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rafeandonlyrafe · 5 months

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virginity

words: 3.2k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, virgin!reader and virgin!rafe, kind of bullying at the beginning, very cute and fluffy rafe, reader is implied to be a kook, first date, female receiving oral, fingering, p in v sex, protected (for once! yay) sex

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @dreamingwithrafe @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog

“oh my god, bridgette, you'll never guess who asked me out!” you squeal, flopping onto her bed.

“ooh, umm… kelce?” she guesses, but you just shake your head no, the smile on your face growing.

“rafe!”

bridgette sits up instantly. “rafe as in rafe cameron?” you can tell by the look on her face that she's skeptical.

“the one and only.” you nod.

“but um… he doesn't date?” she says, genuine confusion in her voice.

“i thought you said he was basically a rich frat boy?” you sit up, now thinking over the interaction, but there's no way to confuse “will you go to dinner with me tomorrow night?” as anything other than asking on a date.

“well, yeah, he parties and stuff but he doesn't… date. he's never had a girlfriend.”

“well, ive never really had a boyfriend.” you shrug. “and don't say jonathan because he does not count.”

“yeah, but you have an excuse, y/n. your parents moved you all over the country, you didn't have time to date until your parents settled here a few months ago.” bridgette counters, and she does have a point. you've never been in one place long enough to form a true relationship. “i think rafe just doesn't date because he doesn't like any girls enough.”

you frown, thinking over her words. “well i guess that means he likes me enough to ask.” you say quietly.

bridgette shrugs. “good for you. he better take you somewhere expensive, boy has MONEY!” she says, causing you both to erupt into laughter. “oh…” bridgette suddenly quiets. “i wouldn't tell evelyn. she has the biggest crush on him, she'd get so jealous if she knew you asked him out.”

-- the next day --

“hey dad…” you say in a sweet voice, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

“oh god, y/n, what do you want?”

“can i borrow your credit card?” you ask with a whine.

“y/n, you are an adult! you can’t keep borrowing my credit card! what do you need anyways?” “a new outfit… for a date tonight.” you whisper the last part, but your dads eyes still bulge open.

“a what?” “come on dad, all my outfits are so revealing, don’t you want me to buy something more covered up? or should i wear that pink skirt mom got me-” “no!” your dad cuts you out, fishing his wallet out of his pocket, slapping the credit card into your hand. “something that doesn’t show too much skin, y/n.” he warns, and you nod and run out to your car before he can lecture you or ask you any more questions about the date.

you look through the rack of dresses, trying to find one that you like and would feel comfortable in tonight with rafe. you don't want to give him the wrong idea by showing up wearing a dress that's more suited for a club or party.

you have some hangers already in your hand of dresses to try on when you hear a shout of your name. you look up to see evelyn and her two best friends following her.

when you moved to the outer banks, you quickly assimilated into the social scene and learned that evelyn was the queen bitch, super wealthy, but not at all likable, with an insane amount of possessiveness over rafe, despite him never even showing interest in her. evelyns first words to you were to stay away from him, but you won't let her intimidate you away from this date.

“what are you shopping for?” evelyn asks, her lips smeared in a bright red shade of lipstick that contrasts her light hair.

“a date tonight.” you reply, keeping your eyes mostly on the clothes, trying to convey that you're not interested in whatever show of dominance she's attempting.

“i heard about that. how did you scam rafe into taking you somewhere?” she asks, her friends snickering behind her.

“he asked me, actually.” you hum, keeping your body language disinterested, despite feeling your heart start to beat faster. “I guess he likes me.”

“that's real funny, y/n.” evelyn says, placing her hand on the rack to stop you from looking. “because rafe is mine.”

“should i call him right now?” you look her in the eye, your temper reading on your face. “should I have him tell you what you already know? that he's not interested?”

“you are such a bitch!” evelyn yells, and the storekeeper finally becomes aware of the situation, heading out from behind the counter and towards you. “i will ruin you for stealing him.” evelyn states before turning and stomping out of the store, her entourage falling in step behind her.

“miss, are you okay?” the shopkeeper asks.

you hum and nod, knowing that whatever they plan on doing won't work, evelyn may have popularity because of her money, but everyone knows not to trust a word out of her mouth. “can i get a dressing room to try these on actually?” you ask, picking up a dress that you think would be perfect for tonight.

the doorbell rings and you give your father a glare, already having warned him to stay in the living room and let you answer the door. the last thing you need is your father scaring rafe before your date has even begun.

you open the door, letting out a breath of relief when rafe is also dressed up. you realized while buying the dress that you didn't actually know where you were going for dinner, you just assumed it would be on the fancier side.

“wow.” rafe let's out a gasp, “you look beautiful.”

you blush, smoothing out the front of your dress, giving you an excuse to break eye contact and look down at yourself. “you look really handsome too.”

“let me help you down the stairs.” rafe extends his hand, and you subtly wipe your palm against your dress before placing it in his, accepting his help out the front door as these are new heels (you couldn't resist when your dad gave you his card).

rafe keeps your hands locked together as he leads you towards his truck, of course opening the door for you and helping you in.

you smile at rafe as he gets into the driver's seat. “im excited.” you tell him honestly.

“me too.” rafe grins, keeping his eyes on the road as he takes off but reaching over your tangle your fingers together again. “im nervous too though.”

“rafe cameron did not just admit he is nervous.” you gasp, making rafes smile grow as he shakes his head.

“i really like you.” he explains further, making you smile and lift his hand to your face, pressing your lips to it in a kiss.

“how's your food?” rafe asks, taking a bite of his own. you ordered salad, too nervous to eat anything else in front of rafe. since he admitted how he felt about the date, it felt all the more real.

“it’s really good!” you say. “thanks for taking me.”

rafe smiles at you, his eyes containing a warmth you haven’t seen before. “so, where did you live before moving to the outer banks?”

you had told rafe before that you moved around a lot, but never got into the specifics, so you spend most of the dinner telling him all the states that you’ve lived in and responding to his questions while asking some of your own.

rafe accepts the check and pays for you without question, brushing off your thanks before leading you out of the restaurant, his hand firmly placed on your back.

“do i need to get you home by any time?” rafe asks when you get back in the car.

“no.” you shake your head. “i don’t want to go home yet either.”

rafe smiles at you, reaching over to place his hand on your thigh as he drives towards his house. you hum softly to the music, glad for the short drive before you’re walking into tanneyhill. rafe informs you that everyone else is gone, so it’s just you two.

“should we watch a movie?” rafe asks, gesturing towards the couch in the living room.

“sure! you pick though.” you say, not wanting to have to make the choice. rafe sits down on the couch and picks up the remote, navigating to some comedy you haven’t seen before. you sit down next to him, close enough for your thighs to be touching.

rafe wraps his arm around your shoulder, letting you get comfortable against his side.

the movie is decently funny, but you’re far more focus on being tucked up against rafe. at a funny scene, rafe lets his laughter loose, and you can’t help but turn and look to him, watching his face light up.

rafe notices you watching him and his laughter softens into a smile. “can i kiss you?” he asks.

you nod, turning to face him as rafe places a hand on your cheek, bringing your mouths together in a kiss that quickly turns more passionate as you deepen it. you shift again so that you straddle rafes lap, placing your hands on his shoulders as you continue to kiss, your dress pooling on his lap.

“y/n-” rafe gasps when he pulls away, realizing both of you went a little overboard when your lips first touched.

“i have to tell you something rafe.” you say, realizing the compromising position you’re in and not wanting to give him the wrong idea.

“what is it baby?” rafe questions, his hands falling to rest on your hips.

“i’m… i’m a virgin.” you admit.

rafe lets out a sigh, like he’s relieved, which causes your brows to scrunch together in confusion. “i never thought i’d say this to you but i am too.”

“what?” you question. “i thought you were known for partying and flirting and stuff!” “yeah, i used to flirt a lot but i was never serious enough with anyone to sleep with them… not until you.” “oh my god.” you coo, leaning forward to press your lips together again. rafe wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your chests closer together.

“i would lose it with you, baby. if you want.” rafe says.

“i-yes. i want that.” you nod.

“tonight? now? only if you’re sure.” rafe says. “i know we’ve only gone on one date, but it feels… right.”

“i agree.” you nod. “i’m not saying we are going to be together forever based off one date but i want to lose it with you. together.”

“let me take you upstairs then.” rafe stands effortlessly, with you clinging to his front as his arms hold you steady. you press soft kisses to his neck as he carries you, feeling equal parts nervous and excited for what is about to happen.

rafe sets you down on the end of his bed before stepping back, admiring you in his bedroom, especially knowing what you are about to do together.

“can i take your dress off?” rafe asks, and you nod, letting him come up and grab the bottom of your dress. you lift your hips so he can pull it up and over your head, and you let out a silent thanks to god that you wore matching underwear.

“you’re so gorgeous.” rafe says, looking down at you with glossed over eyes. you can tell from the tightness of his pants that he’s not unaffected by seeing you like this.

“sit down, let me take your shirt off.” you tell rafe, grabbing his hand so he sits next to you on the bed. you tug his shirt off, admiring his muscles as you run your hands over them. rafes hands stay on his knees, waiting for permission to touch you now that you’re scantily dressed.

“do you… do you want to take your pants off?” you ask, glancing down at his crotch. “it seems painful.” you giggle.

“yeah, the zipper hurts.” rafe admits, unzipping his pants and pulling them down his legs so he’s in just his underwear, his cock straining against the fabric, a small patch of wetness already growing.

“do you wanna lay down? i want to kiss you some more.” rafe asks.

you nod, moving up the bed until you can rest your head against the pillows. rafe crawls over your body, his eyes mesmerizing every inch of bare skin until he can press his lips against yours, the kiss is passionate but slow and deliberate, building up gradually until you’re moaning against rafes lips.

you reach behind your back, unclipping your bra before taking it off, flinging it somewhere in the room to be picked up later. rafe gives you a final kiss before looking down at your bare chest.

“oh fuck.” he groans, reaching with one hand to grip the underside of your breast, holding it in his palm as he slides down, his mouth falling open onto your nipple. you let out a moan as rafe explores your chest and what makes you moan the loudest.

he plays with your nipple with his tongue, then teases around it before ultimately sucking it into his mouth before switching and repeating on the other side.

“is that good?” rafe asks, and you give an enthusiastic nod. “really good.” “should i…” rafe looks down at your underwear, and you give another nod.

“you’re going to have to um… finger me. to open me up for you, ya know?” you cringe at your words, but you know it’s true and don’t want your first time to hurt.

“yeah, yeah of course.” rafe tugs at your underwear, his eyes staying between your thighs as he tosses the fabric to the floor. you take a deep breath before spreading your legs, putting your cunt on display for him.

“so sexy.” rafe praises you, moving so he’s lying between your thighs. he spreads your folds open with two fingers before using his other hand to rub his pointer finger over your pussy.

he traces around your clit before bumping it, making you flinch at the sudden pleasure.

“was that good?” rafe asks, and you just let out a moan in response when he doesn’t wait, rubbing over your clit again.

rafe smiles, moving his finger lower to your entrance before circling around that as well. he presses against your tight ring of muscle, thankful that you’re already quite wet as you relax and give way, letting his finger slip inside.

he begins to thrust it in and out slowly, building up speed as it becomes easier for him to move.

“try to add a second.” you tell him after a minute.

rafe nods, managing to work a second finger inside of you, but he can tell by the way your forehead scrunches that it’s not as comfortable as one, so he leans forward and presses his tongue against your clit.

“oh fuck!” you scream out as he flicks the tip of his tongue over and over, allowing you to focus on that instead of his fingers thrusting in and out of you.

rafe even makes a point to separate his fingers some, widening them to open you up even more. you don’t even flinch this time as his tongue stays playing with your clit.

“i’m ready.” you pant. “i’m ready, i need you rafe.”

rafe nods, moving to kneel between your legs, not sure what the best position to put you in is, but you seem to have it already thought out as you take a pillow and put it under your hips to raise them so he can stay kneeling on the bed.

rafe works his underwear off, and your eyes widen when his cock is revealed, regretting telling him you were ready after just two fingers. he grabs the condom he must have tossed onto the bed earlier and rips it open, sliding the latex down his length.

“if you need more time…” rafe trails off.

“just go slow.” you say, knowing he will stop at any point if you really need him to.

rafe moves closer, holding himself in his hand as he lines up with your entrance. his head pushes in easily, but the further forward his hips move, the more you struggle, but rafe sees it and slows down until he’s finally fully seated inside of you.

something sparks in that moment, realizing that you have both lost your virginity and it has rafe bending down over your body to press your lips together. you appreciate the kiss as it gives you even longer to adjust before rafe starts rocking into you slowly.

“that feels good.” you reassure rafe, all feelings of pain now gone.

“you feel good.” rafe says, unsure how he’s able to keep so much control over himself to not go feral in this moment, but he likes you too much, cares too much to move any faster and potentially cause you pain.

he keeps up the slow movements, moving from just rocking to actually thrusting as he starts to pull further out.

“faster.” you whimper, eyes sliding closed as you focus on his length inside of you.

rafe doesn’t question you, needing to move more himself as he begins to speed up his thrusts, pushing his hips forward harder as well.

“i-i’m sorry i don’t know much longer i’m going to last.” rafe admits.

“it’s okay just touch my clit again.” you say. you would do it yourself but your body feels weightless right now, and you’re not sure if you can raise your arms up.

rafe nods, gripping your hip with one hand but letting the other roam to your cunt, rubbing his thumb over your clit as he tries to hold back his orgasm as long as possible while still pushing his cock into your heat repeatedly.

you let out your moans with freedom, knowing that there is no one else in the house to hear you. rafe begins to grunt and you feel him swelling inside of you and you know that he’s close.

rafes body falls forward, his thumb still moving on your clit but his cock stilling as he cums, filling up the condom as he pants heavily.

“y/n!” rafe finishes with a call of your name. you are so close to your orgasm, and you surmise rafe must know as he stays inside of you, rubbing faster until you cum, your body arching off the mattress, even underneath rafes weight as your high hits you with a shout.

you manage to reach to push rafes hand away, needing the overwhelming pleasure on your clit gone as your orgasm works through your body.

rafe curses when your cunt pulsates around him, but waits until you’re done to pull out. he flops to the side, pulling the condom off and tossing it into the trashcan next to his nightstand.

“how does it feel to no longer be a virgin?” you ask.

“felt good to finally use that condom i’ve been keeping in my wallet since i turned 16.” rafe laughs, reaching his arm out to pull you closer to him. “but seriously, i’m glad i lost it with you.” “i’m glad too.” you smile, pressing a quick peck to his lip. “and maybe i should have asked you this before we had sex but… will you be my girlfriend?”

“oh my god, yes!” you squeal.

#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron drabble #rafe x reader

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potatobugxo · 2 months

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Hey so ive been having a rough day as I was yelled at by customersn at my retail job, can i get Angelperhaps seeing his genderneutral s/o getting yelled at by an unruly hotel guest and standing up for them and possibly comforting them? If you cant i totally understand, thanks ❤️

yes of course!!! i work in retail too people are so stupid fr... take care of yourself ok?? love you very much <33 warnings: reader gets yelled at, swearing, hurt to comfort

"a-ah, my bad..." angel perks up as he hears you apologize to someone across the room. the hotel had grown more lively with guests and sinners, and handling guests' purchases was your designated job. you were crouched on the floor, scooping up a tray of food you had dropped.

"what the hell? can't even get decent service at a place like this," the guest, a demon much taller than you grumbled, hands on his hips as he watched you scramble to pick up what was presumed to be his meal. "i am really sorry," you stand back up, tray in hand, and angel's hair standing on end when he realizes how shaky your hands are. "i-i can get a replacement for it right away-" "don't need a fuckin' replacement!" the sinner barks in your face, slapping the tray out of your hands and making you wince. "need you to do your fuckin' job right! they not payin' you enough, huh? think you can just waste shit like this!" "hey, asshole!" you and the sinner both turn to see angel dust marching toward you, his pink pupils glowing an angry shade of magenta. "listen up, fucker, they're doin' their best," angel jabs a finger into the sinner's chest, causing the demon to scowl at him. you shift anxiously on your feet behind angel, swiping the tears that had been forming in your eyes away with your arm. "so what if they dropped a tray? it's just some fuckin' food, not like they took a shit in it and served it to you," angel sneered. "if you lookin' to redeem yourself this ain't how you treat other people. so apologize or get the fuck outta here!" "fuck you!" the sinner snaps back, unable to come up with further retaliation before storming out of the lobby. angel glares at him as he departs, and only turns to you once the sinner slams the hotel doors shut. "angel, you didn't have to do that," you insist, voice hushed. angel places his four hands on your arms and smiles at you. "toots, you can't be takin' shit like that, okay?" he assures in a gentle tone. "i'm just tired," you inform him. "i'm not used to so many guests being here... looks like they all don't listen when charlie says to be polite to others." "that's for fuckin' sure," angel spits in the direction the sinner had fled in. "hey, don't beat yourself up about it, alright? i'll help you clean up this mess." he gestures toward the tray and scattered food that has stained the carpet. "okay," you sniffle a bit. "anyone else been treatin' you like that mothafucka?" angel inquires, cocking an eyebrow. you shake your head. "good. cuz i'd really hate to backslide on this redemption bullshit by shootin' some lowlife scumbag." you giggle at his remark and he grins, pulling you in for a four-armed hug.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #angel dust #angel dust x reader

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dljcem · 9 months

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ೃ༄ Apple Cider

johnny cade x gn!reader

warnings: not beta or proof read, brief mentions of smoking/injury, prompt credits to @/lovemeagoodprompt

5 times johnny wanted to tell you he loves you + 1 time he finally did !

