likes he owns it and pats the spot next to him. You sit down without thinking, watching Gojo carefully as he unloads the bag of sweets on the coffee table. He talks about the different sweets as he places them gently onto the table. His blindfold had been pushed up, revealing those sparkling blue eyes of his that made you feel like you could gaze at him forever.

"Are you even listening?" You snap your head towards Gojo, finding his lips just a breadth away from yours. He had moved closer, close enough so that you could feel the warmth of his body, and you had been too distracted by your thoughts about him to notice the very real physicality of him.

"Gojo," you mumble, He pulls back a little and simply gazes into your eyes, waiting for you to continue. For a man who always talked, he was being rather quiet right now. "Why did you come here?"

Gojo smiles, soft - it's a look you haven't seen on him before. "Why else?" He leans towards you, oh-so-close again. "I can't stay away from you."

Whatever self-control you had is gone, and you lean forward to press your lips against his. He responded immediately, using one of his broad hands to cup your face as he deepens the kiss. The tension between the two of you is palpable, and the heat flooding through your veins is telling you more, more, more—

But just like that, he pulls away, sighing.

"Gojo?" You ask, concerned. Was it you? He looks at you, the longing in his eyes obvious.

"You know you can call me Satoru," He says, playful. But a second later, his face falls into a serious expression again. "I want this. I want you." He turns to face you, sliding one of his hands onto your thigh. "But this isn't what jujutsu sorcerers do. The danger you would be in if we were together... I can't put you through that."

As much as you want to argue, you know he's telling you the truth. You place a hand atop his. "Satoru, then. I think it's obvious I want this too." He smiles and gives your thigh a tiny squeeze. "I won't force you to do something you're not comfortable with. But, you'll still be my friend, won't you?"

Gojo chuckles, but there's no mirth in his laugh. "Who else would annoy you? Ah... I could never be without you, either." He turns away from you and stares into the distance, closing his eyes. "Maybe..." He shakes his head suddenly and turns back towards you.

"I should go." He bites his lip, staring at you. "Or maybe... just once. We could be together."

Oh. Oh.

"I'd love to, Satoru."

III.

Once turns into twice, and twice turns into three times. Gojo departs after cleaning your sheets and making you breakfast, ignoring your pleas that he didn't have to do any of that. 'It's the least I can do,' he'd said, smiling all the while. It had felt off, though - like there was something unsaid. You'd chalked it off to melancholy over the fact that things could go no further, and had spent the rest of the day busying yourself with chores.

The visits continue, though, even when you don't have a curse that needs expelling. Things don't make it to the bedroom again, but Gojo is intense. His eyes are always on you, and he's practically plastered to your side. When you go out he keeps his distance, but he's always on alert. He takes your hand when he knows no one is looking and sneaks kisses to the top of your head in private. You accept it, knowing that this is how things have to be.

It concerns you when suddenly, Gojo starts to appear at your apartment every day. You'd thought about giving him a key, but you couldn't remember if you had or not - yet he had a key, and he'd told you that you'd very much given it to him. Perhaps it was the curse muddling with your memory, he'd suggested. It had happened before.

It's fine, then. He's just looking out for you - it's the best he can do in the current situation. Gojo starts to spend the night, walking around your apartment at inane hours to make sure things were okay. When you're sleeping, he checks your phone (he'd watched you put in the password) and your calendar. He deletes texts from people he doesn't approve of and removes calendar dates when they interfere with his schedule. It's all to keep you safe, of course. You are the most important thing in the world to him.

You're blissfully unaware of this, writing off any strange incidents happening to you simply because of the curse that clung to your back. Even when it wasn't present, it still appeared to meddle in your life. As long as Gojo was there, though, you felt safe.

You never expect Gojo to be the one who makes you feel unsafe.

IV.

A particularly busy week at work left you unable to see Gojo for longer than usual - you were working, and he was out of the country on official business. You couldn't answer his calls or texts like usual, only replying every once and a while when you had the chance.

When Gojo returned, he was angry. You'd never seen him angry before, yet here he stood in front of you, eyebrows furrowed as he lectured you about answering his texts. It was unusual, and it felt wrong. You weren't dating him. You were just friends. That had been established by Gojo himself, so why was he acting like this?

"Satoru, you're not my boyfriend. You don't need to keep track of me every second. Even if we were dating, it'd still be too much."

He grits his teeth at that, clearly not impressed. "Don't you understand how much you mean to me? I can't stand it when I'm not with you."

You give him a pointed look. "This is... too much. I don't like it when you act like this." As much as you cared about him, this was ridiculous. He wasn't your keeper. You think of the threat you made the first day you met him. "I can request someone else to dispel my curse." He glares at you. "We'll still be friends. We just need some time apart."

"You don't get it." Gojo scolds. "I didn't want to do this, but I can't take it any longer. You can't take care of yourself. I need to protect you." He's on you faster than you can blink, and the last thing you see before your vision goes black is his angry expression softening back into bliss. "Just go to sleep. We'll be home soon."

When you wake up, you're in a strange room with no windows. It's pitch black, but whatever you're laying on is heavenly. It's plush, and it smells like Gojo— Gojo. You panic, sitting up in a hurry and rushing towards the door. Locked. You shake the handle and pound on the door, confused and terrified. "Satoru? Are you there?" You yell, panic in your throat. "Please, let's talk! Please, Satoru!"

The door swings open and you fall back, gazing up at the towering figure before you. Gojo had never intimidated you, but the way he stood above you now was terrifying.

"How are you feeling, sugar? I hope that didn't hurt." He steps into the room and flicks on the light switch, alighting the room with a soft blue glow. He crouches in front of you and pushes his blindfold up, a manic smile crossing his lips. "I love you. I want to keep you safe. This is the best solution," Gojo says. "It's the easiest solution."

"W-what?" You're baffled by his words, by his behavior. What had he done? "Satoru, this isn't... This isn't normal. You have to let me out of here." You pause, trying to think of something to push him towards your favor. "We can figure our relationship out. I-I didn't mean what I said about requesting someone new, I just got scared."

"And I don't want you to be scared of anything," Gojo says, giving your head a condescending pat. "You won't be as long as you're here with me."

You grunt, frustrated. He was the reason you were scared! "I can't stay here forever. You won't do this to me."

"I will." Gojo tilts his head. "I told you, I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Tears well in your eyes - what else could you say or do? Nothing was getting through to him. Gojo notices the tears brimming in your eyes and leans forward, wrapping his arms around you. What once felt comforting feels suffocating, the warmth of his body and the familiar scent of him all too much.

"This is what's best for you. I promise."

#jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere #yandere satoru gojo #manipulation cw #kidnapping cw #my writing #jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo

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bestiesenpai · 3 years

Text

ashnikko demidevil inspired blurbs

I just took lines from ashnikkos demidevil album and made little blurbs with whatever gave me inspo :) femme reader sometimes gender neutral in some spots, everyone is 18+

Content warnings: yandere-ness, stalking, mentions of heat(but not a/b/o), dubcon, master title(?), light angst? But it’s well deserved, blood

I don’t need a man I need a puppy, allergic to you every time you touch me -

Babysitting your friend's new puppy hybrid wasn’t a task you’d originally wanted. She had gotten him fairly recently, only to jet away to an impromptu vacation, leaving you the sole caretaker of the very large hybrid.

The only problem was you were allergic to dogs. Nothing terrible, but if he stayed around you too long, you’d start to get hives. And he understood that, politely keeping his distance as he roamed around your home.

“Getou, I’m home!” You announced after a long day of work, throwing open the front door only to be assaulted by a harsh musk in the air.

“Master!” Within moments of you kicking the door closed you were pounced on by the giant puppy that had been staying with you for a while. Your back hit the door hard but that wasn’t what you were focused on.

“G-Getou! What’re you doing?!” Your face was aflame not only from embarrassment but from the strong waves of heat rolling off his body. Getou had slid to his knees on the floor and shamelessly shoved his face into the crotch of your pants, his nose bumping right at your slit through your clothes.

“Master please...help…” He whined pitifully, rutting his hips against your leg. It was almost comical, the way he was hunched over you trying desperately to get stimulation to his leaking cock dangling between his legs.

Muddling through the murky memories of what your friend had told you about Getou, it took a few minutes to remember that she had mentioned something about him possibly going into heat.

“Are you…” It only took a glance down at his sweaty body covered only in a t-shirt to affirm that he was indeed in heat. He whined again, nearly sobbing as the harsh material of your bottoms rubbed against his sensitive cock. “What do I need to do?” The question made Getou’s head fly up, and the usual smirk on his face was gone, replaced with glassy eyes and quivering lips.

“I-I know you don’t like dogs but- but could you please just touch me?” Rubbing his face against your hip, Getou looked at you again. His hair and the fur on his ears was frizzy no doubt from sweat and his lips looked like he’d been biting them.

“Scoot back, puppy.” Placing a hand on his forehead, you gently pushed him back. The heat on Getou’s face was scalding, washing over him in a bright blush. Begrudgingly letting you go, Getou sat back on his knees, shoulders hunched but still managing to take up a good amount of space.

“Please help.” Balling up the edges of his shirt, Getou tucked the fabric under his chin and presented himself to you. His skin had a pale red flush, chest heaving and abs tight from trying to contain himself. Your eyes were drawn to his cock, leaking a generous amount of precum down the thick shaft.

“Puppy.” You said the word softly, and a warmth settled between your legs at seeing him look at you from under his lashes. The intense pheromones in the air were triggering your allergies and there was only one surefire way of getting rid of them.

“Master!” Getou choked out as another gush of precum rolled down his cock and his tail thumped against the ground as he writhed a little in agony. “Hurry, please!”

“Let’s go to the bedroom, puppy, it’ll be easier to help you there.” You’d thought about taking him to the couch, but the bed would be more comfortable in the long run.

And you didn’t need to utter the phrase twice. Getou leaped from the ground, his long tail swishing excitedly as he grabbed your wrist and ran to the bedroom. Pushing you onto the bed, he stripped himself in an instant.

“I-I’ll try not to be too rough, master.” He mumbled, climbing over you just as you’d started shrugging off your jacket. Nearly crushed by his entire body weight, Getou made sure to slide his cock right against your clothed cunt, rutting hard against you as soon as he could. “Unless you want it like that.”

I don’t need a man I need a rabbit, I need a new toy just to cleanse my palate -

Get a bunny hybrid, they said. It’ll be fun, they insisted. Bunnies are so cute and nice, they repeated over and over. Well yours surely wasn’t.

“Gojo! Get over here!” You were at your boiling point. All day Gojo had been causing mischief, leaving food out, popping out from behind corners and furniture and scaring you, pulling on your hair and clothes, asking never ending questions.

“Yes?” The lanky bunny hybrid with long white ears waltzed into the kitchen, not wearing his trademark dark glasses and leaving his bright blue eyes on display.

“What the fuck is this?” Glaring harshly at him, you pointed to the floury mess smeared on the kitchen counters and wall. It looked like he’d attempted to make some kind of dough but had given up halfway.

“Wasn’t me.” Gojo shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Then who could it be, because it wasn’t me and we’re the only ones here.” Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you glowered at his careless expression and slouched body. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here presented with the mess he’d undoubtedly made.

“Dunno.” He shrugged again, scratching behind his ear and avoiding eye contact with you.

“Gojo, clean it up.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath.

“I didn’t do it!” Stamping his feet, Gojo shook his head and his ears flopped side to side.

“I’m not playing these games anymore! Just do what I ask for once!” It was a constant back and forth with the two of you, and while you had plenty of sweet moments to outweigh the bad, sometimes it wasn’t enough.

“(Y/N), c’mon!” Gojo whined and threw his head back. Staring at each other for a few minutes, your blood pressure only rose the longer he remained immobile.

“One.” You drew the word out, and Gojo’s head snapped to attention. Waiting a breath, he didn’t move any further.

“Two.” Saying it even slower this time, you could just barely see the twitch of his little puffball tail.

“Th-”

“Alright, I’ll clean it up!” Shooting over to the counter, Gojo huffed and puffed. “Even though it totally wasn’t me.”

“Whatever, the kitchen better be sparkling before I go to sleep.” Leaving the mess behind, you avoided Gojo for the rest of the day and didn’t see him as you got ready for bed. Checking the kitchen one last time, it was indeed back in pristine condition.

Going to sleep without saying goodnight to the pouty bunny you’d seen sulking in his room, you went to sleep alone. More often than not Gojo would sleep in bed with you, but whenever the two of you were snippy with each other he would sleep alone.

A hot, wet tongue between your legs roused you from sleep. You were absolutely sweating beneath the blankets that were drawn up to your chin and there was a Gojo sized lump underneath them.

“G-gojo…” Breathing deeply to try and push the sleepy fog from your mind, his name ended in a high whine as his tongue flicked against your clit. Wrapping his lips around it, Gojo sucked on the bud, keeping your legs spread out across his shoulders.

He got you to cum fairly quickly, having aroused you enough in sleep that when you awoke you were already on the brink. Squeezing his head between your thighs as you came on his tongue, you shuddered at the deep groan he let out.

“Ya know (Y/N),” He started, voice muffled by the blankets before he threw them off and sat up, “I’ve been thinkin’.” Settling between your legs, Gojo kept your ankles on his shoulders as he leaned over.

“Ab-about what?” Your mind was dizzy with pleasure, eyes only just able to focus on Gojo’s face above you. Even though this was the first time you two were doing something like this it still felt natural. Something you’d have to talk about in the morning, but natural nonetheless.

“You’re always so fucking snippy all the time-”

“Hey!”

“I wasn’t finished! You’re snippy all the time and you always get on my back for the stupidest shit.” He giggled at the glare you gave him, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. “But I’ve found the perfect solution to that!”

There wasn’t a chance to question him on what he meant. Gojo lined up his cock and pushed into your cunt, easily sliding in and bottoming out in one go. You hadn’t gotten a chance to look at it properly, but you knew it was easily the biggest you’d ever had.

“This is your solution?” You half panted, wrapping your arms around Gojo’s shoulders and whimpering as the tip of his cock hit your cervix.

“Yeah.” He was breathless as well, biting his lip as he slowly pulled out and lightly slapped his hips against yours. “I figure what better way to change your attitude than to fuck it out of you.” Grabbing onto your ankles, Gojo leaned nearly chest to chest with you.

His forehead brushed against yours, his snowy white hair tickling you. He did a few experimental half thrusts, getting the feel for the angle he was in and making any minor adjustments.

“And luckily for you, (Y/N), I’m a rabbit.” Immediately, Gojo picked up the pace of his hips, jackhammering into you at an insane speed and quite possibly bruising your hips in the process.

“Gojo!” Your voice caught in your throat at the sudden change, your body being folded in half and crushed into the mattress.

Gojo smirked at your shocked expression, dropping one hand to rub your clit. You let out a sharp cry, jolts of pleasure shooting up your spine. Your walls clamped down on him in an instant, making the drag of his cock just a fraction slower.

“I can go all night if I have to.”

Make your man call me daddy -

Was Itadori a little nervous? That went without saying, yes, he was very nervous. This was the first time he’d worn lingerie in public, hidden under his clothes but with the possibility of someone seeing if he bent over the wrong way.

He kept tugging down his hoodie and pulling up his pants, making sure no one saw the lacy thong he’d put on. He had on a bra as well, a lacy little number that was truly just a few tiny pieces of fabric sewn together.

Not to mention the prostate massager currently buried snugly in his ass, vibrating at random with varying intensities. Itadori almost regretted purchasing it as another powerful vibration went through him and nearly made him fall over in the street. But he didn’t want to let you down, so he endured the torture.

“I’m back.” Practically crawling through the threshold of the door, Itadori was nearly in tears at being back in the safety of your shared apartment. He had barely managed to complete all the tasks you’d given him, the little white plastic bag in his fingers crumpled to death with how strong his grip was.

“In here.” You called out from the bedroom and Itadori followed the sound until he got to you. Lounging at the foot of the bed, you looked nearly innocent with your legs crossed and foot swinging daintily.

Itadori didn’t speak as he entered the room, hovering by the doorway for a moment before fully entering and standing in front of you, head down and looking at your sock clad feet.

“How was it, baby?” Your question made him flinch and a hot burning washed over his face.

“I- it was- something.” He sighed, glancing up to see your quizzical expression for a fleeting moment.

“Did you keep it on like I told you to?”

“Of course!” Itadori nodded immediately, already grasping the hem of his hoodie and pulling it off to reveal the bra underneath, the fabric stretched tight against the barrel of his chest.

“Look at your nipples, they’re so cute.” You cooed, reaching up to press your finger onto one. It was perfectly perky, pebbled from the stimulation of rubbing against lace. Itadori shivered and leaned into your touch, biting his lip to stem any too loud moans.

Taking your hand away, your eyes flicked down to his pants and he quickly removed those as well.

“Oh baby, you shoulda told me you came! You made such a big mess!” It wasn’t surprising in the slightest to see the absolute mess of sticky cum smeared across Itadori’s cock, the thong he had on and his thighs.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want the fun to end.” He pouted, fully kicking off his pants and tossing them to the side with his hoodie.

“I bet the toy felt real nice, huh?” Sparing him a lecture, you reached out and swiped your finger through the cum coating the tip of Itadoris cock. He jolted at the contact, letting out a high whine and pressing his thighs together.

“Y-yeah, it did.” He managed to answer, somehow staying steady on his feet through the near overstimulation he was in. Gathering a bit of cum on your fingers, you presented it to him and Itadori obediently bent down, taking them in his mouth and sucking them clean.

“Good boy.” You grinned, running your free hand through his hair and letting him nuzzle into you. “Go pick out which toy you want next, you deserve a reward.” Freeing your fingers, Itadori bolted to the dresser drawer where you kept the toys.

“I choose this one.” In his hands was his favorite toy, a strap-on you’d bought together at a local sex shop.

“Alright, lay on the bed.” Taking the toy from him, you watched him lay down just like you’d taught him: face down in the pillows with his ass presented high in the air. Running a hand over his ass, you smiled down at him. “You’re being such a good boy today, baby.”

