#it’s also about living with the scars of your past but... being at peace with them

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known (part 4)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: so much time has passed since you last saw each other. will old feelings come up again once you two find each other again?

warnings: HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, this is so against canon its insane, NSFW (we did it guys we're finally here), switch!reader and switch!miguel, blood mention, fang and claws play, p in v unprotected, cumplay, angsty (i couldnt help it), it goes, angst, smut, and then angsty fluff at the end youre welcome

word count: 3.2k

notes: for some reason, it didn't let me tag as many people who wanted to be on the taglist, so if i didn't end up tagging you for the final part, sorry idk what went wrong

also forgive me i was listening to boygenius while writing the parts leading up to the smut so it might get a little angsty there (i cant help it) (miguel and y/n are so bite the hand and cool about it core)

but then i balanced it out by listening to frank ocean (pyramids specifically) while writing the smut so you're welcome

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Three years had passed. Three years since you finally found Miles, defeated The Spot, and caused the collapse of the Spider Society. Everyone had gone back to their separate dimensions, but were able to still visit each other with their still working portal watches. Miles and Gwen specifically were very happy. Peter B. went back home to live with MJ and Mayday, sending you frequent pictures of Mayday to keep you updates. You were different. You didn’t return to your home world. You didn’t necessarily have anyone to return to per se. Instead, you decided to hop between dimensions, seeing what crime there was to fight in cities that didn’t have anyone to protect it. It was enough to keep you occupied, and as long as your watch still worked, you had the option to stop if you wanted to. Life was nice. You finally had found peace.

But something felt off. Something thudding in the back of your head. Because even though you had been at peace for three years, it had also been three years since you saw him. You had seen him during the final showdown between all of Spider Society, but your team had managed to keep you two apart, due to fear for your safety. After the fight was over, you two had made eye contact with each other a couple of times, but never approached each other. If you were being honest, you were still scared of him at that point, even seeing him tied up there on the floor waiting for someone to deal with him. 

It took a while for your gashes to heal, the ones on your back taking much longer to turn into scars than the ones on your tricep and thigh. The marks on your body were frequent reminders of him and the damage he’s caused to your life. Part of you hated him for it. But most of you just missed him. Unlike Jess, who sent you pictures of her baby every now and then, neither of you had reached out to the other. It was crazy how five years of shared history can be thrown to the ground so quickly.

Right now, you were sitting on the railing of your apartment balcony. For the past month or so, you decided to park it in Earth-3819. There wasn’t much crime going on there, so it was a nice place to stop when you needed a break. Your feet dangled off the edge of the railing, as you looked out to see the sunset on the skyline. The wind blew faintly at your face, causing strands of hair to fall out of your high bun. You had been thinking more about him recently, wondering if he was feeling the same way you were. 

Almost as if you manifested it, you heard the sliding glass door from your bedroom slide open. Startled, you quickly turned around, ready just in case it was an attacker.

It was much worse than an attacker. 

You mouth laid agape as his massive shadow covered your smaller body. Feelings that laid dormant for the past three years suddenly erupting in your stomach. You looked up to the roof of your building as a signal to meet you up there, as you attached a web to the top and swung up there.

Once you were both at the top, you faced your back to him to take time to catch your breath. Your emotions were all over the place right now. “You’re really hard to find, you know,” he said trying to break the silence. You wanted to throw up. As much as you hoped this moment would come, you never realized how unprepared you would be if it ever did. You couldn’t bare to look at him right now, knowing you would lose control of yourself if you did. “You look…good.” How would he know, he only saw your face for a second before you bolted off. You both stood there, the wind growing louder and louder with each second you both stayed silent. 

All of your senses came to a freeze once you felt his hand place itself on your shoulder, causing a flinch from you. “I wanted to find you again, mi vida,” he said in that rich, deep, smooth tone of his that drives you crazy. You could tell he was getting closer when you felt the hairs on your neck stand up from him breathing on them. “I missed you, and I was hoping we could pick up where we left off,” he said into the crook of your neck and began to plant kisses there. You broke free from his grasp by the third kiss he left. “No no no no no, no we can’t. It’s not that simple Miguel,” you said, pinching your bridge and sighing. There's no way he could've thought it would be this easy. He's not this stupid….is he?

“Listen amor, I’m sorry for everything that happened. But the past is the past.” He walked closer to you. “And I want my future with you.” He was up against you again. This time instead of your shoulder, he dragged his finger up and down your back in an almost hypnotic motion. God, you wanted him so bad, you wanted it to be this simple. That he can just apologize and everything could be okay. But you were reminded it couldn't be that way once his finger hit a pressure point in your scar. You swatted your hands in the air and walked away from him again. “No Miguel, that's not how this works. You can just do the things you've done to me and just say sorry and expect it to fix everything. You're not a child.” 

Once you turned around to face him, you saw him standing there like a lost puppy. You just wish he could see what you were talking about. “Don't act like you didn't do horrible things then too. I saw what you did to Jess.” “Don't turn this onto me Miguel. This is about you.” You walked up to him and pressed your finger into his chest. “This is about you, and the horrible things you've done to me! I can't even take a shower anymore without looking at myself in the mirror and seeing your damage!” You lifted up your shirt sleeve. “You did this! This was all you!” Miguel looks down at you with sympathetic eyes as your eyes began to well up. 

“And you can’t just barge in on this life I’ve made for myself and ask for me back because I won't go with you!” You were fully crying at this point, desperately trying to get your words out between sobs and lightly punching at Miguel's chest while he just stared at you. “Because I hate you Miguel! I hate you, okay!” You couldn't manage to talk anymore, overcome with the emotions he caused you to feel. You rested your head on his chest as you continued to sob. He wrapped his arms around you, causing you to do the same to him immediately. You sat there crying into his arms for about a minute, until he lifted up your chin with his finger.

“I’m so sorry I did this to you mi princesa. I’m so sorry. But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” Overtaken by emotion, you grab his face and crash your lips into his. Almost instinctively, his hands find a home onto your hips. You pull away for a second. “Just stop talking already,” you say breathlessly. He rushes to connect the two of your lips again, already going as far as to slip his tongue in between your lips. He’s so passionate about everything he does. His hands hold a tight grip on your body as his tongue explores your mouth. Almost like he’s hungry for you. No, not hungry. Starving. Famished. Three years apart was too much for him to stand without you by his side or in his bed. He needed you desperately. Like his life depended on if he was going to be able to fuck you into your bed tonight or not. 

He let out moans as your hands ran through and tugged on his hair. But as soon as his claws came out and dug into your hips, you pulled your mouth off of his, a string of saliva still connecting you two. “No claws Miguel. Bring them out again, and its over okay.” You still weren’t mentally over his attack against you. He nods. “Of course, baby.” With that said, you let go of him to walk over to the edge of the building. Once your at the edge, you signal him over. He follows, almost as if he’s under some spell. You attach one of your webs to your balcony railing below and use it as a guide to fall down to it. You land on your balcony, Miguel following close behind as you open the sliding door to your bedroom.

After you close the door and blinds, you turn to find Miguel almost hovering over you. He looked like some kind of lost dog the way he kept following you around, begging for more of you. You gently kiss him and guide him over to your bed. He sits down on the edge of the bed and begins to pull your hoodie off your head as you help him take off his suit. Once your sweatpants are off as well, you gently push him onto his back on your bed. Goosebumps form all over your body, partially from exposure to the cold air in your room, and partially from seeing him like this underneath you again. Finally, you take his already hard cock, and slide it into your hole, causing a rough groan out of him as you begin to rock on his hips.

You take things nice and slow while you’re in control, knowing the moment you get sloppy he’ll start to take over for you. You kissed down his neck and collarbone as you rode him, with him gripping hard at your back and your hips. “Nng, m-missed you s-so much amor,” he groaned out. “Tan hermosa.” You begin to speed your thrusting, tugging at his hair to get strained noises out of him. His hands make their way up to your back, digging into your skin. But your quick to rip his hands out of your back and pin them above his head once his talons come out again, into your back this time. You also take your lips off of his and stop your thrusting.

Miguel searched your face for some kind of explanation to the sudden stop, to find you panting and nearly frozen still. You’re taken back to that fight, a result from his claws finding a way into your scars. You’re pulled back to reality by Miguel’s voice. “Amor, que paso?” he asks with concern. You quickly wipe the sweat off your face and look into his beautiful crimson eyes. You wanted to forget the pain he caused you all those years ago, but unfortunately you couldn’t. But, you were willing to forgive him though. “Nothing Miggy,” you say gently, pressing a soft kiss onto his lips. He tries to move his hands back onto you, but finds his hands still trapped to the headboard. He looks at you confused. “What did I say about the claws, Miguel.” 

“Ay, baby you know its hard for me to control them around you,” he says, slightly annoyed, driven by the need to touch you again. “Well you’re going to need to try to okay? For now though, you’re going to stay like this.” His face drops, and he makes a sound almost like a whine. “Ay coño, lo siento péro you don’t need to punish me.” You felt powerful hearing him whine and beg like this. You were denying a starving man of his woman, his source of energy. 

Arms squirmed in your hand, as you began to rock on top of him again. You made sure to not kiss him either, moving away whenever he would try to place his mouth onto yours. He whined as you picked up your speed, desperate to feel you again. “P-please, let me go cariño.” You moved your mouth down and whispered in his ear, running your finger up and down his stomach, causing him to melt under you and whimper like a madman. “Not just yet,” you whispered seductively, sending extra chills down his spine and into his stomach when you bit into his ear lobe.

Overcome with your own urge to feel him, you accidentally let go of his hands and moved yours to grab hold of each of his pecs as you planted kisses over his sternum. Suddenly, you’re overswept as Miguel is freed and takes control over the situation. “I love you amor, but you have to let me touch your,” he says in that beautiful, rich tone of his before he goes at his own pace: slamming himself into you. 

He goes much faster than you did, and you almost come there on the spot as he nearly breaks your bed with his ferocity. You grip onto his enormous triceps for leverage as you let out a series of incoherent moans. “You like that, huh?” he pants out. You shove your lips onto his to get him to stop talking. “I-if you’re gonna do this, n-ngh, you’re gonna have to s-hh-ut up,” you manage to get out in between your almost inhumane sounds. He nods and shoves his tongue into your mouth, exploring the insides of your cheeks while his tip slams into your walls, causing that white heat to begin to build up in your stomach.

His hands swarm across your body, making up for lost time before, and eventually land on your breasts as he begins to palm at them. Just as you thought he couldn’t arouse you any more than he already has, he moves his mouth along your jawline, down to your neck, and begins to mark it with kisses and slight sucking. “I-I missed you too, Miggy.” 

That nickname you had for him drove him crazy. So crazy in fact, his next move was to drive his fangs into your neck, making sure to not let his poison seep into your neck. He presses his lips and sucks on the skin on your neck while sinking his fangs deeper into you. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, as you held onto his broad shoulders while he basically slammed you into the bed. “Oh Miguel,” you moaned out. He nodded, not able to speak, due to his fangs still being attached to your neck. You could tell he was getting close too with how sloppy his pace was getting. 

You’re washed over with bliss when the heat in your stomach finally takes over the rest of your body, almost clawing at Miguel while you come. His hands put more pressure on your breasts as he comes as well, moaning into the softness of your neck. Once you two have both finished, he slowly pulls his teeth out of your neck, and licks up the metallic liquid with his warm, delicate tongue. He slowly pulls his cock out of the sweetness of your cunt and rolls over to lay next to you on the bed, dragging his fingers across your pussy, taking the cum his fingers picked up and putting it in his mouth.

He plants a kiss onto your forehead before saying, “One second, princesa, I’ll be right back,” as he got up to go to the bathroom. He must have been in there for about 10 minutes before coming back into your room and reaching out his hand for yours. You take his hand as he leads you out of bed, reminded of how naked you are when you reveal yourself from the sheets.

He leads you into the bathroom to see that hes drawn a bath for the two of you. You blush slightly at the gesture, as he gets in first and leads you in. The touch of the water numbs your body slightly with the mixture of the cold room to the hot bath water. You almost melt as you sink in, laying your back against Miguel’s chest as he wraps his arms around your body. You could fall asleep right here, mixed between the comfort of the bath water, and Miguel’s body finally against yours again. The bathtub was kind of small, so his body was taking up most of the space, causing him to basically engulf you. 

You were surrounded in him, his lips almost attached to the nape of your nack, his arms consuming your upper half, and his legs intwining with your lower half. He wiggles slightly to reach the soap, puts it in the water to wet it, and lathers it onto your body. First, he washes your arms, rubbing the soap back and forth over your arm hairs, and even under your armpits. Next, he moves to wash your chest. He takes the soap and moves it over your breasts and your underboob, causing you to move in closer to him. His response is to peck kisses into the crook of your neck, getting little giggles out of you. You stop giggling though after he stops kissing you and stays still for a second. 

You wait in silence for him to do something. “...Miggy…you okay?” you ask when he doesn’t say anything. You turn your head slightly to see him. Out of your peripherals, you see him staring solemnly at your back. He’s finally seen them. The four almost perfectly placed scars warping across your back. They were huge. And he knows they’re from him. You turned your head back to the front and dug it in between your knees, pushing out your back even more. Miguel delicately traced his fingers over them, as you waited curled up for him to say something. “I’m sorry,” is all he can manage to weakly push out. 

You decide to turn your body around to face him, splashing water around in the cramped bathtub while doing so. His eyes are down with sadness creeping over his face. You cup his cheek with your hand and press a loving, gentle kiss onto his lips. You bring his arms over your shoulders and wrap your legs around his hips. You wanted to be engulfed by him. You were so pressed on staying mad at him for so many years that you forgot how much you loved being this close to him. You could hear his heart softly beating as you pressed your head against his chest. He soon wrapped his arms around your body, taking you into him, and dug his head into the crook of your neck, almost as if he was hiding. 

You stayed there for a moment before eventually turning back around. You laid your head in a position so you could still see his face if you looked up. You could feel yourself slowly dozing off in his arms. Your last thoughts before you slipped out of consciousness was of how perfect this was. 

You had found your home again. Moreso, he found his way to you. And this time, you were never going to let go.

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a/n: i just wanted to say thank you to everyone for sticking around during this series. i know it wasn't meant to be 4 parts and only 2 so i really appreciate everyone who stuck around for the whole thing. make sure to look out for my next thing cause i wanna start writing an enemies to lover oc x miguel thing so please go and support that once thats out. thanks guys!!!!

taglist: @jenniferdixon05207 @sweetanimebakery @azxulaa @daimiyu @vinkar345 @pinkninja200 @luvstich @rin-matsuoka345-blog @lillunna @konniebon @hwanunjin @simp-nerd-16 @chucklefuvk @elwyn7 @haileybxxr @ilovemymomscooking @lansy-4 @maxi-ride @d4rno @callsign-blue @obamnas-soda @sophipet @violentlyneon @d1lf-loverrr @afro-hispwriter @kirke-is-my-name @ilovemiguelohara @lavnderluv @konniebon @msecho19 @kiamewrites

#fanfic #fanfiction #fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse

[archivomeow]

scars of the past.

worldwide issues || read on ao3 || writing masterlist

a/n: please read the warnings on this one! also i’m thinking about making this couple parts, so we’ll see.

description; you’re the new addition to the BAU team, after Derek Morgan left, Reid and Penelope hate your guts, but when you and Reid get paired up to visit the coroner’s office together he learns something about you, something you wanted to keep a secret and it changes the dynamic between the two od you.

warnings; mention of scars, sh, razor blades, swearing.

— THIS WORK IS NOT PROOFREAD!!

You were new to the team, when Agent Morgan left a spot opened and you got it, the excitement you felt was indescribable, you wanted this job forever and now it was your chance to become a profiler, to help the FBI, to meet other profilers. Your first day was rough, you were late and no one really talked with you except Emily, but you just shook it off as them being focused on the case, later on Jennifer also started to talk with you, you felt more comfortable knowing the two a little bit made you feel less alone and alienated.

The days passed fast and you had to admit the job wasn’t turning out how you imagined. You obviously were profiling, that part lived up to your, for a lack of better word, expectations. However the team wasn’t. You made two connections, you couldn’t even call that friendship. Jennifer and Emily tolerated you, they respected you and treated you with kindness, but the rest of the team was not a fan of you. Spencer always had an attitude when it came to you, as far as you noticed he gave it to no one else and no one defended you, except that one time where Emily had to stop him, because he was going too far.

Penelope treated you like air, like you didn’t exist and if she had to acknowledge your existence she did it as fast as she could, just so she can go back to pretending you don’t exist. It was crushing you. Every time you had to talk with Garcia or Reid the knot in your stomach tightened, it was there present all day long at work, but it was the worse when it came to those two. You knew there was another open spot for the BAU, that still remained empty and you wondered if another person would have to deal with this shit to and your heart just broke for them.

Since you joined the team you have solved one case so far, the way back on the jet was peaceful, everyone was exhausted and you just couldn’t wait to go home. Going home was your favourite time, drinking a glass of wine, catching up with your pet, watching TV, quite literally anything that would shift your focus from the terrible anxiety you were feeling, every fucking day at work.

Next day at work it shocked you to see more people around the table, you weren’t that surprised to see David Rossi, he took a time off because he got hurt during a mission, before you joined the BAU and you haven’t had the pleasure to meet him yet, but the other woman you didn’t recognise.

“Okay, so everyone is here. This Doctor Tara Lewis, she will be joining us on this case, alongside Rossi.” As Emily spoke, you glanced at Tara and smiled lightly as she looked at you, you felt at ease when she returned the smile.

On the other hand you ignored Reid, you could feel his eyes on you again, drilling a hole in your head.

You fucking hated this job.

The jet ride is always calm, not this time. David called shots this time and unknowingly of the situation put you with Reid, he wanted to protest, but David shut it down so he just glanced annoyed at you.

“What’s up with that?” Tara whispered to you, the two of you talked more, she noticed how disconnected you were from the team and when Emily mentioned you joined recently she felt at ease, knowing she wasn’t the only “outcast”.

“Great question, wish I knew…” You shrugged, you really didn’t know why Reid disliked you, but the problem was not on your end.

You and Reid were headed to the coroner’s office, to examine the victims bodies. The ride there was quiet, you didn’t know what to say and he said nothing.

You listened to his observations about the wounds, the two of you examined the body. What stood out to you were the scars on the women’s arms, you knew those very very well, you had the same ones on your shoulder. It was warm, but as long as you could you wore long sleeves, so only you knew for now.

“Hm.. Those scars, are they fresh? Was it a knife or another weapon?” Reid looked up at the coroner, but before he could speak you answered his question.

“Razor blade.” You just stated, but the silence made you glance both at Reid and at the coroner. “Um… Those are razor blade scars… They’re deep, but still narrow, a knife could do it, but probably not with this much precision.”

Reid looked back at the coroner and the man just nodded.

“Yeah, your partner here is right. These are most likely from razor blades, those scars are about a month old, most likely not connected to the UnSub, but both women had similar scars in different stages of healing.”

You two left in silence, but the ride back was not silent. You jumped up when he spoke at first, no radio and a quiet street combined with his speaking out of nowhere scared you.

“Sorry, what did you say?” You cleared your throat, he was focused on the road, very focused, his eyebrows were frowned and his brown eyes looking ahead as he repeated what he said before.

“I asked about what you said at the coroner’s office. The razor blades.”

You frowned, that was not the hole you wanted to dig under yourself. “What about them?”

“How did you know so fast?”

He knew? Did he? He was a genius, but you weren’t sure, that didn’t stop your mind from racing with no proof. Can you lie to a profiler?

Your chest started to feel heavy, an imaginary pressure was applied to it, your lungs were heavy as if filled with sand, you could feel how your heart sped up and how the temperature of your body rose up.

“I- um… I just did…” You managed to mumble out, fucking anxiety, you were a terrible liar, even worse under pressure.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, so you prayed he let the topic go.

“You clean now?” He glanced at you and back at the road.

That question made you want to jump out of the moving car, that was in fact not his business and you truly didn’t want the team to know, what’s in the past is meant to stay there. You didn’t know what to say to that, you opted on being a bitch untill he drops the topic.

“That is so not your fucking business… And who even said I- I did that.” You scoffed looking out the window.

You’re okay… You’re okay…

You kept repeating in your head that fucking phrase, but you were in fact not okay.

“Well, you do wear long sleeves always and in this weather you must be hot… Your eyes immediately focused on the scars at the coroner’s office… You knew the blade, you can know everything in theory, but you were sure of it… You pretty much told on yourself….But if it’s not you, then it’s someone close to you.”

Fucking profilers.

“Just focus on the road.” You said firmly, you did tell on yourself, especially when you claimed it was “none of his business”. That didn’t matter now, you couldn’t say anything to go back. He was right, but you didn’t want him to know, not him, not anyone. It was definitely too late now.

#criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #angst #hurt no comfort #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #tw sh related #tw sh implied #tw sh mention #self h@rm

[kissitbttr]

Normally, you never come home as late as Toji but these past few weeks surely have taken a turn.

Being a designer is definitely not an easy task, especially now you’re a mother to a two year old baby girl. The workload tends to get overwhelming yet somehow you love it. Toji on the other hand gets so worried about your well-being, hating the fact that his pretty wife isn’t getting too much rest.

You always reassure him with a long kiss, telling him that you’re absolutely fine and slowly adapting to the new schedule. You also remind him that his job being a CEO company isn’t too much far off. He can’t argue with that

It is Friday night. And it was supposed to be you and Toji spending time together. Toji already clocked out early, leaving all the work to his assistants but he will still keep an eye out from home.

However, you’re late. Looking over at the clock and see how it’s almost 8 on the dot and you made a promise to Toji you’d be home by 7. .

Unlocking the door of your shared condo, you let out a sigh of relief. No signs of your husband in sight and you feel bad because maybe he’s fallen asleep already.

But then a smile takes over your face soon as your gaze falls upon the living room. Seeing your large, handsome husband lying on the couch, fast asleep with his arms crossed. Then you look over at the dining table, eyes softening at the sight of your favorite dish cooked by your man.

Toeing your heels off, you slowly approach his sleeping figure. A giggle escapes you when you realize that this man is far too big for his own good, one of his leg being draped over the head of the couch because his torso is already taking too much space

So, so, cute.

You eye his handsome face for a moment, biting onto your lower lip as you slowly hover yourself on top of him. Both hands are supporting your weight on either side of his shoulders with knees planted beside his hips. You feel him shift and groan a bit under.

Toji looks so peaceful, you want to give him love even more.

Glossed lips softly pressing against the skin of his jawline, littering small kisses all over from left to right. Inhaling the scent of his cologne and marlboro reds. One that you scold him too often because he just doesn’t quit.

After a while, Toji eventually wakes up from his slumber. Eyes blinking a bit with his brows knitted in confusion on what’s happening. Then he sees you. His gorgeous, gorgeous wife and the scar on his lip twitches upwards for a smile. large palms coming to rest on your hips and rubbing circles on it, causing the skirt of your dress to rides up a little.

“Hmm, you’re finally home” He greets, followed with a sigh of contentment. Holding you steady in his grasp. “I could get used to waking up to this” He jokes a little with a low chuckle

“Hi, my baby” You smile, continuing the soft kisses all over his jawline and neck making him grip onto you a bit harder. “Why are you sleeping here?” You lean back a bit, brushing the hair that’s matted against his forehead

“Waiting for you” He puts one arm behind his head, eyes looking into yours. “I cooked for us. Your favorite”

“I’m sorry i was late” You pout, immediately feeling bad. “The meeting was longer than i anticipated—Alena is asleep?”

He hums, leaning into your touch when you cradle his cheek. “It’s fine, my love—She is yeah. Put her back to sleep an hour ago” He responds, his lips reaching to touch yours.

You hum against his soft mouth, giggling a little when he refuses to let you pull away. His arms circled around your waist.

“I guess it’s mommy and daddy time then?” You muffle the question, hands coming up to feel his broad shoulders.

He hums as a response, wasting no time and slips a finger underneath the waistband of your panties before pulling it off of you, tossing it somewhere across the room. “You know it, baby—God, i’ve missed you” Toji leaves kisses down to the column of your neck, one hand squeezing the globe of your ass. “Fuck—You’re so sexy. Such a lucky bastard”

“Baby what about dinner? You cooked!” You whine with a smile, not exactly wanting him to stop anyway.