Johnny couldn’t quite tell what you were talking about anymore. Somewhere in the conversation, he’d lost track of your commentary—who was running away, who was in jail, who was going with who, who stole what and where and why…

He was about to nod, feign (or try to, at least) some form of understanding, when you suddenly stopped.

“What?” he queries, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Do I have something on my face?”

Without saying a word, you lean in, skimming the edge of his jacket collar before folding it down. A deep flush covers his features—he can only watch in stunned silence as you regain your earlier position, almost like nothing had ever happened.

“There!” you smile brightly at him; he swears his heart stops. He’s about to say something, but you promptly cut him off, resuming whatever story you’d been sharing before.

ii.

Johnny rummages through his pockets for what feels like the tenth time—still, the familiar weight of his lighter is nowhere to be found. A smile plays on your lips upon seeing his predicament; he doesn’t seem to notice, too caught up in frustration.

You retrieve your own lighter, tucked safely into the back of your jeans, and place it in his palm. That gets his attention.

“Keep it.”

He does so with hesitance, lights his cigarette and takes a long drag. Albeit a relatively small gesture, it has his head spinning—only you could make him swoon with something as insignificant.

“Thanks, Y/N.” he mumbles, averting his gaze before you can sense there’s something amiss. He drowns out the words threatening to spill from his mouth with smoke.

iii.

Johnny doesn’t like parties. Not the alcohol, or the music, or the outright concerning amounts of people. He does like you, though—perhaps that’s why he’s sitting on some flimsy couch instead of walking home.

His arm is going numb under the weight of your head, yet he doesn’t move a muscle. He briefly wonders how you sleep amidst such chaos; soundly, by the looks of it.

You stir with a small noise, further burying your face in his shoulder. He knows then he’ll be there all night. He can’t bring himself to disrupt your rest when you’re oh so peaceful.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

The rest goes unsaid.

iv.

Johnny lets you brush his hair back, doesn’t flinch as you press an antiseptic-doused cotton ball to the cut on his temple. The only sign of discomfort is the subtle creasing of his brows—somehow, you still catch on.

“You alright?”

He nods, straining a quick response to appease your concerns. He instinctively reaches up, traces the jagged outline of the wound. He knows for a fact it’ll leave a scar; an ugly one, at that.

“It’s not all bad,” you shrug, reading his mind once again, “makes you look tough.”

He looks away and tries to convince himself you mean nothing by it.

Johnny rests his back on the grass, damp from the morning rain. You’re laying only a few inches away, hair splayed in different directions. He watches as you search for patterns in the stars—amidst your concentration, you don’t notice his gaze.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a closer look, smile because you’ve finally found what you were looking for (or, rather, something close to it.)

“…yeah.”

He glances at the dark sky; finds that its not nearly as pretty as you.

vi.

Johnny looks at the horizon, where the setting sun casts various shades of orange. The porch steps are rough against his knees, old and worn from years of use—still, he is calm. You seem to share the sentiment, much quieter than you normally are.

“Hey, Y/N?” his question is but a whisper; you hum in acknowledgment.

“I think I love you.”

Before he can regret it, you’re leaning your head on his shoulder. And, for once, you meet his eyes.

“I love you too, Johnny.”

#johnny cade x reader #johnny x reader #johnny cade headcanons #johnny cade imagine #johnny cade #johnnycake #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders x reader #ponyboy curtis #dallas winston #the outsiders #the outsiders fluff #the outsiders johnny #ralph macchio #fluff #1965 #greasers #dljcem

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rollingsins · 10 months

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all hers, part xxiii

summary: Tara and Sam rush you to the hospital. You see a familiar friend.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, graphic violence.

word count: 4.9k

a/n: let me know what you think, love you guys as always ;)

In all her life, Sam has never seen so much blood.

It’s everywhere. All over the back of her hands, in her hair. It’s all over the floor, all over the ceiling, all over Tara.

All over you.

Everything is soaked crimson red.

She presses her hand a little harder against the wound in your stomach, trying to stop it.

But it spills out, flushing the floor like it’s a red sea.

Tara’s sobbing.

Her hands are on your face, your eyelids have long fluttered shut. There’s a pulse, Sam can feel it, but it's faint. Barely there.

And there's nothing Sam can do but watch as she listens to her baby sister wail for you to open your eyes.

“Tara,” Sam murmurs. She’d touch Tara’s shoulder, try to snap her out of her grief infused trance, but she’s too scared the moment she lifts her hands you’ll bleed out all over the basement floor.

Tara rests her forehead to your cheek, the water from her eyes staining with the blood on your face, turning it a light shade of pink.

She murmurs something Sam can’t hear. Presses her lips once more to the side of your cheek.

“Tara!” Sam says, a little more forcefully.

The ambulance should have been here by now. Sam had called ahead of time and then again once more. The moment you’d passed out.

But it’s been ten minutes and there’s no sign of them.

“Call them again,” Sam instructs, once she’s sure she has Tara’s attention, “Tell them she’s bleeding out.”

Tara’s bottom lip wobbles, but she does what she’s told.

She sinks her face back down into your neck and presses her phone to her ear, her words a desperate mumble.

The ambulance arrive not five minutes later.

It’s a flurry of lights, and stretchers and crime scene tape as the police follow, not long after.

These are Millwood police officers, and Sam doesn’t recognize a single face.

But for all their questions, they don’t get much out of either one of them. Tara’s at your side, hurrying out with the EMT’s as they pull your limp, bloodied body onto a stretcher, hooking an oxygen mask around your face and taking Sam’s place putting pressure on your wound.

Sam follows, not wanting you or Tara far from sight.

“Is she going to be okay?” Tara asks, voice frail as they pile into the back of the ambulance. Sam presses her hands to Tara’s shoulder in support.

They’d very nearly kicked Sam out. The ambulance isn’t massive, and Sam had half-expected to be relegated to riding in a squad car on the way to the hospital. But Tara’s near hysterical, and the only thing slightly calming her down is Sam’s hand wrapped tight around her shoulders.

“We’re doing our best, honey,” Says the EMT, not unkindly, “But we need to focus on her, right now. Okay?”

There’s a thick layer of gauze pressed to your stomach to soak up some of the blood. But within seconds it’s coated through.

The EMT’s barrel off to each other, almost speaking in code. Heavy medical terms Sam doesn’t understand. But she gets the gist.

It’s not looking good.

She squeezes Tara’s shoulders a little tighter as Tara’s whimpers break out into sobs.

When the ambulance pulls into the hospital they take you away.

You’re rushed through the cool linoleum floors, whisked behind a pair of swinging doors that Sam and Tara aren’t allowed through.

You’re going straight into surgery, is what the EMT had said. It could be hours before there’s news.

It had been a fight to stop Tara from barreling in after you.

She stands now, looking horrific; covered in blood, sweat, and her own tears as she argues with the receptionist. Bloody shoeprints follow in her wake.

“There’s a viewing platform,” She says, voice shrewd, leaning down onto the receptionists counter, “There’s a viewing platform to watch surgery. I’ve seen it in Grey’s Anatomy. I need to be there.”

“Ma’am,” Says the receptionist, looking pointed. Her phone is pressed to her ear, no doubt trying to call for security, “There is no viewing platform. That’s a TV show.”

“Tara,’ Sam murmurs, tugging at her sister’s arm, “Come on. We can’t do anything now. We just have to wait-”

Tara shakes off Sam’s hand, shooting her an angry glare.

“My girlfriend needs me,” She says, voice desperate, “If there’s no viewing platform, can’t I be in there? I’ll take a shower. Where one of those hospital gown things. Please.” Her voice cracks, “I have to be in there. I have to be with her. If she dies and I’m not there…”

Her voice trails off. She looks like she’s about to cry again.

Sam reaches out, presses her hand firm against Tara’s back.

The receptionist looks up, pity overtaking her features.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” She says, “You need to let the doctors do their job. I’ll have them update you when they can.”

She doesn’t call security.

Tara deflates like a lead balloon. Sam is alert, on guard, a little concerned Tara might take matters into her own hands and careen through the hospital in a sprint to find you.

But instead she lets Sam take her by the hand and lead her to the waiting room.

And then, she promptly takes out her phone, shoulders seizing in aggravation. Anger overtakes her features. The tears promptly stop, like someone has just turned off a hose and replaced it with a flamethrower.

“I’m suing the hospital.” Tara says, voice a growl. She’s swiping through google for lawyers. Sam bites her lip and welcomes the distraction. Better Tara take out her emotions via google than swinging a punch at the hospital receptionist.

“Okay, Tara.” She says, voice tired. Her knee bounces. Sam had called Woodsboro hospital, and your Mom and Dad had been rushed to the emergency room, their fate not dissimilar from yours. It feels wrong to be sitting. Sam feels like she should be pacing, or checking on you or doing something.

But there's nothing she can do except sit. Stew in her own panic.

“I’m suing the police, too.” Tara says, looking up, “What kind of police force doesn’t know their Sheriff is Ghostface?”

Sam hums.

Usually, she’d argue. In the overarching sense of morality, she often ends up on the opposite side of her sister.

But privately, she agrees.

How could no one have seen the town Sheriff had been Ghostface all along?

Tara drops her phone. The anger, quick as it had come, evaporates. Her lip quivers.

“Sam?” Tara asks, voice small. Sam looks up. Tara’s eyes are red, a little puffy. She’s wiped most of the blood from her face but speckles of it still linger in her hair.

She looks as if she might cry again.

“Do you think she’s going to be okay?”

It’s not a question so much as a plea for comfort. Sam scoots a little closer, draws Tara’s head onto her shoulder.

“She’s in the best place,” Says Sam, voice a little hesitant, “They’ll do everything they can to make sure she’s alright.”

She doesn’t want to lie. In truth, it had looked bad, and Sam has no idea if you’ll pull through or not. Tara sniffs against her shoulder, and Sam feels the thin material of her t-shirt soak through with Tara’s tears. She rubs Tara’s back, comfortingly.

“If she dies, I don’t know what I’ll do,” Tara murmurs. She loops her hands around Sam’s arm, clinging to her like a baby koala in a tree, “If she dies, Sam, I’ll die.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Sam says. She squeezes Tara’s shoulders once more, “And let’s not get ahead of ourselves. She’s in surgery, she’s not gone yet. Okay?”

Tara says something inaudible. Her grip around Sam’s arm tightens. She settles for resting her head against Sam’s shoulder, and Sam’s heart soars.

Tara isn’t affectionate, not with her.

She’d be lucky to get a hug out of Tara most days. They snipe at each other like sisters because that’s what they are. When they were kids it was hair pulling. Silly, bouts of sibling rivalry. But Sam’s older now, and that isn’t what she wants their relationship to be.

It’s more than sisterly for Sam. It’s maternal. Their own mother off god knows where, not a care in the world her youngest daughter is covered in blood and falling to pieces in a dingy hospital waiting room.

And so Sam will be the mother Tara needs. She presses a quick kiss to her sister’s head, and closes her eyes. She doesn’t believe in God, not really. But she prays hard now.

Because if she doesn’t pray and beg and cry she knows her sister will never be the same.

Please, God, she thinks, desperately, please let her wake up.

When you wake, you’re in a meadow.

You blink up at the pale blue of the sky, not a cloud in sight. You sit, rubbing at your eyes.

This isn't Woodboro, is all you can think. Woodboro is winding suburban streets and million dollar houses. This is a grassy field in the middle of nowhere.

You turn, confused, looking for any sign of life.

And then you see him.

Clear as day, standing over you. His expression is mild, he looks almost pleased to see you.

And you can't think of why.

"Wes?" You ask. You blink, then clamor to your feet. He doesn't move, or speak, or make any effort to acknowledge his name. You step a little closer, mind whirling.

“Are you real?” You ask, wide-eyed.

He looks real. Floppy, blonde hair. Searing blue eyes. Stubble dotting the round of his chin. His lips, slightly chapped, they way they always were. You can smell him - that cologne he liked, you can feel the warmth from his body.

You blink.

Wonder if he’d be weirded out if you touched him.

But you do it anyway.

He smiles, a little lopsided, as you graze the skin of his forearm.

“You’re real.” You breathe out in wonder.

Then you frown.

“But you’re dead. I-”

Killed you.

His smile fades.

You swallow.

“Where’s Tara?” You ask, as if you'd just realized she isn't here.

The look on his face is pained.

Panic surges through you. You whirl around, looking for her. Grass blooms as far as the eye can see. There’s nothing else. No roads, no signs. No power poles, nothing.

No sign of anything else. Anyone else.

“Where is she?” You ask again, “Wes, tell me where Tara is. Has something happened to her?”

You rack your brain, trying to think of the last time you’d seen her. But your mind draws a blank. You don’t remember anything. Nothing but her and her pretty smile.

You grab at Wes’ arm, shake him.

He blinks. And suddenly, the look in his eyes is mean.

“You’re not going to see her again,” He says. His lips purse, “You’re not going to see anyone again. And it’s your fault.”

And then he disappears.

His body crumbles like paper under water. You falter forward, your grip on his arm the only thing keeping you upright.

You cough, eyes watering as the ash hits your mouth.

You look up, desperately.

The birds chirp. A pleasant breezes settles through the blades of grass. You panic.

“Tara!” You cry out, wildly fumbling your way through the meadow, “Tara, where are you?”

You break out into a sprint. But the meadow doesn’t end. You run and run and run. A mile. Two miles. Until your chest is heaving and you’re covered in sweat. And then you collapse to the ground. Your stomach aches like someone is twisting metal through your insides.

You pant, tug your shirt up to see a bare patch of skin. There’s nothing wrong with you. Your eyebrows knit together as you start to cry.

You don’t know where you are, or what’s going on.

You can’t remember yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that.

You just think of Tara. You wonder where she is. She wouldn’t leave you alone in the middle of a field. She loves you.

Surely, she’s looking for you.

And then a soft voice draws you out of your stupor.

There’s a road behind you that certainly wasn’t there before. You blink, mouth falling open. It’s Chase, eyes sparkling. He’s in his old pick-up truck, the one with the paint peeling off the sides and the stupid ‘ladies man’ charm hanging off the rear screen mirror.

“Hey,” Chase says, with a smile on his face, “Get in.”

Tara had settled for maybe thirty minutes.

She’d closed her eyes, and for a moment, Sam had almost thought she'd drifted off to sleep. And then, inevitably, someone had to ruin it.

"Samantha Carpenter?" He'd called. He's wearing a uniform, a Sheriff's badge pressed to his chest. The badge is old, looking a little rusty. Sam frowns, and sits slightly upright.

Tara rises at the same time.

“Who are you?” Sam asks, frown on her face.

The man charges forward, a little awkwardly. He accidentally bumps a coffee table, sending a slew of magazines careening onto the ground.

"Sorry," He says, as Sam and Tara blink up at him, "Should have introduced myself. I'm the new Sheriff. Well, the old Sheriff. The old old Sheriff. I've been asked to step in."

He reaches down onto the ground and fumbles with the magazine.

His smile is sheepish.

“My name is Dewey,” He says, “Dewey Riley.”

“Okay, Dewey,” Sam says, frowning slightly, “This really isn’t a great time. My sister's girlfriend is in surgery."

The look on his face is apologetic.

"I know," He says, "I'm sorry."

He reaches into his pocket and draws out a small notebook, "We didn't get a statement, back at the house. I know it was a little - hectic. But we really need to get an account of what happened."

“What happened was your Sheriff was a raving psychopath who kidnapped my girlfriend and tried to murder her,” Growls Tara, "What happened was she stabbed her so hard she's been in surgery for the last three hours-"

Dewey purses his lips.

“I understand,” He says, “I’m sorry this happened. I know it must be very traumatic.” He lets it hang. Sam frowns.

“I know you,” She says, suddenly, it all coming at once. His face is so familiar, “You knew my-”

Father. Is what she wants to say. She catches herself just in time. Tara doesn’t know. Nobody knows. And it’s not the time or place for family revelations.

“You knew the original Ghostface.”

Dewey tilts his head.

“And the one after that,” He says, with a weak smile on his lips, “And the one after that. And the one after that. I know what it’s like to survive a Ghostface attack.”

He touches Tara’s shoulder, sympathy on his face.

“Like I said, I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“I’m suing you,” Tara says, quietly. Hatred brews behind her eyes, “I’m suing the entire Woodsboro police force. For all I know you were all in on it. I’m not talking to you without a lawyer.”

Sam pinches her nose.

“Tara, he’s just doing his job-”

But Dewey smiles.

“It’s all right, I understand.” He says, but he doesn’t step away. Instead, he sits down. Tara stares, “But it’s a bit conspiratorial, don’t you think? A police force of Ghostfaces’? Logistically, it’d be a nightmare.”

Tara blinks.