“Thank you.” Itadori replied, mouth muffled by the pillows as he tried to make eye contact with you. Quirking your head to the side, you gave him a silent look and he flushed, ears tinging a deep rouge. Licking his lips, Itadori looked away for a moment before shuffling a bit to make better eye contact with you. “Thank you, daddy.”

You don’t ever cross my mind, what’s a sheep to a tiger? -

It was laughable that he thought he was being so secretive, like you couldn’t tell you were being stalked when all you could feel were his eyes watching you at all times.

You’d already changed the locks after you caught him following you home.

Your curtains were always drawn closed, but that didn’t stop him from lurking outside, his shadow a constant presence outside your bedroom and bathroom windows.

You couldn’t even count the amount of unknown phone numbers you’d had to block in the past month alone along with deleting voicemails that only had slightly shaky breathing on the other side.

As far as stalkers went, Okkotsu Yuta wasn’t that great. You’d only briefly met him once at a meeting with other sorcerers and he had appeared weak and spineless before you, barely able to make eye contact despite his vast power.

“Fuck, you again?” You groan, seeing Yuta waiting by your door as you waltzed back from a run to the convenience store.

“H-hello.” His voice is just as meek as ever. You’ve seen him be confident and assured before when he didn’t know you were in the room, but as soon as he saw you it was like he became a totally different person and lost even the will to speak.

“Get a fucking job.” Not in the mood to entertain him, you slid closer to your front door. You weren’t scared about possibly having to get physical with him, you could surely hold your own against a grown man who actively stepped back as you got closer.

Worrying his lip and wringing his hands together, Yutas eyes darted everywhere, from the small plastic bag in your hand to your outfit and finally settling atop your head. His breathing was loud and unsteady and there was a light blush coating his cheeks.

“Are you just going to keep standing there like a loser?” Glaring at him, you sneered as his blush got deeper and there was a subtle squeeze in his thighs. “What do you even want? Gonna try to give me more flowers?”

“No.” Yuta answered immediately, the bitter memory of you stomping on the bouquet he bought you fresh in his mind.

“Then what? What does a little sheep like you want?” Crossing your arms, you tapped your foot impatiently.

“I-I just-” Blinking rapidly, there were a million thoughts going through Yutas head. He couldn’t find the words and his mouth was running dry. He nearly collapsed seeing you sigh and shake your head, about to fish out your keys and walk right past him. “W-wait!”

“What?”

“Do you- I just have to know, (Y/N), do you ever think about me like how I think about you?” Yuta looked so hopeful it was morphing into sick desperation in his features. His brows were knitted together so tightly that you knew there’d be lingering wrinkles there.

“Okkotsu.” Saying his name firmly and squaring your shoulders, you stared right into his eyes with a fierce look on your face. This was the first time you were ever making eye contact and to say it made you sick to your stomach was an understatement.

“Yes?” He whispered, licking his lips nervously.

“I have never thought about you in that way.” His smile fell as you spoke, and you could see his heart break behind his eyes. “In fact, any time I think of you I get sick. You disgust me.”

“Darling-”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t call me that.” You snapped, pushing him back as he tried to reach out and touch you. “Get the hell away from me and leave me alone, you’re pathetic and gross.”

“I love you! I love you so much, please!” Falling to his knees, Yuta reached his hands out to you, hoping you’d take them and soothe his soul from the pain you’d just inflicted.

“I’d rather be swallowed by a curse than have you as a lover.” The scornful look you sent Yuta made him physically wither away, flinching at the red hot anger brewing just beneath the surface. “Besides, I’m pretty sure people in love don’t stalk each other.”

“Darling...please…” There were tears dripping down his face that just made him look worse. Scoffing one last time at him, you shoved your key into the lock and swung open your front door.

“Okkotsu, if I ever see you in this neighborhood again, I’ll kill you myself. Rika be damned.” With those parting words, you slammed the door closed and locked it swiftly, immediately heading to the cabinet where you kept your alcohol. You surely needed a drink or three after dealing with the headache that was Okkotsu Yuta.

Just as you took the first sip, a ding sounded on your phone, an indication of a text.

“Oh brother.” Rolling your eyes, you already knew who it was from.

(Unknown number): I’ll never give up on you, I’ll love you until the very end

Blocked, deleted. Time for another drink.

I’m crazy but you like that -

Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do. Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do. Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do.

But why did it feel like the worst decision you’d ever made?

He was brash, controlling over every part of your life, demanding your undivided attention at all times. He claimed he only wanted what was best for you, but the final straw in your relationship came when you caught him installing a hidden camera in your bedroom. He was far too casual when he said the last one had broken.

So you had no choice but to break it off. Sukuna had taken it well at the time, calmly and silently grabbing the things he had over at your place and leaving with only a curt goodbye. And since then, you hadn’t seen him.

Emphasis being on seen.

His presence was still very much felt in your life. There was mail addressed to him showing up at your place. You’d get random unknown numbers calling you throughout the week, sometimes with voices you didn’t recognize trying to ask you questions and other times it was silent on the other line until whoever called hung up.

But all the strange occurrences were beginning to add up and it was starting to feel like Sukuna had never left in the first place. All the times you came home to a tidy front entryway when you knew you’d left in shambles before heading to work. The way your shower products seemed to diminish quicker even though you hadn’t changed your routine. And sometimes, you woke up in the middle of the night to a shadow just outside your window, darting away just before you could properly get up.

Changing the locks on your front door and adding locks on all the windows you could had given you much needed peace of mind. The strange things inside your house had stopped. There wasn’t anything you needed to purposefully ignore now. You could sit up a little straighter, breathe a little easier.

Waking up in the middle of the night to go pee, your mind was far away from reality. Thoughts of Sukuna were the last things on your mind, clouded with sleep and just ready to melt under the covers again.

Returning to your bedroom, however, you noticed a figure sitting on the bed that wasn’t there before. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was Sukuna. Floundering back against the wall, a scream caught in your throat.

“The bed’s getting cold, angel. Come lie back down.” Sukuna said, a deranged smile on his face. His eyes were wide, drinking in your shaking form wildly.

“W-what’re you doing here?” You whispered, clutching the doorframe as you stumbled to it.

“I had to see my baby, I’ve been missing you.” Breathing hard through his nose, Sukuna patted the bed. “Come here, lemme look at you. It’s been a while since we’ve been face to face.”

“N...no. No!” Shaking your head, your own pupils were blown wide in fear. You watched every miniscule movement Sukuna made, from his breathing to how his fingers twitched. “Get out of here before I call the cops!”

“Aw, call the cops? But, how will you do that? Your phone is broken.”

“What?” Following Sukunas pointing finger, you gasped when you saw your phone smashed to bits on the floor by his feet.

“Now c’mere.” Patting the bed a little harder, Sukuna’s smile wavered. “You know I don’t like asking twice.”

“Sukuna please- please just leave.” There were hot tears burning your lash line, begging to be blinked away, but you refused to close your eyes. The smile on Sukuna’s face fell and rose again rapidly as whatever thoughts he had swirled in his head.

“(Y/N), I don’t think you understand.” Laughing under his breath, Sukuna stood up and stalked over to you.

“Don’t touch me!” You finally screamed but it was too late to try and fight him off. Sukuna grabbed your upper arm tightly and dragged you away from the door and to the bed. “Let me go, Sukuna! You’re crazy!”

“Crazy? Ha!” He barked, flopping back onto the bed and forcing you to straddle his lap. Slapping a hand onto your ass, Sukuna grabbed your jaw and tilted your face toward him. “If being in love with you makes me crazy, then so be it.” Staring at your face, Sukuna had a softer smile now. It was still unsettling, especially close up, and the way his eyes barely blinked had you on edge. “But don’t pretend you don’t like it at least a little bit.”

Wanna see me switch, get psycho like they say I am-

Your new boyfriend Nanami said he was just a salaryman, and why wouldn’t you believe him? He wore freshly pressed business suits everyday, sometimes carried around a briefcase, had the usual 9 to 5 schedule and always grumbled if he ever had to work overtime. Occasionally he met you for lunch and there he’d demand to talk about anything other than the work he did.

He never gave you the impression that he was anything but that, anything other than what he said he was. Whenever the two of you went out on dates, he was either getting off work or wore long sleeves.

This was the first time you were going to go over to his place for a date. Your relationship was starting to progress more romantically and while he’d seen the outside of your home after dropping you off from a date, this was the first time either of you would be in such a closed intimate setting.

His apartment was in a much more luxurious building than you’d first imagined. There was a doorman that had let you in, someone waiting at the front desk and even the elevator was luxurious with rich dark wood.

“Nanami, I’m here!” You called as you approached the door. Raising your fist to knock, you were surprised to see it cracked open, and there were loud noises just inside. Taking a moment to see if anyone had noticed your announcement, you took a chance and pushed open the door.

The entryway was beautifully decorated with Nanami’s shoes lined up neatly by the door. Just looking at the hallway, you could tell he had hired someone to decorate for him.

“Nanami?” You called again, hovering by the door. Whatever sound was in the other room paused for a moment, only to resume again in a more fervent way. “H-hello?” Sneaking down the hall, you came to the entryway to the lounge room and nearly collapsed.

The bloody, unconscious body was what you noticed first, followed by the blood stains speckled about the hardwood floor and reaching the walls. You saw Nanami second, standing over the body in what was once a plain white t-shirt now stained crimson. Third were the tattoos crawling up his arms, rich blacks and reds embedded into his flesh.

“You’re here early. How’d you get in?” Nanami asked in his usual monotone voice, only slightly breathless as he looked you over. He seemed unfazed by your sudden appearance, happy even, a small smile ticking up on the side of his mouth.

“The- the door was open.” You didn’t know where to look. You couldn’t possibly look Nanami in the eye, not with the way he looked so calm while standing over a body you were pretty sure was going cold. There was dark blood on his hands, nearly mixing in with his tattoos.

“Silly me, must not have pushed it closed all the way.” Chuckling to himself, Nanami straightened up and stepped over the body, taking a few steps over to you only to stop when he saw you scurry back. “(Y/N), don’t act like that.” He sighed like he was talking to a child.

“Tell me what’s going on.” You said, voice shaking more than you would have liked.

“Just doing a bit of overtime, that’s it.” Nanami shrugged indifferently, taking another step toward you.

“I thought you said you were a salaryman. What kind of overtime is this?” As he took more steps toward you, you stepped back until you hit the wall.

“I am a salaryman.”

“For the yakuza or something?!” It was a shot in the dark, really. You had no reason to believe he was in a gang other than the familiar tattoos that you’d seen on the news and the blood everywhere.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He confirmed it with a straight face and you could tell he wasn’t lying. Nanami wasn’t one to lie or pull punches. Lifting up his hand, Nanami almost cupped your cheek but stopped short when he remembered the blood on his hands. “Let me go clean up, and we can talk about this more.”

As soon as he turned around, you fumbled to get your phone out of your pocket. There was no way you would be staying in this place any longer with him. Not only were you pretty sure he just killed someone, you had no idea what he could do to you.

“You wouldn’t be trying to call anyone, would you?” Nanami asked, turning on his heels by the body. Dropping your phone to the ground as soon as you were caught, you cursed under your breath as he faced you squarely.

“I like you a lot, (Y/N). Don’t mess this up. I’d hate to show you how deranged I can truly be.” The ghost of a smile graced his face and Nanami walked back over to you and grabbed your phone, immediately coating it in sticky blood. “Go wait in the den down the hall, I’ll be by in a moment.”

Slowly dragging your feet to the room in question, you waiting just inside for Nanami to arrive. The den was cozy, a plush warm toned loveseat facing a stone fireplace and a TV. This room, like the others, was undoubtedly decorated by a professional.

“Sorry to make you wait.” Nanami’s voice made you jump as he entered, walking past you and into the room. Sitting down on the loveseat in a fresh shirt and pants and clean skin, Nanami let out a pleased hum.

“Nanami…” Worrying your lip, you didn’t know what to do. You knew you should leave, but there wasn’t a chance in hell that your weak knees would make any sort of movement akin to an escape.

“Don’t be shy, (Y/N).” Spreading his legs, Nanami pat his thigh invitingly. “Come sit on my lap, a pretty little kitty like you deserves the best seat in the house.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #tw: yandere #geto suguru #gojo satoru #ryomen sukuna #itadori yuji #okkotsu yuta #nanami kento

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spacexcowgirl · 3 years

Text

Hate To Think About You With Somebody Else - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Fred and Y/N used to be friends with benefits, but that arrangement ended in heartbreak. Can Fred handle seeing her out with somebody else?

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MINORS DNI. Mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood, small bit of violence/fight scene (the reader and Fred are not injured), possessive talk, fingering, degradation, bondage, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, a bit angsty with a happy ending. Please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything!

A/N: For @theweasleytwinsgirl who asked for the reader teasing Fred, leading to her being tied up! I added a bit of plot to it, because I cannot help it. Obviously, this fic is lightly inspired by “Somebody Else” by The 1975. I am not very confident in my smut writing abilities, so any feedback would be appreciated! I also feel I should thank @lumosandnoxwriting for giving me advice and reassurance throughout writing this. Pictures are from Pinterest.

I have not included all of my general taglist, because I do not know who is 18+ or who wants to be tagged in smut.

Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia sat leisurely around the twins’ shared living room, laughing and giggling over drinks. The past few weeks had been hell at the shop, so the boys felt they needed a much deserved night to just relax. Previously, Fred would have liked nothing more than to relieve his tension with Y/N, but unfortunately, that was no longer an option.

“Have you heard about Y/N and Pucey?” Angelina prodded with a giggle, her eyes alit with mischief.

Fred’s jaw immediately clenched at the sound of her name, his grip on his glass tightening. He most certainly hadn’t heard about her in a few weeks, and he hadn’t expected to have such a visceral reaction at the mere mention of her name. Regaining his composure, he forced himself to relax a bit and quirk a brow, feigning both confusion and interest.

“No? They shagging?” George questioned, sitting forward in his seat.

“Apparently, but I guess it’s becoming a bit more serious than just that.” Angelina shrugged, turning her gaze to Alicia beside her for confirmation. When the second girl nodded, Fred downed another gulp of his drink.

That can’t be right, he thought. It hadn’t even been a month since the last time they had been together, Y/N pinned beneath him as breathy moans escaped her lips. In the dim light of his bedroom, she had whispered to him that her pussy was his, that she was his, and now, apparently, she was with someone else. Some part of him knew that he had no right to be upset, because truthfully, it was his choice to end their little arrangement. But she had left him no choice after breaking their number one rule.

Y/N and Fred had ventured past friendly acquaintanceship about a year before, after a few too many firewhiskys at an infamous Weasley twins’ party. The morning after, they had tiptoed around each other, clearly uncomfortable by the change in dynamic. But it didn’t take long for it to happen again, and again, and again. Before either of them had really realized it, they had become much more than friends but much less than really together, and Fred wanted to keep it that way. He wanted them to remain in that middle ground.

As far as he knew, Y/N was more than fine with where they stood with each other. Until one day, she wasn’t. He remembered clearly how she had bit her lip and gazed at him, only moments after finishing him off with her mouth. He had looked at her curiously, wondering where her usual, joking, post-coital self had gone.

“Have you ever thought of me as more than, you know, just an easy fuck?”

Her words had shocked him, because they certainly weren’t the turn of phrase he would have used. He didn’t think of her as ‘an easy fuck,’ he thought of her as a friend. Someone he cared deeply for. But as he gazed into her desperate eyes, he was struck with the realization that he didn’t care for her the way she hoped. He had swallowed deeply, preparing his words in his mind, before shattering her heart.

Now, he wasn’t sure why he cared. Sure, he had thought about her a lot in the weeks they’d been apart, but he was always so sure that he had made the right choice. Relationships were messy, and he was young, so he had no intention to be tied down so soon. Still, the thought of her with Adrian Pucey made his blood boil, and he wished desperately that he could put an explanation to the feeling.

“Fred?”

The sound of his name tore him from his thoughts of Y/N, and he quickly plastered on his signature goofy grin before sitting forward and re-immersing himself in the conversation. Still, in the back of his mind, images of Y/N and Adrian played on repeat, fueling a fire that he hadn’t realized was a lit within him.

A week later, Fred found himself at a party at Oliver Wood’s flat, celebrating a win for Puddlemere United. There was an array of different people there, ranging from his old Hogwarts team, to groupies, to people who had just showed up at the mention of a party. Fred had planned on getting drunk that night, but after seeing George and Lee sloppily grinding on a few witches in an intoxicated bliss, he decided maybe—for once—he would be the responsible one.

Fred had gone nearly an hour, just barely nursing a glass of firewhisky and chatting with old friends jovially, before his eyes landed on a familiar face entering the party.

Fred was frozen at the eye contact they held, his first time seeing her in weeks. Y/N held the gaze for a moment, before turning to grip Adrian’s wrist behind her and drag him further into the party. If Fred thought he had a strong reaction to hearing about their relationship, it was nothing compared to actually seeing it. Fred slammed his drink down and walked away from the poor girl he had been chatting with without so much as an explanation.

“Let’s get out of here.” Fred clapped a hand down on George’s shoulder the moment he reached him, pulling his attention away from the girl dancing against him.

“Now?” George questioned incredulously, his brows raising. He gestured to the girl in his arms before returning a pleading look to his brother. “Come on, mate. This isn’t a great time.”

Fred knew he could convince his brother to leave if he explained, but his mouth felt entirely too dry. He couldn’t seem to formulate the words as to why he needed to get out of there. So, instead, he sighed and offered his brother a nod before retreating back to the outskirts of the people dancing.

Normally, Fred was the life of the party. By this point in the night, he’d usually be plastered and singing or dancing with no remorse. But seeing Y/N with a bloke like Pucey caused him to have an entire demeanor change, leaving him scowling leaned against the wall.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to find Y/N amongst those dancing, pressed closely to Pucey behind her. She was dancing provocatively, even turning in the man’s grasp every little bit to kiss him sloppily. At first, Fred had been almost certain that she was doing it on purpose. The way she was right in his line of vision, acting completely out of character in her open demeanor, it all felt like too much for him to handle.