“It can wait” Is what he says before flipping you under him making the both of you laugh, now that he’s on top of you. Both of your mouths finding each other again

Yeah. You can definitely get used to coming home to this

#toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #dad!toji

[yeonzzzn]

⛸️snow & candles: sunghoon

a you complete me series: one / seven

pairing: sunghoon x afab!reader

word count: 2.1k

synopsis: the first snow fall of december just happened to be on sunghoon’s birthday

genre: established relationship, vampire!sunghoon, witch!reader

warnings: mentions of blood, reader has long black hair and facial piercings, stubbornly cute birthday boy sunghoon ♡

p1: vampires bleeding mlist

☾ sunghoon(1) | niki(2) | heeseung(3) | jungwon(4) | jake(5) | jay(6) | sunoo(7) ☽

You were the first to wake up this morning, leaving Sunghoon alone in the bed you share. The blanket pulled up to his nose as he was cuddled up on his side. 

You quietly changed out of your pajamas and into a nice ripped pair of skinny jeans, your black combat boots, your favorite gray long-sleeved shirt, and a brown cardigan sweater. 

Sitting at your vanity, you pulled your favorite rings onto your fingers. The scars from the burns that Dorian caused that unfortunate day, were now a light pink and not as noticeable, which you were thankful for. Sunghoon loved your scars, always saying they are proof of how you survived and how closer you are to a human than he was. Unfortunately, you still hated the scars after the full year since the events unfolded. 

You pulled your long black hair into your famous braid, leaving your bangs to fall beside your face. You changed out your black nose ring for a pretty silver to match your eyebrow piercing. 

You carefully slipped out of the bedroom, leaving Sunghoon to continue sleeping in peace. 

It was barely eight a.m. as you rushed to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. 

You poured the beans into the coffee maker and pressed the blind button, watching as the machine did its magic. 

The next on your morning bucket list was to pull Sunghoon’s birthday cake from the freezer. 

You were up all night baking it for him. Sunghoon told you to not worry about his birthday, that since he has eternity his birthday is just another regular day. But you didn’t share that opinion. 

It’s the first birthday you were spending with him, due to the unfortunate fact that Dorian’s stupid ass was causing problems and by the time everything was over, Sunghoon’s birthday was past. 

You pulled the blue and white cake from the freezer, carefully setting it on the crystal cake stand on your kitchen table. 

The coffee pot buzzed to show it was ready. You grabbed Sunghoon and your coffee cups from the cabinet, pouring coffee into your cup first, knowing Sunghoon would wake up at any minute at the smell of the coffee. 

You place cream and sugar into your cup and mix it with the coffee then sit down at the table, placing the cup to your lips, feeling the warmth. 

You took a few sips before looking around the empty kitchen and living room. 

After the ending of Dorian, one by one the pack members moved back into their own homes, except, of course, you and Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon and Jake shared an apartment before you and __ returned to them. So once it was time to leave the safe house, Sunghoon left the apartment to Jake and his mate. 

Sunghoon and you decided to buy this farmhouse outside of the city. You weren’t a city girl and Sunghoon was okay being wherever you were. So the farmhouse it was. It also made sense to live here, it made it easier for you to practice your magic peacefully without having to watch your back. 

You glanced at the photos of you and your vampire that filled the walls of the home along with bookshelves for your magical books of spells and all your witchy knickknacks. One family photo of the pack hung above the fireplace, everyone was in a group hug with massive smiles on their faces. It was one of your favorite photos. 

You took more sips of your coffee, wondering when your pretty vampire would rise from his coffin. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see something fall outside through the window. 

You quickly glance up, your mouth forming into a smile. You finished the rest of your coffee, jumped from your chair, and rushed back to the bedroom. 

Your birthday plan for your vampire was to wait for him to wake up, share some coffee and kisses as you give him his cake and sing him his birthday song then spend the rest of the day doing whatever he’d liked. But now everything changed and it felt like fate. 

Sunghoon was still sleeping in the same position as earlier, which made it perfect for you. 

You knelt beside the bed, brushing your fingers against his cheek. 

Sunghoon melted at your touch, shifting his face slightly up and more into your hand. His eyes softly fluttered open, and then slowly closed again. You could tell he was practically still asleep. 

“Good morning, my love,” you whispered, rubbing your thumb over his jawline, “Time to get up.” 

Sunghoon softly groaned, shoving his face into the pillow. 

You rolled your eyes. You should have known he was going to be stubborn. 

“Get up bloodsucker, you’re burning daylight.” 

Sunghoon groaned again into the pillow, “Don’t want to.” 

“Come onnnnnn,” you said shaking his shoulders, “You can sleep when you’re dead!” 

“I am already dead,” he retorted, “Leave me alone.” 

You sighed, having to go to your last resort. You didn’t want to spoil what was happening, but you knew it was the only way, “It’s snowing outside.” 

And that’s all it took for him to climb out of bed and rush to the closet to change, “Well shit you should have said that earlier.” 

—

You followed behind Sunghoon as he ran out the front door, jumped off the porch, and ran through the snow. 

You wrapped your cardigan tightly around you, watching how happy your vampire was as he fell into the snow. 

You loved him. Oh god, you loved him and his beautiful smile. 

Sunghoon sat up in the snow, waving to you to join him. 

You carefully made your way down the steps, seeing that they iced over during the night. 

The way Sunghoon was sitting in the snow reminded you of a penguin. You always swore he had to have been a penguin in his past life. 

Sunghoon held his hand up, “Wait!” 

You stopped walking, raising a brow at him, “Yes?”

He pulled his phone from his pocket, “You look so beautiful with the snow falling into your hair, I need a photo of it.” 

“Hurry up, I’m freezing and want to go back inside.” 

You posed for the photo, waiting patiently for him to close his phone back into his pocket. 

He held his hands out to you, “Help me up.” 

You groaned as you reached your hands for his, only to be betrayed in the end. 

Sunghoon’s smile grew wide as he gripped your hands and pulled you down to him, rolling you over into the snow. 

“Sunghoon! Goddamnit!” You snapped, tossing snow at him. 

Sunghoon grabbed the hems of your cardigan and pulled you in for a quick kiss. His cold nose brushed against your skin, “Lighten up hex girl, it’s the first snow of winter.” 

You glared at him but decided to let it go since he was the birthday boy. 

As the sun rose more and the snow slowly stopped falling from the sky, the reflection of the light hit the large pond, catching your attention. 

You glanced behind your mate, seeing the pond completely frozen over the night. 

You smiled, happy that this day kept getting better. 

“Baby, the pond is frozen over.” 

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate to run back inside the house to grab his ice skates. 

—

You sat on the porch with another cup of coffee as you watched him skate. 

The pure joy on his face as he danced away on the ice. 

When the two of you picked out this farmhouse, the first thing Sunghoon mentioned was how excited he’d be once the pond froze over so he could skate. You bought him a pair of skates after that. 

You check the time on your phone, it’s almost eleven a.m. Sunghoon hasn’t drank yet today, and you still wanted to give him his cake. 

“My love!” You called for him, watching as he came to a spot. 

“Yes, my princess?” he yelled back. 

“It’s time to drink, come inside and warm up!” 

Sunghoon pouted but nodded. He knew if he didn’t listen, you would continue until he did. 

Sunghoon skated to the edge of the pond carefully stepping off the ice and into the snow, sitting down on the bench he placed there to switch out of his skates. 

While Sunghoon was busy changing back into his normal shoes, you quickly rushed inside the house. Placing the candles on the cake, lighting them with a snap of your fingers, and picking up the cake stand carefully. 

You grabbed a blood bag from the fridge on the way back out of the kitchen. 

Sunghoon stood from the bench and turned to see you standing on the porch with a cake and blood bag. What a beautiful combination. 

Sunghoon scoffed and smirked, shoving his free hand into his pocket and he walked over to you. 

Sunghoon hated celebrating his birthday. It was just another day for him. When you get to live forever, birthdays aren’t something to celebrate anymore. 

He couldn’t help but stare at you. His heart raced faster at your beautiful smile. God, he was so lucky. You made living for eternity so worth it. 

Sunghoon carefully walked up the steps, “I told you we didn’t need to celebrate my birthday,” he teased. 

You handed him his blood bag, “It’s our first time getting to celebrate it as a couple, let me have this bloodsucker.”

Sunghoon mimicked you, earning him your death glare. 

He smiled at you as he took the top off the bag and took a few sips of the blood, his eyes going back to the cake, “Don’t you know vampires don’t eat?” 

You rolled your eyes, letting out a groan, “God you fucking annoy me.” His chuckle filled your ears, “You guys CAN but it just doesn’t do it like blood does. Just see this as a small snack.” 

Sunghoon raised his brows at you, “That’s a massive cake, what’s small about it?” 

“Oh my god just finished your blood so you can blow out the candles and make a wish. Shit, you piss me off, bloodsucker.” 

“Woah, hold it there hex girl, I am the birthday boy, remember?” 

Sunghoon loved teasing you and wanted to continue, but decided to stop for now. 

He set his skates down on the porch and quickly sipped the rest of the blood, tossing the empty bag into the outside trash can. 

“Okay, I am ready to blow out the candles.” 

You smiled brightly, singing him a happy birthday, “Now make a wish!” 

Sunghoon didn’t even have to make a wish, he already had everything he needed. 

He blew the candles out, then took the cake stand from your hands. 

“Did you make a wish?” You asked, watching as he set the cake down on the outside table, “Tell me what you wished for!” 

Sunghoon wrapped his arms around you, pressing your body against his, leaving no space between. 

“Baby, I don’t need to make any wishes when you’re right here with me already.” 

You pouted your lips at him, “Awe that’s so sweet and super fucking gross.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, “You are so annoying, this is why witches and vampires don’t get along.” 

“Yet you’re stuck with me anyways.” You sang. 

Sunghoon nodded, carefully brushing your bangs out of your face, “And I am so thankful that I am.” 

Sunghoon wouldn’t know what he would have done if something happened to you a year ago. The time he spent alone when Dorian stole you from his side was a literal hell. He never wanted to experience that again. 

The pain he had to feel every single day. The sleepless nights. The endless thoughts of what he would do if you never returned to him or worse, if Dorian took you from him permanently. 

He stared deeply into your doe eyes, swearing he wouldn’t ever let anyone touch you again. He would kill anyone who would warm you again. 

Sunghoon took your chin between his fingers and lifted your face for a kiss. You tighten your arms around him as you softly kiss him back. 

You felt something wet drop on your cheek, looking up at the sky, “It’s snowing again.” 

Sunghoon also glanced up, his wide smile that showed off his natural fangs returning, “It’s like it’s snowing just for me.” 

You cupped his face, forcing him to look back at you, “Happy birthday, my sweet vampire, I love you so much.” 

Sunghoon planted a kiss on your forehead, squeezing you tightly, “I love you so much more.” 

If every birthday was like this for the rest of eternity, Sunghoon wouldn’t mind celebrating it every year with you again and again. 

#myiceprince #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #reader x sunghoon #reader x enhypen #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #established relationship #youcompleteme #happy birthday sunghoon 🥹 #yeonzzzn writing

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [9]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: a bit of a longer one, sorry if that’s not your forte, reader has nightmares involving being attacked, traumatic past, scar, fake name mentioned

Word Count: 6,275

Summary: When   you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a  Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child.    However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous   night,  you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a  far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community  turned  out to be  exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you  fall more  and more in love with your new life, but when  your past rears  its ugly  head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant  for everyone.

Ch. #09: BUIR, GROGU, MA

Chapter Summary: ‘There is no one else, there will be no one else, it’s only you’.

     “Have you ever noticed how  

     wanting  

     burns you up  

     from the inside out?  

     Like one moment I am whole,  

     but then I hear  

     your voice on the phone  

     and I swear to God  

     three blocks away from here  

     they can smell smoke.”  

 As if you hadn’t already felt at home with Grogu and Mando, by the end of the month you couldn’t fathom how you once lived without them. The places you’ve lived prior— Coruscant before and after the incident, Tatooine where you chose to hide— you realized now you’d hadn’t truly been living. Even at your prime, a young recently out of training physician with the world at her fingertips, there had been a hole. You spent so much time busy, trying to reach your goals, that you let other aspects slips away. You didn’t regret the work you put in, you didn’t regret being independent, but you didn’t know a home could feel so… perfect. And, that’s what your life in Nevarro was. It was perfect.

 Grogu was thriving in school. Every day he seemed to know a new word in Basic and he had made so many friends. The routine of your life would look repetitive to someone on the outside looking in, but by the Maker did you adore every second of it. Mando had permanently decided to change the time he went into work. He assured you it had nothing to do with not trusting you and him just wanting to be there for Grogu. So, every week day morning the two of you would walk Grogu to school and then you’d walk Mando to work.

 And Mando was…

 You loved Grogu. Arguably to a fault. You weren’t sure how the ‘nanny rules of professionalism’ worked but growing so attached to the child in your care had to be frowned upon in some way. Crushing on the child’s father was also hugely frowned upon you’d guess, but it hadn’t stopped you. Mando was… Mando.

 It was hard to put it into words, or maybe you were just too scared to try, but something about him spoke to your soul. Before coming to Nevarro, you had never put much thought or faith into soulmates. Even now the idea made you marginally cringe with how cheesy and dorky you sounded, but it was possibly the simplest explanation. There was something about the make up of your cells and atoms that just called to him. You felt better in his presence. Happier. Safer. Cared for. Seen. Mando listened when you spoke, truly listened, and he seemed to remember every detail you offered him. Food preferences, favorites, old memories, fun facts. The heavy beskar seemed to soak up every detail and though he may not have been a man of many words, he was a man of action.  Mando didn’t hesitate to show you how much he appreciated you, and with every kind action you were falling harder and harder.

 You had it bad.

 Nima teased you relentlessly about him, and you constantly reminded her that this was as far as it could go. A simple crush. A longing. At the end of the day, though your feelings had evolved, he was still your boss. Mando was paying you to watch Grogu, paying you to live in his home, paying you to be present. The fact that he was willing to cross that line and be friends was blessing enough. You couldn’t push any further and risk ruining what you had. If you lost Grogu and Mando because you were too stupid to swallow your emotions you’d never forgive yourself.

 It was a fact you constantly had to remind yourself of.

 “Why would you come hang out with me only to sit there and daydream about the Marshal?” Nima complained. You glanced her way to see her wearing a comical pout.

 “I am not— ” You began, but Nima stared you down with a knowing look. You shifted in your seat and moved on from the flimsy excuse. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

 Nima was seated on the floor working on some kind of engine looking machine while you sat a few feet away on a crate. She shrugged. “Yeah, but you were supposed to keep me entertained while I work.”

 “Well, sorry to disappoint.” You rose from your seat as you noted the time. “You’re really gonna pout now since I have to go.”

 “What, why??” Nima asked. You pointed to the large clock on the garage wall that indicated it was nearly 3PM. She startled. “Oh kriff, Peli is gonna kill me. I was supposed to have this done half an hour ago!”

 You laughed at her panic and tossed her a half hearted goodbye before walking out of the garage. Mando was able to walk Grogu to school everyday with you, but you were primarily in charge of pick up since he couldn’t always get off of work for that. Rarely ever.  

 As you waited for the kids to get out, you casually held conversation with the other parents standing near you. You had gotten to know a few pretty well. Especially the ones who Grogu had befriended their kid. Another person you had gotten to know was Grogu’s teacher. Ms. Wynn was sunshine personified and you assumed that helped in her role as teacher to a class of rowdy, small children. Grogu loved her and when she asked for volunteers around class or with extra work you stepped up. Partly to be more involved with anything surrounding Grogu, and also because you sure as hell had the time.

 Ms. Wynn stepped out to release the class and you drifted closer to say hello to her while also picking up Grogu. Grogu, realizing you were coming closer to do so, didn’t bother checking with his teacher and instead leapt toward you as soon as you were close enough. You pulled him into a tight hug that he returned with gusto.

 “How was school, baby?” You cooed.

 “Fun! Play with Poe!” Grogu chirped. Poe was his favorite friend in school. You had the little boy over for play dates a few weekends alongside his parents.

 “Good.” You peppered light kisses to his face to make him squirm and giggle at the onslaught. Ms. Wynn stepped closer and greeted you. “Hey! How’re you?”

 She chuckled. “I’m doing well thank you for asking.” Ms. Wynn raised an eyebrow at Grogu. “Grogu, what are the rules about leaving the line? You’re supposed to check with me first, aren’t you?”

 Grogu nodded. “Sorry.”

 He still had a hard time pronouncing the letter ‘R’ which had the word come out sounding like ‘W’s but he was improving. Though he apologized, nothing about the way he bounced in your arms was apologetic.

 “That’s probably more my fault.” You winced. “My bad.”

 “It happens.” She shrugged. “There’s a little activity I put in his bag for him to do. We’re discussing families so I asked the kids to draw their own families.” Ms. Wynn tickled his belly. “Grogu told us all about his Uncle Boba and Aunt Fennec.”

 Those were names you vaguely recognized when Mando pointed out the figures in Grogu’s drawings. Maybe you’d ask for more detail tonight and where they were specifically. The two of you said goodbye to Ms. Wynn and you began to walk away from the school.

 “Hmm, I’m thinking that a good boy like you deserves a treat.” You hummed and his ears perked up. “Wanna stop for some ice cream?”

 “ ‘lek! ‘lek! Please!” Grogu went ecstatic in your arms as he tried to crawl out of your grip to beat you to the small shop you’d have to pass on your way home. You sighed contentedly and didn’t bother trying to mask the wide grin on your features.

 Din Djarin was happy. More than happy, he was at peace. He spent so much of his life traveling alone, keeping to himself, and trying not to want for more. He had been so focused on earning credits from bounties to pass along to the Armorer as offering to the foundlings at the covert that he didn’t let any other want or need enter his mind. It wasn’t until Grogu came into his life that he began to realize how much he wanted a family. He was tired of being alone. His earliest memories were of his parents. Flashes of a life on Aq Vetina before the world around him crumbled to ash. Memories of his mother holding him, singing him to sleep, and of his father playing with him, holding him on his shoulders so he could reach the sky. That’s what Din wanted more than anything. That was the deep secret he had buried years and years ago and refused to think about.

 When Grogu became his, Din had let himself dream of a better life. That better life didn’t involve anything further than being a father though. Realistically, he couldn’t imagine finding anything more. Being Grogu’s father was already more than he deserved⏤ Din thought it foolish to think he’d want for anything else. He was settled. Content. Then, as if to specifically prove him wrong, the universe led you into the station that first day with Nima.

 Din had no idea, no way of knowing, how important you would grow to be to him. With every single day that passed, every single moment, he found the roots of your presence twisting deeper and deeper into his soul⏤ twisting into every aspect of him. Suddenly, Din didn’t want some vague white picket fence life. No, he wanted you. The Maker could appear before him and offer him the galaxy on a platter, the supposed picture perfect life, but if it didn’t involve you he didn't want it. Din was falling for you more and more every single moment of every single day, and as if he didn’t have it bad enough watching you with Grogu melted him into a puddle.

 Din would cross the universe, fight any adversary in the galaxy, for the honor of coming home to you and Grogu every night for the rest of his life. The thought of calling you his⏤ Maker, Din didn’t have the strength to stay on that line of thought for very long. Not publicly at least. He could only afford to give into weakness in the dead of night. Din would let you flood his thoughts when he was alone. It was all he could afford. It was all he could do. You were only in his life because he was paying you. That’s what he kept reminding himself of. Sometimes it was the only thing that kept him from giving in⏤ from pulling you into his arms so he could feel how soft your skin felt, what sounds you’d make, rather than just imagining it in a moment of weakness alone in the shower.

 However, Din would never put Grogu’s happiness at risk. He loved you, you loved him. Din wanted you to stay in his son’s life for as long as he could have you, and the idea of ruining that made him sick to his stomach. Din had never been in a real relationship. He had been with others in the past, but nothing serious or long lasting and that’s what Din wanted from you. Not just sex, not just a fling, he wanted a life. He wanted everything. And, as if the fact that he was your employer wasn’t enough, Din didn’t trust that he could do that right. You deserved the entire world, and Din wasn’t sure he was capable of giving that.

 The point was that he would do anything and everything to keep his life exactly how it was right now. He wanted no sort of change, no risk of it even, which was exactly why he didn’t hesitate before telling Greef Karga no.

 “Mando,” Karga shook his head, “You didn’t even pause to think.”

 “I don’t need to.” Din shrugged. Karga had called him into his office to discuss matters. While Karga sat at his desk with wide and confused eyes, Din simply leaned against the wall resting his hands on his belt.

 Karga rose from his seat. “The bounty pucks I’m offering you are beyond⏤”

 “I don’t care.” Din said. He tilted his head, “I didn’t know you were still involved with the guild at all, High Magistrate Karga.”

 “Not like before, nothing like before!” Karga waved away his words. “Just passing out a few pucks here and there. Only to the best that I know.” He motioned his arms out to him. “And that’s you, Mando!”

 “You offered me the position of Marshal here.” Din argued. “It’s difficult to be Marshal when I’m on a different planet.”

 Karga shook his head. “The bounties would be short term. Just here and there. You recruited Dune and Mayfeld. They can keep an eye on things while you pick up a bounty or two, surely?” Din didn’t bother offering a response. He had made himself plenty clear. Karga stepped closer. “It’s simple stuff for high value. I’m talking about someone who skipped bail for a price you wouldn’t believe. A man who⏤”

 “No, Karga.” Din replied. “Now, are we done?”

 “I suppose.” Karga sighed and threw his hands up in defeat.

 Din nodded once before pushing off the wall and making his leave. He had taken a lot of risks throughout his life as a bounty hunter, but this was one risk he was not willing to make. You and Grogu were much, much too important to him.

 You leaned against the island counter reading the assignment Ms. Wynn had told you about. It was simple enough. She just wanted the kids to draw out their family and label them. Thinking it over, you may have to find some larger poster of some kind for him to use. Grogu may not have had a lot of immediate, blood related family, but he had no shortage of people who loved him. He had aunties and uncles galore.

 “Fruit!” Grogu was holding his stuffed frog to his chest as he waddled into the kitchen. You glanced down at him with a smile, and he began to jump around your legs. “Fruit, fruit, fruit.”

 “Okay, okay, you little womp rat.” You laughed and wandered to the fridge. There were already some cut up pieces from this morning that you could hand over to him. You pulled it out then dug a small bowl out of the cabinet to transfer it over for him. After grabbing a fork, you turned back to him. “Alright, I’ll trade you. You give me froggie and I’ll give you fruit.” You were attempting to keep froggie from needing another wash knowing Grogu would get the sticky fruit juice all over it. “Deal?”

 “Mhmm.” Grogu nodded and held up the frog. You knelt down to take it and handed over the fruit. Grogu took it happily, then titled his head at you. “V’ore, Ma!”

 Your brain began to short circuit as Grogu just waddled away. Had he just⏤? ‘V’ore’ meant thanks. You knew that. You racked your brain for a Mando’a word that sounded like ‘Ma’. That had to be Mando’a, right? He couldn’t have possibly just⏤ You scrambled around the kitchen island to reach Grogu who had settled on the floor amongst his toys and drawings to eat. “Grogu, Grogu, baby.” You sat in front of him. “What did you⏤ I⏤” How did you even phrase this question? You shook your head. “Who am I? I’m Soran, right? Soran.”

 You said the name slowly to try and get him to repeat it, but Grogu just stared up at you like you were actively losing your mind. Maybe you were. Maybe you had misheard and this was just⏤

 “Ma.” Grogu blurted. “You Ma.” You blinked in shock. Denial still swirled in your head, trying to find some kind of reasoning, but Grogu set down his fruit to dig through his piles of paper. Some had drawings and some had letters in Basic and Mando’a that you had been practicing. He dug out a picture where he had obviously scribbled Mando holding him while you stood beside them. It was absolutely adorable, but your eyes stared wide at the labeling. Above Mando’s head he had written the word ‘buir’ in Mando’a, you recognized the lettering, above his own head he had scribbled his name, and above you he had written two simple letters. ‘MA’. Grogu offered you the paper with a happy chirp. “Buir, Grogu, Ma.”

 The first instinct you had was to smile and take the paper. You were honored that this small, precious child would see you in that kind of light. That he cared for you⏤loved you⏤ enough to give you that important of a label. The second emotion to overcome you was pure, absolute panic.

 “Oh, Maker.” You blurted. Slowly, as to not cause the boy to feel the nervous energy threatening to radiate off you, you stood and walked back to the kitchen with the picture in hand. The moment you reached the island counter, you used your communicator to reach out to Nima. She needed to be here. Now.

 It took ten minutes before there was a knock at the door and you jumped off the couch so fast that it caused Grogu to look up from what he was playing with. You yanked the door open to see Nima and Cara standing on the porch. “Cara?”

 “Is everything alright?” Nima pushed past you.

 Cara followed. “Grogu okay?”

 “He’s fine.” You shut the door and followed after them. When they saw Grogu playing in the living room they seemed to relax, and when the boy realized they were here he began to rush over to greet them excitedly. They reacted accordingly.