“You don’t have to talk to me,” Dewey says. He leans back in his seat, “But if you don’t, they’ll send someone else. Maybe the state police. Maybe the Feds. And they won’t do it here. They’ll take you to the station, keep you in the interrogation room for hours. The death of a police officer is a very serious matter.”

Sam swallows.

“I think you should stay here and be with your girlfriend,” Dewey says, quietly, “I think she’ll want you here when she wakes up. But that will only be the case if you can tell me what happened.”

Tara’s quiet a moment.

And then she speaks.

“It all started four weeks ago.”

Infuriatingly, Chase doesn’t say anything for a long while.

He hums along with the radio, taps his fingers against the wheel. Ignores you staring at him.

Ignores your barrage of questions.

“Where am I?” Is the one you keep repeating.

This reality isn’t reality. That much is obvious by now. You’ve been in an endless field talking to ghosts all day. Tara is nowhere in sight.

Chase looks over at you.

“You’re nowhere.” He says. And then he smiles again and tilts his head back. Mumbles along to Bryan Adams’ “Heaven”.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” You snap. You lean forward and shut the radio off, “Is this heaven? Is that where we are?”

Chase laughs.

“You really think you’re going to heaven?” He asks, bemused. His eyes twinkle.

You swallow.

“So, I’m in hell?”

Chase shakes his head.

“No. Not yet, at least. You’re nowhere.”

You grind your teeth, frustration overtaking you. Chase and Wes are some incredibly unhelpful ghosts.

“How can I be nowhere?” You ask, “Am I dead? Is this- limbo, or something?”

Chase looks over at you. He tilts his head, taking pity on you.

“You’re in your own head,” He says, softly, “You’re dreaming. This isn't real. None of it is real.”

You blink. This doesn’t feel like a dream. It’s vivid. You can touch, feel, smell everything around you. You press your hand to the dashboard. It’s solid under your hand.

“I’m dreaming?” You ask, confused, “So this isn’t real? You’re not… real?”

Chase shrugs.

“I’m dead, remember?” He says, “But I guess, dead or alive, it doesn’t matter when you’re dreaming."

You close your eyes and picture Tara. You want her here now. You want her to take you in her arms and kiss you and tell you everything’s going to be okay.

But when you open them, it’s still Chase staring back at you.

“If I’m dreaming, then I want her here.” You say a little accusatory, looking at him as if he’s the one keeping her from appearing.

“That’s not how a dream works,” Says Chase with a quiet hum, “You might want her here, but your subconscious doesn’t.”

“Every part of me wants her, especially my subconscious.” You growl.

“I think the point of a subconscious is you’re not conscious of it.” His eyes twinkle again. You huff, irritated.

“Are you a ghost or my psychologist?” You grumble under your breath. You stare out the window. That damn meadow still rolls in its wake.

“Neither,” He drawls. His hands tighten on the wheel, “Maybe I’m your guilty conscience. Him and me, maybe we both are.”

You draw in a breath. Remember Wes’ eyes. Blue, so blue. Trusting right up until the moment you’d turned your knife on him.

“But we don’t have to talk about that,” Chase offers. His smile is sad, “We could pick up where we left off. Like we’re best friends again.”

You hadn’t thought much about Chase, if you were telling the truth. You hadn’t thought much about any of them. Tara’s good at that, making you forget.

It hadn’t occurred to you that it might not necessarily be a good thing.

“I’d like to wake up now.” You declare, loudly.

Chase peers over at you.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Is all he says.

You frown.

“Something’s really wrong.” You murmur. You don’t know it but you feel it. Your stomach aches once more. Desperately you try to remember.

But there’s nothing.

Not a single fleeting memory from the last time you’d been awake. Vague memories, all cobbled together. Like the time your father had taught you to ride a bike. The first time you’d scraped your knee. Your first kiss with Tara.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Ghostface, something about Ghostface.

But you can’t quite work it out. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion, your thoughts not quick enough to keep up.

Chase turns the radio back on and belts out the rest of the song.

Dewey doesn’t stay long.

Tara talks quietly, but quickly. Like she’s trying to get him out of there as fast as possible. She tells Dewey about Richie, about the attack at the house. She tells him about that time he’d stabbed her, about how she and Sam had worked it out.

The Sheriff had taken them down to the station and left them in her office.

Tara had seen the suspect board, the dotted lines drawn between the victims. And then she’d remembered something that had sent her flying out of her seat.

Stab 2, the only clue Ghostface had ever left you.

The movie where Ghostface had been the mother.

He leaves with his well wishes and a promise to follow up when the investigation had started. There would be more they had to do, he assured. Witness statements, likely long talks with the state police. But he’d hold them off for a while. Allow them to wait for you in peace.

Tara returns to her seat, hands twitching in her lap.

And Sam’s quiet as she thinks.

Through all the frantic panic of the last few hours she hadn’t allowed herself to think of why.

Why had the Sheriff targeted her sister? Why had Sam’s own boyfriend joined her? Why had the Sheriff killed those poor kids - Sadie, Aaron, Amber, Chase, Sam. They were children, after all. Eighteen year old children.

And then she thinks of her father.

Some people are just bad, Sam, he sneers at her now, some people just want to cause hurt.

Sam thinks of her own sister.

Tara had been violent, so so violent.

She’d taken the knife out of the Sheriff’s throat and all but used her as a pin cushion. She’d screamed, and cried, the look in her eyes terrifying as she’d taken what little life the Sheriff had left in her.

Tara got angry sometimes, this Sam knew.

But not like this.

Sam swallows. She leans forward and touches Tara’s arm. The Sheriff’s blood is dried now, but it seems to be the least of Tara’s worries. As if, sitting here, covered in blood is an everyday occurrence.

“Are you…” Sam thinks, trying to phrase it the right way, “Are you alright?”

She fails, clearly.

Tara looks over at her as if she’s an idiot.

“Am I alright?” Tara asks, eyebrows knit together. Her voice rises. The other people in the waiting room look over, “My girlfriend is in hospital. She has a stab wound in her stomach and no one will tell me what’s going on. Am I alright?”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Sam says, hurriedly, “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”

Tara shakes her head, expression sparking with annoyance.

“I’m going to talk to the nurse again,” She says, standing, “Before you ask me any more stupid questions.”

And she’s back. The sister Sam knows so well.

Sam rubs her eyebrows and tells herself not to think so hard.

Tara approaches the receptionist once more. Sam watches, eyes squirting as she tries to make out their words. When Tara hurries back in a sprint, Sam’s heart leaps.

Tara’s eyes are wide as she approaches.

“She’s out of surgery,” Tara says, and her voice can’t hide her excitement, “She’s not awake, not yet. But she’s out of surgery, Sam.”

You feel sleepy.

Sleepier than you should, considering you’re in a dream.

Chase is humming again, his hand sprawled across the back of your seat, the way it always was. Like he’d just wanted to be close to you.

One of his few, fatal mistakes.

It had been so easy, then. Just you and Chase, taking on the world. Laughing at dumb twitter memes, watching movies together at his house. The days when he’d been staring with puppy dog eyes and you’d be too blind to notice he’d been looking at you.

You try to think about a reality where you’d never met Tara. Never fallen in love with her.

You imagine yourself in the 1950s. Chase would have been your sweetheart. You’d go out with him on weeknights and drink milkshakes, and hold hands, and make out in the back of his truck just down the street, so your Dad couldn’t see.

No Tara, no murder.

Just life.

And it makes your stomach turn.

“I would have never been happy with you.” You murmur. He looks over. There are those puppy dogs eyes again.

“I would have never been happy with any of them.” You continue. Not Aaron and his pretty eyes. Not Sadie and her sweet laugh.

Pretty, sweet and boring.

“No,” Chase agrees. He’s slowing down the car, but you barely notice. Your eyes are drooping, “You wouldn’t have. You’re too fucked up for that.”

You can see Tara now. Almost feel her. The ghost of her lips brushing yours. Her hands in your hair, brushing it back. Her eyes wide, desperate. Like she’d give anything in the world to see your eyes open.

“Wake up, baby,” She’s murmuring. Quiet, like it’s just for you, “Wake up and come back to me.”

You hum. That sounds nice. Chase withdraws his hand from your seat. He touches your arm, smile sad. Like he’s about to leave.

“I’m sorry that you’re dead.” You murmur.

You’d say it with more reverence but there’s no point. He is, after all, a figment of your imagination. You’re talking to yourself.

Chase leans forward. Presses a long kiss to your forehead.

“Me too.” He says. He squeezes your hand.

“But I think it’s time for you to wake up now.”

When the nurse tells Tara the room they’re keeping you in, she breaks out into a sprint.

Not a quick walk. Not a light jog.

A sprint.

The nurse stands in her seat, screaming at her to slow down. Sam scrambles up out of her seat, apologizing quickly to the nurse and hurrying along after her sister.

Hallways pass by in a blur. Doctors shout as Tara barrels past them. She shoves everything out of the way. A stretcher is sent careening into a window. Medical supplies burst and are sent sprawling all over the floor as Tara charges a rolling cabinet out of the way.

She all but shoves a little old lady in a wheelchair out of the way in order to reach the elevator. Leaves Sam there, apologizing profusely as she does.

But Tara doesn’t care.

There’s only one thing that matters; you.

She’s out of breath when she finally reaches your floor.

There’s a nurse by your bedside, plugging you with an IV drip.

Your face is white, so pale, you almost look as if you’re made of marble.

Chest heaving, Tara approaches. She ignores the nurse and sits down at your side, taking your limp hand between her own.

“It’s okay, baby,” She murmurs. Her lip trembles. Her heart is racing. She reaches over the bed and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, “I’m here now.”

The nurse retracts from you, studying her.

“You must be the young lady who’s been giving our receptionist hell.” She says, but her voice is light, teasing. She reaches out and squeezes Tara’s hand.

“I’ll send the doctor in to give you a rundown of the surgery,” She says, “But don’t worry too much, sweetheart. We fixed her up. She’s going to be alright.”

Tara’s heart sings.

She looks up at the nurse, wide-eyed. Her lips are chapped, her face still stained with blood. She looks terrible, frightening. But her eyes spark with hope.

“Promise?” She asks, with all the energy of a small child asking for a bedtime story.

The nurse squeezes her once more.

“I’ll send in the doctor.”

And with a wink, she turns on her heel and closes the door behind her.

The heart monitor beeps, steadily. You don’t move. Your eyes firmly pressed closed. Tara touches the tip of your jaw, working her fingers along the ridges of your face. Your chin, your nose. Your closed eyelids.

You look perfect, Tara thinks, even like this. Her beautiful, perfect girl.

She settles on your cheek and cups it, moving in closer to press the softest of kisses to your lips.

“I love you so much,” She murmurs. The heart monitor is in tune with her own heartbeat. She links her fingers with yours and presses a kiss to the back of your hand, “And it’s over now.” She promises, “No one will ever hurt you again. I’ll die before I let anyone ever hurt you again.”

She wants to climb into bed with you. Take your frail body in her arms and hold you close. Curl her hands through your hair and cradle you into consciousness. Wake you with soft kisses and soft words and never let you go ever again.

But she doesn’t.

There’s a tight bandage around your midriff that has her wary.

Instead, she scoots herself as close as she can possibly get, and rubs her nose against yours.

“Wake up, baby,” She coaxes, voice soft. She presses another soft kiss to your lips, “Wake up and come back to me.”

The heartbeat monitor beeps.

And then you feel it all at once.

Color drains back into your cheeks. There’s air in your lungs. Your throat is dry, like sandpaper. Pain, and drugs pump through your body.

You groan, your eyes flitting open.

And the first thing you see is her pretty brown eyes staring back into yours. Her eyes are wide, loving, hopeful. Like she's just witnessed a miracle.

“Tara.”

#all hers #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x yn #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #fanfic #mine #ghostface!tara

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angel-kyo · 2 months

Text

Pay it no mind

Part XVI (kinda? Idk. Explanation in the note.)

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. I would say reader is ooc in this one, or it might feel like that. I don't know. There are also mentions of a difficult family situation (awful father, deceased mother, etc.)... Oh, and this almost makes me look anti-Gojo (I'm not, though).

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV

----------------------

“Aomori?” you repeated in disbelief. Isn’t that like…?”

Haruki leaned forward on his elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands in frustration. You watched his fingers bury themselves in his brown curls and tug them.

“It’s about a ten-hour bus ride or four hours in the train...” he said without looking at you. His eyes were on the table, and you could only see the top of his head. “That if I’m lucky… Which I am not, obviously,” he grumbled and lifted his head to look at you.

You two were at the coffee shop where he worked, or rather, used to work. He had submitted his resignation the day before.

“That’s far.” You were not sure of what else to say. The notice of his departure was coming in too sudden. Only a few days ago you had been talking about maybe meeting up on New Year’s Eve, and now he was leaving? “For… For how long?”

Ikeda looked outside and shrugged. “He’s transferring me there so I guess he means at least until the end of high school, and then…” he frowned. In fact, he was not sure of what would happen after that. “I’m sure that jerk will come up with something else.”

Haruki looked back at you and, realizing what he had said, quickly apologized for speaking like that in front of you.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t believe he did this behind my back. I knew he could not stand seeing me, but I never thought he would plan something like this and ambush me any other Tuesday.”

He sighed, and you looked at him with sympathy. It was the most distressed you had ever seen him, and the most upset too.

Haruki, who always looked happy and unbothered when he was with you, had only ever appeared uncomfortable, and sometimes even angered, when he spoke about his father. At first, you had believed they just did not get along, but it was more than that; Haruki had told you once that his father seemed to resent him since his mother left.

“I’ve never blamed her,” he told you one day while you waited for his train, “she was sick and he was never at home, but when he was, he was horrible to her.”

He had then showed you her picture. A beautiful woman with long brown hair and bright eyes a few shades clearer than her locks, smiling and hugging an eight-year-old Haruki; he had definitely gotten the looks from her, and it was evident she had loved him dearly.

Due to her illness, Haruki’s mother had passed away just a couple years after leaving her husband, before she was able to fulfill her promise to his son to come back for him. Hence, Haruki had ended up stuck with a resentful father who was almost never at home, but when he was, he was as horrible to his son as he had been to the mother he resembled. And now, he was sending him to live with his uncle in a distant prefecture to attend a new school.

He had given Haruki little less than a week to, and the boy quoted, “wrap up any business in Tokyo.”

Apparently, that included you, who did your best to comfort him, even if there was not much you could say or do.

“I will miss you,” Ikeda said after you assured him it would be alright and that two or three years would sure fly by, and then he would not need to listen to what his father or his uncle said. It seemed his mood had improved a little at that.

“I will miss you too,” you told him, still wrapping your head around the idea of not seeing him anymore.

If only you could see curses, maybe there would be another way out for you, maybe we could have more time.

You pushed that thought away. That was selfish thinking, was it not? Of course, you would not want Haruki to live in gore and pain as a sorcerer. There had to be better, more peaceful options for him somewhere.

“I like you a lot.” His words pulled you out of your head, and when your eyes focused on him, you noticed his face was flushed, but he was looking right at you. “I think I could have loved you. Not that I don’t now,” he smiled softly, “but in the way I wanted to love you.”

There was a tinge of sadness in his voice, but your heart was beating faster as he spoke. Did that mean you wanted to love him too?

“I…” you started, but he shook his head and smiled.

“It’s fine. I thought we had more time, so I did not tell you sooner, but now, I just realized I wanted to let you know in person.”

Haruki had not planned to confess that day. He was only going to tell you he was leaving and ask you to stay in touch but realizing that it might be the last time he was going to see you in, perhaps, a long time, he felt he needed to tell you. He had wanted to tell you since the first time you had accepted going out with him that summer, but he then thought it was better not to rush and just let your friendship take its course.

At the end of the day, people should honor their feelings.

That he believed whole-heartedly. That is why Gojo’s attitude had annoyed him, acting as a jealous boyfriend around you if he was nearby but still claiming to be just your friend. If he wanted more, he should admit it instead of doing whatever he thought he was doing that day he accompanied him to the station.

“Haruki, I like you too,” you said sincerely.

But do you like me as I like you? the boy wondered.

He would not ask you that as he would not ask for more at this point. What could he ask, that you waited for him? He was not that arrogant to believe you had to do it nor that idealistic to make promises he knew time could swallow. Knowing that you had cared about him was enough.

He gave you a closed-eye smile. “I’m so glad.”

***

But saying it had not changed anything. You and Haruki had agreed to staying in touch and he had hugged you tightly before letting you go.

Maybe he knew we would drift apart.

You had kept texting and calling each other after that. Once he was with his uncle, he had given you his address, so you could exchange letters; he even sent you a few postcards with some pretty views around his new city. For a little while, you thought you could remain friends and just live on it, but his absence became increasingly painful, and when you both got busy with school again, and he was barely replying to your messages and his letters felt distant, the realization that maybe you had truly loved and lost was devastating.

It happened slowly but not painlessly. There was just never a good time for a quick call anymore, the messages were fewer and shorter, and you probably did not reply to the last one because there was nothing to say, and finally, the letters. Oh, the letters... Once funny and vibrant as your friend had been, they became nothing but curt and disappointing. It was hard to believe that two people who once had so much to talk about could barely bring themselves to write more than a few lines for each other.

I guess people can enter your life seamlessly, but they can hardly leave like that.