Then, she made eye contact with him, and held it, and he just knew. She was doing it on purpose. All of her actions had been a way to get him worked up, to see if he would get jealous, and dammit it was working. Fred chewed on the inside of his cheek, holding her gaze as she grinded her bum against Pucey. She held his gaze as she slowly craned her neck and pulled Adrian into a searing kiss, her eyes back on Fred the moment the two pulled apart.

That was the final straw for Fred. He wasn’t going to stand idly by while she taunted him so openly, showing him everything he was missing. So, he pushed through the crowd of people and found his way to the two of them, ignoring the small smirk that had risen on her face.

“Y/N,” He breathed out, just loud enough for her to hear over the music. Suddenly, he was entirely unsure of his next move, but he desperately wanted to regain control over the situation. So, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Oi, what the hell, Weasley?” Adrian paused his dancing, although his hands remained gripped on Y/N’s waist. “Can’t you see we’re a little busy here?”

Fred completely ignored the man at first, his eyes never leaving Y/N. He could see by the look on her face that he had played exactly into what she wanted, but with the jealousy coursing through him, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. She smirked slightly at Fred before craning her neck to look back at Adrian, almost as if she were challenging him to fight for her further.

“I can see,” Fred seethed, finally looking up at Adrian. “I can see a poor girl not having a very good time. So, I’m offering her a better option. Why don’t you let her decide?”

Adrian scoffed, taking a small step back from Y/N but keeping one hand on her hip. He looked down at her, waiting expectantly for her to deny any desire to go off with Fred. When she simply glanced between the two of them, Adrian’s brows furrowed and a look of offense overtook his features.

“Come on, Y/N.” He pleaded. “Tell him.”

Y/N bit down on her lip, the action only infuriating Adrian further. He looked at her incredulously before scoffing and turning his head away.

“Should’ve known a desperate little slut like you couldn’t be loyal.”

In an instant, Fred pushed Y/N out of the way and landed a hard blow to Adrian’s jaw. Y/N was dazed, everything seeming to move in slow motion as all eyes turned on them. Adrian had faltered only for a moment, cupping his jaw in his hand before straightening up and lunging towards Fred.

Luckily, George and Lee were there after a moment, tearing Adrian away and threatening to pummel him as they marched him towards the door. Y/N knew Fred wouldn’t need their help in a fight, but she was still grateful that a full out brawl hadn’t occurred because of her. Y/N rushed to Fred, cradling his fist in her hand and glancing up at his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, but the music had stopped, so he could hear her.

“‘m fine.” He answered curtly, glancing between the way she held his hand and her eyes. “So, can we get out of here?”

Y/N’s lips formed into a tight line, so as to conceal the smirk that desperately wanted to break through. She offered him a quick nod, and in an instant he was dragging her out the door and apparating her back to his flat.

The moment that they were in Fred’s room and the door shut, his lips were on hers. Her back was pressed up against his door, desperate little moans leaving her mouth as she reveled in the feeling of having him against her once more. Fred took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth when her lips parted, taking full control of the situation.

Y/N was more than content to let him take over, having missed him in their time apart more than she would ever like to admit. Of course, the feelings she still held for him lingered strongly, but she tried not to think about that as Fred pressed himself further against her. Adrian had been nothing more than a distraction, a feeble hope that she had held onto as a way to get over the tall red head, but it clearly hadn’t worked. She felt a bit bad, because she knew Adrian cared about her far more deeply than she did him, but she also knew she had made it clear she didn’t want a relationship. The irony was sickening.

“That was quite a show you were putting on tonight.” Fred pulled away from her breathlessly, his eyes tracking up and down her body.

“Yeah?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, I was just having a bit of fun.”

A low growl crawled out of his throat as he pressed his lips to hers once more, using more force than previously. Y/N squeaked at the intensity, but quickly melted into him. His hands trailed up and down her sides as she rested her own around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

Fred’s hands finally made their way to the hem of her shirt, his fingers ghosting over the skin of her stomach and sending a shockwave throughout her. Slowly, he trailed his fingers up, raising her shirt up in his wake. Y/N was quick to oblige, breaking away from him to allow him to tear the garment off completely.

For a moment, Fred’s eyes trailed over her slightly revealed form, drinking in the way she looked half-naked. He hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing her like this, and he found that his breath hitched at even the littlest bit of exposure.

As his eyes met her pleading ones, he quickly recovered. Their passion resumed in an instant as he pressed his lips to hers once more, spinning her away from the door and walking her backwards towards his bed. Y/N allowed him to lightly push her back onto it, her heart fluttering at the sudden gentleness of his actions. She’d always loved the dominance he held over her, but something about what was happening between them now felt different. But, as he draped his body over her own, all of her hopes of actual romance melted away and her mind was entirely clouded with just the appeal of him.

Y/N arched herself against Fred, giving him the space to unclasp her bra. He slid the straps down her arms slowly, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck, until he finally met the tops of her breasts. He cast her bra aside, shooting her one last look before taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth. Y/N moaned at the contact, her fingers immediately threading themselves through his flaming hair. As his teeth gently grazed her nipple she gave his hair a tug, causing him to moan against her.

Fred continued his trail downward, planting kisses down her torso until he made it to the band of her leggings. Y/N lifted her hips and Fred held eye contact with her as he slowly pulled them down her legs. Y/N realized that he seemed to be drawing all of this out, pushing her to the point of pure desperation to make her pay for teasing him all night. Still, she bit her tongue and held back any thoughts of pleading with him, she couldn’t give in that easy.

When she was left in nothing but her panties, Fred sat back on his knees and leisurely unbuttoned his shirt. Y/N watched him intently, her frustration increasing significantly, until she could no longer contain it. She let out a desperate whine, pleading with the man with her eyes alone.

“Something wrong, love?” Fred cocked his head to the side and smirked.

“Freddie,” Y/N whined, the nickname feeling foreign yet fitting on her tongue.

Fred discarded his shirt before circling his hand around on of her ankles and hitching it up on his shoulder. He placed a soft kiss to the inside of her ankle before slowly trailing kisses back up her leg towards her thigh. Y/N shuttered as his lips ghosted over her clothed pussy, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Please.”

Fred looped one finger under the hem of her lace panties, but made no effort to pull them down. When a low chuckle escaped his lips, Y/N knew she was in trouble. Her eyes flew open once more, immediately meeting his darkened, lust-filled ones.

“Did you really think I’d give in that easy?” Fred mocked, punctuating his question by snapping the band of her underwear. “You tease me all night, putting on a show for me, acting like a desperate little slut.” He paused to wet his lips, drinking in the soft moan that escaped from her lips. “That is what you are, isn’t it?”

“Only for you, Freddie.”

“Really?” Fred scoffed, sitting back up to begin fiddling with his belt. Y/N raised herself up on her forearms, desperation and arousal pooling in her core. “Because it didn’t seem that way tonight.” Fred’s tongue darted out of his mouth, swiping over his bottom lip as he gazed at her hungrily. “Think maybe I might need to remind you whose slut you are. What do you think?”

She whimpered, but managed a feeble nod. In their previous times together, her and Fred were nothing if not adventurous in the bedroom. Still, as he waved his wand and bound her wrists to his headboard, she couldn’t help but gasp and lightly fight against the restraints. Fred held a devilish smirk at her plight as he stood from the bed and sat his wand back down.

Fred crawled back over her, his intense dominance faltering for just a moment as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Still remember the safe word, yeah?”

“Yes, Freddie.” She managed to speak, although it was difficult. Fred leaned back and searched her eyes for a moment before leaning in and placing a soft kiss to her lips. After that, any sense of gentleness faded.

Fred’s lips sucked and bit at her neck hungrily, one of his large hands trailing down to rub her through her panties while the other massaged her breast. Y/N’s thighs clamped around his hand, which quickly earned her a light swat to her hip.

“Stay still, or I’ll have no problem tying your legs up too.” Fred growled against her neck.

Y/N quickly obliged, spreading her legs further open. While previously she may have been more inclined to push Fred a bit, her mind was too clouded with lust to do anything but obey him. After weeks of mediocre sex with Adrian, she was ready to completely give herself over to Fred, and let him have her in anyway he wanted.

Fred’s hand pushed the fabric of her panties aside, allowing one finger to drag through her wet folds. She was already soaking wet for him, despite the fact he’d hardly touched her. Without a warning, he plunged one finger into her, lightly moaning at the way she constricted around him. Y/N’s back arched ever so slightly against him, tugging futilely against her bound wrists. He set a steady pace, thrusting his finger in and out of her before adding another and scissoring the two. He changed pace after a moment, beginning to curl his fingers up into her as his thumb rubbed circles against her waiting clit. The pressure in her core grew quickly from that, and she couldn’t help the way she loudly moaned out.

“Right there, yes, oh god…”

Fred was now smirking as he pulled away from her neck, significantly satisfied with the many markings he’d left as well as how quickly he could bring her to this point. He knew her body like the back of his hand, he knew her signs for when she was close, and it made it so much easier to enact his plan.

Just as Y/N was teetering on the edge, desperate whines and random babbles leaving her lips, Fred pulled his hand away. She let out a frustrated and confused groan, her eyes flying open as she felt the build up slowly slip away. Fred just grinned at her, before getting off the bed and ridding himself of his trousers and boxers. He lazily stroked himself as he took her in, chest heaving and covered in a light sheen of sweat, completely at his mercy. She had stopped her attempts at fighting her restraints, looking at him like she were almost defeated. In her mind, she’d begun to fear the very real possibility that Fred wouldn’t let her cum at all.

“You seem frustrated.” Fred cooed mockingly, coming to lean back over her and gently brush her cheek. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Fred.” Y/N spoke firmly, though her eyes portrayed her fears. “You’ve got to let me finish.”

“Hm.” Fred seemed to ponder that, leaning back to slowly pull her panties down her legs. “I don’t think I have to do anything. In fact, I could just leave you here all tied up and needy.”

“Please,” Y/N whined, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“It’s a start.” Fred tutted, finally discarding her panties aside. He leaned down near her ear once more, his warm breath sending a chill down her spine. “What I’d really like, though, is to hear how much you need me. Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please, Freddie, I need your cock so bad. Need you to ruin me.” Y/N cried out, losing all sense of dignity as her sex-addled brain took over. Fred had intended to tease her much longer, but her desperate pleas were going straight to his cock, and he couldn’t hold out any longer.

“That’s all you had to say, love.”

Fred hitched her leg around his hip, gripping his cock in his free hand. He teased the head through her wet folds, shivering at the moan she let out from just the smallest contact. Then, he pushed his hips forward, not stopping until he was completely buried in her. Their low moans mixed together in the quiet of the room, Fred being careful not to move until he was sure she had adjusted to his size.

“Fuck, I forgot how fucking good you feel.” He groaned, burying his face in her neck.

“Move… Please.”

He needed no further encouragement. Fred pulled out about halfway before snapping his hips back forward, setting a brutal but steady pace. Y/N’s loud moans and Fred’s grunts mixed together, accompanied only by the sound of their skin on skin contact. Y/N could feel her orgasm building again as his dick hit her g-spot with every thrust, and she was almost embarrassed by how quickly he could bring her to this point.

“‘m so close, Freddie.” Y/N breathed out, knowing it would only infuriate him further if she came without his permission.

“Already?” Fred scoffed, although he knew he wasn’t far behind.

Still, he wasn’t ready for things to end so soon, so he pulled out completely, ignoring the desperate whine that left her throat. He pulled both of her legs together and pushed her knees up against her chest, holding her ankles together with one hand before thrusting back into her desperate cunt. The new position allowed him to hit deeper within her as he thrust downward, causing Y/N to scream out. The pain was delicious, it was everything she had longed for in their time apart.

“You really think you deserve to cum?” Fred grunted, landing a particularly hard thrust into her. “After everything you pulled tonight?”

“Please.” Y/N whined. She was so close, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it if he stole another orgasm from her.

“Answer the question, slut.” Fred demanded, his pace quickening ever so slightly. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? A desperate little cum slut.”

“Yes.” Y/N cried out. “But only for you, Freddie. Just a slut for you.”

“That’s right.” Fred’s rhythm had begun to falter, approaching his own orgasm quickly. Still, he was unsure if he’d let her finish or not. “You’re my little slut. Only I get to call you that, right?”

“Yes, Freddie.” Y/N whined, beginning to tug again on her restraints. She wanted nothing more than to scrape her nails down his back, but being completely at his mercy turned her on endlessly.

“Good.” Fred was close, so fucking close, but he had made his decision. So he had to hold off. “Cum for me, then. You’ve earned it.”

That was all the encouragement she needed, and as Fred hit one more thrust into her g-spot she was tumbling over the edge. Electricity seemed to shoot all throughout her body as she loudly moaned out his name. Her legs were shaking and she was certain she’d be sore tomorrow, but she had little time to care about that as he continued to pound into her.

Y/N knew Fred well, just as well as he knew her, so she knew he was close. Her mind felt almost entirely blank and she wasn’t sure she had much energy for anything, but she wanted to bring him to his release badly. So, she clenched around him, a moan leaving her lips when he stuttered and groaned. His thrusts were faltering significantly, and after a few moments he was crying out her name as he finished in her.

Fred pulled out and dropped her legs before crashing down next to her. He knew that he needed to untie her, but they also both just needed a moment to breathe. All that could be heard was the sounds of their mixed pants as they both came down from their highs. Once he was significantly more relaxed, he gripped his wand and swished it lazily, effectively removing the restraints she was held in.

Y/N hands dropped down and she quickly went to rub at her wrists, but Fred was quick to bat her hands away and do it himself. He examined both wrist closely, seeming to want to ensure that they were okay.

“They weren’t too tight, were they?” Fred implored after a moment. His genuine concern made her heart flutter, and she couldn’t help herself as she leaned in and placed a soft kiss to his lips.

“No, they were perfect—all of it was perfect.” She sighed as she pulled away from him. Her general cognition was beginning to return, and with it her fears of all of the pain she had gone through in the past etched their way through.

Sure, Fred had clearly gotten jealous at the party. Then, he had gotten possessive and claimed her in the bedroom. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he harbored the same feelings for her that she had for him. The fear nearly paralyzed her, and she wasn’t sure if she should quickly redress and flee the room or implore what this all meant. Luckily, he answered her internal questioning before she even had to ask.

“I don’t want to see you out with Pucey.” Fred sighed, his eyes not meeting hers. “Which is a total prat thing to say, but it’s true. I don’t want to see you out with any bloke, really.”

“Fred…” Y/N spoke tentatively, her eyes begging him to speak further.

“I want you, Y/N. Like, really.” Fred finally met her gaze. “Not just in my bed.”

“What, do you want me on the couch too?” Y/N tried to joke, hoping it would cover up her nervous tone. But it didn’t. So, her voice became soft. “Don’t get my hopes up, Freddie.”

“I’m being serious.” He shook his head. “I want to take you out on fancy dates, or watch movies with you on my couch. Bloody hell, I want to bring you to my parent’s house for Sunday dinners. I don’t know, I’m not good at this. Whatever it is that couples do.”

“Fred Weasley,” A small smile had begun to grow on Y/N’s face. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes.” Fred answered earnestly. “That is, only if you’re going to say yes. Otherwise, this was all just a joke—”

Y/N shut him up by pressing her lips to his, her mouth still curled upwards in a smile. It was impossible to hide the genuine happiness that his words brought her.

“Yes.” She answered softly as she pulled away.

A similar smile began to grow on Fred’s face as he completely registered her words, and he couldn’t help but dive back in for another kiss. Y/N was his, completely. Something he’d probably wanted for so long, but had simply been too daft to realize it. Now, as he held her in his arms, he promised himself he’d never make such a mistake again.

Tagging a few 18+ mutuals from my usual taglist: @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @theweasleysredhair

#fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #Fred Weasley fanfic

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inaflashimagine · 3 years

Text

The Sweetest Moment

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Baker!Reader

WC: 2.8k

Warnings: Self-indulgent fluff fic with some cursing and suggestive themes. May give you cavities with the sugary fluff and cheesy banter.

A/N: I want to marry Gojo Satoru but since I can’t I guess writing this fic will suffice. Part 2 here!

—

As the owner of one of the most popular confectionery cafés in Tokyo, you’ve served a wide variety of customers, all of them eager to try the best cake and candies in the city. From clueless tourists to pompous food critics and the sweet-tooth regulars, you’ve seen it all. After years of perfecting your craft and learning how to manage your busy little shop, nothing fazed you.

Well, that was until you were staring at a ridiculously tall blindfolded man with wild white hair.

"May I help you?" you asked, hoping you could mask the slight annoyance in your voice. It was five minutes until closing, after all, and you’ve had quite a long day.

He only grinned as he bent down and looked at the selection in front of him, even sniffing and letting out a small “oooh” in fascination. Was he even able to look, with that fabric over his eyes?

"There's not many sweets on display."

Guess the blindfold wasn't as thick as you believed. You felt a vein bulging on your forehead before taking a deep breath. "Well, I was planning on closing until you came in."

"Oh? That would explain why this supposedly famous shop is empty."

You huffed indignantly but disguised it as a clearing of your throat, feeling the blood boiling under your skin. He was getting under your skin. And based on the way his Cheshire smile got wider, he knew what buttons he was pushing.

"I can give you a bit more time if you need it. I'll just be cleaning."

The next ten minutes were the longest of your life, as with every wipe of the shining tables and with each sweep of the already spotless floor, you could hear this strange man grumble to himself, uncertainty laced with every sentence.

“That strawberry shortcake looks so good. But maybe I should just get dango. Decisions, decisions.” He held his chin in a contemplative stance as if he was about to make the most important choice in the world.

It was almost comical and even relatable, really. You lost count of the number of times you’ve struggled over choosing your favorite sweets. But you’ve been up since five in the morning and were not in the mood.

You returned to the cash register and clapped your hands. “So what will it be?”

He returned the clap, showing way too much enthusiasm at such a late hour. “I’ll take them all!”

You guffawed as he asked what was wrong, an innocent playful tone behind the question. “You seriously want all of them?”

“Of course I do! You’re apparently one of the best bakers in the city, I want to see how true it is.”

You felt your heart race and face heat up at his somewhat back-handed comment. Was he challenging you?