 “Hey, little guy!” Nima picked him up. Cara tickled him with a grin. They both turned to you and Nima was the first to question you. “What’s going on? Your message seemed panicked and you’re never panicked.”

 “Cara, why are you here?” You ignored Nima’s question to ask one of your own. “Did you guys tell Mando⏤”

 “Relax.” Cara held a hand up as if that would put a halt to your fried nerves. “It’s my day off. I was with Nima when you called.” You let out a sigh of relief, and Cara narrowed her eyes at you curiously. “What is going on, Soran? Did the kid eat another critter?”

 You shook your head. “No, it’s⏤”

 “Ma!” Grogu held his arms out to you.

 Nima and Cara both stared at Grogu in surprise.

 You sighed, “That.”

 Mando didn’t have a television in his home, but Nima had set up her communicator in the living room to play some kind of kid show. Grogu sat in front of it watching intently while snacking on more fruit. Meanwhile, you stood in the kitchen leaning against the counter while Nima and Cara sat at the barstools across from you. You had made them both a cup of caf.

 “He just started calling me it after we got back from school.” You rubbed the side of your face. The drawing Grogu had drawn sat on the counter between you and them.

 Nima nodded slowly. “Alright.” She took a long sip of her caf then narrowed her eyes at you. “And what’s the problem?”

 “Nima.” You snapped.

 The mechanic shrugged, “What? I don’t see the issue here. You’re basically his mom.”

 “I’m his nanny. There’s a difference.”

 They didn’t respond and you bit down on your lower lip. The problem wasn’t that Grogu was calling you ‘Ma’. It wasn’t even that he saw you as that kind of figure. Grogu was just a kid. Of course, he’d get confused about that. The problem was, it didn’t bother you.

 More than not bothering you, you kind of liked it.

 Cara let out a low whistle. “Well, I think we all know how Mando is gonna take this.”

 “Yeah,” You scoffed, “He’s gonna think I’m some psycho trying to steal his kid out of his life or something.”

 “Okay, maybe we don’t all know.” Cara mumbled.

 “Look, if you want him to stop you could just tell him.” Nima said. “He’s a smart kid.”

 That was probably the truth. Grogu was so smart. You were constantly impressed with what he was capable of. Even though he was only just learning how to communicate in Basic or Mando’a hadn’t meant he was capable of understanding. The problem you faced was more internal than external. You weren’t a mother. Far from it. You were a woman running from your past who fell into a situation where you got offered the job of being a nanny for a local Marshal. The job turned into so much more⏤ more than you had ever dreamed. But, enjoying a casual life with Mando and Grogu was different than how hearing the word ‘Ma’ felt to you.

A nanny was temporary, a mother was permanent.

 “I have to tell him.” You shook your head.

 “And you can in…” Nima looked at her watch, “About two hours.”

 “No. I gotta go see him right now.”

 “Why?”

 You gave them a deadpanned look, “Because I want him to know the whole story rather than him walking through the door and hearing his son refer to me as his mother. I figure a little ‘heads up’ is indicated in this kind of situation.”  Nima and Cara shared a look before conceding to your point. “Alright. Can you keep an eye on Grogu while I run out?”

 “Sure.” Nima nodded. She looked to Cara who agreed with a nod of her own.

 You gave them your thanks then hurried around the kitchen counter and into the living room. You knelt by Grogu who, at your presence, perked up and began to point to the screen. “Fun, Ma!”

 “I know, baby.” You scrunched your nose. Calling him ‘baby’ probably hadn’t helped this situation. “I gotta run out for a minute, but Nima and Cara are going to stay here to hang out with you. Okay?”

 “ ‘lek.” Grogu nodded. You started to stand, but Grogu held his hands up in a familiar way. You hesitated for a second then hated that you did. With a smile, you leaned down to rest your forehead against Grogu’s lovingly.

 When you did stand, you realized Nima and Cara were both staring at you from the kitchen and when you met their eyes they both shot you a look amusement. You huffed at them and went for the door. You needed to tell Mando about this and more importantly you really, really needed to hear what he thought.

 Mayfeld was talking about some date he had the night previously, and if Din were being honest he wasn’t retaining a word. He wasn’t trying to ignore the man or zone out, Din just couldn’t focus. Between Karga offering him bounties as if that were still his life, and dealing with a scuffle between a handful of bounty hunters on the landing pad⏤ Din’s day had been kriffing annoying. He just wanted to be home. With Cara being off today, he couldn’t justify leaving early. Especially since Mayfeld was on call tonight so if he left now the man would be working on his own for longer than anyone deserved.

 “She was all over me, Mando. You should’ve seen it.” Mayfeld bragged.

 “I’m sure.” Din nodded plainly.

 When they entered the station, Cecilia, the human receptionist, called out to him. “Marshal.” He paused and Mayfeld did as well. “Soran is waiting for you in your office.”

 Din felt his shoulders relax. This was exactly what he needed. “When did her and Grogu get⏤”

 “No. It’s just Soran.” She said. As quickly as his ease had come, it was gone. You would never leave Grogu alone. He went with you everywhere when he wasn’t at school. “She looked kind of nervous.”

 That was all it took. Mayfeld called out to him, but Din was barreling down the hall to his office. His door was shut and it took all the self control he had to simply open it rather than accidentally break it down in the process of trying to get to you. What was going on? Was Grogu hurt? When the door swung open, you jumped up from where you sat on the couch. Just as Cecilia said, you looked troubled. Your lips were turned down in a worried frown and you squirmed in place.

 “Grogu?” He crossed the space to you.

 “No, he’s fine. I swear.” You said quickly and Din let out a breath of relief. “He’s at home with Nima and Cara right now. Everything is alright. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 That was exactly what he had felt. Din was scared. The thought of anything happening to Grogu, anything happening to you, filled his veins with ice. Hearing Grogu was alright calmed him marginally, but it still didn’t explain why you were here alone or why you looked so nervous. Din closed the last bit of space to set his hands on your shoulder.

 “Cyar’ika,” He breathed, “What is going on? Are you okay?”

 “Yeah, I just⏤ I needed to talk to you.” You mumbled. Din nodded and waited for you to continue. “I’m just not sure… I wanted to… I needed to talk to you about this before you got home tonight, and I wanted you to hear it from me rather than…”

 You were wringing your hands and every word out of your mouth made him more and more worried. Din released your arms to go back and close the door to this office. When he returned, he carefully maneuvered you to sit on the couch again. He settled down beside you and let his hand rest on your back. Din let his thumb rub the spot where it laid.

 “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.” Din said as reassuringly as he could despite being on edge himself. “But you have to talk to me, cyar’ika. What is wrong?”

 You locked your jaw and at the sight of it Din wanted to lifted his hand and caress the side of your face⏤ try to soothe your tension. Finally, you shifted in place to face him further, your knee now pressed against his. “At school, the kids are talking about families. Familial roles. Aunt, Uncle, Cousin.” You twisted your lips. “Dad, mom.” Din nodded. “When we got home today, I was making Grogu a snack. He asked for fruit so I got it for him, and when I gave it to him he… he…” You paused and Din pressed his hand more firmly against your back. You sighed, “Mando, he called me ‘Ma’.”

 Din was at a loss for words. Grogu had… Grogu called you… This news should not affect him the way it did, but Maker, he felt like his temperature rose multiple degrees. He was cooking inside the beskar and his mouth went dry. The thought of his son seeing you as a maternal figure completed that family image he tried so hard not to think about. Before he could reign in his mind, he pictured crossing the room to lock the door. Everyone in the office knew not to bother him when the door was shut unless it was an emergency⏤ just in case his helmet was off. And dank farrik he wanted to take off his helmet. He wanted to rip it off, toss it across the room, and pull you into him⏤ taste you. The imagery caused Din to suck in a sharp breath. You must have misunderstood his reaction, because your panic increased.

 “I swear to the Maker, Mando, I didn’t tell him to do that.” You said. “It⏤It just happened. I didn’t really react because I didn’t want to worry Grogu, he’s so good at picking up on emotions, but the last thing I wanted was for you to come home and hear him call me ‘Ma.’” It’s funny you said that because that was ten thousand percent exactly what he wanted. “I kind of hoped maybe it was some Mando’a word I didn’t recognize and asked him to clarify, asked him who I was, but then he…”

 You sighed and shifted to pull out a folded piece of paper out of your pocket. You held it out to him and Din could see a slight tremble in your fingers. In all his euphoria of finding out Grogu saw you as a mother figure, he forgot to analyze your emotions entirely. You were nervous and scared. This had shaken you. He took the paper from you but kept his hand on yours for a second longer hoping the weight of his would ground you. When the tremble stopped, he pulled away to open the paper. It was one of Grogu’s drawings. It was of Din, his son, and you. All labeled. Buir, Grogu, Ma. Din swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

 “I know this is a lot, and I really, really hope you’re not mad at me⏤” You began and Din stiffened at the thought. Mad at you? “But if you could say something that would be great because I’ve said a lot of words and you haven’t and the more I say the more nervous I get.”

 Din only realized then he hadn’t said a single word. As cute as he always found your rambling, he hated how worried you were. He set the drawing down on the other side of him, with full plans to hang that one up by the others, then took your hands in his. Din wanted to take off his gloves⏤ wanted to feel your skin. Even behind the closed door of his office though, he resisted.

 “You have said a lot of words.” He tried to keep his amusement of of his voice. Din didn’t want you to think you were being teased. “But, in all those words, you only said you were worried about how I would feel.” Din squeezed your hand. “How do you feel, cyar’ika? Do you… Do you not want him to call you that?”

 You blinked in surprise, as if you hadn’t expected him to ask that, “I…It’s not that. I⏤” Your face crumpled and you closed your eyes as if in pain. For the second time since you entered, Din had to hold back from cupping your face. “I liked it too much, Mando.” Din bit back another sharp breath. Dank farrik, he was trying so hard to be a good man, but you were making it very, very hard. You opened your eyes again. “You’re paying me to be his nanny, and I know neither of us knew anything about the nanny gig when I started, but this has to be against the rules.”

 “What rules?”

 “I don’t know. The nanny rules?” You shook your head. “I⏤ You and Grogu are so important to me, Mando. Maybe I’m overstepping by saying that, but it’s the honest to maker truth.” Din bit down on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to risk what we have right now. I love it. I was just afraid if you heard him call me ‘Ma’ you’d think I was trying to⏤ to⏤ I don’t know... steal him away or force myself into your lives more than I was supposed to.”

 Din finally settled enough that he could find his voice. Everything you said about them being important to you mirrored entirely how he felt, and some optimistic part of him wondered if that meant you could possibly feel the same way. He shoved that aside. It was too much to ask for⏤ hope for. Din, maybe being the one to overstep bounds now, slowly pulled a hand away from yours and let it drift closer to you. He moved slow enough to give you the opportunity to stop him, but when you didn’t he let his hand settled on the side of your neck, his thumb resting by your ear. “Listen to me.” You leaned into his glove and he had to take a slow breath. “I am… overjoyed that Grogu sees you that way. He deserves more in his life than just me⏤”

 “Mando⏤”

 “Cyar’ika.” Din didn’t let you interrupt him. “As long as you’re comfortable with it, I don’t want you to step outside your comfort zone, but I would love to hear him use the word ‘Ma’. If anyone in his life is deserving of that title, it’s you. I couldn’t ask for a better mother for Grogu.”

 Your eyes began to water and Din was terrified he said the wrong thing. Had he made this worse? He opened his mouth again to try and backpedal, but you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around his neck in a tight hug. It took a second for him to register the movement, but he let his own arms pull you in tightly to his chest. He wished he didn’t have his helmet on. He wanted to bury his face against the side of yours, press his lips to your temple to reassure you further, but this was enough for him. If this was all he could have, he’d treasure every second of it.

 Din felt you start to pull back and he loosened his grip so you could. When you were out of his reach, he realized the tears that had filled your eyes streaked down your cheeks. Distress filled him at the sight, but you let out a laugh that relieved it. You wiped the tears off your face with a shake of your head.

 “I’m so sorry. I’m such a mess.” You mumbled.

 “You apologize too much.” He replied and used his thumb to catch a stray tear you had missed.

 You shrugged. “Bad habits die hard.” After a beat, you frowned again. “You know, we don’t know how long I’ll be working for you,” Din held back a snort. Was ‘forever’ an option? “But, what happens when you meet someone and it gets serious? Technically she’d be Grogu’s⏤”

 “We’ll cross that bridge if we get there.” Din interrupted. It was a better answer than ‘There is no one else, there will be no one else, it’s only you’.

 Your smile returned and your nose scrunched, “Can I hug you again?”

 “You never have to ask, cyar’ika.” Din replied. You leaned forward to wrap your arms around him once more and Din didn’t hesitate to immediately pull you as close as he physically could.

 The entire house was quiet as you laid in bed staring up at the ceiling with a small smile on your face. Ma. Grogu saw you as his mother. You hadn’t been lying to Mando when you said you liked this far too much. Speaking long term, you may have been setting yourself up for failure. Mando seemed unconcerned about the future, but what would happen the day they no longer needed a nanny? What would happen the day Mando found a riddur? Still, knowing that these were things that could blow up in your face one day didn’t stop you⏤ didn’t even slow you down. Things were too perfect now for you to give up.

 You shifted in bed and took in a deep breath. Mando hadn’t been called into work during the middle of the night since that first time. It was odd. A part of you wished he would get called away just because it meant you could sleep in his bed once more, but the idea of him being out in danger made you nauseous. No matter how bad you wanted the opportunity to lay beside him and Grogu, you’d never take it over the risk of him getting hurt. You’d sleep in your bed, alone, and just dream. Spending your daylight hours with them was more than you had the right to ask for.

     Your throat was raw from screaming. Panic and adrenaline filled your body. Fear gripped your soul. You screamed and screamed and screamed, but nobody was coming. Why couldn’t anyone hear you? Why wasn’t anyone coming to save you? You fought. It wasn’t in your nature to give up, but you were wondering if it was worth the fight. Your hands tried to keep the blade from digging into your flesh⏤ deeper and deeper⏤ but all the blood made your grip too slick. You screamed, but you had no voice left.  

     “It was all your fault.” No, no. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. You loved her. You loved Soran. You did everything you could do. “She died because of you.” You thought you had saved her. You thought she was going to be okay. Everything went so badly, so quickly. “You took her from me.” Your hands slipped again, the blade sunk in further⏤ it tore through flesh and muscles, it dug into bone. “You deserve this.” Maybe he was right. You had been her doctor. Maybe you could’ve done more. Maybe, just maybe, this was the universe’s way of serving justice. Soran was gone and it was your fault. You sobbed as your vision began to go dark. He lifted the blade only to dig it in once more.  

     “You deserve to die.”  

 You shot up in bed, panting and breathless. A cold sweat collected at the back of your neck. Your hands lifted to your chest, but you didn’t find bloody wounds. Only an ugly scar. A hiccuped sob slipped from your lips and you quickly covered your mouth to muffle the sound.

 Life had been too perfect.

 Of course, Kurt would come back to haunt you.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #protective din djarin #good dad din djarin #din djarin #mando x reader #mando x you #mando #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian and grogu #mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic #Female reader #reader insert #star wars #nanny AU #nanny!reader #angst/comfort #slow burn #idiots in love #pining

[twogyuu]

[1240]

pairing: jihoon x fem!reader

genre: fluff(?) angst(?), implied exes-to-lovers, small town guy!jihoon, city girl!reader

warnings: none

wc: ~1k

a/n: this was born out of me moving to second/third ring suburbs recently and i don't really like it - i miss the city :')

also a small thank you to @wondernus for enabling this. ait takes is one comment from ya and i'm spiraling - truly powerful 😭🫶🏻

. . . .

They told Jihoon, if he wanted to find peace, to return to the strawberry farm. 

The sun that shone brightly without a hint of smog in the sky would heal his soul. The gentle touch of the fields of reeds swaying in the wind would heal the scars. The air was fresh and he’d feel less suffocated. Small town people were kind and everyone knew everyone – you were cared for, people asked how you were doing, and struck up long conversations about his mother’s strawberry fields and how the stocks were this year. 

Yet, the longer he stayed, the more Jihoon felt . . . well, the opposite. Sitting in the bay window of his childhood bedroom, guitar resting in his lap, while his eyes counted the same stars every night, he knew his heart yearned for the city. 

(For you.)

He missed the concrete pavement of the sidewalks he walked every morning on his work and every evening on his way back. The rhythmic beat of the rubber soles of his shoes pattering against the asphalt provided some sort of calm to the chaos of the rush hour. Perhaps it wasn’t “natural,” but he fancied the lights that lined the various shops that he passed by – in the winter, especially, when the city hung the Christmas lights along the lampposts and the bare trees. There were definitely all sorts of unpleasant smells, but there were also some to appreciate – like the buttery warmth of the fresh croissants at the corner bakery you loved so much. The thought of you dragging him out on a walk to purposely just walk by made him smile. Not to mention, there was comfort in being a lone fish (or a pair when he’s with you) in a sea of people crammed into a city. Doing things like this, loitering and ogling pastries from the window, was never second guessed; nor did the owner ever call you in for a long chat. The anonymity and ability to keep to yourself without anyone thinking you were cold or weird was even better. 

The city was bustling and the stories of millions of people’s lives unfolded here; yet somehow, his and yours seemed special. 

So, perhaps those people lied. 

Maybe, the city was better and the artificial world somehow, ironically, also brought life to his being. 

Hence, this was why Jihoon found himself mindlessly slipping on his jean jacket and quietly sleuthing past his mother who had fallen asleep watching TV on the couch, letting his heart take him where he needed to be instead of where he thought he should be. 

His feet led him to the train station, catching the last ride before it stopped going to the city for the night. The train car was empty sans an elderly couple who had fallen asleep in the corner, heads atop one another. The metal box creaked and the tracks were bumpy, jostling and swaying Jihoon often as he tried his best to stay awake. Every now and then, the light coming from the lightbulbs on their last fuse would blink as they hold onto their last thread of life.

It was already 4AM when he reached the city station closest to you. To his luck, when Jihoon walked out of the underground tunnel, it was raining. Moving mindlessly, he had forgotten his phone at home. He couldn’t call anyone, he couldn’t pull up a map; but, Jihoon knew this route to your apartment by heart. 

Rain drops pelted against his porcelain skin, clung onto his black locks, and soaked into his jean jacket. He squinted, blinking rapidly to clear his view as he trudged in the direction of you. He walked this path like tracing the lines on the palm of your hands. 

The bank was two blocks away, then he’d turn left at the corner 7/11 with the broken ‘7’ sign so it just said ‘11’; walk another block and turn right when you see the daycare where Seokmin worked. If you go up to the very top of the hill and then a little bit over, your apartment sits by a row of rusted blue mailboxes. 

Jihoon is not sure when or why, but somewhere along the way he started running. His arms cut through the rainfall, his shoes sloshed water onto the back of his pants. The world around him melted and became a blur, his eyes zeroed in on the faint red door that belonged to your home. 

He raised his fist and knocked firmly for four beats – four to tell you that it was him. Most people only knocked for three. The walls were thin as were your curtains. He saw a flicker of lamp, then a stir followed by the padding of your slippers against the hardwood floor. The doorknob jiggled as you undid the various locks. Though it was only a matter of seconds, it felt like eons for Jihoon. He waited for you with bated breaths, chest rising and falling with each one.

The moment he saw a sliver of you, he pushed his way in and wrapped you in an embrace. The soft scent of your shampoo wafted into his nose, the landscape of your body against his own felt familiar despite your baggy t-shirt and pajama pants. You were stiff at first, surprised by the sudden hug, but were quick to relax into him when you realized it was Jihoon. Your arms settled into the small of his back, your index finger tapping at 74 beats per minute like usual – Jihoon knew because he counted once. Your clothes were getting wet and rain was seeping into the annex of your front door, but for now, it didn’t matter. 

“You’re back,” you mumbled into his shoulder. 

“I’m back,” Jihoon repeated. 

Silence, then a beat. 

Jihoon held onto you a little tighter, pulling you closer into his chest. He pressed his cheek against your own, the cold of his skin against your warm one sent chills down your spine. 

“I missed the city,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. “I missed you.”

#woozi x reader #woozi fluff #woozi scenarios #woozi angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios

[st-kitten]

mastermind

hitman toji fushiguro x y/n

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mentions of killing, dead bodies, openly talking about murder, toji's big dick energy, choking, also just kissing (we need to make kissing sexy. smut ain't the only hot thing)

you're sitting in a local internet café, studying peacefully, taking sips from your coffee occasionally. the bells hung at the door jingle and someone walks in. from the corner of your eye, you spot a person walking past you. you hear muffled conversation between that person and the cashier. he hands him an envelope, which the stranger shoves into his pocket.

you would've usually ignored people, but this one was hard to look away from. ripped at every edge, dressed in a cashmere sweater that chanted "peace", but paired with a face adorned with a scar that said the complete opposite, this person caught your eye and you kept looking at him.

sadly, you caught his eye too.

"what are ya starin' at, sweetheart?" his voice matched his appearance. hot.

"nothing, i'm blind," you joke, looking away from him.

he scoffs a laugh. he eyes you up and down. toji never took risks, especially if he thought he was being tailed. but you looked like an ordinary girl. black top with the thinnest, most useless noodle-like strips on your shoulder, one of them almost falling off, rose pink bra straps peeking underneath them. you had a short, pleated skirt on, so there was no chance of you hiding a gun. you didn't seem threatening. but, he didn't like loose ends. he sat down in front of you.

"and what do you do?" he asks, looking at you, as if he's waiting for you to slip up.

"study."

"studying what?"

"neurology"

"boring," he says. it irks you that he calls it boring, but you roll with it.

"and what do you do?" you ask.

to test you, toji actually replies with the truth. "i'm a hit man." a wide grin sits on his face. instead of seeing discomfort or fear on your face, he sees a spark of curiosity.

"oh?"

"yup. i'm not lyin'. i'm always on the run, after my target. i get paid a lot for it. i'm too good at it."

you just tilt your head and analyse him...

"you're still curious?" he asks with a smirk, seemingly interested by your refreshing demeanour.

"here i thought you were just a nerd. what's your name?"

"i'll give you my name. for a price," you say.

"interesting. aight. i'll bite. what's a fella like me have to do to earn a name?"

you look around the room and spot a man sitting alone at a computer, clearly looking at porn in a corner.

"him..." you say and toji looks at him. "hypothetically, how would you kill him without anyone noticing?" you ask.

"that'd be a toughie. but, i'd say a shot from a hidden distance would do it. but there'd be a chance that it would alert everyone. if not, then..." toji thinks for a moment.

"he's too entertained to notice anyone, so i could... 'hypothetically' take an empty syringe and inject his vital points with air and leave him to die of a stroke."

you smile, satisfied with his answer. "my name is y/n."

toji chuckles, leaning back in the chair. "pleasure to meet you, y/n. what do 'you' do for a living?"

"i study-"

"you already sa-"

"murderers."

his face falters for a second. "murderers? you like studying about...us?"

"what can i say, you lot are entertaining."

"i do take pride in it. you know what, you're something else. i'll give you that."

"so, hypothetically..." you look at him, eyes ablaze with excitement "... how would you kill me?"

"now why'd you bring that up? you're fucking adorable. why would i kill you?'" he smirks, but he's still curious about you. "but hey, to answer honestly, 'hypothetically'... definitely a shot in the back."

you grin. "cold... if you ever must kill me, please kill me like that."

"is that so?" he rests his elbow on the table, leaning forward, a classic smirk on his face. there was something about that got to him.

"i might just like you."

"likewise."

"you're not creeped out? the fact that i'm one of the 'murderers' you study about?"

"i find you fascinating. it takes a unique resolve to take someone's life," you answer.

"i get the adrenaline rush from watching the life drain out of someone. it's hard to explain. it can only be felt." he looks at you, wondering how you're calm.

"how do you get your adrenaline rush?" he asks.

you smirk too. "i get it from autopsies."

he nearly chokes himself. he moves his chair closer to yours. "how so?"

"i get to work with cadavers a lot."

"and you don't feel like throwing up?" he wonders.

"my fascination is stronger than my disgust, so no."

he was definitely intrigued by your straight responses. there was not a smidge of fear on your face. were you actually interested in him?

"here." you spin your laptop around to show him pictures of two brains side by side.

"uh, okay?"

"person..." you point to the one on the right. "... psychopath." you point to the other.

toji gulps slightly. the way you casually have pictures of dead brains on you unsettles him. isn't he the one to carry pictures of his targets?

"can't tell much."

"the other has underdeveloped areas in the brain. no empathy, no emotional wisdom," you say.

"damn. you'd scare the next person to walk in... but i gotta admit... ya got me wondering things."