Your friends comforted you to their best, and Satoru made it his mission to ensure you would not feel lonely doing the things you liked anymore. Despite your protests, he attached himself to your hip as he had done it when you were kids, even on the days when you did not want to leave your room.

And when, months after Haruki’s departure, you sat down in front of the training fields, tired of waiting for a letter that would not come, Satoru held your hand firmly as you accepted your loss and stayed by your side unfaltering, the same way you would do for him when Suguru left you all later down the road.

That was how, as the seasons changed, you quietly let go of your friend who had been a child of the spring himself.

----------------------

Note: I almost did not want to include this part? I mean, I felt like the other guy needed some explaining, and as much as I enjoyed it, I would say this is almost a filler, so I'm sorry of it's bad. Anyways, if the next part is not the last one, it will sure bring us quite closer. I've not forgotten where I left Satoru, promise!

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XVII

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk fanfic #jjk drabbles #gojo x y/n #reader x character #gojo fanfic #fluff #jujutsu kaisen #pay it no mind #i might delete this later #or maybe not #gojo satoru #jjk gojo

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rowaelinsdaughter · 5 months

Text

what happens in the forest stays in the forest

this is one of my favorite fics ive written so far, but i needed to write something fluff and with rowaelin. i miss them so much.

WARNINGS; none, pure fluff

you were bored

bored and tired.

since you found out you were pregnant 5 months ago, rowan and aelin didn't leave your side for a second, so you couldn't go out on the street if you weren't with them and they didn't trust the guards and fenrys couldn't be near you without that rowan growled at him.

you were in your room waiting for them to finish a meeting, but you were tired of waiting so you decided to go find them.

carefully, you go down the stairs and reach the door where the meeting is taking place and gently knock on the door, you place a hand on your belly as if you wanted to protect the baby from the people inside. the door opens and rowan appears. instinctively, a smile appears on your lips and rowan hugs you carefully, leaving a soft kiss on your hair while one of his hands rests on top of yours.

"what are you doing here? you were supposed to be in the room.”

“and like you said yourself, i was,” you joke. “but i was bored and i wanted to get out of here and spend time with you.”

you hear the sound of a chair dragging on the floor and immediately aelin appears, leaving a kiss on your lips. “come sit down you-”

“you can stand for a long time” you imitate her.

aelin sits you in her chair and the people who were there stand there not knowing what to do until…

“everyone out”

“but your majesty, you cannot do this”

“i can and i want to. now everyone out."

one by one they leave the room under aelin's gaze, promising a slow death to anyone who says otherwise or looks at you wrong. once everyone has left, aelin kneels in front of you, at the height of your belly, and rowan sits next to you.

aelin's hands caress your belly and as always she speaks softly to her. "hi little girl. i hope you are not giving mom too much trouble and let her rest.”

your hand strokes her hair gently and she gets up to sit at the table.

“i thought i heard that you were bored and wanted to spend time with us”

you sigh. “i've been stuck here for too long, i've already read all the books we have, i want to get out of the castle” you look at the two of them “why don't we go for a walk in the forest?”

there is silence and you wait for them to say yes, mentally crossing your fingers. rowan breaks the silence. “okay but we have to be here before it gets dark.”

you smile widely and rowan chuckles softly as aelin helps you up.

________

oakwald was undoubtedly your favorite place. you love the smell of wildflowers, the shade of the trees refreshes the atmosphere and the animals run back and forth.

after much insistence and many comments about why you shouldn't go barefoot, you finally convinced them to take off your shoes (which were also destroying your feet).

barefoot and holding onto their arms, you breathe deeply, letting your senses calm down.

you reach a clearing with a small waterfall and sit down to rest with rowan and aelin on either side.

“you don't have to stay with me, you know? why don’t you go take a bath?”

“i don't think it's-”

“yes, that's a good idea, come on, i'm not going to move from here.”

at the end, you watch as they take off their clothes and aelin runs to jump into the water while laughing. with rowan close to the shore, aelin takes the opportunity to grab his arm and pull him into the water with her. you notice the joy and love coming through the bond and you couldn't be happier for them and for the life you are creating together.

you feel a presence behind you and you turn to see what or who is behind you. a white shadow passes through the bushes. you are curious and carefully get up and follow a trail of white flowers from where you were sitting to an ancient tree. and in front of it, the lord of the north in all his splendor.

your breath stops and the lord of the north approaches with slow steps until he is in front of you. being careful not to hit you with the antlers,he caress your belly with his nose. you raise your hand slowly so as not to scare him and pet his soft fur. he turns away from you and looks into your eyes, tilting his head. respect. for you and your baby. the lord of the north looks behind you and you turn to see rowan and aelin, fully clothed. a silver line decorates rowan's green eyes, while tears run down aelin's cheeks.

with a final nod to them, the lord of the north walks away into the trees. you feel arms surround your belly and aelin leaves small kisses on your neck, tickling you. rowan stands in front of you and caresses your cheeks with his hands to kiss you softly.

“don't leave again without saying anything”

you roll your eyes “it was too good to be true”

tagging; @danikamariewrites @throneofsapphics @thehighladywrites @shadowdaddies @vanserrasswife

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

really know him

part i part ii part iii part iv

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3,190

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of eddie's childhood/parents, cops, feelings and fluff

a/n: okay, hi. look who remembered how to write for eddie!! i know, right? it's totally wild. so this is gonna be another multi-part series. i think this first one is pretty sweet. it's been nice to write some eddie for a while. i hope you guys enjoy this!! the title is a play on something dustin says to wayne in season four. also tagging @rogueharrington and @zaypay because the former is a little goon and way too good to me and the latter i know wanted some eddie and is also much to sweet to me. happy reading!! <3333

————

The screen door slams so hard that the frame rattles and the metal screeches, and you’re not even sure it shut properly. But you don’t really care.

You don’t care at all.

You practically run to the picnic table closest to your trailer, stepping onto the bench to raise yourself up and sit on the tabletop.

It rained today. It’s ended just recently enough that the trees are still dripping with it, the leaves shaking water off with each breeze that comes by, the wood table damp under where you sit.

You’re sure it’s wetting the denim of your jeans, turning the light wash of them a darker shade. But you don’t care. You don’t care about any of this. It feels so minor when you ache like this.

The feeling stretches and splays throughout your chest, crawling up your throat and producing a sob that you release into the night air.

You lean your head back and let the tears come. They spill into your hair, across the tops of your ears; they trickle down the side of your neck. They don’t seem to want to stop. They’re the kind of tears that just keep going and going. You just have to let it out. You can’t possibly hold them in because they won’t allow it.

You feel your eyes get puffy, feel your lashes sticking to your skin. You feel like a wreck.

It’s then that he sees you.

Eddie lights a cigarette, pulling his wrist the rest of the way through the jacket he’d grabbed on the way out. It’s the time of day where he walks around outside the trailer, smoking, breathing, looking for bugs or half listening to whatever show neighbors are watching with the volume loud enough that the whole trailer park can hear it.

He sees your silhouette across the sandy road, your figure cast in the orange light from the old street lamp that’s just come on, the shady area tricking it into thinking it’s fully night already.

Eddie sits down on the couch. He can’t help but look you over. No one else is usually out around now, except for that couple that sits on the old playground. They’ve lived here longer than Eddie has been alive, Wayne once told him. Everyone else is too busy having dinner or vacuuming or doing whatever the fuck it is that people do.

You drop your face into your hands, fingers becoming wet with tears.

Eddie catches the motion, the tremble in your shoulders and the way you’re folding in on yourself. It’s like you’re trying to make yourself as small as possible. Like maybe you’re trying to disappear.

Eddie thinks you obviously want to be alone. It’s probably why you’re out here in the first place. He knows that when he’s upset and he wanders off somewhere that that’s what he wants too.

But he also knows how much he’s wished to be seen or comforted before. And the idea of leaving you there, shuddering and lost, is killing him.

So he stands.

The combination of dirt and gravel crunches under Eddie’s boots, making his approach a lot less quiet than he’d originally been shooting for. But it's not like subtlety has ever been his strong suit anyways.

You hear it, the sound. You try and wipe your face dry, though it’s to no avail. It’s as if a buildup of every suppressed emotion is releasing itself all at once, and there’s nothing you can do about it until it’s over. Until you allow yourself to let it go.

Still, you try and fix yourself because you can see someone walking up out of the corner of your eye. No one ever sees you cry. There’s no reason for them to.

Eddie steps up onto the bench just as you had, settling close enough to you on the tabletop that the chain on his jeans touches your thigh. It’s cold, especially with the way your jeans are wet now, but his body is warm next to yours. There’s a part of you that wants to lean into that warmth, to lean into him.

Eddie takes the cigarette from his mouth and holds it out to you. When you turn to face him he raises his eyebrows, a sweet look on his face. Want a hit? He’s asking.

You shake your head. No thank you.

Eddie takes one more long drag and then he’s snuffing the cigarette out. If you don’t want any, he doesn’t want to bother you with it either.

“You okay?” he asks you.

You shrug.

Eddie looks at you, curls slipping from over his shoulder to dangle on one side of his face, a stark difference in color between that of his hair and cheek. At first you don’t look back, but then you do. You have to, knowing he’s got his eyes on you. You turn your head, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, eyes swollen and tears shiny against your cheeks and down your neck, making your skin look tacky. You’re fussing with the edge of your sleeve.

Eddie thinks you look young.

“How come you came over here?” you ask, looking at his boots, which remain unlaced, like he hadn’t even thought to tie them at all. “It’s not like we’re friends or something.”

The boy snorts. “We worked together on that one project in Ms. O’Donnell’s,” he points out. “Before you up and left.”

That gets the grin out of you he was hoping it would. “You mean when I graduated?”

“Yeah.” He knocks his knee against yours, fiddling with the chain clasped around his wrist. “And,” Eddie continues, “we live across from each other.” He gestures to either of your trailers and you follow the movement of his finger. The nail is painted black, though thoroughly chipped. The kind of chipping you get when it’s been so long since you’ve done your nails that you can’t even remember painting them at all. “Doesn’t that make us like, at least, acquaintances?”

You bring your hands up to your face, wiping at the tears there before getting at the ones spread throughout your hairline. “I suppose so,” you say.

You wipe your hands across the denim covering your legs and then shake them out. You look up. Eddie notices you doing this and looks up with you.

The moon is round and bright. “Is it full tonight?” he asks.

“Tomorrow,” you say. Your calendar had told you so, a little circle under the date. “Though you never answered my question.”

Eddie’s head lowers towards yours, and he’s thinking. What question? Oh. That one, yeah.

“You looked upset. I thought maybe it would be nice for you to not be alone.”

You look at him again, and his big brown eyes stare back at you. They’re shiny under the light from the street lamp, his eyelashes unfairly long and kissing at the corners. There are shadows under his eyes, but they only make him look prettier.

You think about the fact that he didn’t have to do that. Come and sit with you. It’s just the fact that he did. That he’s not prying. That he simply did not want you to be alone.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

His face splits into a sweet grin. He raises his hands, gesturing with them in a sweeping motion.

“Anytime,” he says. “I’m right there, you know. If you ever need to yell or something. As long as you’re not too busy with college for an old high school acquaintance.”

You roll your eyes at him but it’s completely void of malice. You glance back up again, and when you do, you gasp a little.

“What?” Eddie’s voice sounds slightly panicked.

You lift your hand, pointing. “Look,” you tell him. “The bats are out.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump in relief that there isn’t something wrong. But you’re right. There are at least three bats circling around the entrance to the trailer park.

One of them squeaks and you do too, though yours is out of excitement rather than whatever the reason is that bats chirp–he doesn’t know. It makes Eddie laugh.

“You like bats?”

"I do," you say, your eyes never leaving the sky. It's been a long time since you saw them, never really being out at the right time. You hope they find something good to eat.

"Me too," Eddie says.

You look away, just for a moment, remembering. "Haven't you got some on your arm?"

The boy laughs, slow and warm. "Yeah, I drew one up for my back, but I haven't saved up enough to get it done yet."

Your eyes light up, a flicker of curiosity, and Eddie thinks his heart skips a beat. "What part of your back?" you ask him.

"Lower," he says, pointing to where the bats are swooping down into the trees. You both watch them together.

"You want a tramp stamp?"

Eddie tosses his head back and cackles. It’s a beautiful, joyous sound. "I suppose I do."

“Nothing wrong with a tramp stamp, Eddie,” you say through a laugh.

He smiles at you then, and it’s boyish. He looks young. Happy. And you can’t believe he’s looking at you that way.

You turn your face back to the sky and close your eyes. Your nose stings and the tears start spilling out again.

Eddie looks at you and realizes you’re crying. He puts his hand on your knee on instinct. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

You shake your head, using one hand to wipe at your face, the other settling atop his hand. His eyes dart briefly to observe your touching hands but his focus is back on you just as quickly.

“It’s nothing,” you say. “Just having a rough night and you’re being really kind to me and I guess I’m just overwhelmed.”

You move your hand, but Eddie grabs hold of it gently.

“Look at me.”

You shake your head again.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to make fun of you,” he says, and you believe him, though really looking at him and his big brown eyes is enough to wash a surge of sadness over you.

Eddie uses his thumb to wipe the fresh tears from under your lashes, grazing the tip of your now stuffy nose with his knuckle. You wrinkle it and he grins.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Not really, no.”

Eddie nods. “That’s cool.” He smiles again, and pushes a chunk of hair behind his ear, which only makes you curious about something else.

You sniffle. “Why don’t you have your ears pierced?”

“You’re looking at me and that’s what you’re worried about?”

You rub your nose rather aggressively. “Yeah, actually. It seems very off-brand of you to not have at least one of them pierced. And I know you’re not afraid of needles.”

You don’t have to gesture to his tattoos. And that is true about the needles, but don’t be fooled. Eddie does not like getting shots. He loathes it, matter of fact.

“Nope. Definitely not. I guess I just never got around to it. But it’s not like I have something against piercings.”

You rub your denim clad knees. “I’m glad to hear it.”

The both of you are quiet for a little while. It’s a comfortable silence, one that you feel safe in with him there. Because of him. You let your eyes wander around the trailer park as if you’ve never been here before. As if you hadn’t skinned your palms and banged up your knees or gotten a sunburn here as a child. As if you hadn’t grown and watched the trailers deteriorate as time went on.

You look across the street at Eddie’s trailer, and suddenly you remember.

You must’ve been, what, twelve? When the cops showed up, escorting a little boy the same age as you, informing a man who never really wanted children that the boy belonged to him now. There were a lot of people there that day. A social worker, maybe? A whole lot of people all trying to figure out what to do with another kid whose parents had bailed.

Eddie’s father was arrested under charges of so many things you weren't really sure what they all were. He’d been running from the law for a very long time. And then one day he wasn’t running anymore.

Eddie’s mother was still there after his dad wasn’t. She tried to raise Eddie, but she couldn’t do it on her own. She’d had him young, and never really gotten the hang of it, even if she tried. How hard she tried though, that can be debated on.

After a while she turned to drugs to cope, and then when the money ran out, when the lights were off and the house cold, she ran off.

Eddie was alone, with nothing but a note and his uncle’s phone number. His mother had told herself that Eddie was a smart boy, that he’d figure it out. She got by on telling herself that her brother would take good care of her son.

And he had. He still does. Wayne was and is a better father than Eddie’s biological dad had ever been. And even if it wasn’t what he’d planned, what he’d wanted, Eddie was Wayne’s boy. He always would be.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice breaks you out of your stupor.

You shake your head.

“Thank you for sitting out here with me tonight, Eddie.”

He does his best to hide the pout he feels emerging. He doesn’t want you to go back inside, and that’s the sort of sentence that usually precedes a goodbye. He wants to talk to you. He wants to figure out who you are.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’ll sit with you any time you want. And you can always sit with me too, if you feel like it.”

You grin. Eddie thinks it’s so pretty, your smile. Shy, sure, but so, so pretty.

“You’re positive?”

“Absolutely.”

You go to stand, but Eddie beats you to it, his boots hitting the ground with a thud. He offers you his hand. “M’lady.”

His hand is surprisingly warm, and you’re quite sure the callouses you can feel will be imprinted in your brain for the rest of your life.

“Can I walk you home?” Eddie asks.

You laugh, kicking at a particularly large tree root that the rain has exposed, washing away the thin layer of dirt covering it.

“Well I don’t know, Eddie, the twenty feet to my trailer is an awful long trek. Wouldn’t want you to have to go through all of that.”

He shakes his head at you, bangs moving over his eyebrows. “You’re right. Could be dangerous. Which is why I need to go with you to ensure you get inside safely. Maybe you should even hold my hand.”

“Smooth.”

He holds out his hand. “Right?”

You take it, and he squeezes once, hard enough to make you giggle.

Eddie walks you to your trailer, and rests his chin against the worn out porch railing while you walk up the stairs.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Night, M’lady.”

————

It’s been a few days. Everything the rain touched dried out again.

Eddie’s outside. He won’t mind if you go and see him, right?

You can always sit with me too, if you feel like it.

You do feel like it.

Your front steps creak as you bound down them, looking both ways before you cross the road—if it can even be called that—as if the trailer park has ever been traffic heavy. Habit or whatever.