“If you want to taste my goods at their best you have to come in the morning or early afternoon when they’re fresh.” You mentally cursed when he gave you a cheeky grin upon hearing the phrase ‘taste my goods’, miffed that he always seemed to be one step ahead of you.

“You know there are other ways to ask me to come back, although I guess food is the best way to my heart.”

You sighed resignedly as you quickly packaged the shortcake and the last of the wagashi before handing it to him. Although you attempted to avoid touching his hands, he did the opposite, intentionally brushing your fingers for longer than you liked as you pretended to ignore the slight jolt of electricity that coursed through your body from the contact.

“And before you ask how much it costs, it’s all free. I’m not having you blame me for the lack of freshness, but I know it’ll still taste good.”

He laughed and licked his lips as if imagining the taste. “I’ll be the judge of that!”

As he bid a “See you soon!” and left the shop, it took you awhile for the cogs in your brain to resume working. Surely you must’ve hallucinated it all.

“What just happened?”

—

When a week passed by you can’t help but feel duped. Hoodwinked, bamboozled by one of your recent customers.

Although you rarely took over the register in the late mornings/early afternoons, preferring to be in the kitchen while your apprentices handled the hangry regulars on their lunch breaks, you spent the past few days manning the earliest shifts at the front of your shop, waiting for a certain peculiar man to return.

Maybe it was your curiosity or your slightly bruised ego. But you just wanted, no needed, to know what he deemed your masterpieces, your products that gave you so much pride. You were never this fussed about someone’s opinion, not even when an eminent food critic once stopped by for a visit.

So why were you so worked up over a stranger’s thoughts?

You continued to mumble incoherently, punching the bean paste you were supposed to shape into a delicate flower as the busy lunch-hour crowd waned. Just as you managed to regain your composure and begin your design, one of your apprentices popped in the kitchen, confusion apparent on her face.

“There’s a man wearing uh, a blindfold, asking for you. Something about trying your, um,” her voice faltered, avoiding your gaze as her ears turned bright red, “perky fresh goods?”

“That bastard!” Though you couldn’t tell if your heart was erratically beating from frustration or excitement.

You crushed the confectionery in your hand as you bolted toward the front area like a furious bull chasing a red flag, almost knocking out your poor employee in the way.

And how you wanted to cover that wide annoying smile with all the bean paste in the world so you wouldn’t have to see it again.

“You’re late.”

“Well hello to you, too! I said I’d see you soon. I require five business days to form a proper review that follows the Gojo Satoru rubric.”

You blinked owlishly and tilted your head in bewilderment, unaware of that name in the food critic industry. “The what now?”

The man sighed and you swore you saw some of his spiked hair wilt. “I’m Gojo Satoru.”

For the first time in a while, you burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all, a sound that the man in front of you wished he could hear again.

“Is wearing a blindfold part of those rules? To enhance your tasting senses?”

“Oh, quite the opposite, but that’s a story for another day. I’m here for a different reason.” He slammed his hands on the counter, startling you as his face inched closer to yours. You wondered if he could see you waiting with bated breath, unable to back away as you stared at what you assumed would be his excited eyes.

“Well?” you prompted, impatience keeping you on edge.

“Oh, that shortcake was amazing, might even be some of the best I’ve ever had.”

You crossed your arms and grinned, feeling triumphant and questioning why you were so concerned in the first place.

“But, I’d still have to try everything you offer before I make a general conclusion.”

“Oh trust me, it won’t change your opinion, but if you insist. You’ll make me richer anyway.”

You pictured his eyes rolling in response, but you were entranced by his laugh, a dulcet sound sweeter than anything you’ve ever baked.

It soon became a sound you craved for as Gojo began his weekly visits. You still didn’t know why he wore that darn blindfold when he was supposedly a high school teacher.

In fact, he remained mostly a mystery to you, but you found yourself enjoying his playful persona with each visit, anticipating them after a bad week. It was as if he even knew when exactly to come, ready to make you laugh with his cringe-inducing jokes.

Occasionally, he randomly visited during midday (“A short pit stop before I have to rescue my student!”) but nights were the best when there was no other customer but him while you both spent many hours past closing time munching on leftovers and conversing about random topics. Sometimes he would even stop by twice a week if you were lucky, or perhaps because of your certain actions.

“You definitely gave me less daifuku this week.”

“I did?” You batted your eyelashes innocently before taking a sip of your tea, attempting to hide your smirk.

“Oh pretend all you want, but I know you’re doing it to see more of this handsome face.”

He was lucky that you didn’t spit the tea into his face, which was snickering as he watched you sputter your way to an excuse.

Even if he was joking, you weren’t about to admit that he was right anytime soon. Yes, he saw you occasionally stealing longer-than-normal glances at him and those lips (how were they always so glossy?), but you also caught him doing the same. Especially when you once had to bend down to pick up a few wrappers that you dropped on the way to the trash can.

“If you keep looking there, Gojo, you won’t be getting any cake.”

“Oh trust me, I’m full thanks to the one in front of me,” he quipped, deftly avoiding your hand that wanted to wack his head.

Besides, you were simply studying him and the reason why he wanted to conceal the upper part of his face for science purposes only. No other motive. Or that’s what you convinced yourself, anyway.

It’s what you told yourself when he once showed up without a blindfold and in more casual clothing, seeing someone you simultaneously recognized but didn’t making you drop the coffee pot you held. It’s what the back of your head whispered to you as you ignored the urge to run your hands through his soft-looking hair and tried focusing beyond those thick, black sunglasses, picturing the color of his eyes, wondering if they lit up just as yours did whenever you saw him.

It’s the rationale you clung onto when he once gently wiped the crumbs you had at the corner of your mouth after sharing some chocolate cake, your body on fire as his slender fingers lingered on your face before they retreated and he continued talking as if nothing happened. As if you weren’t melting, weren’t burning to feel that touch again.

It was the logic you desperately grasped at while you felt your mind unravel, your thoughts consumed by a man you initially found irritating. It was as if you were back in high school with a silly crush, living for the flirtatious banter but too afraid to proceed further. You wondered if he felt the same way or if his cravings were only for the candies that kept his sweet tooth satiated.

Because for you, all you desired was more, more, and more.

—

The week you managed to hype and convince yourself to confess your feelings to Satoru was the same one he was missing in action. You hated how your chest ached with the dreadful idea that he had his fill, no longer entertained by you. It slowly brewed into anger by the end of the week, disappointed in yourself for actually believing you stood a chance when you didn’t even have his number.

Just as you were about to swear off on all men, your apprentice opened the kitchen door again, slightly shrinking at your murderous aura before squeaking out, “There’s three people who want to see you. They say they know Gojo-san!”

Your apprentice cleared out of the way before you did it for her as you dashed to the register area, your yearning heart winning over your practical mindset to let him go.

The last thing you expected to see were three teenagers, one looking bored out of his mind and two others drooling at the glass counter filled with numerous baked goods.

When you asked what they needed, the excited boy spoke up first, introducing himself as Itadori, the student of the man you had expected to see. “Are you the baker Gojo-sensei says is the best in Tokyo?”

You couldn’t suppress the pride swelling your chest as you smiled softly. That bastard needs to tell me that to my face. “Well, I sure hope so, or he must hate the wagashi I give him weekly.”

“So that’s where he gets all those sweets from!” marveled the short-haired girl, who called herself Kugisaki. “I didn’t know sensei had a girlfriend!”

You panicked while stammering out an explanation, relieved when the indifferent dark-haired teen spoke up.

“Anyway, we’re here because we need you to make a cake for him.”

“A cake? W-why?”

“Isn’t that your job?”

You felt less grateful for the bluntness of the bored teen, who seemed to be named Megumi based on Kugisaki’s scolding toward him. “I guess I’m just confused as to why he wouldn’t come here himself.”

“He’s on a long business trip,” Megumi explained curtly, who seemed eager to leave. “But he keeps on calling me and complaining about how he can’t find a strawberry shortcake as good as yours.”

“So please make one! And please give us some dango,” begged Itadori.

“Sure! I won’t even charge you. But on one condition...”

Megumi sighed as Itadori and Kugisaki gulped at your scheming expression.

—

“You know, you could’ve just asked me for my number, like any normal person.”

It took all of you not to rush over to hug him, to be enveloped in his honey scent that you were addicted to, but your hands were holding a precious strawberry shortcake. While you both approached your preferred table, the same seat you’ve sat opposite him for months now, a shy smile graced your face as you averted your eyes.

“Well, I would’ve asked earlier if I knew you spammed Megumi’s poor phone. Did you really say I was the best baker in Tokyo?”

“What lies are the youth telling you?” Gojo teased before chuckling at the frosted lettering on the chocolate bark you placed on top of the cake. “‘I missed you, bastard,’ really?”

You lightly punched his shoulder as he already started popping some strawberries into his mouth. “You’re just proving me right, not even waiting until a slice is ready. And let’s not mention how you went MIA for two weeks.”

Gojo scratched the back of his neck, a sudden nervousness you’d never seen him possess. “I am sorry about that, I didn’t think you thought about me beyond these talks.”

You stopped cutting the cake, setting it aside before incredulously staring at him. “A-are you serious?”

He gulped, cognizant of the knife pointed his way. “Well, you did say you were only concerned with me making you richer.”

“Yeah, as a joke!” you scoffed, shortly softening your expression. You cleared your throat, the air suddenly stifling. “Did you forget that I willingly spend hours with you after closing time?”

“I figured you were doing that to be nice.”

“You idiot! You know, I actually care about you.”

“What was that?”

“That you’re an idiot?”

“No, something about you...?” he prodded, his excitement radiating off him.

“Don’t make me repeat it!” You know that you grumbled earlier but his wide smirk showed you that he heard those words.

The paused silence crushed you as you squeezed your eyes, regretting that you ruined a friendship you cherished. You prepared for rejection until a large, warm hand covered your slightly trembling one.

“I care about you, too.”

The resoluteness behind that tone caused you to exhale a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding, your senses suddenly on overdrive as you gaped at him with widened orbs. Your breath hitched as he slowly inched closer until the tips of your noses touched, giving you time to back away.

You didn’t.

His lips tenderly pressed against yours as you smiled into the kiss, enjoying the taste of strawberries that seemed to be sweeter when it came from him. Yet he backed away only after a few seconds, leaving you in a whining state while he grinned cheekily.

His grin grew wider as you pouted and poked him with the knife before letting it go. “Kiss me again, or you won’t get free food anymore.”

“Man, I should’ve done this earlier then.” But he complied as you enjoyed the tingling sensation you felt with each peck.

It was your turn to slightly retreat, pleasantly sighing and running your hands through his hair, finally able to appreciate the softness. “Better late than never. Now I’m expecting a date and it better be outside these four walls.”

“I thought that much was obvious,” he muttered against your lips before diving in for another kiss.

You were going to remind him there was a cake to be eaten, but then you realized why should you? No sugary dessert compared to this sweet moment.

—

A/N: This was so cheesy and self-indulgent but I’m not sorry. I think I might make a pt 2. but it would be a spicier *cough*NSFW*cough version of a kitchen/cooking food date. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Let me know what you think!

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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bokettochild · 3 years

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Day 4 - Trust Fall

Went with the prompt 'taken hostage' for this one, and I'm quite pleased. I might follow it up from another prompt on the list, but I quite like how it ended.

Suffer :)

There are many people who hate the Hero of Warriors.

It was a well-known fact, and something that had haunted him since the ends of the war, but he couldn’t exactly blame the folks who did. After all, it was for lust of the hero that Cia had killed so many, and there were families all across Hyrule who had lost loved ones because the hero had refused the affections of one lonely, corrupted woman.

Zelda had tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but that changed nothing; people had still died because of Cia’s lust, and still more had died because of his own over-confidence. So, when he walked the streets of Castletown and the people who wanted to thank him faded to the background as a single soul would stand and spit insults loaded with venom more poisonous than a deku baba, he would take their words and let them speak, never once challenging them, even when his men would protest and beg for permission to reprimand his attacker. Zelda had pleaded for him to stop, claiming that he lowered the moral of the army by not carrying himself strongly and with honor, but how could he rob someone of their voice when he’d already robbed them of everything else?

There was one upside to it all though; when Warriors met Legend, there was nothing the younger hero could say that could truly hurt him. Legend would huff and complain and tease and jab, but his insults were a gentle nudge in comparison to the hearty shoves into boiling lava that he’d seen from his own people, and he welcomed the verbal sparring with the other hero. It was nice to be able to speak back without having guilt rise in his chest, and he enjoyed getting to tease and bother the veteran hero in return.

In that manner, an unlikely friendship had formed between a hero who hated soldiers and a soldier who hated being a hero.

He was close to all of the others of course; Sky, Wild and himself would spend hours discussing their worlds and the systems of knights and training and the like. Time and Wind, his boys and the pride of his heart, would mess around with him and it warmed him body and soul to offer them advice or comfort after a long day (and having the two of them cuddle up when they thought no one was looking was an extra warm bonus on multiple fronts).

Four was- well, there was no words for the relationship he shared with the smithy. It was a relationship of exchanged looks and mutual silence. One of two brothers who knew each other as well as if they’d actually been born to the same mother, and who could read the others actions as if they were reading their thoughts. It was them flopping over each other and Four climbing onto his shoulders to reach things, it was him throwing the smithy bodily up towards high places and leaning on the top of his head when he was drained or feeling playful.

Wild and Hyrule were his baby brothers, the chaotic ones who he was helping to bring up right, the boys who needed a guiding hand and a firm voice to push them and guide them, but who reveled in warm hugs and teasing or encouraging words.

And Twilight? Twilight was his sparring partner, his closest brother and the one he’d probably end up socking in the face one day. There was enough said on that front. Legend very nearly made the same rank, except...

Except Legend was, truth be told, as much a kid as the others and despite their verbal battles, he didn’t think he could actually ever hit the kid for real, no matter how often he cuffed the pink head or pushed the short vet over in jest, he didn’t think he could ever cause the younger hero harm. Yeah, yeah, so maybe it was the big brother and father in him that said he wouldn’t live with himself if he hurt the kid, but it was also the soldier and captain that saw a reflection of every cocky recruit he’d ever trained and a certain mask wearing child in the vet’s painfully rare smiles and much more common snarky comments.

And he just couldn’t bring himself to hurt a kid in the first place.

No matter how much of an ass they were being.

“Seriously though, how have you not died?” Legend was scoffing, but the vet’s arms were wrapped tight around himself as the kid rolled his eyes. “I mean, one bokoblin? How is that the first time an enemy has ever grabbed your scarf?”

Warriors would have laughed it off with a tease about the vet’s lack of leg protection, but he could see the worry shining in violet hues and feel the tender bruising that wrapped around his own neck. He hardly remembered the last battle, adrenalin and the concussion had seen to that, but legend had been weirdly snappish with him since, yet simultaneously clingy in a way that was painfully uncharacteristic of their salty veteran. “Most monsters are just dumb.” He’d shrugged off at last, but Legend hardly looked contented, picking at his tunic and scowling at his boots as if there was something more he wanted to complain about or say, but he lacked the words to say it.

Oh goddesses, the vet really was like Mask, wasn’t he? All bashful worry and fussing disguised as insults and annoyance, but underneath just a kid who desperately needed the assurance that the people around him weren’t seconds away from death.

“I’ll be fine, you grouchy little bumblebee.” He scoffed, tugging at one of the vet’s long ears, just as he did with Time when the now older hero was getting to wrapped up in his head. “We’re in my world anyway and the monsters here are dumber than rocks.” Usually he’d just say ‘dumb as rocks’ but they’d met a talus in Wild’s Hyrule and he couldn’t honestly think of that phrase the same way since.

“Black blood makes them smarter.” Legend huffed, batting his hands away with a scowl, nose wrinkling up in an almost adorable manner as he sidestepped a swipe at his hair. “And I just fixed that thing for you, I don’t want to have to do that again.”

So much like Time had been, did the vet see it? Just like his middle kid and it was messing with his brain in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. How upset would Sky be if he gathered Legend in amongst his boys as well? The Skyloftian wasn’t particularly possessive of his descendants and he might not mind sharing responsibility over the vet. He’d have to ask, but only once he was sure Legend was out of earshot, the kid was barely tolerant of Sky coddling him, and even then, usually only when he was sleepy or scared shitless.

“Are you listening, Captain? I’m not mending that scarf again this week, you ass.” Legend flicked his ears, irritation at being ignored coloring his face with a scowl that quickly faded into surprise as a blue heap of fabric settled over his head and shoulders. Of course, the surprise disappeared too once Legend’s face was covered with the tail end of the scarf, and he had to grab the back of the vet’s tunic to stop him from tumbling to the ground as he tripped over the rocky path.

“What the heck, Wars?!” The teen squeaked, fumbling with the fabric as the captain let a laugh rumble up through his chest into his throat.

“You keep fussing about the scarf, yeah? Well,” He reached out to tug the loose end down, chest thrumming with warmth as the pout on Legend’s face beneath the scarf and a fierce blush. “So how about you keep it safe for me, just for a bit.” He shifted the fabric again, arranging it to lay better around the veteran’s thin shoulders. “You can give it back after the next battle, yeah? Then you’ll know it’s not damaged.”

The pink-haired hero rolled his eyes at that comment, but Wars didn’t miss how the kid nestled in amidst the blue fabric with a soft hum.

Oh yeah, despite all the teasing, it was clear Legend liked the scarf as much as his other boys. He hoped Sun and Sky didn’t mind sharing too much, because there was no going back now.

“Dramatic arse.” Legend huffed, but despite the vet tugging the scarf up over his nose and mouth he still saw the grin the lay beneath.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear Time and Wind exchanging whispers while Twilight grumbled something exceedingly rude and fond all at once.

“Should we split up to find supplies then?” Sky asked, pointedly ignoring Twilight’s comment as he addressed the group as a whole, earning a thoughtful nod from Time.

“Probably best.” The man hummed out. “Groups of three, Hyrule and Wind, you’re with the vet, Four and Sky, you’re with Wars, Cub, Pup, I want you two with me, if something happens I want a responsible adult on every team, as well as someone who knows this Castletown well.”