"and you called neurology boring..." you comment.

he simply laughs. "it's still boring. you're not. why are you so... inquisitive?" he's actually impressed by himself for knowing that word.

"i won't know if you'd actually kill me, but as long as i'm alive, might as well be honest," you say.

"good way of putting it. but if i were to kill you, i wouldn't do it in public. i'd do it somewhere isolated."

"why the isolation?" you ask.

"you've already attracted attention. mr would-ve-been-dead has stared at you at least a dozen times. the cashier too. they'd notice if i were to do something to you. plus, i gotta keep things silent. in the middle of nowhere, is the perfect place to kill you." he's never actually talked about his profession to anyone. so this feels strangely refreshing.

"where's the fun in that tho? if you get anyone alone, it'll always be easy to hurt them, kill them. the thrill is in the chase... the fear you imbibe in your victim... the way you practically spell their death out for them moments before you actually do it."

"i'm beginning to think you're as dangerous as me, y/n. have you thought about killing anyone before?"

you had his complete attention now.

"you might make a tactical assassin. i'll tell you that much."

"i have. but why do it myself? i'd rather orchestrate the perfect murder without lifting my finger," you reply.

toji's eyes light up as he hears you say that. he's someone to work alone, but hearing that from you almost makes him want to have you plan a murder for him.

"exciting isn't it?"

"that's one word for it... i don't know whether i should be scared of you or... i like the way you think. it's unique."

"why would you be scared of me? you're the killer."

he chuckles. "the way you're all calm and collected... it's cute."

you hold back on grinning like an idiot. how does a cold-blooded killer even say the word 'cute'?

"want me to act scared, then?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows.

"no. i like you as you are..."

you laugh softly. "who knew hitmen could be this charming?"

"aww, ya flattered, y/n? most people would shit their pants and make a run for it..."

"i understand the fear of others. but, i've spent years studying killers, victims, their bodies... you just get used to the gore after a point."

"yer right i suppose. sorry, i gotta say you look fucking hot, smirking like that... like a killer," he says.

you give him another smirk, as a treat. "what's your favourite type of victim?"

he looks at you with a raised eyebrow. "you ask too many questions. why? doesn't it make you wonder that i might snap and kill you?"

"i study killers, toji... i'm not wasting the chance to talk to one. especially since he's being so cooperative..."

"you know what? you're the first person who hasn't bolted out of here. you're actually sitting and talking to me... you're not fazed at all."

instantly, you look at him with fear in your eyes. the kind of fear a victim would have upon nearing death. your hands shake and your breath quickens, your bosom heaving.

toji's expression changes as he takes you in.

you drop the act and regain your composure. "do you like seeing fear in people's eyes?"

"well- that... was certainly something..." he has an eerie expression on his face, but at the same time, he is in awe. the way you suddenly changed your behaviour alarmed him. just enough to impress him. is this how you look when you're scared?

"and yes. i do enjoy it. especially if the fear is because of me and not the fact that they're about to die." his voice seems almost... lustful at the end.

"and what do you do to spark this fear in people?" you ask.

"i'm silent, calm, sometimes i provoke them. i don't rush. i let them run as fast as they can. but i always find them in the end. sometimes i act creepy, unsettling, just to give my targets something to notice and get uncomfortable about. most lose their ability to fight then and there. other times, i stalk them, tracking their movements, always lurking behind them until they lose it."

he seems to enjoy answering your questions.

"can you... show me?" you ask.

his eyes widen. "show you? you're not serious... are you that careless with your life?"

"of course, i don't want you to kill me. but, i'm curious... so... make me afraid."

he stays silent for moment. and then smiles. "i'm going to enjoy this." he meets your eye. "in isolation, as i said..."

you hold out your hand. "lead the way."

he takes it gently, a mischievous smirk on his face. he pulls you out of your chair and opens the door, leading you outside. with the pace of a waltz, he leads you away from the café (fuck the fact that we just left our laptop back there XD).

he develops a smug aura around him. he guides you into a desolate alley. you look around and say, "nice choice."

"you can stay and fight or you can run... pick your poison," he says.

"not one to fight..." you begin taking steps away from him, backing away into the long, dark alley. you pick up the pace and jog backward, still facing him. he patiently walks toward you, one step after the other. he was enjoying it. it was exhilarating.

"i leave the rest to you," you say as you turn around to jog away from him, faster than before.

knowing that you're willing to let him have his way with you turns him on. it's different from actually doing the job. it's more intimate. he can get as creative as he wants and be thanked for it. he walks behind you. being tall, he takes long strides easily and creeps behind you.

you hardly sense his presence. you still feel as if he's miles away. before you can speed up, his hand grabs your hair and pulls you, your back hitting his chest. you let out a small gasp at the pain.

he leans in closer, his breath hovering over your neck. "what are you feeling?"

"goosebumps."

"not a bad start." he loosens his grip slightly. "you sure you want this?" he whispers in your ear.

"give it your all."

he lets you go momentarily and you run. as fast as you can. your lungs burn hot, yet you can still hear footsteps behind you. it makes your heart pulse. he's chasing you. not rushing. yet somehow, he always finds you. you think of hiding, but it's futile since you're not in actual danger. you take swift strides until the only sound you hear is of your own heart beats. you make the mistake of looking behind. he's not there. maybe you ran too fast.

your body hits another and you swallow in mild shame. dumbass, you tell yourself.

"dumbass," he says as he grabs your arm, yanks you and pushes you into a wall. your back hits the wall hard.

"fight or flight doesn't work when the danger is fake... can't help it," you comment. toji doesn't respond to you. he's silent.

his grip on your arm tightens. he steps forward, closer and closer until you feel his breath on you. yet you feel that something's amiss.

"don't hold back..." you say softly.

toji hid his astonishment well. he had no idea how you saw through him. he tilts his head, looking at you. admiring you. he never bothered to pay attention to his victims. it's always kill, leave, get paid. but seeing the way your body reacts to him, the way your chest heaves, the way your lips part to breath on behalf of your lungs, the way your eyes search for ways to escape, to flee from him, the way he's holding you, the way you're backed into a wall, trapped. it does things to him. how were you enjoying it?

"so far... i'm just attracted to you... terrify me, toji..."

he was not expecting you to admit that. but he was pleased. his eyes ignite with a raw passion. he gazes at you like a hunter does his prey. he turns your own imagination against you.

the hand latched onto your arm runs up to your neck, like a serpent slithering up its prey. with a vice-like grip, he grabs your throat, fingers pushing your flesh. he can feel your pulse. it's well within his grasp to completely shut it.

he's completely consumed by how good it feels to choke someone. the morbid pleasure distracts him, and he becomes infested by the macabre satisfaction of exerting control over another's life. he's nothing thinking about anything but the pulses against his fingers and how they're quickening every second. his touch is both cold and malevolent, a tangible manifestation of the darkness that now envelops him.

your struggle intensifies slightly, but he remains unyielding, a sadistic puppeteer manipulating the strings of your very existence. in that twisted moment, you realise that you are not merely rehearsing an impulsive thought, but confronting an actual physical threat. yet somehow, you can't help but feel vivacious at the same time. you feel every organ in your body trying to keep you alive. your frozen mouth twists into the smallest of smiles.

"tighter."

this snaps toji back into his senses. there's a chilling determination that replaces any trace of hesitation as he brutally hardens his grip around your neck. the blur sharpens and his other hand grabs your waist, pressing you further against the wall. a mild whimper escapes your lips, a haunting sound that pierces through Toji's consciousness like a chilling spear. it only serves to fuel the sinister satisfaction that courses through him.

he wedges his knee between your legs and leans in, breathing against your lips.

"seems i do have a favourite victim after all..." he whispers and presses his lips onto yours, your soft moan melting in his mouth.

to make it hotter, you place your arms on his chest, pushing him away with no strength at all. he chuckles into the kiss, embracing the feeble challenge and presses his body against yours roughly, living for the way you try to resist. your attempts to push him away only serve to stoke the flames of his desire, a sadistic flame that flickers higher with each futile effort. his knee rubs against you and you fail to hold back another moan, which coaxes your mouth open. with a swift lick, toji shoves his tongue inside. he kisses you with an appetite, with more lust, more pride.

it's a chilling acknowledgment that your make-believe struggle is not only noticed but savoured.

dazed, you pull away for a second, cursing at the little thief of joy, your own lungs as they pant breathlessly.

toji losens the grip around your throat slowly, letting blood flow through again. gradually, he removes his hand, admiring the marks his fingers leave behind. he holds you by the waist tenderly.

you hold his bicep to support yourself as you stand up properly, regaining your balance.

"bet you're glad you didn't kill me off," you croak, your voice raspy due to his chokehold.

"very..."

your eyes meet and you both smirk...

"you knew who i was before i walked in, didn't you?" he asks, feeling like a fool for not seeing it sooner. all those people in the café staring at you were doing just that. staring, keeping a watch. not undressing you, admiring you, lusting over you. just sincerely looking out for you.

"bygones..."

"you're gonna arrest me now, sweetheart?"

"tsk," you shake your head.

"why not?"

"you're holding a knife to my throat next time."

#toji #fushiguro #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #kissing #assassin #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #new

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 13

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 13: Lunacy Fringe

Chapter Summary: You and Dieter spend the day at the beach.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 9.2k+

Content / Warnings: alternating pov, grief, heart-to-heart, fluff, angst, smut, swearing, blood, cannabis use, cliffhanger, public sex, poverty mention, infertility mention near-death experiences, unprotected piv sex, ocean

Notes: Chapter title from “Lunacy Fringe” by The Used. Hmmmm let’s see. Idk if you know this, but I am employed now after like 16 months being a full-time student and SAHM, so I’m in a bit of an ~ adjustment ~ period and might take a bit longer to post things, but time will tell lol. This is a very soft chapter, I hope you like it. Let me know what ya think 🖤✨

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Despite your initial trepidation in doing the DIRT interview, and how disastrous it actually wound up being, Darlene reported to you and Dieter that public feedback has been generally positive. As all three of you expected, some of his fans have labeled you a gold digger, conwoman, or flavor of the week, but most find your story a sympathetic one and seem to be supportive. 

The news has saturated the past five days in a warmth and brightness you’ve never encountered before in your life. 

You and Dieter have been painting and writing and laughing and cooking and fucking and falling asleep tangled up in each other and waking up stuck together by sweat. Luxuriating in something neither of you could afford before: quality time. 

Today is no exception, with the two of you under the white down duvet tent, all glowing from morning sun pouring in through the skylight onto his bed.

It smells like him here, of course, but it also smells like you. Your scent has seeped into the threading of his sheets, commingling with his. Like you’ve claimed your spot here with him and now it’s something different, something shared and sacred. 

Meaning that it now smells like you, in the collective sense, and find any excuse to bask in it as long as you can. 

The pads of Dieter’s fingers trail along the shiny scar tissue that laces your leg, your hip, your arm. All those swaths of skin once split open, he traces them with reverence, his touch delicate and studious. Content to memorize you as long as you’ll let him. 

You count the gray hairs sprouting in his beard and at his temples. The wrinkles that crease his forehead and eyes. Signs of age you feel blessed to encounter. 

You think about how the two of you were rejected from the afterlife, from the omnipresent belonging, the sea of love, back into these vessels. 

“What was it like when you died?” you ask him, bringing your touch to that hairless heart-shaped spot at his jawline, “Like, what did you see?” 

“I, umm,” he clears the sleep from his throat, then says, “I remember feeling tired. So fucking tired. This crazy heavy fatigue took over, like—like someone put the world’s heaviest weighted blanket on me, and I tried to stay awake but I just fucking couldn’t. When I woke, I was floating above my body. Saw them all trying to revive me. Then it was like… I was sucked up into this tunnel.”

“The tunnel,” you grin, “That tunnel was fucking awesome.”

He chuckles, “It really was. It was like… I’ve never felt more at peace. Fucking wild,” he shakes his head and frowns, “I saw all these scenes from my life. Growing up, living in New York, getting my first real gig, moving to LA, all that. I got to that barrier, you know,” he glances at you and you nod knowingly. 

“I was right there, I touched it, and I knew that was it but I wasn’t scared. Then Annie shot the adrenaline, and I was getting sucked back, and,” his eyes flick to yours, softening to ganache, “And… I saw you.”

You blink, searching his face, shaking your head. 

“I—I saw you, Louella. I didn’t know who you were. But when I met you, I recognized you. I felt this,” he turns his wrist in a circle and twists his face up in this bewildered expression, “Connection. I don’t know. Like it was supposed to happen.” 

Then he looks at you, and his eyes are glassy and wide with this tender awe. Every cell in your body swells so fat and ripe with love, it’s a miracle you don’t burst like an overfilled water balloon. It hurts, how much you love him. 

“You never told me that," you manage to whisper, brushing your knuckles against his cheek. He gives you a sheepish shrug, and you drag your fingertip down the bridge of his nose, “Maybe it was supposed to happen.” 

Dieter plucks your hand from his face and interlaces his fingers with yours, then immediately pulls it back, pressing a slow, wet kiss into the blackwork apple tattooed on your wrist. He brings your palm to his cheek and holds it there, his eyelids fluttering, “What was it like for you?” 

“Well,” you set your thumb in motion against his skin, “I closed my eyes, and it was dark, then I opened them and saw the wreck. Paramedics were putting me on a stretcher, and there was so much blood I was… red. Like someone dropped me in paint or something.”

The phantom scent of iron sends a shiver up your spine. It took a week to rid your hair of that smell. In the hospital, you scraped under your nails and picked at the hollows of your ears for days before you stopped finding dried blood. 

Maybe it wasn’t days. Maybe it was hours, or minutes, you’re not sure. 

You just know that, for approximately an eternity, you discovered a small mountain of little rust-red flakes and wondered whose blood it was, knowing that even if it wasn’t his, it was. 

Dieter kisses your palm, pulling you back into the present. You blink a few times, take a deep breath, then continue. 

“Ethan was with me, and we were pulled behind the ambulance, like there was some kind of tether between me and my body, but somewhere along the way, he disappeared. That’s when I noticed...” 

You tilt your head and frown, watching your nails graze his whiskers while your mind tries to assemble a description that might make sense. 

“Above me, there was this light. Something inside me knew that’s where he went, so I followed him into the tunnel. I saw my life. When I was growing up in Ohio, my dad, my mom… the time I spent, um…” 

Your teeth catch your bottom lip and your eyes flick to his, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I lived out of my car for a few years after I moved out, before I was accepted into CIA.”

“Really?” he searches your face, and when you nod, he rolls on his side, sliding his palm along the curve of your back, scooping you up to bring you closer. 

“Well, technically I was still homeless when I started going there, ‘til my classmate found out and insisted I move in with him,” you smirk, “That’s how Parker became my bestest friend.” 

“As always, a man after my own heart,” he murmurs and mimics the smirk on your lips. The tips of his fingers work up and down your spine in a soothing motion. 

You chuckle at this, then sigh, “Then, yeah, moving to the city, meeting Ethan. I got to the barrier and saw him cross. I could see inside it like a window. My grandparents, my dad, and Ethan—they were all there, but wouldn’t let me through. My dad told me I needed to go back, that I had more to do.”

A burning sensation climbs up your throat, settling behind your eyes, where tears start to form. You swallow the thick, raw feeling and shake your head. 

“I didn’t believe him. I didn’t think there was anything left for me if Ethan was gone, even though—” 

When you realize what you were about to say, a sob escapes you. Dieter kisses your cheek, then your forehead, and tightens his arms around you. You curl up against him, wriggling your head into that space between his collarbone and jaw. The heat of his body and your own recycled breath warms your face.

“Promise not to judge me for this?” you ask him in a hoarse whisper. 

He tucks your hair behind your ear, “I promise.” 

“Sometimes—you know, when things were really bad with him—sometimes I, um,” your voice breaks. You squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears, take a shaky breath, then confess, “Sometimes I wished he would die.“

Self-loathing crackles in your chest. Each second that passes with no response only amplifies the feeling, and you can’t stop the wave of anxious thoughts from spilling out your lips, “It’s fucking horrible, I know it is, but he wasn’t the man I married anymore. He would leave for hours, sometimes days, without telling me where he was or who he was with, coming home all fucking strung out, reeking of booze and smoke and pussy, and—and if I asked, if I dared to fucking ask, he treated me like—like I was the fucking enemy or something—”

Another wet sob gurgles from deep in your chest. Dieter squeezes you tight, nuzzling against the crown of your head, thumb grazing your shoulder as he coos, “It’s ok, baby, it’s ok—”

“No, Dieter, it’s not fucking ok—I should have done something when I noticed it happening more and more, but I was so fucking angry with him for taking away my choice to have a family—”

He shifts to look down at you, asking, “What do you mean?”

Your heart jumps so high, it seems to get lodged in your throat for a moment. You  shake your head and swallow it down, then take a deep, wobbly breath, exhaling a sigh, “He, um… he cheated on me. Said it was a one time thing, he was all fucked up because it was the anniversary of his brother’s death—I—I don’t know. He didn’t tell me until months later when I got really sick out of nowhere and had to go to the Emergency Room. They couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me at first, but admitted me and started me on antibiotics because the symptoms pointed to an infection.” 

This big, blue boulder settles on your sternum and presses the air from your lungs. Dieter’s comforting touch starts again, swirling patterns into your shoulder, his arms cradling around you, lulling you into a sense of security, urging you onward. You relax into his warmth and clear your throat. 

“When the antibiotics worked, the doctors looked into my symptoms further. They ran a bunch of tests and eventually found that I had chlamydia. I told them it was impossible, the only person I was sexually active with was my husband—and, well… yeah. Anyway. Turns out he knew he had it, got treated, but couldn’t bring himself to tell me about it,” you shake your head and let out a sad chuckle, “Just, um, stopped fucking me. Let it fester inside me until it turned into pelvic inflammatory disease, which scarred my reproductive organs enough to make me infertile.” 

“Fuck,” he mutters, and his lips part like he’s going to say more, but his breath catches and they snap shut. When they open again, he says, “Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

You study him, “What were you going to say?” 

“What?” 

“Before you said you’re sorry, what were you going to say?” 

“I, uhh,” he pauses, and you hear the wet squelch of his gulp, “Nothing, it’s not important.”

You pull back to meet his eyes, finding them all red and glossy. An ache of affection radiates across your chest. You cup his cheeks and search his face, “Tell me.” 

“Just… that’s just a fucking terrible thing to do to someone you love,” he shakes his head, tears pooling in his eyes as he winces and looks away, “But—but my first thought was that I understand why, he umm, why—”

His face crumples. Tears blur your vision. You nod, showing you get what he’s trying to say. 

He sniffles, and his eyebrows draw together as he meets your gaze, “God, that’s fucked up, right? What the fuck does that say about me?” 

You take a moment to deliberate, wiping your eyes before telling him, “I think… the fact that you are able to recognize that in yourself, and know that it’s wrong, but tell me the truth anyway, is…” you lick your lips as you try to find the right words, deciding on, “Indicative of growth.“ 

Dieter chuckles. It’s a wet, forceful noise, like he couldn’t even help it from happening. He sniffles and presses his forehead to yours. His thumb scrapes against your damp cheek, “That is very diplomatic of you.” 

You smile despite the tears, then lean in to give him a tender kiss. His lips are warm and soft. They linger on yours for a few moments, and when you pull away, you murmur, “I love you, Dieter.” 

“I love you, too,” he rumbles, brushing your face with the back of his hand, “So, you found that out in the hospital, and I’m assuming things got worse with him after that?” 

“Yeah,” you frown and nod, “Yeah, I mean, I iced him out pretty hard. It all went down right before COVID hit New York, you know, and we were stuck at home together… he’d run our orders, then lock himself away in his office. I’d hear him snorting and pacing in there for hours. Like a caged animal. He’d come out all fucking,” you make a sniff noise and mimic a facial tic, “Twitchy and withdrawn, which was totally not like him. But, I don’t know. I couldn’t bridge that gap and move past what happened enough to help him.” 

You sigh, flicking your gaze to his, “Do you remember what he was like?” 

“Yeah,” Dieter swallows, glancing behind you for a moment before returning to your eyes, “He was nice. Funny. Easy-going. I—I mean, I liked him. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Well, knowing what I know about him now, I feel… I don’t know, guilty, or something.” 

“Don’t,” you frown and shake your head, combing your fingers through his curls, “He was all of those things. He was so… good, you know? This thing would happen, I swear to fucking god it was like every time we went out,” you chuckle fondly, “He would strike up a conversation with a stranger and make friends with them. It was effortless. He was so magnetic. I always loved that about him. And it’s not like he was different behind closed doors or anything like that. Not at that point, anyway.” 

Your smile falters. Dieter tilts your chin up and kisses you. When he pulls back, you wriggle into his chest and close your eyes. 

“That’s what I mean, though, when I say he wasn’t the man I married. He became paranoid, unpredictable, erratic. There was this darkness about him that was so… hard to be around. I—I fucking hated him.” 

Your stomach drops, eyes blinking open. Before you can think twice, you tell Dieter, “That’s the last thing I said to him. ‘I fucking hate you.’” 

He draws a sharp breath, holds it for a moment, then says, “That’s not true, though. You talked to him last weekend, in the psychomanteum.” 

Your lips part to contradict him, but you realize he’s right. That dark, heavy feeling in your chest lifts enough for you to smile. Fresh tears prick your eyes, “I did, didn’t I?” 

“Fuck yeah you did,” he grins, craning his head to kiss your forehead, murmuring against your skin, “My sexy little ghostbuster.” 

You bury your face in his neck and laugh. His chest vibrates with a low chuckle. A serene silence settles under the white, glowing dome. Dieter releases a content sigh and traces the pomegranate on your shoulder, “Did you ever find out why?”

“Why what?” 

“Why he, umm—”

“Ah,” you nod, “Why he tried to kill us?”

“Yeah.” 

“No,” you furrow your brow, “When he dragged me out of bed that night, he kept asking me who I was working for, said it had to be NYPD or feds. He told me that someone was following him and he knew I was setting him up. I don’t know.”

You take one of his hands and interlace it with yours, cuddling them to your chest, “The first time we tried the psychomanteum, I was hoping he would be how he was before—I mean, obviously because I needed to know who he really was, if it was all a lie in the beginning, if I had just missed it… but I also wanted to ask if I should lay low. The more time that went on, though, with no red flags from police, the more I knew he was just… sick.” 

Dieter hums in acknowledgment. 

“I’m so glad we tried again. That I got to talk to him again,” you say, smirking when you add, “Thank you for helping me with my crazy ghost FaceTime.” 

He smiles, “Thank you for convincing me to try it. I’m glad I did.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he pauses and shifts a little, “James and I, in our heyday, we would write these scripts and screenplays and act them out. He did most of the writing, and I did the big parts, but I, you know, I liked… writing.” 

You pull back and tilt your head at him, a grin spreading across your face at his bashful demeanor, “Really?” 

He nods, a little bob wobbling his throat, “I’ve been thinking about giving that a shot. I have some ideas for scripts, but I’ve been so… reluctant, I guess, to put them to paper,” he shrugs, “When I talked to James, he told me I should try it again, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” 

“I think he’s right,” you tell him, and press a kiss into the back of his hand. 

“I just keep thinking… What if it’s terrible? What if nobody likes it?” 

“Does it matter as long as you like it?”

His features shift into seriousness as he considers this. Brow furrowed and pinched in the middle. Corners of his mouth folded in a slight frown. Eyes downcast, studying your clasped hands as he flattens your palm over his heart. 

The soft, rhythmic thump-thump beats steady. You watch his eyelids flutter and his facial muscles slacken into a serene expression. This feeling comes over you that’s hard to explain. 

It surges from deep inside your chest and buzzes across your skin. 

There’s weight to it. Nothing you can’t handle, but still, the heaviness is apparent. You simultaneously feel responsible and completely exposed. Like you’re exchanging your most prized, most fragile possessions, under the silent condition that neither of you will break the other’s. 

You would be lying if you said it didn’t scare the shit out of you. You would also be lying if you said it didn’t bring you joy. 

He catches you staring and smiles, “What?” 

“Nothing,” you grin, “I just… I love you.” 

“Yeah?”

You nod, glancing down at his lips. 

He searches your face and murmurs, “I love you so much.” 

“So fucking much,” you confirm. 

Gravel crunches beneath your sandals as you trot down the steep path to the beach, splitting your attention between your clumsy footwork and the scenery. 

Clusters of purple flowers occasionally break up the tall, dry grass. Palm trees stretch high into the brilliant, cloudless sky. Beyond the white sand beach sits the Pacific Ocean, dark and alive. 