Eddie watches you make your way towards him, tugging on the flannel you’re wearing to try and keep it close to your sides, away from the wind.

“Hey,” Eddie says. He’s got that stupid ass grin on his face.

“Hi.” You stop before even stepping up onto the concrete slab that is his porch. “Thought I’d come and visit you. Hope that’s okay.”

“Told you it was.” He chuckles. It makes your face warm.

Eddie is slumped on the old couch they have set out there. His legs are spread wide, one splayed out and the other pulled closer to the cushion. He reaches his arms up over his head, stretching and yawning. His shirt rides up with the movement, exposing a sliver of the bottom of his stomach, the soft doughy skin there, the trail of dark hair leading both upwards and downwards.

“Wanna come sit?” He asks, lowering his arms. He pretends like he didn’t see you looking at him in that way, even though he most definitely did. If he thinks about it too hard he’ll blush.

Rather than answer, you step up and settle on the other end of the couch, your back to the arm. You pull your legs up and sit with them criss-crossed.

“What are you up to?” you ask.

He snorts. “Procrastinating. I’m supposed to be doing homework. You know, so I can do that graduating thing you did. I also have a campaign to finish, but here we are.”

You grin at him, and he reaches over, thumb tapping your knee before he rests his hand on the couch next to you. “If it helps,” you start, “I also have homework I’m supposed to be doing.”

“We’re so good at this.”

“Aren’t we?”

Eddie is quiet for a minute. He looks around outside, noting that the sun is slipping away. “You come to look for bats again?”

“No. I just wanted to see you. But I’ll gladly look for them.”

“To see me? How kind. You know just how to flatter a man.” He presses a hand to his chest dramatically and you roll your eyes.

The door that they use as their front one opens, and Wayne walks out. He looks over at you both.

“I’m headin’ out, Ed.” He smiles at you. “What’re you both up to? No good from the looks of it.”

“Lookin’ for bats,” Eddie tells him. Wayne gives the boy a knowing look, but he won’t mention it. If something’s going on, Eddie will spill eventually. That’s how it’s always worked. Eddie the motormouth and whatnot.

Wayne turns his face to the sky, hand raising to shield his eyes from that last little chunk of sun still hanging around, even though the moon has already started to climb up. “Watch that back tree line,” he instructs. “It’s where I always seem ‘em.”

“Will do,” you say, grinning.

Wayne opens his car door, throwing himself inside. “Behave!” he calls.

Eddie gives him a two finger salute and watches as his uncle drives off, turning and then Eddie can’t see him anymore.

“Us?” Eddie starts. “Behave? Why on earth would we do a thing like that?”

You toss your head back and laugh. Eddie thinks you look so pretty tonight. The sun is almost gone for the evening, the clouds turning this pretty pink, this deep orange. The clouds are a thick gray.

He wants to scoot closer to you on the couch. Maybe one day soon he will.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie stranger things #wayne munson #eddie the banished #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson angst #savannah’s fics

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celtic-crossbow · 2 months

Text

Break Apart, Leave a Scar

Pairing: Scud & Fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

Warnings: Brief description of injuries; stitches

Summary: Blade brings home an injured human and tells you to fix him up. The beginning of a beautiful friendship. Sorta.

A/N: First attempt with our dear stoner. Be gentle. Thanks, @catswonderland, for the song. 🩵

“Picking up strays now?” You pushed the needle through the mangled flesh and pulled the suture tight. Your comrade said nothing and continued to wipe down the blade of his katana. “It’ll be a miracle if he survives this anyway. Waste of my time.” There came a groan from above where you worked, but you didn’t allow yourself to look toward the source. You might actually feel sorry for him otherwise.

Blade had walked away, his absence a noticeable shift in the room. What the hell had he been thinking, bringing a human to the warehouse? What if you hadn’t had your serum? All the blood. You would have finished what had already been started.

From what you could see, there were no bites. The vamps had been fucking with him, prolonging his suffering for some twisted satisfaction it would bring once they had finally decided to drain him. Still, Blade should have left him. It would have been ruled an animal attack, accidental death.

You tied off the last suture, distantly grateful the stranger had remained, for the most part, blissfully unaware. He likely would have died from traumatic shock and pain. Standing back, you placed your hands on your hips with a huff. You had to clean him up or all your hard work would be for naught. You needed to start an IV for fluids and antibiotics, hoping to hell that the medical stocks contained what you needed. Blade had been busier than usual, which led to a great deal of wound care and no time to replenish your inventory.

You were wiping down the stranger’s neck, blood having splattered all the way to his lower face, when he stirred. You retracted your hand swiftly, watching impassively as his face twisted into a pained grimace before his eyes fluttered open. You weren’t really expecting such a vivid shade of blue.

“Where…the fuck?” Bleary eyes studied the areas he could see without turning his head. “That was…some strong shit.” He likely meant whatever it was he had been smoking before the attack. You could smell it on him easily, lingering just below the blood and the stench of the vamps that had attacked him.

“You’re safe here.” You stated flatly, holding his gaze when his eyes found yours. “When you’ve healed, we’ll drop you off and you can continue your life.” He didn’t reply. Blinking slowly, his eyes were wide and anything but fearful. More curious. “Stop staring.”

“You’re…fucking hot.” He slurred, strong enough to offer you a lopsided grin.

“I’m going to blame the blood loss.”

“Don’t be…like that, baby. You’re…smokin’.” His eyelids were already drooping.

“You should rest. I’ll start an IV.” You turned to walk away, sighing deeply when you heard the weak ‘hey’ from behind you. “Yeah?”

“What’s…your name?” His eyes were closed and his head was slowly lolling to the side, but he continuously fought to move it back.

“Doesn’t matter.” You dismissed the question without remorse.

“I’m…Joshua. Josh. But most…people… call me Scud.” And he was out, deep breaths through slightly parted lips. Tilting your head, you eased closer but still maintained a respectable distance. Scud? What the hell kinda nickname was that? He was handsome, you couldn’t deny that. Dark, shaggy hair. Lean muscle and strong shoulders. And those blue eyes. Some instinct, though, told you he was a live wire, a brain that never stopped and lacked a filter. Judging by the scent of weed that clung to his very skin, he had found a buffer for that.

“Y/N.” You told his unconscious form after another heavy sigh. “My name is Y/N.” He likely didn’t hear you, but at least you could affirm that you did indeed tell him your name.

And with that, you retreated to the stock room to gather what was needed to keep that inevitable pain in your ass alive.

#murda writes #joshua scud frohmeyer #scud fanfiction #scud #scud x reader #scud x female reader #blade 2 #Spotify

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sleepysturnss · 4 months

Text

LIPSTICK - Nate D.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

summary: you and nate have been dating for years, and you two are basically the perfect couple. nate decides to take a pitstop on the way home from shopping.

warnings: ALL FLUFF NO ANGST😍, kisses, cute ass flashbacks n some dancingg❤️

enjoy!! xx ❤️

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i smiled, pinching the tip of a lipstick case, inspecting it before sighing and putting it back in its place.

“whats wrong with that one? i think itd look lovely on you ma.” my boyfriend, nate sighed, placing his hands on my shoulders as he walked up behind me.

“too dark.” i sighed, picking up a few more, repeating the process.

“too light”

“too sparkly.” i scrunched up my nose, shaking my head.

nate watched as i picked through the hundreds of lipstick shades and sizes, occasionally coming behind me and shoving his face into my neck, his way of telling me to hurry up.

“nate i promise ill be done soon” i mumbled, ruffling his brown hair through my red nails, he smiled, leaning into the touch.

he was such a needy boyfriend, like…almost anyone who knew him would think that he couldnt care less about physical touch or quality time, but i knew that he craved that shit.

anytime i was at his house, he was holding me, kissing me, doing anything he could to feel my body heat against his.

like a puzzle piece that just fit, and without him i was just an incomplete puzzle.

like i was almost whole, but there was one piece missing, right in the center.

i liked to say i hated it, his clingy behavior, but i dont think i could live life the same without it, its become part of my life.

nate was wrapped around my heart.

he held it in his soft hands, he could drop it at any moment, but i knew he wouldnt. he would never.

the second he got it, he swore to never let it go, and he stood by his word. he has for three years. ive never met anyone like nate, and id like to think he feels the same about me.

he always knows exactly what im thinking, he can read my thoughts like your reading them right now, its quite impressive actually.

its one of the things i admire most about him, and he doesnt really have to try.

“mama, look at this, it would match your pretty nails.” he smiled sweetly, grabbing a gold lipstick case, holding it up for me to see.

he flashed his puppy eyes at me, like a golden retriever.

i didnt even look at the color before i was handing it to the woman at the register. the look on his face was quite literally priceless, his smile was so cute and genuine there was no way i wouldve said no. it could be a green lipstick, and id have still gotten it.

“you didnt even look at it ma” he whined as i handed the woman my card,

“im sure its perfect nate. besides im just ready to be home.” i shrugged, taking the small bag from her and interlocking out arms.

he smiled, sighing softly, finally being able to get my full attention.

once we got in the car, i connected my phone to bluetooth, hitting shuffle on my playlist.

i smiled when the soft hum of the music play throughout his car, k, by cigarettes after sex.

the muffled rumbling of his worn down honda made the song even better.

his car.

it was the shittiest car i had ever seen.

but i loved it so much.

there were so many memories in this ugly ass car. i always gave him shit for it but i think id kill him if he ever thought about getting rid of it.

“i love this song.” i muttered, running my thumb over his hand. i hadnt even realized he was holding it, it just felt so natural.

“i know you do.” he smiled, glancing at me before shifting his gaze to the road.

“oh really?” i smirked, tilting my head.

“how?”

he rolled his eyes, “you know why.”

i smiled, “yeah i do.”

senior prom.

he took my hand, leading me out onto the gym floor.

“i fucking hate this.” i mumbled, scrunching up my nose at the smell of sweat, alcohol, and weed.

“i know mama, but you look so beautiful in that dress, and your perfume smells like heaven.” he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine.

i could not feel my body. the ammount of nerves he gave me made me higher than any ammount of weed i had ever smoked.

i had the biggest crush on him.

i had the biggest crush on my boyfriend.

and he had the same feelings for me.

“i love cigarettes after sex” he mumbled, tearing me from my thoughts.

“what?” i hummed softly,

“i said i love cigarettes after sex.”

“me too” i smiled.

but i could tell that something had changed,

how you looked at me then.

i smiled at the memory, almost not realizing that he had skipped the turn onto his neighborhood.

“nate, you missed the…”

i paused, grinning at him as i realized what he was doing.

he smiled back at me, eventually parking his car by an abandoned barn house.

the house we had passed so many times when we were sixteen.

the house that i had always dreamed of owning. dreamed of owning with nate.

however now, it wasnt the same. it had been burned in a fire about a year ago. i was so upset when i found out, it seems silly, but that was like my teenage dream.

i had watched my teenage dream die right before my eyes on news channel five.

but none of that mattered, because i didnt need a white picket fence to prove that i was in love with nate, we both knew that.

eventually, we got out of the car.

he led me down the hill, the little weeds clinging to my sweater, the ends of my jeans lightly coated in the mud that was layered below the pretty green grass.

my stupid converse that i wore to senior prom.

the stupid converse that he had bought me on our very first date.

a size too big.

they still fit. three years later,

they still fit.

we stopped at the bottom of the hill, there was a pond not too far from us, there were still a few stray ducks.

he took my left hand, then my right, pulling my arms around his shoulders, his arms rested on my waist.

“i remember when i first noticed that you liked me back.” he hummed the lyrics of the song we danced to in higschool, swaying us slowly back and forth, the tall grass rubbing against my baggy jeans.

“think i like you, best when your just with me…and no one else.” i whispered, pressing my forehead against his, like we did a few years ago.

“i still get butterflies from you.” he whispered, smiling softly.

“ive still got a crush on you.” i whispered back, the corners of my lips curving up.

“your smiles still as beautiful it was when we were in eighth grade.” he mumbled, playing with a strand of my hair.

“your eyes are just as pretty as they were when we were sixteen.” i tilted my head, my eyes subconsciously falling to his lips.

as if he read my mind, he had leaned forward slightly, pressing his lips against mine.

it wasnt rough or forced, it was the perfect kiss a person would imagine.

like the ones in the movies.

the kinds you read in books, that you laugh at when they say their boyfriends lips fit perfectly together.

i used to laugh, but it really is true.

nate was my puzzle piece that fit perfectly against my lips, against my heart.

he pulled away, a small hint of blush had found its way onto his cheeks.

“youve got the lipstick all over your lips now” i giggled, trying to smear it off.

“stop, stop.” he pushed my hand away from his mouth, laughing lightly. “i like it.” he smiled, rubbing his hands over my back.

i took his hand, sitting down in the grass, pulling him down with me.

we just studied the light blue sky for a while, a comfortable blanket of silence warming the atmosphere.

“im gonna buy this house one day.” he glanced at me, “im gonna fix it up, for us and our little ones.”

“really?” i grinned, leaning into him.

his arm slid over my shoulder, hugging me to his chest,

“yeah.”

stop this is so cute i love writing shit like this oddmdme

goodnight cuties xx

#Spotify #nathan doe #nate doe #n8 #sturniolos #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #idk #chris sturniolo #help #sturniolo #sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #fluff #cigarettes after sex #k #cute

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satuguro · 1 year

Text

✧*ೃ࿐ TONGUES & TEETH

[ ACT III: VICTORY'S SWEETHEART]

xavier thorpe x valkyrie! reader

#SYNOPSIS— people learn to never have a race with a valkyrie, you can't keep yourself together around the nightshades, and xavier needs to stop getting shoved up against hard places.

#CONTAINS— enemies to fwb to lovers, academic rivals, intimidating and flawed reader, familial issues (will mention more later on), gore, blood, death, aged up characters (everyone is 18 except for eugene), sexual content (in some other parts)

#AUTHORSNOTE— thank you guys sm for the overwhelming support in the last part! also do we want playlists/hcs/little imagines for xavier and valkyrie! reader? just lmk xx

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III. ACT IV, ACT V, ACT VI

you wrapped a blanket around your form as you swung your legs to the side of the bed. the first rays of dawn shone through xavier' s window, your head hung down as you let out a slow exhale.

of course, you found yourself in his bed. to say that you didn't expect it would be a lie.

you forced yourself up and began to walk around his bed to his bathroom, the blanket dragging on the floor in your wake. you passed where xavier slept peacefully, his mouth slightly parted as small breaths escaped it. his hair was a mess of a halo on his pillow, his features no longer stone cold or unreadable, but peaceful and content. a purple mark was visible right along his collarbone, the shade beautiful against his skin.

you had tired him out the previous night; if the housemaster didn't know you were there, he definitely knew now.

xavier's arm was out from beneath the covers, your hand reaching out instinctively to pull the blanket over his arm. you stopped yourself however, your jaw clenching as you thought a little bit too hard about what it meant to sleep with xavier. you came to one conclusion.

you didn't like him romantically.

you opened the door to his bathroom, shutting it gently behind you as you looked at yourself in the mirror with a sigh. your hair was a knotted mess, your collarbone and shoulder displaying two hickeys for all to see. you cursed under your breath— now you had to hide them.

after doing a quick check that he didn't use 3-in-1 body wash, you used xavier's shower, the heat turned all the way up as you allowed your body to relax. you finished quickly, trying to leave before xavier woke up, but as you were wrapping your body in a towel, there was a knock on the door.

you quickly fixed the towel around your body, your hand reaching for the doorknob to open it. standing in front of you in only his boxers, xavier looked at you, your wet hair dripping all over the floor, the steam from the shower radiating out of his bathroom. his eyes trailed down to the hickeys on your collarbone, nodding over to it with a small smirk.

"good luck with that," he said, and you groaned as you pushed him out of your way as you made your way out of the bathroom. his head turned to follow you, watching you as you grabbed your underwear and pulled it up your legs, one of your arms holding your towel. "are we gonna talk about last night?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe.

"nothing to talk about," you stated, turning your head to look at him. "i don't like you like that."

"right." xavier nodded stiffly, swallowing as he continued to look at you. "i don't like you like that either."

"right." with that, the conversation was over.

xavier shook his head to himself as he went into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

you left without a goodbye. you were sure that he would get over it.

to say that it was embarrassing to walk back into your dorm room after that night would be a understatement. you were thankful everyone was busy getting ready for the poe cup that afternoon, because once you walked into your dorm room, you found the room uncharacteristically empty. no deadpan comments, no yarn strung all over the place, just silence.

you sighed as you grabbed your poe cup costume from the closet. but the sound of rapid tapping behind you made you grab a knife from your top shelf, turning around and throwing it at where the sound originated.

thing was on the ground, shaking with their fingers spread out to avoid the knife that narrowly missed them. they quickly stood back up, raising a quick middle finger to you before they began to climb up your bed frame.

"sorry about that, thing," you apologized with a sheepish smile, reaching down to get your knife out of the ground. you looked at the hand, who began to rapidly sign out of confusion. you nodded in understanding. "yeah, i saw you and wednesday slip out when i knocked on the door. smart move— was it your idea?'

thing nodded, before signing even more, their question making you send them a glare as you put your clothes over your arm. "yeah, i made it out of there alive. i was just busy this morning," you lied, managing eye contact with the hand. you rolled your eyes as thing shook their head. "fine. don't believe me," you stated, but thing slapped the pole of your bedframe, making you turn back. "what now?"

thing signed again. you should've known better than to lie to a hand.