Agreement thrummed over them as they split up, Wind catching his party members by their hands and pulling them off towards the tailor and apothecary shops so Legend could restock on thread and fabric and Hyrule could gather more healing supplies. Time’s group turned the opposite way, heading off into the main market square so Wild could restock on food stuffs and a new haversack for the traveler as Hyrule’s had had a hole worn in the corner that even Four doubted he could fix. Warriors himself led his team towards the fletchers and the forge, with the intent of buying more arrows and getting Four permission to repair a few of their weapons.

The chatter of the town was cheerier than usual, and to his surprise, not a single person spoke to him beyond the occasional inquiry about directions or an apology or insult after bumping into them. It was like he was invisible, or very nearly, and even those who made a point of calling out thanks or insults only waved cheerily to him as if he was just another passing soldier.

At the smithy, the Master Smithy, Gaepak, blinked in surprise for a good minute when Wars had approached to ask for use of the workroom. “Gen’ral? Is ‘at yew?”

He cocked a brow at the question. “Yes? Is there a problem?”

Gaepak boomed a nervous laugh, motioning to his own short neck with a faint flush on his face as his ears twitched lightly. “’Ard to tell you apart from yer men wit’out that scaaf of yers.” The man apologized, and the apprentice at the blacksmith’s side nodded nervously.

He couldn’t help back slip into a disarming smile (although he had to fight not to slip into their heavy accent as well when he spoke). “Quite alright, gentlemen. I’ve just let it out to one of-”

“Yer boys.” the smith nodded knowingly, earning a snigger from their own short-statured smithy and a light chuckle from Sky.

Warriors flushed slightly. Really, the people of Castletown knew him too well. “Yes, one of my boys.”

“An’ a moighty fine father ye are.” Gaepak drawled with a grin. “Use the forge ta yer ‘eart’s content.” The smith added, moving back to his own workstation with a cheery wink. “Jist moind ye clean it up when ya done.”

Four had shouted something of a reassurance before moving to the offered work station with shining hazel eyes and fingers already flitting over the available tools to familiarize himself with them. In the meantime, Sky had shot him a knowing smile, eyes twinkling as the captain had flushed softly.

Four was deep into his work and the two of them had already finished a lengthily talk and a trip to the fletchers when Wind and Hyrule had burst in, heavy breaths heaving through the two and a healthy flush over two sets of rounded cheeks as wild eyes had turned to the two adults.

“Wind, you can’t bust into a forge! Four shouted over the clang of metal. “It’s dang-”

“Legend was kidnapped.” Wind blurted out, voice strained and barely holding onto the collected and controlled report method Warriors had drilled into all of his soldiers during the war. Four’s hammer froze mid-air as the three had whipped around to face the two younger heroes, both knights stiffening instinctively as all laughter left their faces.

“What happened.” Warriors demanded, stepping forwards, jaw set and eyes hard as he met the sailor’s wavering gaze.

The aura of peace faded in instants, and soldier met the eyes of soldier as Wind snapped a neat salute. Unnecessary, yes, but trained into the kid by the other soldiers and probably a comforting sort of habit to revert to in the moment (Warriors felt the same about standing at parade rest as he listened to the kid’s report). “We were just entering the apothecary when a couple of folks approached Legend outside the door. He waved us inside to do our business while they talked, and Hyrule and I did as he asked. We gathered the needed supplies- that doesn’t matter though- the point is, when we were at the counter ringing up-”

“There was shouting outside!” Hyrule interrupted, fingering the strap of his faded satchel. “We thought it was just Legend being Legend, you know how he is but-”

“But then there was something of a scuffle and some bangin-”

“- and when we finished at the counter, because the man wouldn’t hurry up and refused to let us leave ‘till we’d been rung up-”

“Legend was gone!” Wind exploded, eyes shining with near panic as they met his own.

“Where were you exactly?” Wars demanded, mind already flitting across the list of people who were likely to have taken the vet. There weren’t many people the kid would have interacted with here, especially not alone, and saving the soldiers he’d accidentally embarrassed a couple of switches back (kid needed to wear some pants if he didn’t want to mistook for a girl) there wasn’t anyone he could really think of that would have cause to try anything. Sure, Legend’s winning personality might earn him a blow to the face from some of the rowdier townsfolk, but at worst he’d be left on the street on in an alley with a bruised face and a fractured rib or two, not taken away entirely.

As he considered, Four was already tidying up behind him only to have Gaepak wave them off with a worried look. “Moi boys will see to this ‘ere mess, don’t botha. Yew got a kid missin’ you go fetch ‘im, goodness knows Gen’ral that yew don’t need to be suff’rin’ that again.”

It was a bitter reminder, but he’d nodded his thanks all the same and grabbed ahold of Wind’s hand as he led the charge back into the street, Hyrule and Sky tagging along as Four made arrangements to come back later for the still cooling weapons before scampering out after them.

Searching Castletown’s streets would take hours, but after they’d run into one of his men, Bav, he’d filled the soldier in on the situation, and hardly had the words ‘my kid’ been out of his mouth before the other was nodding and agreeing to get the rest of the squadron to search the town. They’d found the others not long after, and the trio had dropped everything (even Wild’s slate for a hot second) to come rushing after them, their now two groups weaving in and out of alleyways and streets.

“Your wife?” A painfully familiar farm-wife had tutted. “First your poor daughter and now your poor wife. I’m sorry, luv, but I haven’t seen a thing.” Wind had crooked a smile at the groan Warriors had barely stifled as he led their group away, Sky and Hyrule both staring at the duo in confusion as they pressed further into the crowd.

Continued asking had brought up nothing, and after hours of trotting through the streets in a growing panic, Sky at his side and Hyrule nearly fluttering along with them, they’d finally been pulled aside by one of the soldiers and made to sit down in a guard-station long enough to drink some water and be caught up on the soldiers’ findings.

“Nothing yet, General Link, but we’ll keep looking. Until then, you should take a rest-” He’d moved to protest only to be cut off by a frown from one of his mates. “You’ll be run ragged by the time we hear word, and if the scamps intend harm of any sort, you’ll be in no state to help.”

He’d had to agree after that, but it hadn’t stopped him pacing while Sky held the other two close, rocking them softly and humming soft reassurances to the two smaller heroes that he’d bundled in his cape. The other four joined shortly after, Time demanding that Bav tell him what was happening and Twilight bundling over to grab Hyrule from Sky and curl up around him, the rancher’s nose buried in Hyrule’s curls as Four had settled between him and Sky, the smithies callused hands gently rubbing both their arms as he murmured soft reassurances to the others.

It was Wild that pulled him down to rest, flinty blue eyes sparking dangerously as the kid pulled him down to the ground and thrust something edible into his hands. Vaguely, he processed eating it, but his mind was too lost in spinning to take note if it was hot or cold or even what it tasted like.

When word finally came, it was with Bav’s face drawn and the entire guard having had to leave the post in wake of the nervous energy that flowed out from the exhausted heroes.

“Well?” He’d snapped to his feet, jostling Wild on accident as he did so and making the kid nearly toppled over with his sudden movement.

“An ultimatum, General.” Bav replied, clipped and carefully emotionless, even if there was pain in his eyes. “It’s addressed to General Impa, but-”

The note was snatched from waiting fingers before the other soldier had a chance to finish, and he was already breaking the seal as the man stepped back with a shake of his head and a murmured ‘poor man’.

The text that stared up at him stank, copper assaulting his senses as looping crimson script stared mockingly up at him. “General Impa,” The note read. “We have in our possession your branded puppet; the ‘hero’ of the war. We write to you now with a warning; should Hyrule and her queen not repay the debt owed to those fallen and forgotten, he will not be the first to pay the price.

“Repay that which is due, and release the prisoners who you hold unjustly under the claim of treachery. If this is done, your ‘hero’ will meet a kinder fate, and we may even allow you access to the corpse.”

The note was left unsigned, save a spattering of blood over where the signature ought to have been.

“A threat.” He choked, furrowing his brow and shaking his head. “It’s only a threat.”

“I wish, sir.” Bav’s eyes were downcast. “But they sent this as well.” A bundle, already unwrapped by the soldiers was offered to him. “But based on your description, that kid- I'm sorry, Sir.”

Trembling fingers tore aside the stained brown paper as he stared at the contents within.

A blood-soaked blue scarf stared back up at him.

#whumptober 2021 #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu warriors #lu wind #lu sky #lu legend #kidnapping #dad warriors #warriors' scarf #scarf #idiot writes angst #idiot writes whump #will I follow this up later?#who knows!#until then #draw what conclusions you please #about what's happened to legend #i have no regrets

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collisiondiscourse · 3 years

Text

say amen (bkdk drabble)

(a little drabble based off of one of my favorite posts that ive ever made)

Katsuki’s not a religious man.

Yeah, okay, he believes in deities and goes to temples, the blond will admit that much. The existence of a higher power isn’t really that far from the realms of possibility when he regularly interacts with people who have the head of a bird or engines for legs. He celebrates the holidays, and on days where he’s feeling especially magnanimous, Katsuki even buys temple charms and sends out a quick prayer to whoever might be listening.

But he isn’t religious.

He doesn’t like feeling like he’s indebted to someone. That somehow, somewhere, there is someone Katsuki should be grateful to for giving him all his successes. He worked hard to get where he is now all by himself, thank you very much. The idea that everything is somehow predetermined or controlled by someone he can’t even see is one that makes the blond break out into hives.

A man with any dignity such as Katsuki’s is too proud to kneel to any god.

But then again… Izuku Midoriya is no such god.

He’s very much human, Katsuki would believe despite the seemingly endless strength his short and stocky figure possesses. He’s freckles and sunburns and scars and toothy smiles and everything that used to make the blond’s blood boil. Deku can’t dress himself nicely to save his life and sings All Might show tunes in the shower when he thinks no one can hear. Katsuki’s seen the boy throw up on his dumb red shoes and laugh so hard he scared himself with his own snorts.

He’s seen Deku at his worst. Crying and crumbling, body all bloodied and torn up after giving it his all. He’s seen him angry--borderline murderous even--with rage consuming him and leaving him gasping for breath as he saddles closer and closer to the line betwean life and death. He’s seen Deku broken and hollow, unable to eat for days and smelling like a decomposing corpse because the demons in his eyes had all but haunted him from even getting up to shower.

The point being, Katsuki knows that Izuku Midoriya is flawed.

He should, at least. Having seen these cracks and imperfections over and over should’ve cemented the idea that Deku was far from perfect. He sees sides of Deku that even their best friends, let alone the public have never seen. Bakugou knows that Izuku Midoriya is not a God--and is in fact very far from one.

But fuck if he doesn’t worship him like he is.

When Izuku confessed to him in their second year, Katsuki thinks that he learned what it feels like to die.

As dramatic as it sounds, it��s true. Watching those green eyes peel away from their locked gaze on his red ones to stare nervously at the ground causes Katsuki’s heart to jump. His palms were sweaty and blood roared in his ears, deafening him from all sounds except Deku’s voice. He’d initially thought that this was it. This was Deku preparing to tell him that he couldn’t stand being his friend anymore, that no matter how much Katsuki tried to atone for himself, Deku finally realized that Katsuki would never be worthy of his love.

It built up and up until Katsuki couldn’t breathe, willpower alone keeping him from gasping for breath as he awaited Deku’s rejection. The sun set in a brilliant cast of oranges and purples, but neither boy on the rooftop could stand to appreciate it when the sights in front of them were far more important.

“Kacchan,” he blurts at last. A sliver of his pink tongue peeks out to lick at his chapped lips. Katsuki’s chest constricts with want. “I like you.”

And it’s at those three words that Katsuki truly believes in an afterlife.

His heart clenches and stops for a different reason--a different feeling entirely. The world tilts on its axis and his breaths come up short, yet Katsuki’s never been happier to have been wrong. Parts of him shrivel up. Shudder in anxiety. Embers of raw anger and determination (leftover from years of scars and charred notebooks) tell him that he’s not worthy of Deku. That Katsuki is yet to even deserve to take the hand that has been waiting for him for his whole life.

Admittedly though, Katsuki Bakugou is a selfish, selfish man.

He stares at that freckled and blushing face like it’s a reflection of the universe itself. Green eyes that mistakenly take Katsuki’s silence as rejection grow watery, and yet as Katsuki stares into the molten pool of emerald and moss, he thinks he may see his entire life in those pretty eyes.

“...Kacchan? It’s okay if you don’t, uh, like me back. I u-understand if you feel uncomfortable or no longer want me be your friend even if it kinda s--”

“W-well really, it’s more of love. I... love you. Like, a lot. Have for a while I mean and I tried really hard to hide it but I’m sure it was obvious from the beginning and well, Uraraka said I was really bad at lying so I wasn’t really sure...” he mumbles. Stutters, because he’s human and very much not a god.

Katsuki Bakugou kisses Izuku Midoriya for the first time.

He kisses Izuku Midoriya because he wants all of him. He wants the sorrow and broken bones. The awkward laughter and nervous tics. Katsuki wants those green eyes to never stop looking at him and that mouth to never stop muttering the most inane nothings. He wants the beautiful and the ugly, the victories and the losses. He wants and he wants and he wants and he wants, and now that all of it is within his reach dear god is he never letting go.

The blond pours his soul into the kiss. Mouth harsh and unyielding, ever determined to prove to anyone watching that he’d throw away his life for this boy in a heartbeat. The desperation in their kiss practically daring anyone to try and pull them apart. Katsuki wants the kiss to say everything that he, in his weak and human state, cannot even begin to phrase. That somehow a single kiss could show the other that Katsuki loves him so much it breaks him inside. It’s so good that it’s painful. It’s painful and excruciating but fucking hell if Katsuki pulls away for one moment he thinks he might actually truly die.

They’re training to be pro-heroes, so of course their pain tolerance is higher than most. They’ve been taught to fight in any environment no matter what—could probably fight five people underwater for an hour without breaking a sweat. All of those hours of training somehow still mean nothing to Katsuki in the brilliance of the storm that is Izuku Midoriya.

Because as they kiss and breathe in each other’s air, Katsuki forces himself to pull away with a gasp.

Izuku thinks he’s hurt the blond accidentally, somehow. That he’d been too rough or pushed Bakugou into it or even just took his breath away from him in the literal sense. What the green-haired hero didn’t expect was the sheer devotion in ruby eyes.

(It would’ve scared him, if it didn’t make his knees shaky and heart rate speed up in exhilaration.)

Meanwhile, Katsuki’s drowning.

He’s drowning so deep in emotions that he’d never let himself feel until now. Drowning in his insecurities and greatest desires. Drowning in emotion and vigour. Drowning in the feeling of kissing Izuku fucking Midoriya. Part of him screams in agony, protesting this weakness as it fucks with his mind and squeezes at his heart.

The rest of him lets it happen.

Bakugou pulls away, gasping for breath. It’s too much and not enough, because he loves this boy so goddamn much that it actually hurts. He’s crying, and it’s kind of pathetic, really. So undone by a single kiss that tears streak down his face while white spots appear in vision of ruby eyes. A man so weak--so overcome with emotion that he can’t help but sob at the torrent of devotion that overtakes him. His heart throbs painfully and he struggles to take gulps of air, because Katsuki doesn’t truly love many people but there’s something about Izuku Midoriya that destroys him so thoroughly.

Ever understanding, ever patient, and ever too good for his damned, hell-bound soul, Izuku holds him close. He lets Katsuki weep into his jacket and runs scarred fingers through pale blond strands as the other boy tries to stifle his sobs. He hushes him with a light kiss to his temple and listens patiently as Katsuki whimpers every variant of ‘I love you’ under the sun.

Izuku Midoriya is no such god, but Katsuki Bakugou worships him like one nonetheless.

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bakugosbratx · 3 years

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Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could write a story when y/n is the crazy one and kidnaps Bakugo. Tysm ! -meena

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Content. Yandere, stalking, kidnapping, cursing, mental illness, blood, abuse, drugs, etc.

Check out my other works here

A/N: Hmm this is a different turn of events. I love it 👀 I hope you enjoyed anon! I went a little wild with this one.

Words: 2.2k

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @miriobaby @lanarist @sickchildren @bakugousbrat @ssplague @ahbeautifulexistence @m779 @vinny-likes-to-play21

“Dear Katsuki,

I watched you save a civilian on television today. I know it’s your job and all, but you did not have to save her. Her life is not as important as mine. Do you not cherish what we have? Am I just a nobody to you? This is my 103rd letter to you and still no response. I know your address did not change so do not give me that pathetic excuse, Katsuki Bakugo. Surely, you must remember we are soulmates. We are one. How dare you fucking forget me? I had to rip all of my posters down in a fit of rage. You know how angry that makes me, baby, but it will all be okay, because you are coming home to me. We will be one.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

You burst into a fit of giggles as you kick your bare feet back and forth on his bed. You wrote in black ink and covered the paper in orange hearts since it is the pro-hero’s favorite color. You could not help but leave precious lipstick kisses on the page. Something you always do in your love letters to Katsuki. The posters in your house are covered in them. Katsuki’s beautiful face is just so kissable. You cannot wait to do it tonight.

All you can think about is Katsuki. That is all your day consists of. Your clothing is all his merchandise and his favorite colors. You spend hours upon hours watching interviews, videos, surveillance footage of the hero. When he is out on patrol, you do your best to hide in areas so you can see the hero up close and personal. Your face just beams with joy at the mere glance of him.

You did your best to meet him several times. Any disaster there was to be had, you put on your nicest attire, do your make-up just how you think he likes, and have your hair freshly done. No better way to greet your significant other after hero work than looking like a beauty pageant queen.

Sadly, all your attempts were failures. Katsuki did not even give you the time of day. He is way too focused on beating the villains to a pulp. You did admire this about him, but your own selfish desires created hatred in you. He should be paying attention to you. Not those pesky villains.

Katsuki is sure to receive forty-five letters addressing the issue. All that he will never even skim over. This is only adding fuel to the fire.

The posters that hang in every single room in your apartment are ripped to shreds. Pools of tears covered your orbs, smudging all of your makeup. You climbed onto your black sofa, taking your left high heel and breaking the glass photo of Katsuki hanging there. Shards of glass sprinkle the couch and hardwood floor below. You don't even care for the pieces that collected into your skin. You will worry about that later.