As you inhale deep and wide, letting your eyes shut as you relish the sulphuric, briny scent of the sea, your foot catches on a rock, and you stumble forward with a yelp, grabbing Dieter’s arm to keep you from falling. He only falters a little when you latch onto him, even though he’s outfitted like a pack mule, beach chairs strapped to his back, lugging a tote bag stuffed with towels and a cooler. 

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” you wrap your hand around his bicep for support and shrug, “Just, y’know, being super attentive and graceful.” 

His muscles twitch under your grip, “Good thing you have such a big strong man to hang onto.” 

“Are you flexing?” 

“Pffff, no,” he scoffs, and this big, contagious smile spreads across his face. Gravel transitions into sand at the trail’s end, and he asks, “Alright, doll, where you wanna set up camp?” 

Your nose crinkles as you squint around the sparsely populated beach. There’s a section of shoreline far away from everyone else, and you point to it, “Right there! Avast ye!”

“Aye aye, captain!” 

His pirate voice is surprisingly on point. It makes you laugh. He grins at your amusement as the two of you trudge towards the spot. Sand kicks up inside your sandals, gritty and hot against your feet, and you grumble, “Fuck this, I can’t with the shoes.” 

You slow down to take them off, but Dieter stops you, “Wait wait wait—” 

“What?” 

“Think you can kick ‘em all the way there?”

You shrug, “Probably.” 

He sets the cooler down, takes a step back, and props his hands on his hips, looking between you and the vacant section of beach through his sunglasses, “Let’s see it.”

Rolling your eyes, you tease, “You are such a boy.” 

“Kick your shoes! Kick your shoes! Kick your—”

You wind up your right leg, then kick it forward, sending the sandal flying. 

“YEAAAAAAH!” 

It goes high, but not far, flopping on the ground a few strides ahead. 

“Ah, beans,” you say, “I thought that was outta here.” 

“See, your problem is,” Dieter drops the tote bag and shucks off the beach chairs strapped to his back. 

“Oh, you have a technique? A shoe kicking technique?” 

“Obviously,” he guffaws while tugging his joggers up his calves, “You gotta get your flippy all floppy on your toes, then kick it.” 

“I believe the technical term is loosey-goosey.”

“You’re absolutely right, my mistake,” he walks to your side and points to his foot, “See, watch this.”

He shakes his foot around until the sandal dangles off it, then winds up and launches it forward. It goes about four times further than yours, landing right where the two of you were headed. 

“BOOM! That’s a shoe kick.” 

“Nice,” you give him a high five. 

“Thanks,” he grins, “Now you try. Should we do this one together?” 

“Ok ok,” you balance on your right foot, wriggling your ankle around until the sandal slides down as far as it can. 

Dieter does the same, “Here we go, ready?”

“So fucking ready.” 

“One, two, three—”

Both of you rear back, then kick, and your sandals go whizzing through the air. Yours hits the ground first and skids across the sand, coming to rest a few feet from his first sandal, while Dieter’s flies so far it’s just a speck in the distance. 

“Holy shit!” you laugh, “That went so fucking far.” 

“And the crowd goes wild!” Dieter bellows, embellishing the statement with cheering noises as he runs a victory lap around you. 

You snort and shake your head, “Ok, now you’re gloating.” 

He continues the one man celebration as he returns to his abandoned cargo, then heaves the chairs back over his shoulders. You skip up to him and snatch the tote bag off the ground, even though he insisted on carrying everything, then take your place on his arm. 

Once the two of you arrive at the vacant stretch of beach, marked by two left sandals, Dieter sets everything up, unfolding the colorful canvas beach chairs on either side of the cooler while you strip down to your black string bikini. He digs in the pockets of his joggers and unloads most of their contents into the tote bag, save for a little tin of joints and a lighter, which he sets on the cooler.

Stretching out in the beach chair, you bury your toes in the hot sand and watch Dieter kick off his pants. He notices you noticing him and whistles at you, a flirty wheet-whew.

You grin, and when he reaches for the hem of his shirt, you catcall, “Take it off!” 

He does so dramatically, spinning the shirt over his head like a helicopter and flossing it between his legs before tossing it at you. 

“Oh my god,” you laugh when it smacks you in the face. The fabric is warm and reeks of him, which you kind of like, so you ball it up and stuff it behind your head like a pillow. 

With a groan, Dieter sits down and grabs the tin off the cooler, plugging a joint between his lips. He lights it and takes a few puffs, then relaxes back into the beach chair, passing the torch to you. 

You accept it and take two hits in quick succession, keeping the smoke hostage in your lungs. The rush of THC blurs your senses and elevates you to a pleasant altitude where worries slough off your brain. On the exhale, you hand it to Dieter and ask, “If you were a fish, what kind of fish do you think you’d be?” 

He just starts giggling as he plucks the joint from your fingertips and takes a drag.

You catch a few contagious giggles and tell him, “I think—I think I would be a, uhh… a pufferfish.” 

He furrows his brow and blows the smoke towards the ocean, then shakes his head, “A pufferfish?” 

“Yeah,” you take the joint from him, inhaling skunky, thick smoke with a shrug, “Spiky. Temperamental. Solitary.” 

“Kind of adorable when you’re mad,” he adds with a grin while accepting the joint from you, then puffs on it. A condensed white cloud curls out his parted lips when he hands it back to you. He looks out into the water, “I’d be a goldfish.” 

You study him while taking a drag, and flick a long tube of ash off the glowing orange tip. 

His nose scrunches up around his sunglasses as he glances over at you, “Trapped. Always… on display.” 

You pass him the joint and nod in understanding, but say, “I don’t think you’re a goldfish. You’re like… way cooler than a goldfish.” 

“Well, I don’t think you’re a pufferfish.” 

“Then what am I?” 

“Hmm,” he leans way back in his beach chair, tucking an arm behind his head while taking a hit off the joint, then hands it back to you, “Let me think about it.” 

“Kill it,” you wave off the joint, perfectly content with how stoned you managed to get, and lay back to bask in the warm sunshine. Your eyes drift closed and you release a deep, cleansing breath while thinking about goldfish. Pea-brained, sociable, common. 

Sure, he may feel like a goldfish, but that’s not him. Not really. 

He’s unique, and smart, and dedicated, when he wants to be. 

Dozens of different sea creatures swim behind your eyelids. You compare and contrast each one to your paramour. Octopi are smart and shapeshifters, but they’re too reclusive. Sharks too aggressive. A whole fleet of colorful, tropical fish, but none of them seem right, until one little curly-tailed guy buzzes across the ocean in your head. 

Your eyes open and you smile at him, “You’re a seahorse.” 

“How’s that?” he asks, voice warped by smoke. He grinds the joint into the sand, then outstretches a hand to you. 

You take it, interlacing your fingers with his, forming a bridge between your armrests, “They eat a lot, they’re kind of pokey—”

“Stop, you flatter me,” he deadpans.

You throw your head back in laughter and say, “Wait, wait—let me finish! They’re also cute, and romantic, and smart, and curious,” you lean forward and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss into his skin, then declare, “You, my love, are a seahorse.” 

A wide grin spreads across his face. His thumb works against your hand. He tugs on it and murmurs, “C’mere.”

You crawl out of the beach chair, into his lap, linking your arms around his neck as you pull him in for a kiss. One of his hands snakes around your waist while the other comes to rest on your bare thigh. When your lips part, you curl up against his chest and sigh, “I love you, my sweet seahorse man.” 

He lets out a dopey little giggle and kisses the crown of your head, mumbling into your hair, “And I love you, my beautiful seahorse lady.” 

You gasp, peering up at him, “I get to be a seahorse with you?” 

“It makes sense, don’t you think?” he pulls you close and nuzzles into your hair, snuggling you like you’re his favorite stuffed animal at bedtime, “You and me, we can just… get our tails all tangled up and float around the sea together. Hang out in coral reefs and eat, uhhh… I don’t know, whatever seahorses eat. Sea-monkeys?” 

“Sea-monkeys?” you guffaw, “What the fuck are those?”

“It’s a thing!” he laughs, giving your thigh a playful smack, “Didn’t you ever have sea-monkeys? They came in those, uhh, little Parmesan cheese packet lookin’ things—Oh! They’re shrimp! Brine shrimp.” 

“Ohhhhh!” you cover your face as you nod, “Ok, yes. I know sea-monkeys. I bet if I was a seahorse I would eat the shit out of those.” 

“Told you.” 

“You’re right,” you relax back into him, unable to shake the smile from your lips, “Did you know that when a seahorse finds another seahorse they really like, they mate for life?” 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” your eyes drift closed, lulled by the warmth of him surrounding you, “They love each other so much that when one of them dies, the other shortly follows. Cuz they can’t live without each other.” 

“That’s weirdly romantic,” he chuckles and kisses your forehead. 

“Totally us.” 

He hums in agreement. The noise is saturated with a warm contentment that seeps into your bones and boils them down to broth. It sloshes around under your skin and you can’t imagine having to move ever again. 

“If we stay like this I’m gonna fall asleep,” you mumble. His response is to nuzzle even closer and take a deep, sleepy breath. It’s all the permission you need to let the sandman pull you under. 

When Dieter wakes, not much time has passed. The sun no longer hangs in the zenith of the sky like an angry disco ball, but stares him straight in the face. 

He peaks down at you and chuckles. A puddle of drool has collected on his shoulder, dribbling from the corner of your slackened mouth. Warmth swells in his belly and aches all the way up to his chest. He strokes your sweaty, heated cheek and thinks, “I don’t deserve her.” 

The thought is not so much self-deprecating as it is full of awe at his fortune. 

Each morning, when he wakes and you’re still there, wrapped up in his embrace, he can’t believe it. Your one-way ticket to LA has no return trip planned. Neither of you have brought it up. The closest you’ve come is asking him, “Are you sick of me yet?” one morning over breakfast. 

“Sick of you?” he scoffed and ripped off a chunk of his blueberry muffin, popping it into his mouth, “Not possible.” 

You smiled at him over your coffee mug before taking a tentative sip and changing the subject, “What’re we doing today?”

He knows you have a life back in New York. A business and friends waiting for you to return, but, god… he’d do anything to keep you here forever. To share as many days with you as possible. 

As has been happening often lately, he dwells on a snippet from his near-death experience. The one of him holding your hands, where you’re wearing a white dress, smiling bright and full and gorgeous, and you say, “I do.” 

Given the result of his previous marriage, he considers that he might be an idiot for daydreaming about it. Especially this soon. 

Didn’t he learn his lesson last time? 

Apparently not. 

Did he feel this way last time, though? Like someone turned up the dimmer switch on his life? With Anika, did he ever know, with certainty, that he would give up anything and everything to stay in the orbit of her affection? 

No. 

It’s different with you. The tendrils of your love have burrowed deep inside him, taking root in a place no one else has touched. A place he didn’t even know existed within him. 

You stir a little. Dieter strokes a scarred-up strawberry on your arm, gazing down at you in time to witness your eyes blink open and meet his. A hazy smile spreads across your lips, and you reach up, brushing his patchy beard with your knuckles, “What time is it?” 

The words are groggy and rough. 

He shrugs, “Sometime.” 

Humming, you look around, then try to sit up, but he reels you back in and squeezes his arms around you, “Mmmm no.” 

“Dee,” you whine, laughter wavering your protest, “I’m so thirsty. And hot.” 

“Yeah you are.” 

One corner of your mouth tucks into a smirk and you snort, shaking your head at him. You kiss him, your dry, sea-chapped lips sticking to the soft inner plush of his mouth. When you draw back and stretch your hands up towards the aquamarine sky, a deep yawn expanding your rib cage, he reluctantly lets you go. 

Exhaling a gust, your body goes slack and you roll off his lap into the sand, groaning, “Water,” then crawl towards the cooler. He reaches over to pop the lid open for you and grabs a seltzer. The can opens with a hiss. He brings it to his lips, taking a big swallow of the bubbly, vaguely strawberry-flavored water. 

You twist the cap off a dewy plastic water bottle and tip your head back to guzzle it down, water streaming out the corners of your mouth, trickling down your chin, neck, chest, the column of your throat pumping in a thick glug-glug-glug that flickers at the base of his spine. 

Sand coats your arms and legs, all those microscopic grains clinging to your slick, sweaty skin. The bottle collapses in on itself as you suck down the remaining water. You toss it aside and gasp for air, chest heaving, practically fucking moaning, “Oh my god—that was fucking amazing.” 

A hot, heady rush of need gushes through him. His dick jumps. Breathing quickens. 

Dieter gulps down seltzer, ogling you while you grab a fistful of ice from the cooler and hold it to your forehead, eyes fluttering shut. You press the melting ice into your cleavage, squishing your tits together, lips parting in a gasp. 

Jesus fucking Christ, Louella. 

He sits up and finishes off the seltzer, dropping his empty in the sand, “Need some help?” 

With your head still tilted back, eyelids still sealed shut, a sly smile spreads across your face, “Oh yeah?” 

By now, the heat of your skin has turned the ice to water, trailing shiny and wet down your abdomen, pooling in your belly button, darkening the very top of your black string bikini. 

Dieter stifles a groan at the sight. Saliva gathers in the dark cavern of his mouth. He gulps it down. 

You open your eyes and level your gaze to his, eyebrow quirking as you shrug. 

He takes a handful of ice from the cooler and pats his thigh. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You crawl over to him and climb into his lap, sliding back until you’re seated firmly on his hard cock. 

“Someone is excited,” you chuckle. 

“Can you blame me?” he grins, brushing hair from the nape of your neck. He presses the ice into that knotted bone right beneath your skull, then slides it down your back, drawing circles over each vertebrae. Your shoulders slacken and you let out a sigh of relief. 

When the cube melts, right around the middle of your spine where your string bikini is tied into a neat little bow, he gets a new one. 

“That feels good,” you breathe, hips arching back, ass pressing hard against him. 

The way you say this, all lusty and scraping along the edge of your vocal cords, makes his throat rumble and beckons him closer. He shifts his seated position, sitting up higher, slipping a hand around your waist to make sure you don’t wiggle away, then presses a slow kiss into your pulse. 

You hum, opening your neck wider for him to taste the salty bite of your sweat. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your skin, fingertips digging into your soft belly. The ice cube melts against your tailbone, and he grabs another, smearing its decay along your collarbone, down your sternum. 

When he slides it under your skimpy little bikini top and rubs it against your pebbled nipple, you rock your hips against his, letting out a soft gasp, “You’re gonna get us in trouble.” 

“With who?” he murmurs, nips at your neck, then says, “Nobody’s here, love.” 

“Wait, really?”

You lean forward and look around, turning back to him with a mischievous grin when you find what he said is true. Your pink bubblegum tongue peaks out to wet your lips as you search his face, “Are you sure?”

“Relax, doll,” he purrs, reeling you in, pressing his lips into your shoulder, your neck, your jaw. You reach back, fingers tangling in his hair, and pull him into a leisurely, saccharine kiss. 

Like always, it makes his heart stutter. Bubbles hot and wanting up the middle of him. You roll your hips. The heated weight of you grinds hard against his cock, making him groan into your mouth. 

His fingertips dance across your abdomen, tracing tedious little swirls into your skin. Your lips gape open with a whine and you roll your hips. His eyelids flutter and he shudders at the wave of pleasure that floods his body. He grabs your hips and silently urges you to continue, rocking you back and forth. 

“Fuck, that’s good, baby,” he pants. 

Your hand slides over his, both chilled and wet from melted ice, and you guide it between your legs, nodding when his touch wriggles under the fabric of your swimsuit, moaning when he finds your clit and rubs you, soft and steady, studying the subtle, pleasure-filled tremors that make your muscles twitch and breathing quicken. 

Your eyebrows thread together and your lips get all pouty, these huffy whimpers escaping them with each stroke, and he could just fucking eat you alive right now, you’re that goddamn beautiful. 

His mouth seizes yours. You respond with vigor, twisting your top half around to bury your hands in his hair and kiss him harder. 

He works you faster, flicking his wrist, swallowing your moans whole. 

You pull back with a gasp and throw your head back on his shoulder, “Holy fuck, yes—”

“Does that feel good, baby?” 

“Sofuckinggood,” you whimper, grinding against him, “Fuck—fuck, I want you, Dee—”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you right here in the open?” he coos in your ear.

You nod. 

“Let me take these off,” he withdraws his hand and you scramble to your feet, chest heaving as you glance up and down the shoreline. He tugs off his swim trunks and reclines in the canvas beach chair. 

Your eyes drop to his cock, and this big, delighted smile stretches across your face. Returning to his lap, you lower yourself back while Dieter pushes the gusset of your bikini aside and guides to your target. When the tip of him breaches your entrance, you gasp.

“Holy shit, baby,” he groans as you ease him into your hot, wet squeeze, whimpering, “Fuck fuck fuck,” under your breath as he stretches you open. 

When he can’t go any further, you adjust your posture, hands on his knees, leaning forward, arching your back. You look over your shoulder, meeting his eyes, and start to roll your hips, pussy suctioning around him, taking him slow and deep. 

He moans and nods in approval at the pleasure that gushes up his spine, “That’s it, baby, take what you need. Ride that cock how you want it, feels so fucking good, fuuuck—”

“Oh my god, Dee,” you whine, eyes fluttering shut, mouth hanging slack. 

He slides his palms up your back and watches his cock, all shiny with your slick, disappear into you over and over again. Your huffy little whimpers grow louder and you grip his knees, pushing yourself back onto him harder, faster.

“There you go, love,” he groans, gripping your waist, “It’s all yours, baby, take it—”

“Fuck, Dee—”

Your voice is high-pitched and frantic. His hips arch into yours, pulling a wrecked moan from your chest. Liquid heat pulses through him, and when he thrusts again, you gasp and nod, “Fuck, keep doing that.”

He does. He fucks up into you and you curve your spine, face to the sky, tilting your pelvis just so, and the hot, plush silk of your cunt grips his cock, making this sick, wet squelching noise that only fuels him further. 

“Fuck, you’re amazing, so fucking perfect,” he pants, skin tingling with desire, wanting to feel you closer, needing to feel your lips on his. His hips slow and he slides a hand to your belly, urging you, “Come here, baby.” 

Dieter guides you back, threading one arm around your abdomen, the other scooping up your knees. You link your hands at the nape of his neck and he presses his forehead into yours. The first thrust makes your whole body tense and you whimper, “Holyfuckingshit—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, pulling back to meet your wide eyes, “You can do it, you can take it.”

You make this cute, pathetic kind of noise, gulping down a whine, but nod for him to continue. 

He rolls his hips, slow at first, letting you acclimate, increasing his tempo when your head rolls back and your walls relax. 

You’re cradled so close he can see the sweat glistening on your skin, can smell your damp musk, can hear every breathy moan, can feel every muscle in your body quiver as he pumps into you. The edges of him start to crumble, deteriorating with each thick wave of pleasure that washes over him. 

“Fucking perfect, Jesus fucking Christ, pussy feels so good I fucking love it,” he babbles.

Your breathing grows frantic and sharp, head snapping up to tell him, “Don’t fucking stop I’m so close, holy shit Dee—”

“Fuck yes, cum on this dick baby, let me feel you, I fucking love it I fucking love you—”

You pull him into a needy, messy kiss, your deep, wanton moans vibrating on his tongue as you convulse around him, tremors twitching your muscles. A swell of pleasure steals his breath, surging through him hot and gooey and overwhelming, and he falls over the edge, spilling inside you. 

Your lips don’t part from his for more than a moment while the two of you come down into blissful satisfaction, your bodies sweaty and trembling. Labored breaths gradually dissipate into normalcy, and the kisses linger with intimacy. 

“Wow,” you giggle eventually, slack and boneless against his body as you tuck your head into his neck, “Are there awards for fucking? I think you just won in the outstanding performance category.” 

The praise curls up inside him and makes him chuckle, “What an honor. I’d like to thank my beautiful costar, Louella. Couldn’t have done it without you—”

Your laughter cuts him off, then you say,“You can put your Fuck-ee next to your Oscar.” 

“Fuck-ee?” he throws his head back and guffaws, “What would that trophy look like? A golden dong?” 

Your body shakes with laughter, “I think that sounds perfect.” 

He kisses your sweaty forehead, releasing a content sigh before murmuring “I should put my trunks back on.”

You chug two more bottles of water before returning to your chair beside Dieter. 

As you stretch out in the sunlight, the outside world starts to creep back into frame. Sand heats the soles of your feet. Ocean waves roar and slosh onto the beach. A salty breeze ruffles your hair and cools your heated skin. 

Dieter nods to the seemingly infinite gray-blue water, “Wanna take a dip?” 

You look at the ocean. At the tide washing ashore, then pulling back, again and again. Big, rhythmic, gasping breaths. You think about the vast depth of the Pacific, about the ecosystems it contains, all its tides and currents. All the life it contains and death it brings. The sheer power and magnitude of its existence, right in front of you. 

Unease twists your stomach and hums in your bones. Your chest aches. 

It’s so overwhelming. 

Dieter squeezes your hand, reminding you of his question, and you glance over at him, his expression hopeful and earnest. You can’t say no to that face. Besides, it’s just water. 

You’re being irrational. 

“Sure.” 

“Yeah?” he crinkles his nose like he’s squinting at you behind his sunglasses, “We don’t have to, you know.” 

“It’s fine, let’s go,” you crawl to your feet, dusting sand off your legs and ass as you start towards it, ignoring the violent thud of your pulse. 

He catches up to you, interlacing his fingers with yours, and the two of you trudge through the hot sand. 

“Are you sure?” 

You frown, “Yeah, why?”

“You seem,” he pauses here, jaw ticking to one side, then runs a hand through his wind-blown curls, “I dunno. Like you don’t actually want to.” 

You frown and shake your head, but the action isn’t convincing. 

When he starts to slow, you do too, and you both come to a stop, side-by-side, right across the border of smooth, damp sand. A wave crashes against the shoreline. Its tide stretches towards you, then the cool water washes over your feet. 

Dieter squeezes your hand, “Lua. Don’t lie to me.” 

You turn and face him, opening your mouth to lie, then he pulls his sunglasses up into his hair so you can meet his eyes, that warm gaze knocking at the eroded, but stubborn, cement wall of your heart, begging, “Let me in. Please.” 

“It’s stupid,” you drop your gaze and catch the soft inside of your cheek between your molars, then glance between him and the rolling water, “It’s just scary, you know?” 

He frowns, “What is, the ocean?”

“Well, yeah,” you scoff, gesturing towards another incoming wave, “It’s fucking massive. We don’t even know what’s in there, I mean, there could be monsters—”

“Monsters?” 

You shoot him a playful glare and chuckle, “We don’t know!”

“Uh huh” he grins, both of his heated, sandy palms finding your waist. 

You drape your arms around his neck, tangling your fingertips into the damp curls at the base of his skull, then swallow hard and shrug, “And maybe… I don’t know, maybe I can’t, um… swim?” 

His eyebrows shoot up, “Oh shit, really?” 

Heat creeps up your neck. You drop your gaze and hear yourself mutter out excuses like a reflex, “Not very good, anyway. Nobody ever took me swimming, or showed me how, and I never figured it out on my own, and-and Ethan was supposed to teach me—” 

“Hey, that’s fine,” he works his thumb against your skin, soothing you, “We don’t have to go far, no swimming necessary.”

You thread your brows together, “Really?” 

“Obviously,” he scoffs, “What, you think I’m gonna make you? We don’t have to go into the water at all if you don’t want to—”

“No, I want to. It looks nice, just,” you chuckle at yourself, at the worried voice of anxiety piping up in the back of your brain, “I know it’s silly, but will you make sure I don’t get, like… pulled under?” 

“Scout’s honor,” he pulls you into a hug, and you hug him back, resting your cheek on his bare chest. The ragged, jittery sparks in your ribcage calm to a low purr. Your muscles melt and untangle. Another wave washes ashore and rolls over your feet, then disappears.

He plants a firm smooch on your forehead, then rubs your back and murmurs, “Ready?” 

“Let’s fuckin’ do this,” you say in your most masculine tough guy voice, pulling back to grin at him. 

He snorts, shaking his head at you, brown eyes crinkled and twinkling with amusement, then grabs your hand and starts walking out into the tide as it rushes inland. When the ocean takes its offering back, you squeal at the sensation, how water pulls sand out from under you like a rug, coaxing you closer. Wild, salt-addled gusts whip your hair around and nip your generously exposed skin. Before you know it, you’re knee-deep in the icy water, wobbling when an incoming wave shoves you back and splashes up your thighs. 

You gasp and squeeze Dieter’s hand for stability. He steps behind you, wrapping his warm, sun-kissed arms around your body, purring in your ear, “I’ve got you, doll, don’t worry.” 

“Ok,” you nod, staring out into the deep, dark unknown, rooted in place by his fortitude, finally allowing yourself to marvel in the beauty of it all, “Ok.” 