"yes, i slept with him. happy now?" you asked, watching thing respond before letting out a laugh. "oh, you're funny, thing. you really are."

thing shook their head, signing their words again. your smile melted when you realized they were being serious; how could they ask that and be genuinely serious about it?

"i don't like thorpe, thing."

thing signed again. "why not?"

you shrugged, fixing the clothes in your arms. "i just don't see him like that. besides, he's infuriating; it wouldn't work out."

for someone with no face, thing didn't look convinced. they climbed down to your bed, patting the space next to them. you raised a brow. "seriously?"

thing patted the area harder.

reluctantly, you stepped to your bed and plopped yourself down on it, looking at thing skeptically. in any other instance, you would've strangled thing for making things more serious than they really were, but you actually liked thing. they were nice to talk to, even if they were just a hand.

thing began to sign again. "you seem defensive."

"and you seem nosy for a hand," you replied wittily, placing your clothes to the side of you. "i'm telling you, thing; there's nothing to be defensive about."

thing tapped their finger on the bed in thought before replying. "what's your relationship with him, then?"

you shrugged, "we slept together once. that's all the relationship will be."

you adjusted the cat ear headband you wore as you made your way to the boats set up along the lake. your costume was the same as all the other girls in your team, but your's was backless, allowing for your wings to stretch out when needed. your appearance made enid tap wednesday eagerly, her hand coming up to point at you as you made your way towards them with thing on your shoulder.

"y/n! oh my god where have you been—" enid sniffed you, nose scrunching as she smelled you three times.

"enid, stop smelling y/n," wednesday stated, brows coming down ever so slightly. "most people would consider that rude."

"you smell like someone!" enid said in shock, eyebrows raised far up her head as she practically bounced around you. "where were you last night? we were both so worried—"

"only she was worried," wednesday interrupted blankly, "i told her that you weren't one to shy away from murder." she held her hand out for thing to jump on it.

"we were worried," enid corrected, nudging wednesday and sending her a look. "wednesday told me she and thing left you back at xavier's— where did you go after that?"

"the library. they let me stay a little longer and i ended up falling asleep," you lied casually with a shrug, walking over to the dock where your boat was. you knelt down to observe it, playing an indifferent facade. "

"you're lying," wednesday stated, her comment doing nothing to change your facade.

"i'm not, but believe what you want," you said, looking up with an innocent smile. you stood back up again, crossing your arms and peering behind the two girls. a competitive smirk made its way onto your face when you saw xavier and his team dressed up like jesters, all of them making their way to their nearby boat.

"where are your whiskers, y/n?" xavier asked snarkily as he walked by you, enid, and wednesday to make his way into his boat.

you ignored him, rolling your eyes at his stupid comment before looking at enid, whose eyes were wide in realization. "that smell," she trailed off, making you chuckle nervously as you took her shoulder and turned her towards the boat.

"okay, enid, maybe wednesday's right— you have to stop sniffing people."

"i recognize why you smell so different now!" enid hissed, pullin gyou and wednesday closer to her. she sniffed you again, her head nodding rapidly as her conclusion was confirmed. "y/n, you smell like xavier's shampoo."

you and wednesday blinked. once. twice. three times.

"y/n, you didn't," wednesday began with a warning tone, only to be interrupted by fanfare music, signaling the beginning of the race. quickly, you hopped into your place on the boat, grabbing your oar as you readied yourself to win.

you were practically thrumming with excitement, the chance to play hard and ruthless being something that made you incredibly happy. it was the valkyrie in you; in a way, you saw this poe cup as a war. it was a bit terrifying to see you look so determined, your eyes glinting dangerously as you looked ahead of you, waiting for the signal to begin. you paid no mind to anyone but yourself and your team, not even when you felt xavier's eyes look at you to your right.

in front of you, wednesday scolded a lovestruck enid, her tone warning and jealous as he made the werewolf focus on the task at hand.

"we'll win, don't worry," you assured them, your lips curling up into a mischievous smile.

bianca's voice made you huff in annoyance, her comment about 'the runts of the litter' being nothing but worthless shit talk that you couldn't bring yourself to care too much about. you were ignoring her, listening to wednesday quickly shut her down before the siren said a comment that made you grip your oar tighter.

"xavier's muse," bianca called to you, her cheshire grin widening when she saw you turn your head her way. "i heard you had fun last night."

"i have a name, and i'm not his muse," you responded coldly, the title 'xavier's muse,' making you clench your jaw angrily. you didn't belong to anyone.

"right," bianca drawled, looking ahead of her. "you know what they say about artists and their muses.."

"and you know what they say about bitter exes," you said with a casual shrug, turning away from the siren to look at the lake in front of you. "you'll know my name soon enough," you grumbled under your breath, too focused on the idea of victory to give up too much of your time to bianca. you hated people who had no reason to be smug or cocky.

principal weems began explaining the poe cup to the crowd, but your mind was elsewhere as you kept your oar up. the sound of the blank gunshot signaled the beginning of the race, and you began to row. your team kept a steady pace, making your way down the river, only for xavier's boat to narrowly bump yours.

"oh, excuse us," xavier called behind his shoulder, his grin evident as he passed you. you let out an angry huff, ignoring the need to row faster; that would throw the entire team off.

another boat came up alongside you, their mechanisms making an axe fly over your heads, immediately, you ducked, sending them an angry glare. but your glare melted, for their boat began to move on its own all the way to a buoy, their boat collapsing as its side crashed.

you squinted in the distance, wednesday pulling out binoculars at the same time. you both saw a siren's tail flick in the air before disappearing into the water.

of course it was the sirens.

you knew your team had panned for this though, so you continued the row in time with the others. your boat docked on a small dock right next to the amontillados boat.

"stay here and make sure bianca doesn't sabotage our boat," wednesday ordered enid, before turning to you. "you're gonna help me against anyone who's there."

you nodded once, running after wednesday. you squinted into the woods, a wide grin creeping on your face when you let ajax run by you, his hands empty as he ran ahead of xavier. you pretended to focus ahead of you until ajax was far ahead.

once you passed xavier, you shoved him up against a tree, reaching out for his flag. he groaned, but stretched it out of your way, glaring at you. "do you really think i'd just give you our flag, kitty?" he teased, cocking his head with a slight smirk.

the nickname irked you. "no," you responded, gazing into his eyes before leaning close to his neck, your breath fanning over his skin. you could feel his breathing turn heavy, his pulse racing under your touch as your lips brushed over his skin.

you were just fucking around with him at this point.

"you're so easy," you whispered against his neck. "i bet you love this."

xavier could practically feel you smile against his skin. his head fell back against the tree as he felt you bite his skin, a whimper leaving his lips as he felt your tongue sooth the mark. he was so distracted by you that his hand holding the flag began to loosen.

you swiftly grabbed his flag out of his grasp before throwing it like a javelin deeper into the woods. you ran off, laughing and yelling behind your shoulder, "good luck, thorpe!" you ran to crackstone's crypt, brows furrowing as you ran up to wednesday. immediately, you knelt down to shake her, your worry briefly overcoming your thirst for victory.

if you weren't in the middle of a competition, you would've been worried that you actually made friends. valkyries rarely ever made friends, and from what your sisters told you, it was always easier to be alone. it was easier for you to do your job.

"wednesday!" you snapped, looking up as bianca and divina grabbed their flag.

wednesday woke up just in time to hear bianca snarkily ask, "taking a catnap?" which made your hands curl into fists.

"are you okay?" you asked wednesday, helping her up quickly and brushing off some leaves from her. "i need you to run back to the boat with the flag. i'll take care of the sirens' boat. understand?" you asked, letting your wings stretch out behind you.

without another word, wednesday nodded, grabbing the flag and running back to the boat. she felt the wind from your wings behind her as you flew up high above the forest.

"where have you been?" ajax frantically asked xavier as he ran back with the flag, his cheeks red as he jumped in.

"just row," xavier replied bitterly, putting the flag down as he grabbed his oar. the gold bugs and black cats were quick on their trail; xavier had wasted a significant amount of time running to retrieve the flag you had thrown deep in the woods. he found it lodged in to a tree, and spent more time trying to get it out of the wood.

"where were you— where's y/n?" enid asked wednesday worriedly, already hopping into the boat.

"she has a plan," wednesday managed out, putting their flag into the boat and grabbing her oar. "let's go."

xavier's entire team failed to see the scratches that enid left on their boat. they were almost there, the feeling of victory so, so close until water began to seep in. immediately, the black cats rowed by them, enid laughing loudly with a, "see you, jokers!"

"cheaters!" xavier yelled to them, but they were already far ahead of their boat, close behind the gold bugs. he harshly threw his oar into the boat, resulting in him falling off of his seat. he groaned as he felt the water seeped into his pants, looking up in exasperation.

the sunlight was blocked briefly from his eyes, which made him squint up into the sky to see what had obstructed the light. he saw you, flying above your canoe with your wide wings blocking the sun. he had never seen your actual wings before. they were huge and white with brown patterns on the longer feathers, similar to that of an owl's. your wingspan was huge, which allowed you to quickly catch up with the gold bugs.

you squinted down at the boat ahead of your team, a discontented frown tugging at your lips. "oh, now that won't do," you murmured to yourself, flying down quickly.

the spikes you had sharpened came out from the side of the black cats' boat. your team rowed faster as they tried to scratch bianca's boat, their work almost paying off until kent pushed the gold bugs' boat away.

but you were far stronger than some siren.

your wings flapped as you dove down close to the water, hands gripping the gold bugs' boat. you looked at bianca with a toothy smile, raising a hand in a small wave. "hey, fish."

"what're you doing?!" bianca demanded, trying to row faster. but it was all to no avail; with one push, you shoved bianca's boat closer to the spikes, successfully scratching their boat deeply. you flew away, laughing as you watched their boat sink sadistically.

you pushed behind your team to help them to the dock before landing on the wood. you ran between wednesday and enid as you all raised your flag in victory. you cheered loudly, jumping next to enid and wednesday as you raised the flag higher in victory.

receiving the cup was far more satisfactory than you thought. you could see the discontented faces of all the losers in the crowd, watching as enid raised the huge cup over her ehad and cheered loudly. you liked winning. but you liked watching the losers most of all.

like the bitter sirens at the table, their main weapon— kent, who had no more than two braincells to rub together —sporting a black eye from thing's help. he was getting scolded by his sister, and you could only smile happily.

that night, you had decided to fly over nevermore and jericho. you had almost forgotten how much you loved flying, and while you did have your brief chanced to stretch your wings every once in a while, you yearned to have them out longer. you wanted to fly over the clouds and see the stars and moon with no obstructions. you wanted the wind to flow under you and for birds to look up at you when they passed below.

the only problem now was sneaking back in. you had a balcony, sure, but you knew that weems would call you to her office immediately if she saw you casually escaping nevermore for a flight. especially after that night with rowan.

you slipped into a corridor in the courtyard, quietly making your way back to your room before you immediately moved to the side. your reflexes acted quicker than your mind did, because you were now looking at wednesday, who seemed equally as confused as you.

"where did you come from?" wednesday asked, observing your messy hair and flushed cheeks. "did you sleep with xavier again?"

you thought you had escaped that subject. enid had easily forgotten it, as she was distracted by her victory in the poe cup, but you knew wednesday wouldn't let it go so easily.

"no," you responded with a roll of your eyes. "i went out flying." your eyes darted down to the image wednesday held in her hand, lips tugging into a small frown. "are you investigating right now?"

"i found the nightshade society symbol on a statue," wednesday explained, briskly continuing to walk. you walked quickly beside her; you could just sleep later. besides, wednesday wasn't complaining yet.

"right," you nodded, turning a corner with wednesday. in front of you, a large statue of edgar allan poe stood with a book in one hand and a raven in the other.

wednesday began to climb up to the statue, peering at the open pages of the book. you followed her ministrations, climbing up the opposite side.

"every line is a different riddle," wednesday murmured, quickly taking out a pocketbook as she began to write. "the opposite of moon— sun. a world between ours—"

"nether," you replied quickly, wednesday sending you a quick look before she wrote it down. "the next one is april, then after that it's a pansy, then two, then willow— you'd think that he'd have harder riddles. where's the challenge?" you grumbled, allowing wednesday to write down the rest of the answers on her notepad. you both climbed down, and you looked over her shoulder at the answer.

SNAP TWICE.

a nostalgic smile graced wednesday's face as she looked up the statue and snapped twice. the raven's wings flapped down, and poe's arm moved closer to his book as both the statue and the wall behind it moved back, revealing stairs that went below the ground.

you and wednesday walked down the steps. you could feel your adrenaline pumping and your senses high at the sudden feeling of being watched. it wasn't by the paintings — that much you knew — but you felt as though there were other people here.

the large symbol of the nightshades was embellished into the floor, and the paintings of past members all stared at you from the walls they decorated. wednesday's flashlight lingered on a photo of her young mom and dad while you walked to one of the book cases. even in the dim light, you could see that one book had been taken out more recently than the others.

you pulled it out of the shelf and opened it, wednesday approaching you and watching as you quickly flipped through. eventually, you found the page that rowan had torn.

"here." you handed wednesday the book, and the shoved it into her bag. you both turned around, ready to leave, before someone almost shoved a bag over your head.

almost.

you grabbed the hands that held the bag, coming face to face with a masked and hooded figure. you shoved them up against the wall, their hands still over their head as you hand came around their throat. you squeezed, gazing into the eyes of the person behind the mask. you were ready to suffocate them for even thinking of laying a hand on you, only for a punch was thrown at your head, knocking you out.

you woke up to the bag being pulled off of your head, your eyes getting used to the projector pointed at you and wednesday, who sat beside you. she didn't even look phased; she almost looked disappointed. your hands moved against the tie around your wrists. you almost let out a laugh; who did they get to tie these knots?

the cloaked and masked figures surrounded you in a circle, and they were almost menacing if it weren't for the fact that you and wednesday already knew who all of them were.

"who dares breach our inner sanctum?" one spoke loudly, their voice obviously changed to fit the aesthetic they had put up.

"you can take the mask off, bianca," wednesday stated, obviously unimpressed by the whole situation.

collective groans of disappointment echoed around you from the members of the nightshade society, their hands coming up to pull their hoods and masks off. you couldn't help but bite back a laugh at their obvious disappointment at failing to be even the least bit scary. you were met with some of the sirens, as well as ajax, yoko, and xavier. you bite back a laugh at his ridiculous getup; you preferred the jester costume over his weird cloak.

"wait, i preferred you with it on," wednesday added snarkily, her tone as cold as ever.

"how did you get down here?" xavier asked you both, his hair disheveled form the hood and his close call with death.

"is it hard to?" you asked with a cock of your head, making xavier send you a sarcastic smile that quickly dropped.

"rowan showed us. left pocket." wednesday glanced down at the left pocket.

xavier stepped forward, grabbing the page from her pocket.

"i tracked the watermark to the poe statue. then y/n and i solved the riddle."

"there's a riddle?" kent asked with a frown, looking at the other members in confusion. "i thought we just snapped twice."

"this one's real smart," you said sarcastically. "you guys really do recruit the best of the best."

"the nightshades are an elite social club. emphasis on elite." bianca gave you a look after her last comment, looking you up and down.

"we have roof parties, campouts, the occasional midnight skinny dip," yoko said, and you swore you could hear pride in her voice.

"and yoko's an amateur mixologist," divina added. now she was proud.

"she makes a killer virgin mojito. it can get pretty wild," ajax said with a smile, and with that you finally let out a laugh.

"holy shit, you're all prudes!" you managed out between laughs, practically falling off of your chair. "have you all ever actually drank? or went to bed past curfew," you snickered, making wednesday huff as she continued.

"last i heard, the nightshades had been disbanded," wednesday said, ignoring you as you sighed happily, obviously content with your laughter.

"yeah, the group kind of lost its charter 30 years ago after some normie kid died," xavier responded, eyes avoiding yours as he looked at wednesday.

"but we have a lot of wealthy alumni, so weems looks the other way as long as nobody makes any waves," yoko explained further, her fangs visible in the minimal light.

"must be nice," you said with a faux sigh of sadness, "so let me guess— to join, you you have to be rich."

"you have to be respectable and well known," bianca stated, glaring at you, "and we all know that you're anything but," she said with a fake smile.

"well i am well known. but even i know that respect is earned," you tilted your head, humming to yourself as you sent bianca a grin, "i'm not sure you're aware of that, though."

"rowan certainly caught some unnecessary attention," wednesday commented she was focusing purely on the task at hand; she knew you could always deter whatever bianca threw at you.

"we booted that loser last semester," bianca responded casually, her careless disrespect for the dead making your hands curl into fists.

"don't talk about him like that," you said, anger thrumming through your body. someone like rowan didn't deserve to be spoken of like that. while you knew they probably believed that rowan was alive and well, you knew that you sent the right soul to the heavens. to hear someone speak so carelessly about a departed soul made you angry. they deserved anything but disrespect.

"he's alive. god, you two and death," bianca rolled her eyes, clasping her two hands in front of her. "question is, what are we gonna do with them? only members are allowed in this library."