“Fuck you, Katsuki!” You sobbed, ripping his face with your teeth and spitting out the saliva covered photo onto the litter filled floor.

“Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite saves another civilians life yet again, taking down another member of the league of villains who was terrorizing the victim.”

The news anchor’s words fell on deaf ears as you went to the television screen. You are captivated by your significant other’s beauty on the tv. Blood leaked from your freshly manicured hands. They are painted orange and black as always.

“Oh, Katsuki,” you sighed with a smile, tracing a heart around his face with your leaking blood, “we will be together soon. I promise, baby. I’ll take you away from this sick, cruel world so we can live happily ever after.”

You were serious that day. You planned it on your calendar. The countdown began on the night you are going to be one with Katsuki. A day you knew you both looked forward to.

“Dear Katsuki,

Did you miss me? I know I missed you. I even stamped this letter in my blood so you can have my DNA to mix with yours. I can’t wait to procreate with you. We will make such wonderful babies, don’t ya think? They will be so beautiful like you. I will be such an excellent mother. No woman can be a great wife to you like I can. Do you understand me?”

You had to pause writing as your blood started to boil at the thought. Your pen is already creating a huge ink spot from the anger consuming your hands. Small growls escaped your parted lips as you began to growl.

“If I can’t have you, no one can, Katsuki Bakugo. I am your one true love. You're one and only. And I’ll make sure that day comes. Just a few more days, baby, and we will be one.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

The day finally came. You knew Katsuki’s schedule by heart. You loved watching him do his morning routines with the security cameras you placed in his home. The poor male never even thought to check. Such a mistake on his part. It only confirmed he needed protection from the world. Only you can provide that. Sure, you may be quirkless, but no one knows Katsuki like you do. No one can love him like you. He knows this. He has to.

You drew a luke-warm bubble bath with nice lit candles, rose pedals, a few drops of your blood, and some freshly made desserts for you both to enjoy while you catch up. You are even so kind enough to fetch him a beer or two so he can relax. You know how he enjoys his alcoholic beverages after a long day of hero work.

You rested on his bed. The natural caramel scent engulfed your nostrils as you wrote letters into your notebook once more. Even when you two are officially together forever, you still love to write out your thoughts. You know he enjoys them as well.

Hours upon hours passed. Frustration arose overtime. You did not want to be angry with your spouse, but he knows better than to be home late on your special day. You have almost filled up your notepad with phrases upon phrases of ‘I love you’s’ and sweet nothings. Along with other things.

You tapped your bandages covered foot on the ground as you began to pace. “What is taking him so long?” You huffed aloud, growing more impatient by each passing second. The bath is beginning to become cold and that is just rude in your opinion. You decided to write out your emotions.

“Dear Katsuki,

What the fuck is taking you so long, huh? It’s so fucking aggervating and just plain rude. I have done so much for you only to toss me to the side like I’m nothing. Are you cheating on me? I do not tolerate disrespect, Katsuki Bakugo. You are going to make me mean and you know I hate being mean to you. You just make me jealous, baby. You know how you do that to me. Make me feel all types of emotion I can’t seem to understand, but one thing is for certain is that you and I will be together.

Sincerely,”

You did not even get to finish your final entry as you hear the front door downstairs unlock. Scrambling to put the diary away, you gather the necessary items from under the bed and wait for the perfect moment to strike. Katsuki’s natural loud ways was helping you locate his every move without even having to look at security footage.

All you have to do is be patient.

Katsuki sat on the couch, propping his sock-covered feet onto the glass coffee table and turning on the television. You allowed him some moments to get settled before gently tip-toeing down the stairs, rope, duct tape, and a blunt object ready in hand.

Just as Katsuki turned to acknowledge your presence, the crowbar hit his head, knocking him unconscious. You quickly attend to his wound — not without dropping some droplets of blood into his — so it does not get offended. You cannot have your husband getting an infection.

You tie up his hands and legs, duct tape his mouth after delivering kisses to his perfectly plump lips, and drag him to the kitchen. You did not realize how much your lover really weighed. Too much time was wasted dragging him to the fridge than preferred, but it will all be worth it in the end. You know it will be.

Katsuki did not wake up until the next day. You stayed by his side the whole time, telling him about your day and how much you have planned for you two. Of course, he needs to build his trust with you. You love a very intelligent man and the last thing you need is for him to be against you.

Slowly opening his crimson eyes, his attention is brought to a grinning you. Katsuki immediately attempts to escape the captivity he is in, but it is no use. You just had to buy special rope that cancels quirks.

“Struggle all you want, Katsuki-poo. There is no escaping me.” You chuckled, loving the way he squirmed and furrowed his eyebrows at you. All of his curses are mumbled by the tape which is probably the best considering you did not want to be insulted right now.

“When you calm down, I’ll take off the tape.” You bargained, shrugging nonchalantly as you kneel in front of the man. Did this calm him down? No. You know it wouldn’t regardless. You know Katsuki better than he knows himself yet you already want to push his buttons. The way he gets so angry turns you on and you can’t just help yourself but want more.

After a couple of hours of Katsuki complaining and you writing even more in your diary, he decided to calm down. This made you happy. You wanted to hear his beautiful gruff voice.

Grabbing the corner of the tape, you rip it off. Katsuki is already barking insults. “Are you fucking insane? Who the hell even are you? This isn’t going to end well with you, you psycho bit—“

A hard slap to his face interrupted Katsuki’s spill. Along with the duct tape you placed back on his mouth. “Such a meanie,” you pout, “and here I was about to be so nice to you.”

This cycle repeated itself for three days. You never left his side once. How could you? He is obviously in distress. He needs you by his side. He cannot do anything without you. Especially with his hands tied behind his muscular back. Katsuki finally decided that playing the game is the only way to win it.

You ripped the tape off once again. Katsuki did not even speak this time. “Did you learn your lesson?” You quizzed with an arched brow. “Y’know being a meanie is not going to get you anywhere, Katsukikins.”

“Why are you doing this?” Katsuki inquired, his gruff voice sounding so weak and hollow. You almost felt bad.

“You’re so silly, Suki. C’mon,” you brought your lips close to his, “gimme a kiss.”

Reluctantly, Katsuki did as instructed. Considering you are straddling his lap and his powers are useless, he has no choice in the matter. You loved the compliance.

“Good boy.” You praised, ruffling his messy blonde hair. Katsuki glared at you. “Will you be good and eat some food for me?”

“I don’t want your stupid ass food.” Katsuki growled, laying his head against the bottom freezer of his fridge.

“Nonsense, Suki.” You giggled, feeling extremely joyful to be with Katsuki. You bring a spoon of Miso soup up to his closed lips, “have some. I blew on it so it’s not too hot.”

“Get that trash away from me, you idiot—“ Katsuki was interrupted by a spoon entering his mouth. Though he would hate to admit this, the soup tasted delicious and he is quite hungry. He put up a fight, but allowed you to feed him properly until every drop was gone. Unfortunately, Katsuki is unaware that the soup is drugged until it’s too late.

His body began to feel numb. He did not even have the strength to ask questions as his eyes became drowsy. Soon, he is slumped over, sound asleep as you manage to drag him up the stairs and into your shared bed.

Planting kisses all over structures, you tuck him in and finish some late night entries in your diary. Skimming through them all and reflecting on how you got here now, it made you smile. Progress has been made and will continue to do so.

Signing off on the final page, you write:

“Dear Katsuki,

These past three days have been exhilarating. I see it in your terrified eyes how happy you are that I am here. I know how much you missed me. I missed you, too, baby. We will continue to grow and soon, we will have children. I even have my menstrual cycle all planned out. I am all yours and you’re all mine. Can’t you see, baby doll? We are forever meant to be.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

©bakugosbratx

#tw blood #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw injury #tw stalking #bakugosbratx #bratx request #bakugo x yandere reader #katsukibakugou #yandere my hero academia #yandere bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugō #submission #bakugo x you

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gifted-burnout-archive · 3 years

Text

we can never be friends

Requested?: Big mash up again... Oopsies. Someone wanted angsty luke smut, someone wanted the phrase ‘well i fucked your girlfriend and there’s nothing you can do about it’ implimented, someone else wanted a lil fake dating to get back at an ex, bad boy luke, the sex scene from charmed, y/n is a witch... also decided to make y/n a child genius to sweeten the pot.

Word Count: 10.2K+

Author’s Note: this story is brought to you by machine gun kelly, and the songs ‘bloody valentine’ and ‘why are you here’. i stumbled across the songs by mistake, and can’t get them out of my head, so now you get luke smut based on them.

also, everyone is aged up by like six-seven years, this takes place over a period of like a year and a half ish? yeah, read the nonsense and take from what you wish my doods. and a part two might come along if y’all want it, so like, lemme know.

song featured is ‘bloody valentine’ by machine gun kelly.

Warning: smut, drug and alcohol misuse, infidelity. and when i say smut i do mean smut. like oof smut. enjoy...

masterlist, i write more stuff like this sin.

It was always a mistake, whenever they got together.

Of course, it never felt like it in the moment: when his body was pressed up against hers, his lips on her neck and marking what was his, her fingernails clawing into his back and doing the same, it didn’t feel like a bad idea. It felt like euphoria, it was sweat and teeth and passion and sex. And for the first few moments after, as they came down from their highs and his arms pulled her close as they both caught their breath, there was a moment when they both wondered if they could actually work, they could actually be together.

“You’re thinking it again.” She muttered softly, pressing her lips to his once more before slipping out from under the satin sheets, making a beeline for the hotel bathroom. It was just chance they had run into one another in New York, what with them both calling Los Angeles, California home. But she had been called to Columbia University, and he had a habit of appearing where she least expected him to be.

For all the years Y/N had known Luke Patterson, he had never failed to surprise her.

“Is it so bad to think it? It’s not like we’re ever going to act on it.” He responded, biting his lip as his eyes scanned over her figure. He threw off the covers, recovering his boxers and slipping them on before walking after her, his thoughts giving him away, though he knew that already. “You sure you can’t stay for another hour?” He asked, leaning against the bathroom’s doorway as she freshened up. ‘Maybe this time I could fuck you against the window…’ her eyes shot up, a scowl upon her pretty face as she walked past him and back into the bedroom, quickly collecting her clothes.

“You really ought to control those thoughts of yours, Patterson. One day they might get you in trouble. Besides, I have an early lecture in the morning.” She muttered, pulling on her underwear, pausing to look for her second stocking. Luke walked over towards the door, lifting the hosiery from atop a lampshade.

They had been in a rush to get into bed.

“Crazier things have happened than you missing a lecture, Y/N.” He reminded when she came over to collect her second stocking, sitting on the bed and slipping it on quickly, the pair sharing glances.

“Not when I’m the one giving the lecture, you asshat.” She reminded, and Luke grinned. He forgot sometimes how unbelievably clever the girl before him was, and as she pulled on her dress, Luke took a step forward to zip up the back for her. One of his hands came to hold her waist as his lips pressed down on the exposed skin of her collarbone, his cold breath fanning over her skin and causing the girl to shiver and goosebumps to form. “This can’t happen again, understood?” She breathed out, the last of her words turning to a moan as Luke nipped at the crook of her neck, his free hand coming down from her shoulder, his fingers brushing faintly against her skin as their hands finally met.

He spun her around, bringing the hand he held to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles, his eyes locking with hers, his lips quirking to a smirk when she blushed at his actions.

Luke loved the effect he had on her. Y/N hated it.

“It’s cute how sure you are about it.” He remarked, moving away and breaking their touch, Y/N trying not to frown at the loss of his cold hands against her warm skin. “I mean, we’ve been saying the same thing since high school.” He swung open the hotel room’s door for her, and she quickly rid herself of any feelings of affection for the man before her: he always knew how to annoy her.

“And this time it’ll stick.” She snapped back, locating her purse with haste and slipping on her heels before marching for the door.

‘I like when you scream my name, Princess, don’t you?’ The intrusive thought belonged to the boy leant against the door, and Y/N scoffed as she walked out into the hallway, the carpet underneath a crimson red, something she hadn’t bothered to notice on her way up to his place.

“Get out of my head, Ghost Boy.” She ordered, not looking back as she made her way down the hallway, though she heard Luke laugh behind her, one of his smug chuckles that made her blood boil.

“I think it’s the other way round, your Highness. Rude to listen to what other people are thinking.” He called back down the hallway, earning a rather offensive hand gesture before Y/N stepped into the golden-door lift at the corridor’s end, the girl refusing to turn around until the doors had closed behind her, sparing her from his haunting gaze, those green eyes that managed to steal into her soul every time.

Luke watched the doors close at the end of the hall, letting out a soft sigh at the loss of the girl from his sight, though his moping was shortly interrupted by the sound of another room along the hallway opening its door, a scowling face looking back at him.

“You’re looking at me like I did something wrong.” He commented, walking back into his room and grabbing his jeans, that had landed on the back of the dining chair in the suite some five metres from the rumpled sheets of the bed. He pulled them as a set of footsteps approached, Luke again met with the disapproving expression of his band mate.

“Luke…” The concern dripping from Alex’s tongue with just his name had the guitarist shaking his head, walking across the room to grab his shirt, pulling it on quickly. “Luke, you know this is going to end badly.” He continued, taking a step further in the room while Luke grabbed his jacket. “Just like it did last time, and the time before that.”

“Alex, it’s fine, alright?” He said quickly. “What we have is good, it works.”

“It’s stopping you from finding someone you’d actually get along with.” The blonde disagreed, following Luke out into the hallway as the brown-haired boy started for the elevator. “Where do you plan on disappearing to? You remember we are meant to be on a plane in four hours?” He reminded, the other boy slowing to a stop, halfway between the golden doors and his friend.

“Is it really that late?” Luke asked, a smug look on his face, his iconic smirk and raised eyebrow causing Alex to roll his eyes.

“If you want a drink, order something up. Preferably, don’t order anything at all. Last thing you’ll want to be on an eight hour flight over the ocean is hungover, Luke.” He had always been the one with common sense, and Luke wavered on the spot for a moment, eyes fixed on the door. A part of him was sure he could catch up to her, that the pair could get a drink at the bar downstairs together. A part of him was sure she was waiting just beyond a press of a button, that she too was hoping he would join her.

“We’re bad for each other, aren’t we?” Luke found himself sighing happily, turning on his heels to face Alex once more. “God, she’s an asshole.”

“Most geniuses are.” Alex remarked with a smile, Luke taking one last glance back at the elevator before he headed towards the drummer’s room. Alex followed him in, walking to the drinks cabinet and pouring them both a drink: vodka, good stuff from what Luke could see, having taken a seat by the balcony windows. “You know, Julie’s got a friend you might like…”

“I don’t date, Alex. We’ve established this… Last thing I need is to break another one of Julie’s friend’s hearts. She’s only just forgiven for the last one…” Luke paused and nodded in thanks as Alex came over and took a seat across from him, handing over a drink. “Fuck, what was her name? It was something like Ruby or Pearl or Opal…”

“Crystal.” Alex corrected with a grimace and cold chuckle, finding the humour in his superior knowledge of Luke’s exes compared to the man across from him. “So, what? You’re going to spend the rest of your life like this, your closest encounter with romance being a girl you screw twice a year?”

“I mean, I see her twice a year… There are multiple rounds of sex involved each time.” Luke corrected with a strained laugh, downing the liquor in his glass. “I’ve really fucked myself over, haven’t I?” He asked, and Alex’s expression softened a little.

“Luke, don’t tell me you’re in love with her…”

“No, no… But it wouldn’t be the wildest thing, would it?” He asked, looking up at his friend for some sort of guidance: Alex was, after all, the one of their friendship group who had been dating his boyfriend since, God, since Julie’s senior year of high school. How far they had come since then…

“Everyone knows that you wouldn’t work out… For the obvious reason you’ve both been avoiding.” Alex sat straighter, picking up Luke’s empty glass and walking back to the cabinet to refill it, bringing the bottle back with him that time. “You may be alive again Luke, but it doesn’t change the fact that we’re not actually alive, and that we don’t mix with…” He trailed off, and Luke nodded, accepting the second glass and downing it in one, the alcohol in his veins the warmest thing about him.

He knew all too well what Alex was inferring, though in the guitarist’s defence, he hadn’t been privy to the rather large secret Y/N had until about a year into their… relationship. She had figured out his backstory rather quickly of course, but she had the advantage of reading his mind. Yes, Luke may have been a ghost, and that should have been complication enough.

But Y/N also happened to hold the title of supernatural being. It was just Luke’s luck, wasn’t it?

Just his luck to end up screwing a witch.

If there was anything to know about the intricacies of supernatural species, it would be that some of them didn’t get along very well: vampire and werewolves, mer-people and sirens, angels and demons. Amongst the long list of rivalries one might find in their research, one of the oldest and most conflicting pairings was that of witches and ghosts.

Witches, in practice, have one job: banishing spirits from the mortal realm. Alongside all the candle lighting and chatting with deities, witches like Y/N spent their lifetimes on earth getting rid of lingering souls. And with her family lineage and standing amongst the American covens, Y/N was rather good at what she did. Alongside her shocking intellect and undeniable beauty, she took on the part-time role of vanquishing ghosts to purgatory before they did anything stupid like come back to life.

Y/N hadn’t expected to find out her classmate Julie Molina was a medium halfway through their sophomore year, nor had she anticipated the arrival of three ghost musicians who could be seen by mortals when they all sang together in a band. Of course, her seeing them too didn’t help things, and her conflicted feelings over banishing the very attractive guitarist had led to a delay in her actions, and before she knew it, Julie was bringing them all back to life, or as alive as ghosts can be.

Noticing a resurrected ghost was nearly impossible: they age, they appear human, and if they avoid utilising their previous ghost powers, the only thing that would ever raise suspicions of a mortal, or any species for that matter, was how cold ghosts stayed.