Dieter watches you from bed as you rub moisturizer into your cheeks, leaning towards the bathroom mirror, making all these cute, squishy expressions. Little beads of water drip off the ends of your hair, still wet from the shower, onto the floor and counter. 

He’s never really been a forever kind of person. Up until about a year ago, every good thing in his life had been fleeting: flings, highs, gigs. The friendships he held onto were superficial and based in commodity. His marriage felt like a debt he owed. Companionship spoke foreign tongues. He never felt sated. Never felt like this. 

This. 

Fuck, he loves this. 

He thought people made this shit up. Forever. It always sounded like a joke. 

But it’s all he can think about. How he never wants to spend another night without you here, wearing nothing but his faded old Prince t-shirt, brushing your teeth, putting all your things away in the bathroom drawer. For-fucking-ever. 

When you flip off the bathroom light and come wandering back into the bedroom, you notice him staring at you, and chuckle, “What’re you smiling about?” 

Dieter didn’t even realize he was smiling, but you’re right, he is. With a shrug, he says, “You look pretty.” 

“Yeah?” you smirk, and twirl around a little, “Is this doing it for ya?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

You roll your eyes, that big beautiful smile stretching across your face, and crawl into bed beside him. He wraps an arm around your shoulder as you tuck yourself into his side, ear to his heart. Probably, you hear it skip a beat when he realizes what he’s about to say. 

“I don’t want you to leave.” 

The seconds after are so quiet he hears your lips part. You shift around until you’re propped up on his chest, searching his face, “What’re you saying?” 

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. He curls a hand around the small of your back, “I mean, you know, I want you to stay,” he swallows and meets your gaze, “Like, to live here.” 

Your features lights up, and it’s sweeter than any fucking buzz he ever caught. 

“Really?”

He nods. 

As if something occurs to you, your lips fall into a frown, “What about my baking? And-and Parker—”

“Open something up here. You always tell me about how you want to run a legit bakery,” he smooths his thumb against your spine, “Parker can visit us whenever he wants.” 

“I don’t have the capital to open a bakery—”

“I’ll help.” 

Your shoulders deflate a little and a crease forms between your brows. You tap your fingertips against his chest and ask, “Would you consider moving to New York?” 

He drops his gaze and shakes his head, “I have to be here. Better chance of me picking up work if I’m close by.“

“Dieter,” you pause, holding your breath like you’re not sure you want to say it, but when he meets your eyes, you stammer, “It just doesn’t seem like, I don’t know… Do you even like acting?”

The question feels like a jolt. 

He jerks his head back, “Yeah. Yeah, of course I do.” 

You raise your eyebrows. Unconvinced. Stomach acid sloshes around inside him and bubbles up his throat. 

“It’s my purpose. Acting is the only constant in my life, the only thing that I do that means anything. It—it’s what gets me out of bed and pushes me to keep going.” 

He says this, but the words taste sour. Does he even like acting anymore? Or is he just scared to try something else? 

A glimpse of the answer in his heart sends it racing. He stuffs it down and tries not to look at it. It’s too fucking scary. 

You study him for a moment, then scrunch your face up and stare at your fingertips as they dance across his bare skin. Deep in thought. With each second that goes by, he’s sure you’ll press harder and make him crack. It wouldn’t take much. 

“I wonder how much money I could make selling my inventory,” you ponder out loud,  “Probably at least $20k. That would be an ok starting—”

His mouth drops open, “Holy shit, how much do you have?” 

You shrug, “Twenty pounds raw, thirty pounds cannabutter—”

“And I’ve been smoking you up?” he tuts, “Puta madre.” 

You gasp and smack his chest, breaking out in a giggle when you say, “Rude.” 

“I’m just kidding,” he laughs, pulling you closer, “Smoking you up is an honor.” 

“Damn right it is.” 

The two of you smile at each other for a moment, then what you were saying catches up to him. 

“So, if you sell everything, then…” 

Your eyebrow quirks and your grin spreads wider as you shrug, “Then I could probably swing a cross-country move.” 

“Yeah?” 

His cheeks ache from smiling, but he can’t stop. 

You nod, “Yeah.” 

The shrill sound of your ringtone cuts through sleep. 

You roll out of Dieter’s loose grip to grab at the source, frowning first at the time, then the caller. Fucking FaceTime, seriously?

You pull Dieter’s shirt over your head and tiptoe out onto the patio, sliding the door shut behind you as you answer with a hiss, “Parker, it’s 3am, what the fu—”

“Lou, look,” he says, and you squint at the screen, recognizing the propped open door to your apartment building. The snow piles flicker blue and red. Parker pans the camera to the half-dozen NYPD squad cars clogging the street. Police officers and people wearing jackets reading NYPD FORENSIC INVESTIGATION DIVISION file in and out of the building, the outgoing individuals carrying boxes of evidence. 

“I don’t understand,” you shake your head, “What’s going on, are you ok?”

“That’s from your apartment, Lou,” he tells you quietly, “They fucking raided it.”

Panic seeps into your blood, an icy cold rush that numbs your limbs and freezes your brain. You just keep shaking your head, and hear yourself tell Parker, “No—no that can’t be right.” 

“Trust me, it is—”

“Excuse me,” an off-screen voice says to Parker, and the perspective shifts to the source: a bald white man with thick-rimmed glasses. He’s holding a camera, and he asks, “Do you live here?” 

“No,” Parker answers. 

Another wave of panic slams into you as you realize who he is: David Alterman from DIRT. 

You end the call and stare at the screen, unable to move. Unable to think. Just one thought blares in your mind, deafening and persistent: RUN.

#psychomanteum #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo smut #the bubble #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic

[cowboyfromh3ll]

ok this might be a lot but it’s a purely self indulgent vision i have: a one shot about reader who’s a young shop owner in town and is sweet on a certain arthur morgan who’s been frequenting her shop more and more lately. she is aware that he’s an outlaw and doesn’t care but unfortunately an odriscoll does notice arthur in her shop talking to her multiple times so one day he comes in demanding to know what business she has with him and where his camp is. she pretends not to know what he’s talking about but it just makes him lock the front door so he can force the answers out of her. noncon but not all the way, just a lot of touching and taunting her about how she must wish it was morgan touching her like that. but of course arthur realizes something is wrong and breaks the front door down and saves her just before the man takes her, go crazy with the beat down since i know you like gore lol. and some comfort in the end please, happy ending and him promising not to let anyone lay a hand on her again 🫶🏻 sorry this is very very specific i’m excited to see what you come up with!

Love/Hate

(Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader)

Sorry if I went too far with the gore

Warnings: Graphic depictions of gore, violence, non consensual touching

You were often reminded of all the way he was likely dangerous—you tried to imagine that the scars littered across his hands and scarcely visible on his arms from under his rolled up sleeves were some sort of malicious incantation carved into his skin; if uttered aloud, some sort of evil being would conjure up before you. And you would ignore the morbid implications of the specks of blood dotted on his skin; a few missed spots while he was cleaning himself off you guessed. You supposed that the gun belt that sat loosely on his lips would’ve been enough to cement fear inside you had it been anyone else, but there was something so undeniably charming about this stranger. 

After inheriting your late father’s general store, you were left with a loneliness so palpable you saw it in every corner and crevice of your life. The solitary emptiness of your home seemed terribly occupied by feelings of grief and emptiness. Even something meant to signify something so destitute took up space. 

You truly believed that your attraction to Arthur wasn’t rooted in your loneliness, though it certainly eased those feelings, but rather, a longing for something new. You had noticed he had been frequenting your shop more and more lately despite claiming he was constantly moving around, so that had to count for something. You sneaked a few free items into whatever he came to buy, insisting he take it with him and to consider it a gift. Transactions would allow for brief conversations about what Arthur had been up to as of late, and slowly over time he’d be much more transparent about what he did. Normally, Arthur would’ve expected some sort of stern warning from shop owners telling him to steer trouble clear of their shops, but he never got that from you. In fact, his returns were subtly encouraged by your welcoming smiles that spoke of a familiarity so tender he couldn’t help but feel at peace in your presence.

Arthur would find himself handing you trinkets from his journeys in return for free items, subtly flirting by telling you they reminded him of you. There was a certain magnetism about your shop, because no matter how far he was from Annesburg, he always returned there just to visit it. He became a regular visitor, and you were not at all put off by his past and the life he was living. 

The passing of your father also forced you to grow up much faster in a way, but the idea of boys not ever crossing your mind. There was hardly any time to spend dallying around them when you had to worry about taking care of yourself. So the thing you and Arthur had made you feel like a teen girl again, giggling and tripping over yourself to get one last glance at him as he left your shop, and trying your best not to fiddle in place the closer he got to you. You never imagined a man would have you running home and screaming into your pillow while kicking your feet. 

Living in a mining town meant the regular passage of patrons going through your shop. The grimy faces of miners blurred into one, and overtime it seemed as though the interior of your shop adopted a smog from all the filthy visitors that would visit you. There was the occasional kind stranger, and in a town like this, even a small polite smile was a greater show of kindness than you could ever ask for. You guessed that was another reason Arthur stood out so much to you. 

You hadn’t been the only one to notice Arthur’s frequent visits, though. The regular passing of patrons meant anyone could easily pass themselves off as a local. And in a town so corrupt, there was the lingering threat of violence that would pounce on you when you least expected it. Even innocent shop owners weren’t safe. 

It was a situation you couldn’t have foreseen. One Saturday evening where you had closed particularly late, you were left with only a few more customers until you had to shoo them out. One particularly persistent patron insisted he stay a little longer. You stood behind the counter exasperated, tapping your foot and looking at the clock hung on your wall. You were ten minutes past closing, and your patience had been stretched far too long now. 

“I’m sorry sir, you’re going to have to leave. We’re past closing.” You said firmly, you cleared your throat and pursed your lips, feeling an unexplainable sense of dread. The man did not respond, he simply kept pacing past the walls, looking through the shelves as if he were waiting for an item to show itself and conjure up before him. But you knew he wasn’t actually looking for anything; he would’ve found what he was looking for by now if he were truly shopping, or at the very least, he would’ve asked you. 

“Sir.” You said a little louder. 

“Do you know Arthur Morgan?” He asked suddenly, stopping in his tracks and turning to face you. You tried to pretend the sudden stillness didn’t disturb you, trying your best to not appear intimidated as you shuffled behind your counter. If anything, you thought, you’d be able to reach for the gun behind the counter as quickly as you could. The question itself was strange. You knew Arthur was an outlaw, and that he probably dealt with some less than formidable people, but why would he come to you about it.

“Excuse me…?” Your mouth became uncomfortably dry, the words squeaking out. 

“Don’t act dense, Miss. You know who the hell I’m talking about.” He raised his voice, making you flinch. He seemed to get a sense of enjoyment out of seeing you so scared, taking a sudden step forward and laughing at the way you moved back as well. 

“I see you two, flirting and giggling all the time. You know him very well, I’m sure of that.” 

You said nothing in return, only staring back intensely. 

“Now I know he tells you stuff about his life,” he locked your front door. “So tell me where his camp is.” 

Your stomach squeezed and dropped, flipping painfully as fear hit you like a punch to the gut. A cold sense of panic rattled through your ribs and your body became painfully rigid, all sense of direction and resolve leaving you. In your petrified state, you could not bring yourself to reach for the gun. You had never been in such close proximity to the possibility of violence. You had been cat called occasionally, some people would yell outside your shop, too drunk out of their minds to know what they were even saying, and Annesburg wasn’t the safest, but you never thought that it would actually happen to you. You felt the pressure of tears build in your sinuses as he rapidly approached your counter, his patience far past spent. 

“TELL ME WHERE THE FUCK HE STAYS.” He slammed his hands on the counter, leaning over it. Your bottom lip quivered as he yelled at you, your sense of sight and hearing becoming fuzzy as your body gave into panic. 

“I-I don’t know!” You sobbed, unable to move even when he rounded the counter. You stiffened your body as one would before receiving a large impact, but it did not come. Instead, he grabbed your shoulders and pulled your body against his. At this point, your fight instincts had kicked in. 

“Liar.”

“Wait, stop! What are you doing?!” You put your elbows up between your chests, attempting to push him off in that manner. He caged you in by wrapping his arms around your waist, and as much as you pushed away his face, he remained persistent in keeping close to you. Your body began to thrash wildly, kicking and throwing your limbs every which way to force him off. 

“I don’t want this!” Your porcelain voice quivered with cracks. You craned your neck away as far as you could as he began stroking your cheek with a bony finger. 

“You’re lying.” He said flatly. “I’m sure you wish it was Arthur doing this to you, right?” He grabbed your ass harshly, so hard that the dig of his rough fingertips squeezing the flesh became unbearable. 

“I’ll scream.” You threatened. 

“I know. Which is why I’ll fill your mouth before then.”

Those words were the perfect kick in the rear to set you into a full blown fight. If you weren’t thrashing before, you definitely were now. Several more waves of terror swept over you, pulling you deeper and deeper into its mindless depths. He meant it. He meant to violate every part of your being for his own sick enjoyment. It wasn’t about getting answers anymore, it was about satiating some sadistic part of him. You were trapped, and there was no getting out. The only time you remembered feeling remotely this afraid was when your father passed and you realized you would be on your own. 

You avoided his leering gaze as you felt his vulgar hands continue to paw at your chest and ass, attempting to snake his hand between your legs as you squeezed them together as hard as you could. He continued to tug at your clothing, successfully untucking your shirt and struggling to undo your buttons. Your thrashing, thankfully, made it too difficult for him to undo them. 

The two of you raised your heads as Arthur came crashing through the front door, shards of glass flying from the window, shattered from the sheer impact of Arthur’s full body weight pummeling into the door. What he saw before him was terrifying; your clothes half undone as a stranger groped you mindlessly, struggling and thrashing against his hold while trying to keep your clothes on. Arthur saw all this in the split second it took for him to rush towards your assailant, rounding the counter before the two of you could react, and ripping the man away from you. With a guttural yell, he threw the man over, punching him square in the jugular. The clip to his jaw caused his eyes to flicker up to whites; you saw blood on his lips, his teeth; and you wondered just how powerful Arthur’s singular punch must’ve been. 

You weren’t sure if Arthur intended the full damage done to the stranger’s skull—partially the angle of the counter, and partially the momentum of Arthur’s punch. The back left corner of the stranger’s head slammed into the sharp corner of the counter and produced a gash that began bleeding heavily in mere seconds. The life threatening wound didn’t stop Arthur from beating the man further, instead spurring him on to increase the damage; and in the next moment, Arthur’s hands and clothes were covered in so much slick blood he appeared to have just gutted a wild animal. 

The stranger cowered on the floor, curled into a fetal position with both hands cradling his skull as he tried to protect himself. You stood there in bewilderment as Arthur deliberately targeted the tender wound on his head, willed by some force other than terror to stand there and watch. 

“You son of a bitch.” Arthur spoke through grit teeth, beating the swelling flesh of the stranger’s face. Every few seconds, quick spurts of gore consistently and theatrically sprayed out of the man’s head; it had a strangely mystifying feel to it, as though it were some morbid fountain in some wealthy person’s back yard. He kept trying to stand, only stumbling back down and crawling away a few more inches. 

There was something terrifying about the way Arthur took the ankles of the man and dragged him back beneath him, and in the second that it took him to do this, he unsheathed his knife at the same time. With a knife in hand, Arthur was on top of the man like a lover. The stranger still had some fight in him as he attempted to gouge Arthur’s eyes, smearing blood all over his face as Arthur slammed his shoulders to the floor. Arthur twisted his head to avoid the man’s pressing fingers, catching them with his teeth and biting down; if he bit any harder, he might’ve snapped them like carrots. With his left forearm, he forced the man’s head back, splattering more blood onto the floorboards. There was a hideous familiarity in Arthur’s eyes, something that was downright chilling to the stranger. 

“I’ll kill you again in hell.” With that, Arthur dug the tip of his knife against the man’s jugular and dragged, a sanguine wound opening immediately in its wake. His neck transformed into a gaping red cavity of muscle and exposed arteries, and once Arthur saw the last inklings of life evaporate from the man’s eyes, he rose. 

His chest heaved as he stared down at the body, wiping his forehead on the back of his jacket sleeve before he turned to look at you. Arthur looked down at his hands then at you with all the confusion of a recent amnesiac; as if he were the victim of some unlikely attack. 

“(Name). I-” 

You shook your head, your bottom lip quivering again as you threw yourself at him. You found his imbrued clothes and skin to be strangely comforting, and he quickly returned the hug. Neither of you cared for the staining of clothes. In the moment, all that mattered was your well being. 

“Arthur, he-” You sobbed, unable to finish your own sentence. “I know sweetheart, I know.” He cooed, stroking your hair, which quickly became bloodsoaked. He kissed your temple repeatedly, coming to cup your cheek and stroking it with his thumb. You relaxed your tense body against his, occasionally becoming rigid with sobs and trembles. You buried your head in the junction of his shoulder and neck, staining his clothes with your tears. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” Arthur’s own voice began to crack. “I should’ve never let that happen to you. I’m so so sorry. You didn’t deserve that”

You raised your wet face, nodding your head at Arthur. “I’m just glad you got here when you did. And… Thank you. That crazy bastard. Who knows what else he would’ve done…” 

“Let’s not think about that sweetheart. Let me take you home. I’ll uh… take care of the mess later.”

You sniffled and nodded, glancing briefly at the body. “Thank you.” You repeated. 

“No need to thank me, (Name). I’ll make sure no man ever lays a hand on you again. You understand?” 

You nodded again. You understood the violence it took to be this gentle.

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Love/Hate - Dystopia

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption community #writing #red dead fanfiction #van der linde gang x reader #arthur morgan

[animeyanderelover]

Uh I've been meaning to ask headcanon about hashirama senju being completely yandere for izuna and Madara little sister....but with a little bit spice that the reader is just a badass female Uchiha and would do everything for her dear brother thank you so much author San... always love your blog xoxo 💋

Senju x Uchiha dynamic is always really interesting to be honest.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusion, clinginess

Darling is Madara's younger sister

🌳Madara used to tell him often about Izuna and you as you two were the only siblings he had left. From his descriptions, Hashirama always imagined you as someone fierce and courageous, loyal and compassionate about those you cared about the most. Judging from the softer look on Madara's face when talking about his younger siblings, he knew that Izuna and you meant a lot to him. It wasn't until his father found out about his secret friendship with the Uchiha and wanted him to bait the young Madara that he met you for the first time as Madara's father also figured out the forbidden friendship. Children were used often in the war as a lot of people lost their lives yet he couldn't help but be shocked when seeing you inside an amor too big on your small build yet with a fierce and hardened expression as you clutched the katana inside your hands. A vivid image of his own brothers who had lost their lives as he looked at you and Izuna, begging silently to not let more young children lay down their lives.

🌳The conflict was avoided luckily although it came with the price of losing his friend who in return activated his Sharingan to protect his younger siblings. Years passed by for his clan and the Uchiha clan alike, years where the names Madara Uchiha, Izuna Uchiha and (y/n) Uchiha became widely known and feared as the three siblings were regarded as the strongest in the entire Uchiha clan. In a time mainly dominated by men in the war, you stood proud and tall as the feared Uchiha princess with your Katon so strong that it needed multiple Suiton users to put a stop to your ninjutsu even if your element should have been the inferior one. You were merciless and slaughtered everyone who got in your way as years of war and death had essentially numbed you yet you seemed to follow your own codex of honor. You never slaughtered children, even if they were from the Senju clan as you deemed them as not worthy to already lose their lives, a hidden pain in your eyes as you had lost a few of your brothers too at a young age.

🌳You were an enemy best avoided, had had a few clashes with Tobirama in the past where both of you were unable to kill the other. Yet Tobirama killed Izuna, one of the few family members that you had left and you broke down when he died with his last plead to not submit to the Senju clan. During the final confrontation where Hashirama begs you to stop as enough people have already lost their lives, you can't help but let your temper get the better of you, demanding the life of his younger brother as payback for the death of your own brother. It's the first time both of you have seen each other really again since that day so many years ago. Both of you have changed. He's become the head of his clan and one of the strongest warriors alive whilst you've grown into a battle-hardened and strong woman, scars littering your body and Sharingan activated as your hatred overflows in that moment. Hashirama looks at you, recalls how small you used to be and his heart clenches when he sees the clear pain in your eyes.

🌳When he offers his own life if it means that you two agree to peace to finally end this conflict that has both of your clans on the brink of exhaustion, you don't hesitate to dash to him, katana pressed against his neck. You know that his brother will kill you but you don't care. Losing without avenging your brother somehow would never give you peace even in the afterlife. Only when Madara tells you to stop, acknowledging Hashirama's honesty and sincerity, do you pull back. Peace is eventually made and Madara and Hashirama even build their own nation. You're not fully fine with forgetting all the hatred and suffering but are fiercely loyal to your last sibling so you follow along. You ignore and spite Tobirama and his older brother whenever you can though, especially the younger Senju sibling as he's the one who took Izuna from you. Hashirama is somewhat endurable although his goofy behavior at times annoys you, the only reason why you try to be respectful is because you know that Madara values him as a good friend.

🌳Looking on how you're Madara's younger sister, it's no wonder that Hashirama tries to get on good terms with you, especially since you hang a lot around your older brother. He knows that you're still sceptical and understands where your deep-rooted dislike comes as you lost one of your last brothers thanks to his brother. The tension between you and Tobirama could be cut with a kunai as Hashirama tries his best to do as much as he can to ease you two up a little bit. He constantly has Tobirama apologizing to you as his brother can't keep his sharp tongue from cutting you and you reply with equal hatred to the point where Madara has to hold you back from getting into a huge fight. You're quite cold around Hashirama, have ghosted him more than once which had Tobirama seething because of the sheer amount of disrespect but Hashirama laughs it off every time. His optimism sometimes scares you a bit as you're unable to comprehend how one man can act like nothing happened whenever you don't even listen to him and essentially make a fool out of him by doing so.

🌳A lot of effort from Hashirama's side and begrudging patience from your side, mainly because you know how important that man is to Madara, eventually allows you two to get on better terms. Obviously you don't reply with the same amount of energy or are as enthusiastic as Hashirama is but you can hang out and have a drink with him even when Madara isn't around and whilst you will still leave him alone when he becomes too much for you to handle, you listen to him more. You start acknowledging him and his sincere interest to care for the village and to keep everything peaceful so that no one has to suffer anymore. It doesn't mean by a long shot that you behave yourself when his younger brother is anywhere around and he doesn't put a lot of effort in either but you start warming up, something Hashirama is thrilled about. You're tough and a war veteran but Hashirama admires you as he also sees your loyalty and your gentler side although you express your love more in a tough way.

🌳One has to wonder when exactly his feelings started spiraling out of control as you two spend more time together although you still spend more time organizing everything inside the Uchiha compound and even teaching the younger generation. You're not honored as one of the strongest and smartest Uchiha warriors for nothing though as you recognize the worrying signs of a growing infatuation inside Hashirama as the lines between plantonic and romantic blur fast and cause you to abruptly pull back and distance yourself from the man. You're at an age where a lot of people have already tried to court you yet you have rejected every single one of them as no one has met your expectations. The eldest in your clan have gone insane by now as you have rejected every single one of the man they've chosen for you but they can keel over and die. You will choose the one you marry yourself and expect perfection from him as much as from yourself.

🌳You know that Hashirama is really strong and you search for that in your partner but you've never considered him as a potential suitor of yours. You like him but that's all and the thought of marrying him and having Tobirama as your brother-in-law makes your skin crawl. You're sure the younger Senju brother would feel the same and that would make it one of the rare times where both of you would actually agree on something. Unfortunately Hashirama is not very good in hiding his feelings for you as he often seeks you out. The Senju clan notices and Tobirama feels like he will rip his hair out in utter frustration and the Uchiha clan notices too, leaving Madara conflicted. On the one hand Hashirama is his best friend but on the other hand you're his younger sister and admittedly, he doesn't want Tobirama as a brother-in-law either. The eldest of both clans have rather mixed emotions about this too. Some reject this development, others seem a bit more interested. Especially the Uchiha clan might see a few opportunities since the Hokage tries to court one of their clan members.

🌳You won't be subjected to any arranged marriage nor will you be used as something the eldest can try to take advantage of, you make that much clear to everyone. You don't dislike Hashirama and if he fits your standard, you will consider him as a suitor for you but he has to earn your respect for that. That's how everything starts as Hashirama's heart soars when you tell him firmly that you will only tolerate him if he qualifies in your eyes. You make the decision here, not him nor any of the eldest from the clan. That doesn't mean that you've accepted him yet but his brain, by now pretty much riddled with pretty delusions, takes it. In the end he exposes himself as a lovesick fool who gladly trails behind you like a little duckling, something that half-amuses you and half-annoys you since you value your private time alone, something he has a hard time giving you. His whole clan and especially his brother can only grown in frustration as their mightiest member becomes putty in your hands.