"use a better riddle then," you muttered bitterly under your breath, making xavier sigh as he silently weighed his options.

"i say we invite them to pledge," xavier stated, confused murmurs echoing through the nightshades. "she is a legacy," he pointed to the photo of wednesday's mom and dad, "and y/n would be a good asset to the nightshades."

"awe, how nice." sarcasm dripped from your words, xavier's words doing nothing to change your attitude.

"after the crap they pulled in the poe cup, there's no way in hell," bianca said sternly, her obvious dislike for the both of you evident in her tone. "we talk about not making waves, both of they are a tsunami."

"just because we beat you at your own game? let me save you the trouble— i'm not interested in joining." you could wednesday's look, usually devoid of all emotion, shine with a hint of annoyance at bianca's pettiness.

"neither am i," you added with a satisfactory smile.

"you're seriously turning us down?" yoko asked in disbelief, raising a judgemental eyebrow.

"shocking, isn't it?" you stood up and stretched your arms over your head, ignoring the looks from the others as you let out a yawn. you had freed yourself the moment you realized that whomever tied the knots didn't actually know what they were doing.

"i freed myself five minutes ago." wednesday stood up with you, holding up the untied rope for all to see. she grabbed the page from xavier as she made her way to the stairs.

"did you tie us?" you asked xavier as you walked by him, "is that why it was so easy to get out?" your teasing was getting to him; you could see it in the way he was clenching his jaw and practically scowling at you. you walked up to stand alongside wednesday, who stood in front of kent.

"do you want a matching black eye?" wednesday asked coldly, shoving the rope into his chest.

you could only ignore the siren as you easily walked by him and made your way to the stairs. you looked down at wednesday walking behind you; she seemed irked by something.

"it's amateurs like you who give kidnapping a bad name," wednesday said in an annoyed tone, obviously disappointed that she was kidnapped incorrectly.

"okay, let's go addams," you grumbled, motioning for wednesday to go up the steps with you.

"all students will report for their volunteer jobs at 10:00 am sharp, followed by a community lunch at 1:00," weems said to the students gathered at the courtyard. but you were too busy looking at the full page of the book with wednesday to give your full attention to the principal.

"weird," was all you could say about the subject, having not received the full story of everything. "you said that you saw that girl during the poe cup?"

"in a vision." wednesday shut the book abruptly, glancing at the courtyard. it was exactly the same as the image, all the way down to the tree.

"as you know, this year's outreach day culminates in a very special event, the dedication of a new memorial statue in the town square, which will also include performances by nevermore students." excited sounds rippled through out the crowd, which only made weems' smile brighter. "i trust you will all put your best face forward."

you took an envelope from one of the professors as enid walked towards you and wednesday excitedly. "i got pilgrim world!' she squealed, showing you both the envelope. "i do have natural people skills and a love of performing, so it's kind of the obvi choice. what'd you guys get?"

"the weathervane," you stated blankly, scrunching your nose in slight disappointment.

"uriah's heap," wednesday read, "whatever that is."

"the weathervane is a cafe while uriah's heap is this weird, creepy antique store," a look of disgust shadowed over enid's face before she forced a smile at wednesday, "you'll love it though!" she turned her head to look at a specific gorgon standing next to xavier. she sighed happily, "i'm crossing my claws ajax and i will be outreaching together."

the bus ride to jericho was just how you remembered most school bus rides. it was rowdy and loud, with so many students speaking to each other at once that it felt impossible to think. but thankfully, jericho wasn't too far away.

you hopped out of the bus, mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead as you walked down the street. your focus went to a familiar long-haired individual standing in front of a blank wall at the side of the sidewalk.

"why are you staring at a blank wall?" you asked, only half curious as you stood with him. the brick wall was completely whited out.

"it wasn't blank last outreach day." xavier gave you a side eye, the fact that you went out of your way to approach him only a little odd to him. but his tone held a certain kind of bitterness that made you furrow your brows; this is the first time you have been civil to him and he was still annoyed by something.

"i wasn't aware that my presence irked you this much," you said as you turned your head to look at him.

"i went out on a limb for you and wednesday the other night," xavier focused his attention on the wall, but you could see his lips tugging into a frown.

"we didn't ask you to. i didn't ask you to." you would rather do anything but be in some prude society full of teens who believed that virgin mojitos were scandalous. "besides," you continued, "you're probably just using me to get back at bianca."

"where did you get that idea?" xavier asked you, finally turning his head your way. of course he was bothered by you mentioning bianca in the first place— he thought he made it clear that he wasn't interested in her anymore.

"i'm not blind, nor am i deaf. don't even get me started on wednesday— i told you to just tell her how you feel." you kicked at a nearby stone on the ground. "but hey, take my advice or not. i have other stuff to focus on."

"like what?"

"figuring out what that thing that attacked rowan was. proving to everyone that he's dead," you saw xavier's look of disbelief and scoffed. "don't tell me you still don't believe me."

"i told you that rowan was expelled. everyone saw him leave—you just got the wrong person," xavier was completely exasperated at this point, looking at you as though you were crazy.

"when you bring someone's soul to the sky, you know it's them," you fired back defensively, "you feel them. their pain for having to leave, the eventual acceptance, the war they fought," you swallowed, stopping yourself from getting to into your entire position. you let out a slow exhale to stop yourself from saying too much, eyes focused on the ground as you grounded yourself.

and xavier watched it all. he was reading you like a book, his eyes drifting to the different tells he was receiving from you; your hands clenching into fists and unclenching, your slow breaths, how you suddenly avoided eye contact when he knew fully well that you had a tendency to do it to everyone. he wanted to say something to help you talk about your overall care for the subject of death and your job, but instead he stayed quiet, managing a soft, "take your time," that made you swallow thickly.

"have you spoken to him lately?" you managed to ask, crossing your arms defensively. you still managed to look into his green eyes, your irises stone cold; your guard went back up again.

"i texted him a few times, but i never head him back," xavier replied, "i just figured he wanted nevermore in his rearview mirror."

"or he's dead." there it was again, your competitive and determined spirit.

"i understand that it's your job to bring souls up there, but i don't understand why you care so much." xavier began to walk down the street, and you were quick to walk next to him.

you didn't like walking behind people.

"i don't understand how you can care so little," you said, easily catching up with his strides. "wednesday and i saw everything, it's literally my duty to bring up the right person—"

"you snuck into the nightshade's library. wednesday has a little more leeway since her parents were past members, but you don't," xavier snapped, stopping on the sidewalk to fully look at you. "you can add 'trespasser' and 'thief' on your resume, right next to 'murderer.'"

you scoffed. "that was years ago, and he deserved it. you don't know shit."

"and you do?" xavier rolled his eyes, poking at your chest. you were standing stiffly, your eyes looking down at his finger before you looked up at him with a warning glare. but xavier didn't back down. "i know that wednesday stole a book from the library too."

"do you know anything about that?" you asked him with a tilt of your head.

xavier pinched his nose bridge; he didn't understand how you two could be so persistent on the matter. especially you, who had literally slept with him a few days ago, who acted as though it was nothing (and it was), standing in front of him and interrogating him in the middle of the sidewalk. "rowan had the book open on his desk a few days before the harvest festival," he said reluctantly, making your eyebrows raise, "i just thought that he stole it after he got kicked out of the nightshades." xavier sighed, reminiscing about that night. "i confronted him about it, and he kind of went ballistic on me."

"but what's weird is that wednesday is in that journal. like, that girl in the courtyard with crackstone looks exactly like her."

"the guy in the image is crackstone? like the guy that founded jericho crackstone?" you asked, starting to walk down the sidewalk.

xavier followed behind you, saying, "is there another joseph crackstone?" he nodded to a nearby sign, for pilgrim world. "that's him."

"ew." you scrunched your nose at that, standing next to xavier as you arrived at the town's courtyard.

the mayor began to speak to all the students, welcoming them for their help. but you honestly couldn't care less, because once he and weems stopped talking, you turned around and made your way to the weathervane. you were disappointed that xavier was trailing behind you.

stopping in front of the entrance to the weathervane. "nice talk. this is me."

"this is me too." xavier groaned in realization, his head falling back at the thought of having to spend the rest of the day around you.

"this'll be so much fun," you said through gritted teeth, shoving the door open to the cafe.

ACT IV, ACT V, ACT VI

#AUTHORSNOTE— casual reminder that nsfw thoughts are open primarily for xavier but i do take other characters as well! thank you guys for commenting and interacting with my stories, ily

#TAGLIST— @gamorxa @rayliz793 @cali-888 @targaryensswp @hopefulfuturenovelauthor @just-amess @maystecc @cmac-writes @ahnneyong @importantpuppyshark @mannstarkey @alienm0vie @carinacassiopeiae @simonsbluee @g3org1al33 @killmewithafanfic @nattheartless13 @astrynyx @idontknowwhattodo35 @addisonnie @wxnderingthoughts @r1dd1kulus @smol-book-nerd @555stargirl555 @wonderlandco @siriuslysmoking @skye231 @boomitsallie1 @southernraven @buckleylips @yunoguns

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rileebilee · 6 months

Text

apple cider - beabadoobee ☆

yumi x reader

warnings - fluff, rushed, spelling mistakes, pet names, she / fem reader

etc - hai im back..

"we both like apple cider, but your hair be smelling like fruit punch."

she woke up from the couch, beneath the other taller male, blushing a bit. she giggled from the movie night the night before, shaking her head at the though of it. she flipped over to face the male, admiring him gently. she shook him a bit, waking him up slowly as she smiled. the grasp of the man around her had loosened enough where she could get out.

"good morning sleepy head!!" she got up and jumped at him to wake him up, "fuck you." he huffed.

"and i dont even like you that much, wait.. i do. (fuck..)"

"LARRY THIS ISNT FUNNY!!" she yelled at the other on call, hitting her head on her desk in embarrasment. "OKAY ITS A LITTLE FUNNY, YOUR INLOVE WITH ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS!!" he giggled. "YOUR NO HELP!!" she hung up, blushing. she didnt know how to process her emotions, she didnt know if she loved yumi or if it was a silly little crush.

"call me at midnight, lets give this thing a try"

"yumi.." she sighed, "y/n.." he mocked her. "yumi this isnt a funny call time, im serious right now, im inlove with you and i dont knoe how to control this, youve been teasing me and giving me mixed emotions, please just tell me if your joking or not." she teared up, feeling scared after she admitted it. "ofcourse i love you y/n, ive loved you ever since we were in highschool. ive been waiting for your to say somethkng because ive been scared to say something" he giggled. "lets give this thing a try then?" she smiled.

"you said you liked my hair, so go ahead and touch it."

she jumped in yumis arms at the airport, she hasnt seen him since she had to fly back home a year ago. "hi baby." he giggled, hugging her tightly, kissing her cheek. "i like what you did with your hair, its cute." he smiled, grabbing her hand to hold and walked to his car. once they got home they started up their movie night again, he gently started playing with her hair while she laid her head on his chest.

"you said you liked the jumper i wore, so i always wore it"

"what do you think?" she spun around to show her outfit for their coffee shop date, giving off an autumn vibe. "your jumper looks like autumn i love it." he hugged her, kissing her softly. "its my favorite so expect me to wear it alot!!" she giggled and grabbed her backpack as she ran out the door to get in his car.

"its really nice to talk to you, its really nice to hold your hand."

she smiled as they talked in the car, gently rubbing her thumb against his hand as they held hands. "i love talking to you, my love." yumi smiled at her gently, his eyes beaming in the sunset. she smiled, turning a shade of red. "shut up with the names" she scoffed.

"ask if its alright, to have a sleep over, to drink some apple cider.. or some fruit punch!"

"can i sleepover tonight?" she asked yumi over the phone. "why not, also can you buy some fruit punch please i ran out" he covered his screen in emojis on ft, giggling softly. "ok fuck you and yes ill get your fruit punch" she smiled, grabbing her stuff to leave and drive to the store. staying on call with him on the way, showing him his options of flavors and giggled about people that gave her weird looks.

"and we can talk about how we don't like each other that much.."

"your so rude i hate you." she scoffed, "you love me dont lie" he giggled, kissing her gently. "maybe." she rolled her eyes.

#marswhyyy #the group chat #the group chat podcast #isaacwhy #bigt #larrycroft #softwilly #yumi #shit self #yumi x reader #yumimain #Spotify

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coveholdenmyluv · 4 months

Text

R. Braun - Honey Soaked Promises

synopsis. In which you reminisce on your quest for revenge, irrigated with broken promises and fermented with betrayal, allowing you to act as the judge between life or death for yourself and the viper dressed in the skin of the love of your life.

— or alternatively, in which you make the stupid decision to fall in love with the wrong person on your journey to freedom...

Oh well, you'll just have to kill him now.

series masterlist

chapter warnings. Unrequited love, angst, mourning/grieving, (our girl is going thru it), comfort, fluff.

chapter synopsis. Eren asks you a question that you don’t know how to answer. Then, you’re forced to endure a day of anguish.

IV| Snowmen and Candles. 10k words.

“His honeyed eyes seemed to shift a shade deeper, the vibrant saffron flame reflected its visage onto his pupils, a sight that brought among the warmth to your insides once again.”

Or, maybe you would.

Year 851

The sand seeps between your toes as you stroll along the shore, careful not to pierce the skin of your soles with the stray fragmented shells littered across the ground. Your fingers fly to the band on your head, slipping it out of your hair, seeing as it was deemed useless to prevent your long strands from tickling your face by the harsh but invigorating breeze that drew in with the waves.

Your eyes stayed locked on the caliginous ocean to your left that could be seen as terrifying and intimidating, but held an entirely unexplored world and connected you to uncharted lands. That could never been seen as terrifying to you, not anymore.

The ocean in daylight and the ocean bathed in moonlight were two vastly contrasting concepts — with the vivid hues of cerulean and gold, and the dusky shades of mercury and navy blues. One is reminiscent of Armin and the warmth he exudes, simply by living and sharing his mien. And the other, of Mikasa and the unwavering pillar of loyalty she provides, not to mention the blanket of security.

Now though, at the hours between night and day, the sea reminds you of Jean — for it melts the sense of security and warmth into one, and doesn't require you to throw on a warm jacket, neither would it force you to tie your hair back in search for a refreshing gust of air. The colors almost looked like the work of a spontaneous artist, ranging from intense and coruscating to dusky and chasmic.

The sea is pulchritudinous and enigmatic.

"How do you do it?"

Your eyes fluttered towards the sudden voice, so familiar to your ears. Just as you had expected, though unaccompanied by a pair of socks or shoes, the brunet peered up at your form, his dark hair delicately tucked behind his ears and lidded jade eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Very rarely, have you ever referred to those eyes as jade. But recently, there was no other word you could use to describe his serpentine irises.

"What are you yappin' about, Eren?" You ask, amusingly.

Laying his palm on the void spot beside him, he gestured for you to take it, which you obliged and took the time to dig a pit in the wavering sand for your feet to lay warmly in.

"Every time I'm thinking hard about something or am at a loss, to the point where my head throbs, you appear out of thin air." He explains, which causes your brow to contort in uncertainty. His words always seemed to have an extra, hidden, layer of meaning behind them.

"Sorry?"

Your response causes his eyes to roll jovially, before they settle back onto your face. "It's not a bad thing, silly. I don't mind it."

Your gaze settles back onto the horizon, noting the way the colors have seemed to deepened since the last you had ogled the scene. It shouldn't be too long before the sun completely takes its leave and trades shifts with the moon.

"Me neither." You state softly.

Eren's eyesight follows your own, before he speaks your thoughts aloud. "It's a nice day, or I guess, a nice sunset. Though it's getting dark already."

"Yeah, it is. The ocean seems, for lack of a better word, prettier than usual lately. Summer should be coming soon." You commented, your smile gentle in the remaining light of the late afternoon sun.

"Right." He agreed. "Are you planning to bring him for a visit anytime soon? He'd love to paint the sky at dawn." He suggested before the smallest chuckle, if it could even be considered that, escaped his lips at his next words. "I bet we'd have to bribe him to get any sleep. Maybe with that paint made from seashells that he keeps talking about."

At the mention of the boy who remained back behind the safety of the inner walls, a fond grin formed on your lips. "Even then, we'd take our eyes off of him for one second and the next thing we know, he somehow dragged himself back to the shore — with the paint we bribed him with too." You mention light heartedly. "Sometimes, I swear he's part merman."

Eren hums in amusement, and it's a small sound that seemed to be the most anyone could get out of him these days. You tossed and turned at night sometimes, pondering what had caused such a sudden shift in his demeanor. What had caused his eyes to sullen and the intricate stroma of his irises ingrained into them to deepen into that cataclysmic shade of jade? Perhaps they had always been that color, but if that were the case, what was it about his eyes before that had caused you to view them so differently?

The eyes truly are the windows to one's soul, though they aren't as pellucid as it would seem, for the existence of affliction and desolation always expelled sweltering steam and fog that obscured your view.

"Something is wrong, Eren." You admitted in as fragile of a voice as you could conjure, in fear you would cause him to pull away, just as he usually would when anyone would point out the obvious.

With his gaze trained intently on the darkening horizon, not sparing you a glance, he questions your words. "What do you mean?"

Tilting your head in an attempt to draw his attention to yourself, you state, "You know what I mean."