It was a common misconception that vampires were ‘cold as ice’, popularised by teen movies that suggested the bloodsuckers sparkled in the sunlight, when it was ghosts who in fact held that trait (vampires were actually constantly warm from the excess of blood in their system). To touch a ghost was like shoving the body part into a freezer, there was an element of pain to it if the feeling was continuous, and it worked the other way around. A ghost touching the living could hurt, something that could perhaps be compared to the nipping on skin just a little too close to an open flame.

Y/N and Luke had found a loophole to that, of course: the heat of sex tended to offset the cold, mixing the inklings of pain with waves of pleasure.

Their relationship had been a complicated one from its beginning: there’s a certain level of tension that comes with the possibility that Julie’s pretty friend could destroy you and your friends with the same magic Caleb had threatened them with all those years ago, but when a year passed of the boys being present on earth, both invisible and visible to the human eye, and Y/N having done nothing to report them to her coven, the boys were sure they were in the clear.

And they were almost right…

“I need your help, Ghost Boy.” The words had Luke spinning on the spot as he stood under the early autumn sunshine. He had been waiting for Julie, tasked with picking her and Flynn up from school that day. Ever since the boys had stopped being dead, they had taken on chores in the house to help out Ray as a thank you for him letting them stay in the garage. Luke had expected to find Julie or Flynn, or anyone for a matter of fact: just not Y/N. The pair rarely spoke, most likely to do with the fact she should have reported him to some magical authorities over a year before.

“What do I owe this pleasure, Miss Magic?” He asked, his chipper tone and easy smirk causing Y/N to frown further. She disliked that she found him attractive, though it was exactly why she was approaching him that warm September day of her senior year. “Aren’t you meant to be at college?” He asked with a raised brow, and she sighed, folding her eyes.

“My academic schedule is none of your business.” She was, in fact, meant to be at college that day: Y/N had simultaneously attending high school and working towards her first degree, her parents insistent on her growing up amongst peers despite her summer having been spent working on her final dissertation for her first bachelor’s degree. “I am going to make this quick, Patterson, simply because talking with you makes me nauseous and I worry I’ll catch a cold if I stay close to you for too long.”

“You always had a way with your words, Princess.” Luke grinned, leaning back against the car’s bonnet and folding his own arms, his eyes quite blatant in their racking over her body: the sundress she wore leaving just enough to the imagination to leave the boy intrigued. “What can I do for you?” He asked, and Y/N snapped her fingers in front of his face, frowning.

“I can hear what you’re thinking, asshole… But you’re not far off.” She muttered, and Luke’s eyes widened. His thoughts had been far from pure. “I need you to come with me to Carrie’s party on Saturday, alright?” She exclaimed, clearly upset that she had resorted to asking assistance from the ghost. “My ex is going to be there, he’s an asshole, and if you say no I do have the means to banish you to purgatory.”

“I don’t get much of a say then, do I?”

“No, you don’t…”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

There was one thing certain about the relationship Luke Patterson shared with Y/N Y/L/N: they could never be friends.

After six years of casual sex in high-end hotel rooms and bathroom stalls; six years of cheating on ‘significant others’ with one-night stands; after Julie and the guys signed their multi-record deal and began touring and Y/N found her own level of moderate celebrity thanks to her genius brain; after all of it, they knew each other too well to like one another, and saw each other too little to develop anything beyond their physical encounters.

Because even though Luke annoyed Y/N with every smirk and his scoffing chuckle, and Y/N drove Luke to the edge with her superiority complex and constant need to prove her intelligence, it couldn’t be helped that whenever the pair found themselves faced with the other, all sanity went out the window. They became different people, and for the few hours they were in one another’s arms, who they really were didn’t matter.

Luke hated her a little bit for it, the effect she had on him, the same way Y/N hated him. There was no love lost between the two, there was no love to begin with. It was just convenience and desperation that had transformed into a primal hunger for one another. Neither had had better sex with someone else, no matter how hard they both searched. It wasn’t a secret that twenty-five year old Luke Patterson of Julie and the Phantoms, the four-time Grammy winner, was a ladies’ man and the free spirit of the band: it was plastered over every tabloid magazine across the globe. And while her fame was lesser than that of the rock star, the sophisticated twenty-three year old Y/N, the scholar who seemed to be headed straight for becoming a household name, was notorious in academic circles for her love affairs: at least two tenured ivy-league professors had slept with and left their wives for the young woman.

In recent years, concern had grown amongst their shared friends, mainly being Alex, who witnessed the rather undesirable parts of their relationship play out to their fullest. It wasn’t just that the pair used one another for sex, they were fine with that: but there was suddenly this need to impress the other, a competitiveness between the two. There was enough heat on Luke’s love life, but whenever Y/N came around, that seemed to escalate to excessive drinking: and one time, Alex and Reggie had to haul Luke into his apartment after he decided to get high on some sort of pill with the witch.

Despite disagreeing with one another on everything but sex, it was almost comical how quickly they could give in to one another. Constantly, even when they weren’t in the same country. It was too common of an occurrence that Y/N would be on the TV as the younger generation’s voice of science, sat on some couch in a studio in LA or New York or Paris or London, or she would be another key note speaker at an event: she had even managed to get herself on the cover of Vogue, an exclusive interview with Anna Wintour herself titled ‘The Sex of Science’. Luke saw all of it, of course, and like clockwork, he would then, for some reason, make it his mission to get another scandal on the front page of tabloids, like he was trying to one-up her.

And he was, and in a way, it was a form of foreplay for the pair. Luke’s insufferable gloating transcended physical presence, he was in every shop Y/N walked into, with a new girl on his arm. Y/N retaliated with success, building the brand she had been working on since high school as the country’s new scientific mind, acting like she was too above the rest of the world to even care to know who Luke Patterson was…

One year.

One whole year since that night in New York, and the band were back by personal invitation. With their third world tour finally finished, and their fourth album in the works for release later that year, the guys and Julie had been riding a high, not quite sure if they’d ever fall down.

Their half decade of commercial success had handed them their third invitation to the Met Gala, a PR opportunity to promote themselves, according to Flynn. Their manager was flown out from LA with Willie, Reggie’s girlfriend Kayla and Julie’s girlfriend, the group opting to share a plane with Trevor and Carrie Wilson, almost a reunion for them all. It wasn’t often they all got to see one another, with the band constantly on tour the past years, but it felt like there was no better place to catch up: over $1,000 champagne as they all talked about the clothes they wore.

“And stepping out onto the carpet now we have the Phan-tastic Four themselves, Julie and her Phantoms!” It was the first voice Luke heard as he stepped out of the limousine and onto the red carpet, suddenly joined by a barrage of questions and flashes of cameras, hundreds of reporters and fans calling out his name. He gave his signature smirk and a wave, opening the car door wide and holding out a hand to Julie, helping her onto the carpet and smiling as gasps sounded around them.

She was a vision, dressed in a tulle ballgown, a mixture of blues and greens and yellows layered on one another, decorated with butterflies like she was some type of goddess. The theme for the year was Sense and Sustainability: Fashion of the Planet, and she had hit the nail on the head with the help of their designer that year. The boys too, had gone for the blue and green tones to match their lead singer: Luke was in a dark blue suit, Reggie in an emerald three-piece and Alex in a topaz shirt, all of them looking like they were straight out of some utopian alter-reality.

“You know, Luke, I think it’s my job to help Julie out of the car.” A voice spoke, Julie’s girlfriend emerging in a white tailored piece, she too decorated with butterflies, a flower the same colours as Julie’s dress proudly displayed on her lapel.

“He has a habit of coming to these things alone, he just likes having something to do.” Julie teased her friend, giving his hand a quick squeeze before letting go, turning her attention to the girl by her side, the pair sharing a soft kiss, the camera surging into another frenzy.

“Honestly, it’s like we’re famous or something.” The next car pulled up, the voice this time being Reggie’s as he jumped from the still rolling car, assisting his girlfriend Kayla out the vehicle, she a beauty in purple. The pair were quickly followed by Alex and Willie, who both looked like they belonged on one of the Vogue runways instead of the red carpet.

“Divide and conquer, meet back at the steps?” Alex suggested, taking in the extravagance of it all, the constant flashing lights and the noise of it all. “Flynn and Carrie texted, they’re already inside.” He alerted on top of his question, the group sharing glances and nodding in agreement.

“Don’t say anything stupid.” Julie warned them all, the group breaking apart to make their ways down the carpet, towards the Met, respective partners in tow.

The next forty minutes were a slow crawl down the carpet amongst the world’s superstars, and Luke did his very best to answer the questions posed to him by prying reporters: he stuck to talking music, and the band and touring, and whenever questions about his love and sex life came up, he quickly laughed them off and changed the subject, a tactic that seemed to work quite well. He wasn’t the only person the journalists were looking to interview, and with each evaded question he felt the weight in his chest get lighter and lighter.

He had promised Julie and the guys, after all, that the night was about what really mattered: they had been asked to play a few songs for the event’s official after party, as well, their popularity shared amongst celebrities alongside the general public. Despite it being a fashion event, that night was about the music for the four.

“So, Luke, correct me if I’m wrong, but tonight is almost a school reunion, no?” The reporter asked, Luke stood to her left as the camera rolled, live feed of the night going straight onto TVs across the country.

“Well, yeah! I guess it is. It’s the first time we’ve had the chance to all be together since before the tour, and you can-” Luke was interrupted by a squeal, he and the reporter turning around to catch Julie and Flynn hugging in the centre of the walkway, coos coming from nearby celebrities who watched on as the girls embraced around the volumes of Julie’s dress fabric. “You can tell we’ve missed each other, can’t you?” He said, turning back to the reporter, who’s eyes flicked down to his arms and back up. He had forgone his suit jacket about twenty minutes before, the shirt underneath sporting sheer sleeves that showed off his biceps quite nicely.

“It’s uh.” The reporter cleared her throat. “From what I gather, the Los Feliz alumni make up over 1% of attendants tonight, and considering we have guests here from across the world, seems like there’s magic over at that school.” She suggested with a raise of the eyebrow, and Luke found himself chuckling. If only she knew…

“I should say hello to Miss Harrison actually, best music teacher in the world.” Luke waved at the camera quickly, and his eyes quickly surveyed the space. His friends had found themselves nearing the steps, and he was quite set on joining them.

“Of course, not all of the reunion class are in the music industry though, are they?” The reporter posed, and Luke frowned a little in confusion.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me there…” He admitted, though his wonders were quickly answered as another car pulled up at the end of the carpet, yells and cameras flashing making it hard for Luke to focus on the person stepping out of the car, though it soon became rather clear with reporters crying out her name.

Plus, Luke knew Y/N’s body like the back of his hand.

There had to be something said for showing up to the biggest fashion event of the year in black, and more so for showing up in the iconic Coco Chanel fashion of a little black dress. There weren’t many people who could pull it off, but as she walked down the carpet, passing reporters begging for her attention, adorned in the form fitting dress that just passed her knees, the boatline neck putting focus on the gold chain necklace she wore, her stilettos red bottoms to match the crimson lipstick she wore, her hair in its natural waves and framing her face beautifully: no-one could have garnered more attention.

“Will you excuse me?” Luke asked, but before the reporter could speak up he was already making his way across to the centre of the carpet, a lazy smirk on his face as he looked her over, and she came to stand before him, the pair staring one another down. ‘You should’ve told me you’d be here, Princess’, he thought, a smile quirking on her lips as she held out a hand, Luke taking it in his own and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles, his cold lips giving her goosebumps.

“I think your friends might be waiting for you.” She said softly, the pair breaking their hold on one another and beginning a walk for the steps, Y/N gasping softly at the sight of Julie in her dress. “My goodness, she looks stunning.”

“Yes, you do.” Luke responded, the pair sharing a glance before Y/N started up the stairs, Julie descending to meet her halfway as the pair held onto one another, Luke watching as they seemed to communicate telepathically: they had learned rather a lot from Y/N about Julie’s gifts, ones she had inherited from her mother, and Julie’s ability to see and speak to the dead also seemed to have the added bonus of receiving messages from witches. Y/N could read minds, Julie could mirror the effect.

“Oh, you haven’t met Hannah!” Julie exclaimed suddenly, the girl in black shaking hands with Julie’s girlfriend in white. “Why, how are you here?” The question seemed to perk more than Luke’s interest, microphones held out across the barricade by reports to try and catch a snippet of the words soon to leave Y/N’s mouth.

“Who do you think suggested the theme? The fashion industry is one of the biggest pollutants in America, and where better to flagship the reusable movement than at the biggest fashion event of the year.” Y/N giggled, Julie’s arm linking with hers as they began to walk again, a vision of colours against black. They complimented one another, strolling along the ways old friends do, Flynn coming across to greet them as Hannah and Luke followed behind, the four making their way for their waiting friends. “Besides, Anna owed me a favour.” Y/N added with a smirk, Luke catching the words and raising an eyebrow.

“Are you here on business, Y/L/N?” He asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and coming to a stop beside Alex and Willie, the former of whom glanced over at Luke with warning: the last thing they needed was Luke on another front page, this time with the brightest young mind in America.

“Wintour has… Bouts of lycanthropy, and a problem with the undead hanging around museums.” Y/N explained in a low voice, glancing over and spotting the iconic magazine editor, sending her a polite wave from across the way. “I promised to do some banishings if she would kindly assist in the environmental progress movement. An endorsement from Anna Wintour goes a long way.” She shrugged. “It seemed like a fair exchange.”

“I’m sorry, can we backtrack for a moment? Banishings and lycanthropy?” Hannah asked, the group turning to look at her, Julie taking her hand as they decided who might explain. She was the newest addition to the friendship circle, her and Julie having been dating for just over a year and a half. She had joined the band for a leg of the tour, met Flynn.

Y/N was not a person Hannah knew very well, and the sudden talk of magical things, quite understandably, made the girl uneasy.

“So, you know how we told you about us being the g word? And Julie’s a medium?” Reggie said, throwing an arm over Kayla’s shoulder and pulling his girlfriend closer. When Hannah nodded, he continued. “And you know how there was the dead magician who tried to kill us again when the band first formed?” He stopped again, making sure the girl was keeping up with him. “Well, Caleb was a witch when he was alive, and Y/N over there, the one in black, you two have met. Well, Y/N was the alive witch who was meant to banish us and didn’t, thank you for that.” He nodded to the girl, and she smiled slightly, her eyes more focused on Luke across the circle from her. “And now she’s the science girl that everyone talks to on TV since Bill Nye is too old.”

“So… Potions and spells and candles and stuff?” Hannah asked, the group joining in a light chuckle as Y/N nodded.

“Indeed, though it’s a lot more logical than myth has people believing.” Y/N said, her attention diverting from Luke as their host approached, the young men and women all finding themselves straightening up at the sight of her.

“Dr Y/L/N, it’s lovely to see you again. Might we have a word?” Wintour asked, removing Y/N from the group with the words and a quick wave goodbye, the young woman sending a wink Luke’s way before disappearing with the chief editor of Vogue, the pair stopping for an interview further down the stairway.

The title was one that made Y/N smile every time she heard it, the hard work of her youth paying off with respect from elders. It was important for her public persona too, people tended to believe you more if you had the suffix, and for someone so young, it helped her appear mature. There weren’t a lot of perks to getting your first of two doctorates at nineteen, the whole process of being a wunderkind leading up to it had been stressful to say the least, not to mention the added pressures of being groomed to lead the coven one day, but she made it work.

“So, Dr Y/L/N, perhaps we should talk about why you’re here?” The reporter’s question brought Y/N back to reality, stood beside Wintour with a practiced smile to the camera.

“Well, Monica.” Y/N was sure to use the reporter’s first name with a smile. “When Vogue made the move to promote sustainable fashion and opened the bid to make the top designer brands carbon neutral by 2030, I simply couldn’t refuse.” She had rehearsed what to say, she always did. Her appearances were important, her time on screen needed to mean something to viewers. “We are saving our planet, our economy, our livelihoods one step at a time here, this move to recycled materials is predicted to create thousands of new jobs globally within the fashion industry. And as someone who studies these things for a living, probability and the effects of pollutants, the political climate on these issues, I know that I’m here representing the entire scientific community tonight, approving of the incredible work done by our designers, our celebrities who help spread awareness, and by the people at home.”

“You know, I still can’t get over how young you are, I apologise.” The reporter responded with a light laugh, Y/N offering a soft smile back.

“Young, but wise beyond her years. She’s the one we need to listen to.” Anna interrupted with a nod to Y/N. “Two doctorates and five degrees under her belt, not to mention the sense of style.” She complimented, and the reporter rounded off the interview as the pair walked away. “How long until the banishing is over?” She whispered, the pair ascending the staircase to enter the hall, celebrities by the dozen milling around, finding their tables, sitting themselves down for the dinner soon to be served.

“Surely you can trust me to get the job done in a timely fashion, Anna.” Y/N remarked, hands clasped behind her back.

“You’re a witch, of course I don’t trust you.” She muttered, the pair sharing masquerade smiles as they quickly separated, the rather cruel thoughts wandering around the fashion icon’s head causing Y/N to smirk. Her night was just beginning, of course, and as she made her way towards the security corridors on the far side of the hall, her eyes scanned over the room to find Luke looking right back at her, that smug look her hated on his face, arms folded as he rather blatantly checked her out.

’12.05?’ Luke asked as they shared the gaze, the time meaning something to them both. When she nodded, Luke’s gaze focused back on his table of friends, leaving Y/N to disappear in peace, though her mind was once again at war.

She just couldn’t say no to him.

It was a fairly desperate call for Luke to have to rope Y/N into something, but she owed him a few favours from the year before, and he was not going to be the only person at the Halloween record label party without a date: especially not when his ex-girlfriend was going to be there.

As much as he disliked it, Luke was quite certain he needed the hottest person he knew, and it was, rather unfortunately, the witch. It helped that Julie, Flynn and Carrie had banded together that summer to reimagine their friend’s wardrobe: they had fitted Y/N with a style somewhere between ‘if looks could kill’ and ‘you wish you could’, outfits that all looked like they belonged on the cover of a couture magazine, with elements of the witch theme laced in. And while Luke and the band hadn’t seen Y/N in months, what with them recording in LA and her studying at Stanford, just outside of San Francisco, he was hopeful that he could salvage some shred of dignity if he had a pretty girl on his arm.