🌳Hashirama starts courting you as you're showered with hair ornaments, clothes, jewels and bouquets of flowers he arranged himself. Some of them are genuinely pretty but you don't know what to do with most of those as you're still a warrior deep down and would be much happier about shuriken, kunai or a good katana. It's not like Hashirama doesn't know how you think but he wants to leave the past of wars behind. He's finally established peace with the help of Madara and everyone else and wants you to enjoy yourself. You're not weak by all means, he knows since he's seen you a few times on the battlefield himself. You're as deadly as you're beautiful yet he would wish for you to settle down a bit as he's aware that you still train a few hours a day intensely. When he's with you, he only pays attention to you and hangs on every word that you speak like a religious follower.

🌳You may or may not decide to give in or not to his courting, that's up to you. The man definitely worships the ground you're walking on and would be willing to do everything to make you happy. You can only give him your heart though if you know that your brother fully approves and he's at times a bit conflicted how to feel to the point where he interferes and squeezes himself behind you and his clingy friend to block Hashirama. You can expect Hashirama to beg his friend for approval at least once a day, something his clan and his younger brother scold him harshly for since he should hold his head high as the leader of the Senju clan and the Hokage of Konohagakure. It's not like he could force you into anything even if you were to reject him either. You're the sister of Madara who is very protective of you and are together with him in a very high position. To top it all, if someone were to force you into something you don't want to do, you'd slice their head off for sure.

🌳Honestly, it's initially all harmless for the most part as Hashirama is merely very clingy and obsessive. Surely he fully snaps when Madara abandons the village and you should decide to go with him as he's your only family left. Chasing after you two in desperation, going as far as kneeling down to beg you to not leave. He's established peace, a village, a safer world but yet his best friend and his love are about to leave. He will never feel fully content unless he has you by his side. Fighting against you and his best friend is bound to break him, especially when he gives Madara a lethal injury whilst you have to watch how your last family is taken away from you, resulting in a deep hatred against Hashirama. You could never love him again after this even if you did love him at one point in time and that shatters the man, knowing that you two are past the point of return and things will never be the same again. Instead of letting you go though, he confines you as his heart is unable to let you go leave him too. If he's unable to have your heart, he'll at least make sure that you're still in the village where you resent him until death finally embraces you. A truly tragic love story, wouldn't you agree, my dear?

#yandere naruto #yandere naruto shippuden #yandere hashirama #yandere hashirama senju

[venerawrites]

THANK YOU wonderful lovely person for writing for this fandom 😍 so glad you're here!💐

if you feel inspired, may I request some hurt/comfort Sasuke goodness? can be modern au depression or dealing w the aftermath of the truth behind the Uchiha massacre...are there any ways to help him out of a bereft slump or have faith in the future again?

also, your theme and artwork choices are simply gorgeous 🙌🏻 and the delicious angst 🤤

author's note: thank you so much for your beautiful words! I have been waiting to be in the right mood for this one, so I am really sorry you had to wait this long... I really hope you like it, because I always feel like comfort is the hardest for me to write. Thank you for requesting and for the idea! <3

Some people leave your life just as unexpectedly as they show up. They offer nothing but distant memories of shared late evenings and cold tea, which soon make you question your sanity and if they were ever real at all.

Such person was Sasuke Uchiha.

You met him years ago, while he was working for a shady man called Orochimaru and was in pursuit of revenge against his brother. He was not like any boy you've met before: arrogant, proud, constantly tense, and untrusting. Rarely talked about himself, and much preferred to sit in silence, dwelling on his own thoughts, than to voice his feelings and opinions out loud. He always seemed in a hurry, constantly telling you he could stay no longer than an hour before he had to leave again.

To this day you never learned the true intentions behind his visits. The first time it was a simple call for help - sitting on a lone hill between the borders of the Land of Wind and the Land of Rivers, he easily mistaken your cottage for an abandoned house where he could seek refuge after being badly wounded.

A terrifying surprise was written on both of your faces once you came back home later that afternoon only to find the black-haired ninja bleeding heavily on your bed. You were no medic, but you used your limited knowledge of herbal medicine to help his recovery as much as you could. In return, he spared your life.

He visited irregularly, but often after this. Sometimes he showed up three times per week, and sometimes months passed before you heard from him again. Sasuke never offered any explanation about where he was or what he was doing, instead often justifying his random appearances as his need for alternative treatment for his scars and wound.

The first few times it made you raise your brows in question - you were not an expert healer, all you knew being tales passed down from your grandmother about the properties of a handful of plants. Yet, you never spilled your suspicion out loud to him, instead quietly finding comfort in his presence.

It was strange how well you got along, your shared love for silence and solitude somehow bringing you together. Most of the time you just sat there, next to each other, quietly sipping your tea and staring at the sky.

Sometimes you caught him glancing at you or curiously inspecting all the pictures and books you had on the shelves around your living room, his lips pressed into a thin line of concentration, while he tried to put the pieces of your life story together in his mind. He never asked you for more other than your name and your age. You never offered anything more either.

It took a few months after his last visit for you to realize he wasn't coming back and that in the end, he was no more than a stranger to you - you didn't know anything about him other than his name, his birth village, and the fact that he wanted to kill his brother. His motives were never revealed, and his ambitions for the future - never shared.

Despite this, it always felt like he was some form of friend to you. There was a silent understanding that both of you carried too much weight on your shoulders and you did not wish to revisit a painful past by re-telling it, instead finding peace in watching the beauty of the stars up the sky or the birds, who migrated to their new home in the late summer afternoons.

Years have passed since then. What you cherished as meaningful moments soon turned into dusty memories, that never reminded you of him outside your dreams. Life continued, despite time staying still - time always felt frozen when you lived a life by yourself, away from all humanity.

So when you found him one day, glaring at you with red eyes, you were both dumbfounded and terrified. He looked at you in a way that screamed hatred, rage, sadness, and pain. For a second you wondered if they were directed at you.

"I didn't know where else to go."

His voice was the total opposite of how he looked - it was small and weak, almost on the verge of breaking.

You quickly stepped aside, an unspoken invitation for him to come into your home. His feet hurried past you and you closed the door after him, immediately walking toward the kitchen to prepare jasmine tea. His favourite. Sasuke didn't like tea, but there was something about the way you prepared it that always eased both his muscles and his nerves.

After a while you came back, holding two white mugs in your hands, only to find him with his head buried in his hands and his knee shaking violently. You quickly sat next to him, before placing the drinks on the table and turning toward him, instinctively placing your hand on his back, rubbing small circles.

"I did it", he said with a hoarse voice, his head still hanging low, his black locks covering his face from you. There was no need for him to say anything else - these three words were enough for you to understand that he has finally achieved his goal. The result, however, seemed not to be what he hoped for.

"I am sorry."

Sasuke finally raised his head, looking at you with narrowed eyes. You could see the trail of dry tears covering his cheeks and you easily assumed he must have cried while you were in the kitchen. His lips were twisted in a scowl and he let out an angry breath through his nose.

"I don't need your pity!"

Despite the aggression in his tone, his eyes started to tear up again and he squeezed his eyelids shut in a poor attempt to stop them from falling.

"I have finally learned the truth", he hissed through gritted teeth, "I finally learned why my brother really did it."

The mention of the word "brother" seemed to trigger something in him and the tears started flowing freely from his eyes, while his lips started to mumble incoherent sentences about the Uchiha Massacre, Konoha, and the orders the elders gave to his brother. It was a mess - he kept referring back to his talks with a man named "Madara" while jumping back and forth between the memories of that bloody night and his plans for destroying the Leaf. It took you a while to piece the chronology together, while the feelings he kept bottling for years just kept erupting, reducing what you once knew as a stoic and controlled man, into a sobbing, raging mess on the floor.

It took around an hour for him to finish his story and for you to quietly absorb every detail, while he poured his heart out to you. The hand that was first rubbing soothing patterns on his back, was laying flat in his palm, while his fingers squeezed it for dear life. It almost looked like he was afraid that you were nothing more than a fruit of his imagination and if he let go, you would disappear into thin air and leave him by himself.

"I will destroy them!", the vow was made once there were no more tears left for him to cry, "They will all pay for what they did to my clan! To Itachi! To ME!

Taking a sip of your tea, you hummed under your breath, before turning towards him. For the whole time he was here, you didn't comment on anything he told you, but you also didn't have the chance to do so, as Sasuke left no time between his voiced thoughts for you to mutter even a word.

"And then what?", the question surprised him and he turned to you with confused expression.

"What do you mean "then what?"

Pulling your hand away, you tilted your head to the side.

"You are going to destroy your village, sacrificing the innocent lives of many, including your old friends, teammates, and teachers", you thought out loud, moving your eyes toward the old map of the world that hung framed on the wall opposite you, "And then what? The Leaf's allies would without question turn against you, and then you are going to have to destroy them too. A bloody path, that would eventually end either in your early death or in pushing someone else to take your path and seek revenge on you."

The more you talked, the lower his brows were furrowing to the point he was staring at you under the dark shade of his frowning face. His face was almost distorted - switching from extreme emotions of sadness and grief to anger and aggression, his whole expression was now twisted in an almost inhuman grimace, a mixture of all.

"None of them are innocent", he huffed, his jaw working, "They were all enjoying a carefree life, because of the sacrifice of my brother... and even then, they still called him a traitor."

There were no words of rebuttal you could offer. You didn't know his life in the village, nor how the people there behaved. Perhaps, the people living there were monsters, who lacked both heart and soul. But weren't they like that everywhere? You may have lived alone and detached from society, but you had enough contact with traveling ninjas - both rogue and village warriors - to know that they were all often fighting for the same cause, it was just their ideas of how it could be achieved that differed.

"And is that something that he would wanted?"

The man lifted his knee and rested his arm on top of it. He seemed to contemplate your question, the muscles on his face twitching every few seconds.

"No", the truth came out as a disappointed sigh. His fingers clenched and you could hear his teeth gritting, before he looked at you with cold eyes.

"But I am not him! I won't repeat the same mistakes!"

Holding his gaze felt almost like staring into the eye of a brewing storm. The determination that he radiated hinted that this is was just the beginning - he still had more hate and more anger to give to the world.

"Yet you seem to repeat your own mistakes over and over", the challenge was bold and even he seemed taken aback. Sasuke rarely got people opposing him - other than Naruto, who always had to have a contrasting opinion - but usually his ideas were met either with encouragement or with silence. His own team was either too scared or too busy with their own worries to question him and his motives, often just nodding their heads at whatever he said.

A dry chuckle left his lips before he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Every time he came he was met with the comfort of silence, your bond built entirely on the feeling of the safety he felt every time he visited. Now he wondered if that bond was even real - never had he expected that you would actually talk so much, let alone NOT support him.

He imagined that he would just come here, you would make him his favourite tea... and he didn't know what he was thinking when he came here. He didn't plan to tell you any of the truth he learned about his clan's death and Itachi, yet the sentences just kept spilling out of his body, almost like he had no control over it.

"What do you know?", he scoffed, giving you a mocking look, "You live here alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere."

Sasuke suddenly leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.

"What exactly do you know about the world or even about living? The gravest mistake you probably made was to put too much water in your stupid tea. You know nothing about pain or the real world out there! You know nothing about having everything taken away from you!"

Your expression hardened. You held his furious stare, bravely accepting his poisonous words, which cut deeper and deeper into your soul. Once he finished talking, his breath was rigid once again.

"You will be no different than them", you stated blankly and the man grumbled in response, "The people who pushed your brother to commit these crimes. And I know deep down, you realise that too... Because somewhere out there there is a little kid, who just like you will one day waste his whole life chasing you, dreaming of punishing you, till they become just like you. And the cycle will continue."

His eyes were now back to his original onyx colour, yet the burning sensation they brought to your insides was just the same.

"I didn't come here for you to offer me lessons of morality."

"Why did you come then?"

No answer.

"I offer you nothing, but my honesty", you continued, standing up from your seat, "If you are here to seek support and encouragement for your plans of destroying the lives of thousands of innocent people, you are in the wrong place."

It was definitely a mistake visiting you. He should've known better. Why you, of all people, would understand him?

Grabbing his stuff, he followed your figure into the kitchen. You seemed unbothered by his looming presence behind you, instead focusing on washing the two empty cups. Once you were done, you just rested your hands on the counter, facing the big kitchen window that overlooked the forest. If it wasn't for the faint breathing sound, you would have thought he had left.

"There is light inside you, Sasuke", you finally said, "And no matter how hard you try to fight it, it is there. Don't try to kill it! Use it and spread it in order to bring the change you want to see."

"You don't know me!"

"Maybe not as much as I would like", you shrugged your shoulders, your eyes still gazing at the trees whose branches danced elegantly under the wind, "But I know if you were really that heartless, as you like me to think, you would've drawn that katana you rest your hand on a long time ago."

Sasuke moved his fingers away as if the handle of his weapon suddenly burned his skin and his head dropped low. How did you know, when your back was facing him the whole time?

Before he could raise his question, you started walking toward the door, waving your hand after you.

"Come!"

Not leaving any time for an answer, your form was already outside by the time he could register your simple command and follow it. He was not one to do what others told him to, but his body seemed to act on its own, his steps echoing after yours before his mind could protest.

The man found you sitting on your front steps, a place where you and he have shared countless late nights, just gazing at the sky above you. Like a habit, he sat next to you, easing into the comfort of your old routine without further questioning.

"This area was a village back when my parents were children. It was a small one - only a handful of farmers and herb gatherers", Sasuke looked at you in surprise, before scanning the area. He had never paid attention to the surroundings of your home, noting only the existence of a forest on the right and a large meadow on the left. Now, on a closer inspection, he could see the remaining stones and paths, which were half-covered by moss and too strategically placed around to be just random rocks.

There were remaining memories of buildings now long gone.

"My grandmother always said that our ancestors were tasked with the responsibility to restore what the Great Nations destroyed", you continued, bringing his attention back to you, "Where the ninja waged war, we followed to take care of the land and bring it back to life. Where the villagers left burned forests after they sought new places to build, we moved to these places to protect the balance between the human world and the natural one."

Sasuke listened patiently, his brows furrowed in confusion. Where were you getting with this story? And more importantly, where were all these people you talked about?

Almost like you've read his mind, your head turned toward him with a small sad smile on your lips.

"Our communities have been destroyed dozens of times and they rebuilt themselves just as many. This village was destroyed before I was even born by a conflict between the Land of Wind and the Land of River, one which had nothing to do with the hard-working people who were guilty only of trying to take care of the forest and wildlife", you looked towards your crossed fingers in your lap, suddenly overwhelmed of the sad destiny your family must have suffered.

"There is no greater sin than the arrogance of a man blinded by revenge. Shinobi keep waging wars with each other, each drop of blood they spill being with price of at least one innocent life. And they keep destroying, blinded by their hate, claiming that they only want to "save the world"", suddenly grabbing his arm, you pointed at the trees with your other hand, before dragging it across the air to the meadow, "But look!"

The onyx eyes followed the movement of your finger, before they rested on your face unimpressed.

"Look at what? Trees and grass?"

You huffed at his words, rolling your eyes.

"You are blind, Sasuke!", your forefinger poked his temple a few times and you could feel him stiffen under your touch, "You watch, but you don't see! It is not just trees and grass!"

When he offered no other reply than a small curling of his lips downwards, you gently grabbed his chin and forcefully turned it ahead again.

"It is life! A life born out of destruction, out of pain", your hand gestured around you once again, "The truth is the world doesn't need saving! It has existed for many, many years before us and will exist for many, many years after us. It is us, humans, that need saving... and not by more blood spilling or fear, or hate, or whatever other false values they try to teach you in your ninja academies."

His muscles finally started to relax under your touch, while he kept staring ahead, finally understanding the meaning of the words that you were saying. The slow realization that destroying Konoha is not the medicine for his bleeding soul was slowly creeping into his mind, suddenly making him confused and unsure.

"What if we can't be saved?", the heavy doubts that kept holding him down finally came to the surface, "What if we just... keep destroying?"

You looked at him in silence, before finally letting go of his arm. The sudden removal of warmth made him involuntarily shiver.

"We will keep destroying", you finally answered, pressing your tongue inside your cheek in thought, "I guess it is in our nature! But we will also rebuild. And we will learn from our past mistakes, making sure that we will not repeat them again."

Signing, you turned toward him, before reaching out for his hand again. All his life, Sasuke always thought he hated physical touch, but now it felt right. It felt like it was a silent promise that everything will somehow be alright.

"Do not go down the same path of hatred, Sasuke. Your destination will keep being the same, no matter how hard you try to avoid it", the corners of your lips curved slightly upwards, "Your pursuit for a better world is noble, but you can't do it alone! The same way this forest and meadow did not just pop in one day by themselves - it took years for them to grow, helped by bees, the birds, and even the wind and the rain... They all did their own part. The same way you need to do yours, alongside your friends."

The silence that followed was long, yet comfortable. His fingers wrapped around your palm, keeping your hand in his, while his mind considered the truth you just spoke. There was a part inside of him - the one that was still hurt and crying - that wanted to convince him that it was all just an empty talk. That he should not give up what he already started.

Another part, however, what seemed to be a louder one and for some reason sounded a lot like his brother's voice in his head, was agreeing with you, shifting the perspective he was looking from.

A long time passed till he spoke again.

"Promise me", there was no trace of anger on his face anymore, just tiredness, "That you will always be clear and honest with me."

You couldn't help the small smile that formed on his lips.

"I promise."

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

Two years have passed since the end of the war and Sasuke was once again on the road, this time accompanied by Sakura. Their final destination was unclear, but the first stop was already set in his mind - the cottage sitting on a hill between the borders of the Land of Wind and the Land of Rivers. He has not seen you since that night you opened his eyes to what is really important, but the thought of you never left his mind.

The woman next to him, who still had an unclear status between a teammate and friend, kept trying to make him share where were they going, but was often met either with just silence or with the simple explanation of "someone important". The description make her a bit uneasy, wondering who could have such an impact on Sasuke to want to check on them first thing after he was allowed to leave, but she did not question further, still unsure of how far the man's boundaries lie.

Once they got to the hill, however, her uneasiness grew.

"Sasuke, there is nothing here", she said, looking around the vast field that bordered a forest nearby, "Are you sure that person lived here? Maybe they moved?"

The man did not reply, his body being frozen in place. You were gone, the house was gone, it was just wild nature. He suddenly tensed, once he felt Sakura's hand laying flat between his shoulder blades and running small circles on top of the clothed skin.

Just like you did that night.

Sasuke made a few steps further, before kneeling and touching the ground. While looking the same as the rest at first glance, the grass covering the area where he vividly remembered your house being seemed different... almost greener, yet smaller.

A small parchment of paper poked out of the dirt next to his fingers and he carefully lifted it, revealing a burnt part of the world map that hung on your wall once. The majority of it was gone, but he could clearly make out the names of the Land of Wind, The Land of Rivers, and the Land of Fire. Right in the middle, was a small drawing of a few houses - an indication of where your community once resided. Where you once were.

Sakura peered over his shoulder, looking at the piece of paper with interest.

"There still don't seem to be any indication for a building being here", she noted, before kneeling next to him and caressing the grass with her fingers, "This part of the field was grown by someone. Look, it is a different shade and size from the rest! It is like someone tried to cover the area."

Sasuke stood up, eyes still focused on the piece of paper. There was one, just a brief pencil line, that started from the drawn houses and continued up, till it ended at the burnt end. The man has stared at least a hundred times at the map in your house and he could swear he has never seen this line on it.

"You must have used it to plan where to leave next", he thought to himself. Because deep down he knew you were not dead - everything was left too perfect, including planting seeds in the place which you used to occupy, for him to believe you had met your end.

No, you had to be somewhere out there, rebuilding what shinobi like him have destroyed during the war.

He turned his head toward the sun, watching it slowly dip beyond the horizon. His fingers put the paper in his pocket, before he turned to Sakura, informing her they have to go and find an inn before it gets too dark.

Some people leave your life just as unexpectedly as they show up. They offer nothing but distant memories of shared late evenings and cold tea, which soon make you question your sanity and if they were ever real at all.

And for Sasuke, such person was you.

cc artwork: Clement Tingry

#sasuke uchiha #sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha x you #naruto imagines #naruto headcanons #sasuke angst

[deathbxnny]

YQ's Mother Requestor Anon here! I see the calling of angst so I am here to give! Can I request Mother!Reader and Baby Lai getting attacked with Reader almost dying bc they tried to protect our beloved baby but somehow survived, just in a coma? Yanqing managed to save them by unaliving the attackers like a madman [then Jing Yuan gets flashbacks about Jingliu's rampage on him] and only regains his humanity bc of his sister, then they run to a hospital!

Reader still lives (bc its fun to watch them slowly be traumatized) and heals, both physically and somewhat mentally!

-----♡

A/N: Hey there! Thank you for this great idea and sorry it took 50000 years for me to get to it. Life genuinely hates me lately and I've been extremely busy even on the weekends rn, so yeah... forgive me.

Content: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, murder, mentions of murder, injuries, child endangerment, violence, near death, good ending

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

You just wanted to take a quick walk around the Luofu with your baby, as you haven't been able to move around much after her birth. You smiled gently down at her, your hands keeping her close under your cloak, a soft hum of a tune leaving your lips, when you looked out into the distance. The sun was starting to set, bathing the world in a warm, orange hue. It was peaceful... until it wasn't.

In an instant, you were suddenly attacked by some Mara-struck soldiers, your body scrambling backwards, as you tightly clutched onto your baby. You had accidentally wandered out of the safe zones, completely distracted by the beauty of the area to really notice where you were going. You should've been more careful and yet, it was too late to regret everything now, when a next attack came swinging at the direction of your child.

You quickly turned away, taking the hit fully, your body skidding across the floor violently. But you still made sure that your child wasn't injured, even when she began to cry. Your head hit the ground, disorienting you, as the injury began to bleed. And whilst you were struggling to lift your head, your hands still so desperately holding your baby close to you, familiar swords suddenly appeared in your blurry vision. You could barely hear anything anymore, but when you saw the rough outline of your son, you let out a relieved sigh and just finally passed out, knowing that you and your baby were saved.

The enemies however stood no chance against Yanqing's wrath, as he practically ripped them all apart, even ditching his swords at one point. He was angry, beyond enraged. The thought of someone hurting his mother and little sibling was making him delirious and it took 5 cloud knights and eventually Jing Yuan to drag him off of whatever was left of the attackers. Jing Yuan was irked by how familiar the sight was, a memory of a distant, dark past flashing through his mind, before he quickly forgot it at the soft cries of his infant child.

It also calmed down Yanqing, who slumped in the cloud knights hold and finally just concluded that he had gotten his revenge, before he allowed himself to be taken away. You were brought to a hospital quickly after as well, having taken the brunt of all attacks, which left you quite injured. But the mental scars were arguably worse. It took you a while to be able to go outside again, the paranoia over something like that happening once more being always on the forefront of your mind. Your child also never left your eye sight, as you kept her in arms reach at all times.

Jing Yuan and Yanqing supported you greatly through your recovery journey, making you heal in no time again, for the most part. The scars and fears would always stay... even if they just lingered now in the back of your mind.

-----♡

A/N: God... I'm so sorry again for how long this took. I hope it's somewhat okay and that you can forgive me lmao-

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr jing yuan #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr yanqing #hsr yanqing x reader #hsr

[starsarefire824]

UPDATED ST Fanfic Guide

I have been lazy and not updated this in ages so here goes.

I am JustMyName on A03! (some people have told me they had no idea) I have really come to love writing for Mike and Will these past two years. Hope you find something to enjoy! 🖤 I also enjoy Madwheeler and some other unique ships so if you're up for something different this might be the spot for you!

✨Demons of Change and Wildflower Eyes ▻ rating: M ▻ status: Almost Complete ▻ words: 84,780 ▻ship: Byler, Troy x Mike, Madwheeler, minor Lumax and Henderhop ▻description: AU. High school hasn't been easy for Will Byers. He’s had to live with the emotional scars of a loveless father and supernatural worlds, as well as the physical ones from the hands of the bullies that make his everyday existence hell. One night, when he's looking for some peace and quiet Will comes upon one of them.

Sparks fly and Mike and Will can’t stay away from each other. Yet, there are things Mike isn’t saying: about his past, about his family, about his peculiar friendship with Troy. Things aren’t always what they appear to be, and loyalties born from violence will be rigorously tested.

Will, Mike, Troy centric.

(This fic is very near and dear to my heart. <3)

✨Lay Me Down Slow ▻rating: M ▻status: Complete ▻words: 10,821 ▻ship: Byler ▻description: It's 1998 and Will is anxiously making his way to a bar to meet up with Mike, who he hasn't seen in over a decade. Emotions run high as he shares a drink with him, and when a confrontation turns violent, it leads to truths being told and the two of them finding each other again. Will POV.

✨Beautiful Things From Broken Soil ▻rating: T ▻status: Complete ▻words: 2,175 ▻ship: Byler ▻description: Mike and Will get caught in a rainstorm on a lazy summer's day.

✨An Unspeakable (Of The Oscar Wilde Sort) ▻rating: E ▻status: Ongoing ▻words: 7,125 ▻ship: Byler, Mileven ▻description: They sit there for a long second in awkward silence, and Mike bites his bottom lip. He eyes the movie. “So what did you pick?”

Will fidgets with the tape nervously in his hands. His voice catches. “Uhm, yeah—it’s just this movie that’s based off of a book I read last year. I really liked the story.”

Will’s eyes find Mike’s and he blushes. “I don’t know. It’s kind of serious. We don’t have——“

Mike interrupts Will’s shy backpedaling by snatching the VHS out of his hand and turning it over like he is going to find the summary. Instead he just finds a Family Video logo. “What’s it about?”

“Uhm—well it’s about these two guys at Cambridge in the early 1900’s and they’re—-friends.”

Mike blinks. “Friends?”

Will’s eyelids flutter and he presses his lips together. “Yeah—-like—really good friends.”

or, Will brings over a movie to watch with Mike and it leads to certain truths being addressed. Complete with a Mike Wheeler in crisis.

✨Helpless ▻ rating: T ▻status: Complete ▻words: 2,973 ▻ship: Byler ▻description: “Hey,” Mike says, shutting his bedroom door behind him gently and padding over to the bed where Will lays, freshly showered and in his undershirt.

“Hey,” Will murmurs back as he burrows himself further into the bed and pulls the sheets up under his chin, trying to ignore his heart pitter-pattering inside his ribs. He smooths the fabric over his chest nervously.

Mike smiles over at him, something shy and sweet in the way his eyes crinkle. He breathes out and folds his thin arms across his chest, rubbing along his rigid hip with his thumb.

Will tries not to stare where Mike’s worn white tank top he always wears rides up, revealing pale skin and a shock of dark hair lining his belly and disappearing underneath his stupid Star Wars pajama pants.

It’s hilarious, really, Will thinks bitterly. Stuck in a bed with your friend at the threshold of the Apocalypse, and only able to think about what hides underneath his pajamas.

It’s so unfair. It’s fucking torture.

✨You're The Only Shape I'll Pray To ▻rating: E ▻status: Complete ▻words: 3,160 ▻ship: Byler ▻description:

Hands pulling at shirts in a darkened room, a tongue licking along burning skin, moans and pants and belt buckles being unclasped.

Mike presses his knees together so hard his bones grind.

“Tell me," he gasps. "—Confess—to God—-all of your sins.” Priest AU.

✨The Pact ▻ rating: M ▻ status: Ongoing ▻words: 97,440 ▻ship: Madwheeler, Byler, Elumax ▻ description: A pact between Max and Mike gone wrong gets them both unanimously voted out of the Party and they find themselves stuck with each other the summer after Graduation: fighting, commiserating, and begrudgingly discovering they are a lot more alike than they originally thought.

✨Touch Me Like You Know Me ▻rating: M ▻status: Complete ▻words: 14,894 ▻ ship: Byler ▻ description: Mike doesn't go home anymore, not unless absolutely necessary. Instead, he stays far away from Hawkins, quietly shutting himself off from the world, and burying the pain of the things he never said to the boy he'd left behind. But when his mother convinces him to return home for his thirty-fifth birthday, Mike is finally forced to confront just how much he'd given up when he runs into Will by accident. Mike-centric. Estranged Byler reconnection fic. Soft and Sweet.

✨Death Lies in Wait ▻ rating: M ▻ status: Ongoing ▻ words: 13,322▻ ship: Arranged Madwheeler, Byler, Lumax, Mileven, Secret Ship ▻ description: Massachusetts, 1890. Max Mayfield is twenty-six years old and at the hand of her parents, settles for a marriage of convenience to a widowed lighthouse keeper. A stranger she'll be trapped with for the rest of her life on a lonely strip of land surrounded by nothing but endless, lonely sea. But, as she settles into her life, and she and her new husband try to coexist, they get wrapped up in a mysterious presence on the cape. It calls to them. It's lulling and coaxing and sings to them at night. Max discovers the secrets her new husband keeps. Mermaids and ghosts of the past come to haunt them. Madwheeler/Byler//Lumax Gothic AU- Mermaid Will.

✨Certain Slant of Light ▻ rating: M ▻ status: Ongoing ▻words: ▻ship: Byler, Will x OC. description: Will just wants to get through his last year of high school without incident, to feel normal for once in his life, and try to survive the building tension between him and Mike that grows with every word left unsaid. On the first day of school, Will meets someone new who may finally offer him the acceptance he craves, but he’s unsure what to do when it causes his relationship with Mike to hit a breaking point, forcing them both to confront their true feelings. And to make matters worse, Vecna is always there, whispering in his ear, and letting him know his fated role in the inevitable fall of Hawkins. Slow Burn. Will-centric. Mike-centric later chapters.

✨the winter tree resembles me ▻rating: E ▻status: On Hiatus ▻words: 2,706 ▻ship: Byler ▻description: The Revolutionary War is underway, and the upstanding Byers family, devout Quakers in their divinity, have expressly kept themselves out of the War of Rebellion. But newly rutted Alpha Will Byers has a grave secret he keeps from his parents. He has been recruited by his twin sister into Commander Washington’s clandestine ring of Rebel spies. But when he meets an English officer possessing bewitching brown eyes at the boarding house he’s assigned to, he slowly discovers the stranger has a secret of his own, as well as a tantalizing scent Will can’t resist. Lines will be drawn-loyalties tested and allies betrayed -no one is who they seem.

✨A Derelict Mind ▻rating: M ▻status: Ongoing ▻words: 8,259 ▻ship: Byler ▻description: Will wakes up to find himself chained to a chair in a room he doesn't recognize. There are orderlies and patients and a doctor with blonde hair and a terrifyingly sweet voice. But Will is not in one of his nightmares or one of Vecna's visions. He's a patient in Pennhurst Asylum, and everything he's known to be real: his friends, his family, the Upside Down... has been nothing but a delusion of a very sick patient.

Part of "A Certain Slant of Light" Universe.

✨Kind of Best Friend ▻rating: G ▻status: Complete ▻words: 1,206 ▻ship: Madwheeler (platonic or romantic) ▻description: Mike reads his letter from Max after returning to Hawkins.

✨ Mashed Potatoes ▻rating: G ▻ status: Complete ▻ words: 1,352 ▻ ship: Byler ▻description: "Wait," Mike says, grabbing the carton of milk out of Will's hand. Will blinks, his brows creasing in confusion. "What?" he asks with uncertainty. "We need milk, don't we?"

Mike stares at the carton Will has chosen. It's labeled with red lettering and a stamp of a picturesque farm across the front. Whole milk. Mike shrugs. "I mean----yeah. But-----" he raises an eyebrow. "Whole milk?" Will huffs and rolls his yes. "Yes. Whole milk? What milk did you want?" Mike shifts on his feet and pulls at the waist of his usual black jeans. "Well, I mean----we always drank skim at our house." Now, Will's mouth opens up a little. Offended.

"Skim?!" he asks, completely appalled. "Who actually drinks skim milk? You might as well drink water."

OR, Mike and Will really think the other is wrong in their grocery shopping decisions.

✨I Held On As Tightly As You Held Onto Me ▻ rating: T ▻ status: Complete ▻ words: 7,014 ▻ ship: Byler ▻ description: After years of life getting in the way---be it by distance or choices made--Mike hasn't seen Will in almost a decade. But one cold winter's night, he's back in town and Mike cooks him a meal.

✨When We Wake Up ▻ rating: T ▻ status: Complete ▻ words: 23,428 ▻ ship: Byler ▻description: Will and Mike having to share a room while waiting for the impending apocalypse and the utter torture it is for both of them.

✨Come Away With Me ▻ rating: T ▻status: Complete ▻ words: 18,760 ▻ ship: Byler ▻ description: “Two shots ring out! BAM!-then a pause-BAM! Mike’s head snaps towards the sound, squinting his eyes to orient himself to the darkness. A guttural, pained wail echoes through the trees as if some forsaken wraith howls at him in this lonely forest, it’s voice sounding all too familiar. Then, a loud screeching roar follows close behind it. Another shot! Mike sucks in a wretched, frightened breath, his heart thrashing in his chest so hard that it feels as if it might shatter his ribs. Dread settles sickeningly in his belly. "Will….” OR: The one in which Mike gets to be Will's knight in shining armor. Tending Wounds Fic.

✨ We Are All Fools In Love ▻ rating: T ▻ status: On Hiatus ▻ words: 13,098 ▻ ship: Byler ▻ description: Fifteen years after being forcibly separated as children, William Bennet recognizes a familiar brooding face, plucked from another lifetime across a crowded ballroom. As his and Michael Darcy's paths begin to merge once more, they discover they are now separated by more than only time and distance, but faults which lie within their own hearts. Matters of pride and prejudice. Regency au of our dreams.

✨First of All ▻rating: G ▻status: Complete ▻words: 1,772 ▻ship: Madwheeler ▻description: Mike's home from break during college and he and Max have to babysit his baby cousins. It's going as well as you can imagine. Set after the events of "The Pact."

#byler #madwheeler #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #justmyname #byler fanfic #max mayfield #troy walsh #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #el hopper #writing things #fic guide

[myoddessy]

WINGS OF LEAD | dream of the endless

pairing: dream of the endless x (fem) angel of peace!reader

summary: matching scars lay by your shoulder blades where your greatest honour once lay, but all you can think of is the debt you owe to the world for merely living. morpheus knows this, and struggles to grant you peace.

notes: reader is referred to as 'gavreel' after the angel of peace. there's not a lot of dialogue in this bcs i want to watch the sandman again to get a better grasp on the way morpheus talks so that my writing's for him can be as accurate as possible, but i still hope that you enjoy !! also, this is the first proper fic i've written in a while and my first ever work for the sandman, so constructive criticism is more than welcomed!

warnings: no show/comic spoilers!!, angst ( pretty heavy, but not in regards to your relationship), fluff, comfort, nightmares, mentions of captivity, mentions of torture (reader's wings being taken), mentions of death.

word count: 1.9k

the playlist.

when you woke, the pain wasn't what you registered first. it was the unnerving scent of sterile countertops and cleaning alcohol. then it was the shadowed figures gathered in the corner of the room, hidden by the blinding moonlight that beat down on you. your true panic only settled when you felt the tight wrap of the leather cuffs that hoisted your arms in the air, leaving your body hanging. and then it came crashing all at once. a searing agony surged through your body and sent a blood-curdling scream from your chest as you tugged against your restraints.

"you're an odd one, you know." a gravelly voice rang from the shadows. "more resilient than you little friends." a glare replaced your worry at the mention of your allied angels.

"where are they?" you knew the answer, but still feared the reply.

"their poor hearts couldn't take it after they saw their wings in... different care." a light flickered on, illuminating what the others in the room were watching.

another glass box, smaller than yours, mounted on the wall and displaying your wings. a horrified gasp escaped you as you blanched and tears gathered by your waterline. a hushed 'no' slipped past your lips and the man before you laughed cynically.

"do you know how much you're worth? how much people are willing to pay for not only the wings of, but the angel of peace herself?" he gripped your jaw tightly when you did not respond. "answer when you're asked a question, or the most any bidder will receive will be your wings."

"i'm worth more than you deserve." he stilled for a moment before laughing loudly, turning towards his comrades who followed his laughter before he span back to you with a harsh strike to your cheek, an violent sting left in its wake.

he remained nameless. he bragged to his friends. he bragged about how he led you and the other angels to the slaughter, how he'd achieved feats of immeasurable worth, how he should be celebrated for his captures. it felt like an eternity until he left the room and shut off all lights, leaving you drowned in moonbeams once more.

instead of the primal instinct of fear that one would expect, you felt guilty. you wondered why you, a mere angel of peace, was granted the gift of life when it was so cruelly stripped from your family of nature, loyalty, fire, and guidance.

tears spilled down your cheeks, some hitting your chest, others falling to the floor. under the light, they glistened, and you prayed to the creator and the endless that your tear managed to slip through the earth and wake the angels' spirits to save you.

you wished for morpheus, for your lover. you hoped he had already sourced you, perhaps he'd sent jessamy, and you'd soon find yourself free of your shackles.

the pain in your back had faded from sharp and burning to a dull and continuous ache that kept you teetering on the brink of sleep, too light to keep you alert but pounding enough to pull you awake.

you weren't sure how long you spent in captivity, time was meaningless when your only purpose was to be marvelled at and mocked. you could barely even tell moonlight from sunlight anymore, not since hunger took away the strength to crane your head to the sky. blood caked the edges of your cuffs from where they'd cut after you tried to twist free. bruises of strain and battering littered your body, your face were sunken with fatigue, and your wings still stood in your line of sight, taunting you, reminding you of how you were now merely half of a whole.

when morpheus found you, when he burst through the door with a stone-set jaw and blazing eyes that softened once they saw you, you believed yourself to be close to insanity. he released your bindings and took you in his arms with the whispered promise of a safer dawn. you felt the faint tickle of sand against the few parts of you that were not rendered numb as he granted you sleep at last.

that was a century ago. one hundred years had changed many things, from the state of the mortal world, to your title in the dreaming. you were now their queen, just as you were now morpheus' wife. what hadn't changed, however, was your guilt.

the hours of sleep morpheus gifted you every night were often cut short when your memories overpowered his dreams and the stories your captors told of how your family had died, how you would die if you did not cooperate, haunted you. you would wake up with a cold sweat and a trembling body and you would swear that you could still feel that pain in your back. some nights you were granted mercy and you only had the illusion of what was your norm — dull, repetitive, deep. most nights, however, you could feel them taking your wings. every pull of their saws, every scream that your unconscious mind refused to let out, every drop of blood. you could feel it all.

you did not tell morpheus what exactly your nightmares held, and he swore you the privacy of him never venturing into your dreams, but he knew. and he resented it.

he had often thought that maybe this was his reckoning. maybe he had relished in his power for too long without fully realising his downfalls, and the universal entities that towered over him hand picked your struggle to remind morpheus that he was not the creator. he was not all powerful. if so, morpheus then decided that he despised the cruel twists of fate. the man with pride and power as opposed to blood was willing to crawl through desolate sands with scarred knees and tattered palms if it meant that his call to truth wasn't at the sake of your self.

maybe morpheus had been too gluttonous with your adoration. maybe he revelled in the joy he brought you too much. maybe he inspired too many poets, too many artists, too many bards with images of you. maybe he had focused too much on what he could give you, and not what you needed.

you were not superior to morpheus in any way that anyone other than himself would recognise. he was an endless, you were an angel, the imbalance of strength lay not only in your names, but in your bones. but morpheus did not care, he knew that in your divinity, you rained superior to him. in your grace and your glow, in your elegance and eloquence, in your smile and your softness you were a better being than he.

you brought down an righteous light that banished the cold darkness that enveloped him. he knew that no matter how many parallels that you could draw from jane austen and shakespeare to you, his grandeur would never amount to what you brought him; peace.

the mere whisper of your name relaxed his tense bones, and the ghost of your touch could do much more. he worried that he could never do the same for you.

his hand in your hair, his arms pulling you close, your head on his chest as dreams of your wedding danced in your head. a tender smile reserved for you, and you alone, dawned on his face as he observed you. you looked serene and tranquil. your face was soft and the gentle upturn of your lips was pulled from a painting, morpheus should know, he's the one who told the painters about you.

his thumb ran up and down your bicep, feeling the goosebumps that rose in its wake, and his brows furrowed. you were safe now, but he knew it was only temporary. he knew that in due time, terrors and trauma would soil reminiscence of your first dance as husband and wife, and he would be left helpless and useless for all except an unsure word and a steady hold around your body.

he loved you, truly. he saw you in every nook and cranny of every realm he entered. in the tide and shore of the waking world, in the sun and it's golden foothills that reside in the far side of the dreaming, in the climbing ivy twirled around trees in the land of the fae. every light rang synonymous with your name, their devotee's rang synonymous with his.

"what are you thinking of, my love?" your voice startled him, his breath catching with a slight jump. you laugh quietly at this, he instantly calmed.

"you." he answered truthfully.

"all good things, i hope." you drew stars on his chest.

"partly." his response caused you to shift in his hold, now sitting up to face him fully, taking his hands in yours and laying them in your lap.

"what do you mean by that?"

morpheus looked away from you for a moment, tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth as he gathered his words. "you are a good soul, gavreel. too good to belong to someone like me." almost as if he could see the protests gathering on your tongue, he silenced you by continuing. "you have the world at your fingertips, yet your heart still beats and bleeds for those below you. your dreams are of some great revelation to bring back lost souls, or to save those soon-to-be lost. you integrity astounds me."

your brows furrowed. morpheus had always known that you longed to help others, it was your purpose, after all. you did not understand why he made a point of it now.

"i fear that i cannot gift you the one thing you truly deserve." he confessed, his hands tightening their hold on yours.

"you have given me everything i could ever wish for, morpheus." you shifted closer to him with a hushed voice, now sitting side-to-side with your chin resting on his shoulder.

"i have not been able to give you peace of mind." his eyes locked on yours once more, and for the first time, you saw a mirror of your own guilt. "i might give you moments of tranquility, but i can do nothing to stop the torments of your mind. i have failed you."

you raised a hand to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, fingers lovingly trailing down the rest of his face until your hand cupped his cheek and pulled him closer, foreheads resting against each other.

"do not say that." you insisted. "do not ever say that. you could never fail me. not even if you burned this realm to the ground, not even if it was you who took my wings." your nose brushed against his. "yes, my past lingers in my mind, and that will always be the case. but that does not mean, nor will it ever mean, that i am not at peace when i am around you."

"you, morpheus, lord of the dreaming, dream of the endless, my truest love, are my vessel of peace. you carry my intentions to a world i am not strong enough to wield. you have healed me by simply being mine, and i will not take the insult of you believing that i do not feel peaceful in your presence." you moved to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. "do you understand me, my love?"

his hand raised from your lap to tilt it back down and level with his, lips barely touching when he murmured a simple 'i love you' and with the spark of his kiss and the fire of his wandering hands, you knew your words were heeded.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #dream #the sandman x reader #the sandman #desire of the endless #death of the endless #lucienne #jessamy the raven #neil gaiman #the sandman imagine #dream of the endless imagine #morpheus imagines #the sandman fanfic #morpheus fanfic #tom sturridge

[danmeiconfession]

See. The thing with SJ is he's a lot more closely related to the other MXTX main characters than SY himself. SJ worst deeds to the people really were all rumors or misunderstandings because those deeds specifically were him trying to do good and the world sort of fucked him over. When it comes to the cycle of abuse I don't factor SY in at all because why I should I he's essentializing an outsider roleplaying a character he got everyone to fall backwards for. He isn't in the equations he didn't do the abuse SJ did. Personally, I think it's a low bar to compare SY and SJ simply because one is obsessed and the other unbothered and uninterested. I mean that SY doesn't view these as genuine real people as he sees only himself and Binghe his idol as important and the rest as fodders. He views himself sorta like he wants plotpoint in PIDIW to happen only he not be taken center stage as the villain. Let's be real for a second, any person in the modern world have better ethics and morals than in PIDIW altogether because of the setting they live in why should we compare Shen Yuan who is lower than average when it comes to being good to Shen jiu in a setting where it normal to whip your disciples and not be called out for it as abuse because it's the norm.

Like what praise is there when it's a low bar to start with.

 SJ was a victim of harassment, physical assault, and social and verbal bullying for years when he was a disciple in CQ. LQG was compliant in letting his fellow disciples physically attack SJ throughout their disciple years, YQY was an enabler to both SJ and the others who spread rumors about him, SJ himself was isolated on Qing Jing, and both Qi Qingqi and Liu Qingge did not give SJ the respect he, as their senior, deserved. Also, the previous Peak Lords were enablers as well, considering they never set anyone straight about their behavior.

You all can easily say what SJ did wasn't right I'd fucking agree but look where they live do they have proper services for victims like him. He is a highly scarred trauma victim reacting and acting like a traumatized individual who never received treatment, received only continual stigma and abuse, was gaslit and isolated by everyone around him, and condemned as sinister, scheming, evil, lecherous, and immoral largely because he wasn't acting nice enough by their standards (again, trauma victim displaying traumatized behavior). Does he not deserve compassion because he acts like a real trauma victim rather than a fictionalized fantasy version of a trauma victim who is just sad and timid instead of realistically angry and defensive?

This poor man life was utter shit what peace did he get it. It sucks he took it out on created a bigger monster but damn I'd fucking blacken and kill myself for even less if I lived even a part of that life.

I'm not surprised they like SY more and it's funny because a lot of the shit they accuse him of being a rich spoiled it's SY right here. Like it kind of fit the memo SJ didn't really belong in the upperclass because he can't hide from his past he can't hide his scars and the way he fights dirty to survive because it's a part of him. But SY can he fits the bill well because he was a rich millennial kid with no additional baggage why wouldn't they choose him am I right (sarcastic) ?

.

#svsss #scumbag self saving system #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #shen yuan #liu qingge #yue qingyuan

[oh-lordy-lord-save-me]

Hello, I just wanted to let you know that I am really fascinated by your version of Usagi and wanted to know more about him. What are the similarities and differences between your version and the comic version of Usagi? And well the other characters of Usagi Yojimbo appear as well, like Kitsune, Gen, and Tomoe, and if so how are they like in your version?

hi!!! thank you for taking interest in my iteration, its means a lot. in my au usagi is a teen(around 16-17) who traveled from japan to new york because he “wanted to travel more.” in reality he is trying to avoid another encounter with jei, as the last one kinda scarred him a bit. the thought of jei being in any town he’s visiting took away the possibility of a peaceful night for him. 

gonna cut it off here since i just noticed how long this is haha

ayway, he definitely still sticks his nose into other people’s business and gets involved into things that were 100% avoidable.He would still be incredibly good with kids as well as helping anyone who needs it no matter how difficult the task is. Either way he still has a shit ton of warrants on his head!!!

Another thing that is absolutely vital to him is his inability to commit to anything🙏 he likes his life of wandering and it feels wrong to him to stay put in one place. he does not want his life to change and that doesn’t really help if he ever wants a relationship. to make it worse he will not speak about his feelings, i think he’d rather be struck by lightning.

the way he acted before moving to the hidden city was very different. he was much more carefree and always got into situations without much of a plan. he’d throw in some jokes in the middle of fights and hype himself up sometimes. i based off this phase of his life off of his younger self in the comics. but after this he tries to take things more seriously, keeping to himself and not breaking rules as often and acts like a dick sometimes . he gets better tho after hating leo for a while and gets to know him better.

i did change some characters a bit like katsuichi. he still lives as a hermit but took usagi in when he was much younger due to his dad passing. he takes on a more fatherly role than just a sensei for usagi. i dont see him calling him a cockroach or a head lice knowing this poor kid just lost his dad😭

kitsune, gen, and tomoe are living their lives back in japan. kitsune still lives as a street performer and a thief and shes having a good life rn honestly. shes knowledgeable in some mystic items as they’re usually a part of her performances. she’d be active on social media platforms, she’d have very organized posts. she’s also the one who reaches out the most to usagi; she pokes fun at him but she does it as a way to check in on him since the last time she really saw him he wasn’t in the best shape. i haven’t really gotten to gen yet, but he’s still a bounty hunter. he’d still be a bit of an ass when it comes to money or usagi. 

dont have much on tomoe, which is honestly a crime, but i have the idea that she is a student at her father’s school. i think she’d be entirely dedicated to her skills and wouldn’t have much time for anything else. she’d only ever see usagi if he’s visiting the geishu province. i plan on them leaving eachother on strained terms when he left japan, they’d eventually sort it out in the future though. there’s also chizu, who usagi has worked with in the past but eventually stopped. She’s completely dedicated to the neko ninja, willing to do everything she has to for their cause. she ended their friendship by deceiving him since “friendship is a weapon that is used by the ninja, but it can be much worse if the ninja develops feelings of friendship.”

 chizu is honestly a big reason who usagi heavily distrusted leo at first; his experience with ninja isn’t very pleasant 

#ask #dear lord this is long sorry :’D #also happy holidays