His breakup with Alice had been front page news for weeks, a mess of lies and cheating and constant scandal that had worked in everyone’s favour, even if it left Luke feeling worse for wear. It was the same as his relationship before Alice, and then his relationship before Alice and Rita… He was quite committed to swearing off romance until he hit forty, at least then he’d be avoiding the front page if things went south.

He arrived at the Fall Down Records HQ coming close on eleven o’clock, a slam of his car door echoing around the street as cameras flashed and caught him on his way in. He blocked out the bright lights and noise, the questions of how he was coping with the breakup, of how he was feeling about Alice’s new boyfriend: by the time the new month started, he had no doubt his tragic affair with the country singer would be overshadowed by the mysterious girl who had arrived at the party earlier that night.

“Luke, you made it!” As the boy entered into the lobby of the building, decorated from top to two in Halloween décor, Trevor welcomed his friend with a smile and quick hug. It was weird, Bobby now being Trevor and Trevor being the same age as Julie’s dad, perhaps weirder that he helped run the label JATP was signed to, but apologies had been handed out and late statements made by Trevor to credit the guys on his first album, so he had sort of just become an uncle now. He was older, wiser, changed from the kid Luke had known, but he still cared about him and Alex and Reggie, just instead of getting them fake IDs and letting them crash in his old garage, now Trevor read the fine prints of the band’s contracts and offered free use of his helicopter.

“Did a pretty girl dressed as an angel show up?” He asked, getting straight to the point. He himself was dressed in an all-black number, sleeveless of course, and had managed to put in some red contacts, a modern take on the Devil.

“She’s with Julie, doing a rather good job at outshining your ex-girlfriend…” Trevor muttered, gesturing to the left of them, Luke’s head turning to locate the girl he had effectively hired to date him for the night.

And she took his breath away.

Y/N stood at Julie’s side by a karaoke machine, the two singing to one another as crowds cheered them on, his ‘girlfriend’ looking like she could’ve quite literally come down from heaven: she had flat out refused to dress up as a witch, and when Luke suggested that their dressing as angel and demon could also be construed as cultural appropriation, Y/N had laughed until she cried. He had asked what was so funny, and she had asked if he had ever seen an angel in person.

It was safe to say that the fluffy white wings and halo mortals had commercialised was a far cry from the true essence of angelic powers: they more resembled blobs that floated, one large eyes in the middle, usually surrounded by rings of heaven fire and something one might describe as spinning wheels of death. All spikes meant to destroy anything impure that came close.

Safe to say, Luke didn’t plan on going to heaven any time soon.

As the song ended, the girls turning to the crowd to bow, Y/N’s eyes fell on Luke at the far side of the room, and she took the opportunity to pay him back.

“You’re here!” She squealed, sending a quick wink Julie’s way, their friend aware of the favour, before putting on her best performance: rushing through the breaking crowd to jump into Luke’s arms, his own instinctively wrapping around her waist to hold her up as he spun around to gain his balance again.

‘Happy to see me, Princess?’ he raised an eyebrow as she read his thoughts, Luke’s eyes drifting over to land on Alice, who watched from the corner of the room rather intently. ‘She’s looking at me…´he thought, Y/N glanced back as Luke placed her back on the ground, a thought coming to her head.

“Let’s give her something to gossip about, yeah?” She suggested, pulling Luke close to her by his collar, planting her lips on his in front of the entire room, making quite sure to embarrass the girl who decided to cheat on Luke Patterson.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?!” Julie called out, the crowd filling the Bowery Ballroom cheering back as she took the stage, microphone in hand. Julie had opted to change dress, her ballgown replaced with a white strapless number, keeping to the theme of butterflies that night and now matching her girlfriend, who stood in the front row of the crowd encouraging her on with a thumbs up.

The evening had been more than a success, with the crowd of celebrities migrating from the Met to the music venue she stood on the stage of as the formalities quickly came to a close. JATP had been begged to play a show, many of the celebrities that night major fans of the young rock stars, and after a DJ set from a mix of the Billboard 100’s top producers, Julie found herself taking the stage with the promise of a song.

“I just want to say thank you, on behalf of myself and the guys, for letting us play. And… Well, we’ve decided that for such a special occasion, we ought to give you something new.” Another chorus of cheers echoed in the space, Julie walking round to place her microphone on the stand by the keyboard waiting for her. “The guys and I have been working on album number four, and this song was one Luke wrote last year just after we left for the World Tour.” Julie paused, looking out into the crowd, her eyes finding Y/N’s as she watched from beside Flynn. “It’s called Bloody Valentine, and we hope you like it.” She finished, the cheers and applause dying down when a sudden guitar riff came from out of nowhere, Julie joining in with piano chords alongside a bassline and a drum beat from Alex, the sounds filling the air despite three of the four musicians being absent.

“The simulation just went bad, but you're the best I ever had. Like hand prints in wet cement, she touched me it's permanent.” Julie sang out, another swell of cheers as the crowd began dancing to the fast paced drum beat and guitar riffs of the song. A flash of light, and Reggie appeared on stage, no longer in his emerald suit from the event, but changed into a silk shirt of the same hue, a pop of colour under his trusty leather jacket and tucked into his ripped skinny jeans.

“In my head, in my head, I couldn’t hear anything you said but in my head.” Reggie took the melody line, Julie harmonising on top, moving away from the piano and crossing the stage to sing with her friend, the two beginning to dance along to the music they made. “In my head, I’m calling you girlfriend what the-” the curse word meant to finish the phrase was overshadowed by a drum fill as Alex appeared on stage behind the pair, his topaz shirt now half open, his hair a mess and his sticks hot from the sheer speed of his hands.

“I don't do fake love, but I'll take some from you tonight. I know I've got to go but I might just miss the flight.” The three sang the first half of the chorus together, Julie jumping up onto the drum stand with Alex to rock out as he played an sang, leaving room on stage as their final member flashed onto the stage, his suits pants switched for a pair of jeans and sneakers, his shirt now without it’s sheer sleeves, showing off Luke’s arms as they flexed, the guitarist taking lead on the song with a complicated guitar riff.

“I can't stay forever, let's play pretend, and treat this night like it'll happen again. You'll be my bloody valentine.” Luke sang to the screams of the crowd, a smile on his face as he sang, his eyes roaming the crowd for the girl dressed in black, stood a row or two from the front, sending her a wink as he performed. “Tonight.”

“I'm overstimulated and I'm sad. I don't expect you to understand. It's nothing less than true romance or am I just making a mess?” Luke and Julie found themselves singing together, his friend dancing across the stage and leading him along with her microphone as they played for the hundreds before them, Julie switching to the harmony line as the second pre-chorus came back around. “In my head, in my head, I'm laying naked with you, yeah. In my head, in my head, I'm ready to die holding your hand.”

“I don't do fake love, but I'll take some from you tonight. I know I've got to go but I might just miss the flight. I can't stay forever, let's play pretend and treat this night like it'll happen again. You'll be my bloody valentine tonight.” Luke took the second chorus by himself, while Julie hyped up the crowd, Alex and Reggie going hard on drums and bass behind him. He couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting over to Y/N as he sang, the girl stood there with a smirk on her lips. He wondered if she was reading his mind, if she knew what he was thinking, if she knew the song was about her, about them: about the chaotic and borderline toxic relationship they had developed over the years. He wondered if she remembered the year before, the night they shared in New York before he vanished off for a World Tour, before she had fully accepted her role as America’s Greatest Scientific Mind.

The instrumental break had the crowd going wild, Luke, Reggie and Julie harmonising on their separate instruments while Alex improvised on the drums, quickly bringing the tempo down and starting a roll on the snare, Luke coming back to his mic to sing.

“I can't hide how I feel about you. Inside, I'd give everything up tonight, if I could just have you be mine. Be mine, baby.” Luke’s voice had a gravel in it, something raw and powerful that took people’s breath away. He glanced over to Reggie and Julie as he sang, the three sharing smiles until Reggie glanced out at the crowd, his grin dropping to a frown, Julie’s soon following. Luke tracked their gazes as he held onto the microphone for balance, every piece of joy in him suddenly filled with rage.

There, in the third row back, was some guy, dressed like he’d just come from a giving a university lecture, with his arms around Y/N’s waist, his chin resting against her shoulder as he pressed kisses to her neck.

“I can't hide how I feel about you. Inside, I'd give everything up tonight, if I could just have you be mine. Be mine.” Luke continued, dropping back from the mic once he had sung the last of the bridge, leaving Alex to another drum fill, a chance to show off that Luke had before been so excited to hear. Now? He just felt numbing anger, it was clear on his face: he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Y/N, who seemed to be refusing to return his gaze, her eyes anywhere but on him.

“I don’t do fake love but I’ll take some from you tonight. I know I’ve got to go but I just might miss the flight.” Reggie and Julie took over singing the last chorus, trying not to show concern as they performed, trying to remain professional. They both wondered exactly what Luke would do once they got off stage, wondered if Reggie and Alex would need to hold their friend back while Julie attempted to talk him down, but it seemed like Luke’s frustrations were coming out on his guitar and the song. He stepped up to the microphone again, green eyes piercing into Y/N’s very soul as he played like he wouldn’t get another chance.

“I can't stay forever, let's play pretend and treat this night like it'll happen again. You'll be my bloody valentine tonight.” Her eyes finally looked up, her face one of blank expression, and it almost gave him hope. She almost look annoyed, though he couldn’t tell if it was at him or the man who’s hands had begun travelling across her body.

“No not enough, no not enough, no not enough, no not enough no just tonight.” The four sang, repeating the line over again as the song came to a close, Luke swinging his guitar behind him as Alex drummed them out, heavy breathing in a mix of adrenaline and wrath.

The moment the song ended, the crowd bursting into applause, with significant others quickly rushing to the stage to congratulate Julie, Reggie and Alex, Luke watched Y/N slip her way out of the mystery man’s arms, making a beeline to a door by the stage side. It took Luke a second, setting his guitar on the stand and following after her, ignoring a call of ‘Luke wait!’ from his bandmates as he slammed open the door walking down the backstage corridors.

He was hunting, following the scent of perfume, that sweet mix of apple and lemon that made him lightheaded, the echoes of stilettos on concrete. It wasn’t often that he used his ghostly gifts, more because he had gotten used to being human again, but it a moment of frustration at the endless hallways and rooms that seemed to filled that backstage of the Bowery, he poofed with Y/N in mind.

She had expected him to follow of course, they had agreed it earlier that evening. While Luke hadn’t been paying attention to the time, he appeared in one of the Bowery’s backstage bathrooms just as the clock hit 12.05, finding Y/N perched on the sink with a window cracked open and a cigarette between her blood red lips. She blew the smoke out the window, turning back to look at him, reaching out a hand from him to grip onto as he steadied himself. He hadn’t jumped like that in years, the feeling foreign to him.

“Luke…” She said softly, sincerity in her voice that was rare: she wasn’t a woman prone to expressive emotion.

“You could have fucking told me you were with someone before I got on stage.” He hissed, cutting off any type of apology she might have tried to give, not that she was known for them. “I mean, I knew you were a total bitch, Princess, but do I not get any warning?!”

“We don’t do feelings Patterson, you know that.” She whispered softly, taking another drag of the cigarette before stubbing it out and tossing it through the window, the smoke she blew out hanging in the air.

“Are you really going to sit there and act like we don’t have something?! Really?” Luke exclaimed with an angry laugh, running a hand through his hair in disbelief at the girl before him, who sat stoic, straight backed with her legs crossed one over the other, like she was being interviewed on one of those stupid news shows.

“It doesn’t matter what we have if it would never work, Luke!” She finally let her temper break, yelling the response back at him despite her perfect posture. “We aren’t friends! We can never be friends! We’re two different people leading two very different lives. And to be quite honest with you, Jackson fits into mine.” She admitted, trying to stop her bottom lip from quivering. The last thing she was going to be was weak.

“Jackson, so that’s his name.” Luke scoffed, taking a step closer to Y/N, and another. “Tell me something, Princess.” He muttered, his hand lifting her legs apart for him to get closer, his cold demeanour matching the chill that exuded from his body, causing goosebumps to form on Y/N’s arms and legs. “Does he have the same effect on you that I have?”

“No.” She confessed, her head hanging low as she let out the word. Luke’s thumb and forefinger caught her chin, raising her face to look him in the eyes, the smirk on his lips prompting Y/N to add to her confession. “But I suppose that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Can you tell me honestly that you can give this up?” Luke posed the question, and for a moment Y/N had to pause, to gulp, the closeness of their bodies all too tempting. “You know, you may be the smarty pants young doctor out to save the world around everyone else, Princess, but I’ve heard you scream my name before.” He whispered, his lips centimetres from making contact with skin. “You like this, you love this. Us…Late nights in hotel rooms and sneaking out before morning.” A hand finally placed down against her thigh, the cold skin against her flushed body almost shocking had it not been a feeling Y/N had craved. “You like the adrenaline that comes with going back to what ever pencil neck you’ve wrapped around your little finger while my cum is still on your thighs, marks I left still on your neck.”

All of it was true, but of course Y/N had no intention of admitting it, of boosting that asshole’s ego anymore than she already had. She shouldn’t have agreed to even meeting him, no matter how badly she craved the feeling of Luke’s body against hers, of his hand around her neck as he fucked her senseless.

“Let go of me and I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again.” She promised, to which Luke laughed, the hand he had on her thigh pushing her skirt higher and higher, coming down towards the inside of her thigh, brushing the lace of her panties. Her breathing hitched, her body betraying her.

“Face it, Y/N…” He said softly, moving back to look her in the eyes as a finger hooked under her panties and pull them down her thighs, Luke biding his time, waiting for the fabric to fall to his feet before continuing. “You need me as much as I need you.” He assured her, his eyes flicking between hers and her mouth. He silently asked permission, Y/N giving it to him when her hands moved to the belt buckle on his jeans, quickly undoing it and letting Luke’s pants fall slack.

Luke didn’t hesitate any longer, taking her face in his hands and pressing their lips together, his tongue fast into her mouth and dominant. He often took control like this, something Y/N could never quite bring herself to resist, and she was almost immediate in her reciprocation of the kiss, her hands coming to the hem of Luke’s shirt, unbuttoning it quickly and pushing it off his shoulders as their lips collided.

Kissing him was like jumping from a cliff into waters one would assume were warm, only to land and hit the freezing sea below. It was the taste of salt on his tongue, the tug of his hands in her hair, the way she panted for breath between kisses like she might drown in him.

Y/N was always the one to make the second move, it was how they worked. Luke always initiated, she always responded, it was a back and forth. They didn’t speak, they knew each other so well they didn’t need it. Her hands coming to his boxers briefs and palming at his stiff member through the clothes, asking for him to take his turn, prompted Luke to do so, moving aside the last piece of clothing separating them from the thing they both begged for.

Luke lined himself up with her entrance, breaking the kiss to pull Y/N to the very edge of the counter, pushing her skirt completely past her ass. His body between her thighs spread her legs, Luke smiling as she whimpered.

“You asshole, don’t make me wait.” She moaned out, giving up on trying to feign resentment, her hand coming to his locks and pulling him in for another kiss, Luke pushing himself into her as they lips collided once again.

A year without one another, Luke had missed the feeling of her walls clenching around his cock. He had missed the way she whimpered curse words under her breath as he set a hard and fast pace. She clung to the counter top for some sense of stability, letting her head fall back as a moan racked her body.

“Fuck Princess, so good for me.” Luke groaned, his lips coming to her exposed neck and pressing down on her sweet spot, making sure to leave a mark, to tell whoever saw her next that she belonged to someone else. His eyes trailed over her in the vulnerable state, taking his cock like the good girl she always was once he had her panties on the floor. He admired the site: her tight cunt spread around his girth as he pounded into her, evidence of her arousal catching the dim lighting overhead.

“Luke… F-fuck…” Y/N whimpered, one hand coming round the back of his neck, pulling him deeper as she began chasing her high, the knots in her stomach slowly beginning to form, his body against hers beginning to burn with each touch. They weren’t meant to be compatible, and yet sex never felt better than with one another. “Baby, don’t stop.” She gasped out, her eyes widening as he bit into her skin, a guttural moan leaving her body, unable to fight back against the smug look on his face.

She had forgotten just how good he was, just how much she wanted him. As the knots in her stomach tightened, the tension in Luke’s abdomen increased, both chasing towards euphoria, Luke’s breathing grew shaky, his pace turning sloppy, his thrusts deeper and deeper.

“Cum for me sweetheart.” Luke muttered, a hand coming down to rub circles against her clit, the action throwing Y/N over the edge, into the waves of ecstasy as the knots in her stomach unfurled, her eyes squeezing shut and her head falling onto Luke’s should as he too spent himself inside her.

They stayed like that for a moment, ragged breathing and Y/N’s rapid heartbeat seeming to pound hard and loud enough for someone two rooms over to hear. She found herself holding onto him, letting herself relax for a moment, even enjoy it, as Luke’s hand came up and petted her head, only moving back when her cheek burned too much from his icy skin.

‘I think she’s in love with me…’ Luke’s intrusive thought wasn’t one he meant to think, but it seemed to be the one Y/N heard. She pushed him back to the other side of the small bathroom, Luke unable to rid himself of the smug expression he wore as he tucked himself back into his boxers and pulled up his jeans.

"He doesn't make you happy." Luke’s voice almost sang in victory, leaning back against the wall as Y/N cleaned herself of their scandal, their affair. Once she had finished, flushing the secret they shared down the toilet with the toilet paper, he reached out and pulled her close to him. His hand came up to her mouth, his thumb pressing against her bottom lip, ego inflating when her felt her tremble slightly in his grasp. "You know he doesn't…"

"Yeah, well at least he doesn't make me sad, Luke." Y/N snapped back in response, interrupting him from finishing his sentence, a stray tear rolling down her cheek as he held her in his arms, catching Luke off-guard and forcing his hands to drop away, his mind to go blank. He didn't think he had ever seen her cry before, but then again, Y/N never had cause to feel shame. She didn't have cause to feel it until then, storming out of that bathroom, knowing for a fact she would do everything in her power to stop herself from loving Luke Patterson.

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