He does. His expression tells you so. Still, he did not relent. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Growing impatient and with urgency bubbling in the broth of your guts, you do not allow yourself to falter. "Cut the crap, Eren. There's somethin' you're not telling us about, and I want to know what it is."

His gaze fell to his lap, expression not gifting you a single key into his thoughts. "Nothing is wrong. I have everything under control." His voice said, vacantly so.

You were desperate, yearning for a window that he had somehow left open, for you to enter his mind. Eren was a person you held so near and dear to your heart, he was there continuously at one of the lowest moments of your life. And he is hurting, he is falling into a hollow crater located in the pits of his soul, as deep as the body of water before you, and he is doing it alone. But he shouldn't have to, not when you were right there in front of him.

You place your hand onto his arm and nudge him gently to face your way, "Don't do that, you're deflecting." You pointed out. "You can talk to us." You reassured him, before your eyes attempted to meet his yet again, and they implored for him to concede. "You can talk to me."

How do you help someone that does not want to be helped?

"I promise you, I've got it all under control."

"That's not what I'm asking. That's not what I care about." You state, unyieldingly, and willing to forget the empty promise he has just made to you, even knowing how meaningful those are to you.

His eyes moved to meet yours, the familiar intricate lines of his irises presenting themselves to you, unashamedly. "What do you care about?" He inquired.

Without a single ounce of hesitation, you state, "You."

If he felt any warmth from that revelation, he didn't show it. His brows stay furrowed as his stare intensified, as if he could read you like a book. "Is caring for me all that you feel?" He asks.

Your eyes soften as you answer his question, not phased by the slight change in your conversation. "No, of course not. I love you."

His face drew in closer to your own, and for the first time in what felt like a millennium, his eyes shed the barriers blocking you from entering the windows to his soul, like a reptile shedding skin. You could see him, all of him. He was begging you to say what he yearns to hear.

"In what way?"

Your breath falters, and your head subconsciously moves closer, enough to rest your forehead against his. You wish you could grant him what he truly wanted you to say. Without a doubt, your feelings towards the boy were not minuscule in size, you had meant what you said earlier, and that truth would reign until your last breath. You longed to bring him freshly picked daisies on your rare strolls across green fields, where you would invite him to lay with you and watch the stars. You want to be able to cry with him and share the baggage you both carry, and to not let yourselves handle any burden alone. Eren was the boy you wanted to fall in love with, to have him in the most secure place in your heart and never think to replace him.

You wish you loved Eren Jaeger, the way that he loves you. You wish you loved him instead.

But those daisies would never blossom and flourish as beautifully as they once did when you admired them years ago, and those stars would never gleam and radiate you adoring messages as they once did not so long ago, and you couldn't cry with him because just as you had with the aforementioned activities, you had already done so with someone else. Eren could not secure that sacred place in your heart, for that place was already taken.

"Eren." You whisper. You want to convey how sorry you truly are, but you don't have the heart to.

"Please Y/N," He pleads in a hushed tone, before his warm hand grasps your own, "I need to know."

Oh, how you love Eren Jaeger; unfortunately for him and for yourself, you are not in love with him.

How do you tell someone that your hearts still calls for the honeyed pools that cleaved through your soul and placed you at your worst. That you long for the sweet nectarine taste of his lips and the warmth his body exudes when sat under the sun, beside a brisk and anarchic river. That you hate the fact that, despite his sins against the people you care the most for, the imprint and memories that he left behind did not halt their daily tour around your mind.

The brutal truth is, you don't. You warp them like wet clay and force them in the caverns of your very being, not even admitting it to yourself, in fear of cementing those facts as exactly that, facts.

It feels like hours, which in actuality was merely minutes, before you properly garner your thoughts. You handpick your words like you pick berries and swallow the ones you deem useless, until you feel prepared to speak the naked truth towards the boy who desperately wants you to do the opposite.

"Y/N, we've been looking everywhere for you!" Jean shouts from a distance, his palms cupped around his mouth for projection. "Eren?" He voices his curiosity as he finally noticed that you weren't alone. "What are you guys doing?" He questions suspiciously.

Your parted mouth, set to speak your truth, halts midair at the sudden intrusion and you wonder why you hadn't detected his presence before. Both of your foreheads part in surprise, as well as your hands, and you turn to face the, now approaching, fawn haired boy. "Gods Jean. Don't do that." You scold.

The teenager simply looks from you to Eren in succession, his eyes conveying the questions he has yet to voice aloud. Knowing him, he'd definitely submit you to an interrogation the moment he deemed it right to, which you would immediately yield to. "Right... my bad." He replied without much regret, in fact he was most likely glad that he intruded when he did.

"Did you need something?" Eren asks, not even sparing the other boy a glance, simply returning his gaze where it had laid before your conversation — the sun now nowhere to be seen, a canvas of navy blue replacing where it had once stood. He did not appreciate Jeans arrival.

"Yes, obviously." Jean states, before focusing his attention on you. "Y/N, there are some new recruits that are looking to change up their hair styles. Connie mentioned your name and now there's a whole line of them-" He began, before the interrupter became the interrupted.

"It was not just me! Armin said so too!" Connie defended from afar, sometimes you swore that Sasha's abnormal hearing had somehow spread to him over the years.

The blonde mentioned by the second intruder waltzed down the shore behind him with an apologetic wince on his face, his lustrous locks bouncing with every bounding step he takes. "That's true. I'm sorry, I didn't know so many would be interested." He admits. "In my defense, I only mentioned it but those two really drove it home."

"Of course." You quip. "How could Sasha not be involved in the plotting of my demise?" A small smile formed on your face at the appearance of your friends. Your family.

Her cackles were heard before she made her appearance, such a buoyant one too. "Blame Mikasa!" She deflects, her index fingers pointing to the unbothered girl beside her. "She was the one that started your career in the first place!"

"I had nothing to do with the current situation." The ravenette states, shifting her head to playfully glare at Sasha.

"Wow, the waves are really calm tonight." Armin mentions his observation, his eyes always being drawn towards the sea and all that it offered.

You hummed, "I noticed that too."

"Perfect! I've been wanting to go for a swim since yesterday." Sasha announces as she trudged closer to the water.

"You don't even know how to swim." Jean tells her.

"I can learn." The girl states and you expected for some amount of preparation, or at the very least for her to take her shoes off, but this was Sasha. She did not care if her belongings sullied because of the salt embedded into the water.

"Sasha!" Armin yells in disbelief, "Your clothes!- and she can't hear me because she's underwater." He shook his head in disapproval. "The captain's not gonna be happy about this."

Resurfacing, with her hair bangs clinging to her face and lashes clumped together by the water, she beckons your group to join her. "Come on, the water feels good!"

"Mikasa?" You call to the girl who now stood beside you.

"I've got you." She replies and hands you a spare hair tie that she, for a reason unknown to you, always kept on hand, despite her own hair not bearing much length. Nevertheless, you accept gladly and move to put it to good use after handing her your head band that wouldn't be of any use to you right now.

"You're actually humoring her?" Jean asks you, bewildered at how easily the girl had always seemed to sway you along for most of her excursions.

Approaching the waves, you pivot to face the boy questioning your actions with a teasingly light smirk, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." You state and Connie whooped in delight as he followed after you.

"Ew, Y/N don't ever say that again. That's something Connie would say." He attempts to stifle his amused chuckles.

"I totally would." Connie agreed, not at all deflating at the light jab at him.

Jeans eyes roll into the back of his skull and he sighs before relenting, "Fuck it." He says and sprints to join you in the water.

"You guys comin'?" You call out to the trio who still hadn't shown any sign of moving from the shore.

Eren replied by simply sitting back onto the sand, having had stood to his feet along with you at the arrival of the others, before waving you off with a faint grin. You could tell he wasn't upset by the intrusion, not too much, and genuinely wanted to keep dry tonight. "Go ahead." He reassures, and like always, his words held depth to them. He would ask you the question that carved into his heart everyday if he had to, even if that meant his main organ being butchered like a scene of a sanguinary.

You didn't even have to glance at Mikasa to know that she would stay beside Eren, the world simply wouldn't work in the same way if that were any different. Armin though, did spare the wafting waves a glimpse, before taking his rightful seat beside the brunet. You didn't expect any less from the three, standing, or sitting in this instance, beside each other through thick and thin.

So you carried on, shielding yourself from the barrage of salt water thrusted at you by the two before you, with Jean at your side, the pair of you not accepting defeat at their hands. Prepared to handle the chastising conversation you would be dealt with from your captain when you returned to base, about how filthy your garments had grown.

Willing to endure extra chores, for an extra moment of peace.

Year 846

Faint whimpers escaped from between your fingers as your hands clamped against your lips in a futile attempt to withhold your cries. Glistening streams trickled down your cheeks and stuck to your lashes as you couldn't help but express your lamentation.

Your footsteps were hefty and lacking balance as you wobbled forward, and your body was wrapped securely in your cloak while your head was in the absence of the warmth the hood would have provided.

Icicles protruded from the evergreens that wreathed your figure, having had been caused by the slight changes in the weather as the ice slowly melted and the sun grew stronger. Snowflakes spun around you in a hypnotic dance, but you had paid them no heed.

Those days were always destined to be a day filled with sorrow, and the arrival of yet another Military Police officer in search of yourself only worsened your angst. You had made your escape into the woods once more, with both your body and breath trembling.

There was an affliction, deep within your soul, that felt as if someone was endlessly tugging and twisting at your insides and no matter how many sobs had left your lips, the ache did not lessen. Your lungs felt constricted, as if there was a source of pressure that gradually grew tighter, causing your irregular breaths to contort into painful heaves. The unyielding pain had caused your legs to feel as if they would collapse at any given second, but that is what you craved.

Any form of physical pain is what you yearned for at the moment, you would have accepted anything in an attempt to make the agony that fermented within your core, seem lesser.

You had fled deep enough within the woodlands that the animals that inhabited the conifers could have been seen going about their days — so, it had not come as a shock to you when your ears detected noises that came from your right. What had caused you to halt your grieving, was the fact that the sound that had caught your attention had seemed to match those of your own nose. Sniffling is what you heard and an exhale followed, both sounds that you deemed more human than animal.

Your head instinctively turned in the direction of the noises, and your eyes caught sight of a black boot, its owner shielded from your gaze by the trees. Your fingers wiped the tear tracks from your cheeks and you slowed your pace. Your eyes narrowed as you quietly craned your neck in an attempt at sneaking a peek at the stranger.

"Reiner?" You murmured, instantly recognizing the pale color of his hair.

He was sitting on the snow with his back against a tree trunk, and his head tilted towards the sky. It had been a couple of weeks since your first encounter with the boy, and all thoughts of him had fled your mind shortly after you had parted ways. You thought you would never see him again, bar the fact that he told you of his plans of enlisting in the military, the same as you.

Many people could say they were brave enough to do such a thing, but when the time arrived, so did silence. Still, it had surprised you of what a coincidence it was that you were both in the same part of the forest, on the same day, at the same hour; yet again.

"Hey stranger." You called out, your voice startling him and causing his body to jolt in surprise.

His eyes had widened at the sight of you, which was understandable considering he likely did not expect to see you again, and certainly not so soon. "How did you find me?" He asked.

"I wasn't really looking for you." You stated as you drew closer. "And if this is your definition of hiding, I think you'd do best without all the noise."

Your words caused him to hastily wipe his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, "I didn't notice." He admitted.

You looked at his sides and noted how empty handed he seemed. "What're you doing out here, again?"

"I could ask you the same thing. You look like you've seen better days." He said as his eyes inspected your face and you didn't blame him for saying so. You could feel how swollen your harsh tears had left your eyes, cheeks, and lips. You could only imagine how blood shot your sclera had gotten, but still, you made no attempts at shielding yourself. You had grown used to the swelling of your face and the headaches that the innumerable nights you spent curled up and silently wailing, had left in their wake. It also did not escape your mind that he sat in a similar state, albeit you admitted were slightly worse for wear.

Once you had been near enough that you could very clearly see the light pink that enveloped his eyes and nose, you sat beside him, against that same tree. Not enough that your shoulders had touched but enough that you could hear each other if you decided to whisper. "I asked first." You shrugged.

Mimicking the movement of your shoulders, he answered, "I guess it's just been a rough day for me. That and I've been feeling a little homesick lately." The latter portion of his sentence had dipped in volume and his brows furrowed slightly.

"I get that. I guess you could say the same for me." You said and although you did miss your home dearly, in your case it was that you missed the way home had made you feel. Not the conditions nor the people in general, but specifically, two boys that you hadn't seen in nearly a year.

His lidded eyes faintly widened in shock that your words had caused him. "Really?" He asked.

"Yeah." You replied with your eyes trained into nihility.

His eyes drifted away as he pondered on if he should ask or not. Even if he did, he didn't think he'd be much help. Another thought in his head began to plague his mind at that instant. It was what had continued to speak to him the moment he stepped onto this soil, and it never failed to remind him just who it was that he would converse, eat with, and sleep next to.

Six letters and two syllables.

But when did a thirteen year old ever listen to what their mind implored of them?

"Want to talk about it?" He asked hesitantly.

"...No." You whispered weakly, your gaze still. "Do you?"

Static air followed after you had returned his question. You didn't mind his lack of reply and were in fact, content in lingering inside the confines of your own mind, as it was customary on days like those. Your hippocampus shone with glimpses of dirty blonde hair and forest green pearls. Violet blossoms surrounded the person you envisioned, and warmth imbued their embrace. And then it was dusky navy blue eyes that glimmered like stars, and unruly black hair. Curls ghosted the ends of the small tufts that bounced their way around your mind and whispers, belonging to the small voice that you had began to struggle to remember, echoed in your ears.

"There was a man..." He began, though his voice only served as the diegesis to your reminiscent state. "-we met him yesterday." Though your eyes didn't move, your head shifted in his direction to indicate that you were listening. "He lived in Wall Maria, in a village somewhere in the southeast mountains." He sounded fragile when he had spoken of the man that roamed his mind. "...He said it happened at dawn. The animals were roused and there was rumbling that resembled footsteps."

It had clicked then, in your mind, what exactly the story Reiner recounted was explaining. The realization caused you to gaze at his side profile as he continued, "He went to go check, and opened the window..." He didn't have to tell you what it was that the man had found, and your understanding caused your eyes to soften, a minuscule amount of emotion returned to your expression. "The rest was a blur, the only thing he recalled was that he escaped on horse and left behind some kids."

Fight or flight response was a powerful phenomenon and basic human instincts, so you would have never held it against a man that you've never even met. "Is he doing okay?" You asked delicately.

His lashes fluttered and he looked off to the side as he assembled the courage to utter the words on the tip of his tongue. "He hung himself today."

You winced sympathetically and looked forward once again. "Oh... were you two close?" You asked and internally kicked yourself for not bearing the emotional capacity to be more comforting. The truth was, you didn't know how to.

"No, I met him yesterday." He reminded you. "But what's bothering me is that, he must have been planning to do it. So, why would he tell us that, knowing that he was going to do what he did?" He explained further.

You ignored the 'us' and 'we' that he had kept mentioning, in favor of focusing on the meat of his question. "Maybe he just wanted someone to know." You said, twiddling with your fingers as you went into thought.

"What do you mean?" He said and faced you for the first time since he had begun to elucidate his thoughts.

"Well, that's a day that is very hard to forget. It was the day that changed all of our lives, in one way or another, so I highly doubt that anyone who experienced the attack of the Titans has had a single moment of silence in their minds since then. It's like it plays on a loop, whether you're awake or asleep. All the sights, sounds, and most of all, the feelings." You explained as you recalled all that you had felt during those hellish moments. "Now, I wouldn't hold it against the guy for fleeing without those kids, hell- I don't even know his name, so what right would I have? But, I'm sure that he felt different. Even more so because, that was probably the first time he had ever admitted it aloud. I think he just wanted someone to know of the things he hated himself for... before he- y'know..."

His mouth parted in awe as he hummed to himself, and his eyes slowly shifted away from you in deep thought.

As you inspected his face for any signs that you had overstepped, you had grown doubtful in your analysis. "But, then again, those are just my thoughts. And I uh- didn't know the guy so I wouldn't take what I said seriously. Plus, you obviously already knew all about the reoccurring nightmares of that day and the hot flashes because you've lived through the aftermath yourself- so, my bad." You hastily reiterated your words.

"Oh yeah, of course." He forced himself to speak. "That's the part that I- uhm yeah I relate to that." He said and cleared his throat in an attempt to calm himself. "And anyways, don't apologize. We'll never know exactly why he did what he did, but I think that I agree with what you said, and I'm glad he was at least able to vent to me, if that was the case."

You hummed in agreement, "Yeah, I'm sure he appreciated that too." You said and directed a light smile his way for comfort, a gesture he had seemed to appreciate.

More silence billowed in the air around you and unlike the last time, you didn't get trapped in your thoughts, though one did cross your mind. One that you hoped would improve the atmosphere.

"Have you ever built a snowman?" You asked and clenched your fingers as to collect the ice from under you into one of your palms, before raising your hand and separating them to allow the white substance to return back to the ground, for emphasis.

His brow rose in question, "A snowman?"

"Yeah, like a man but one made of snow."

"I know what a snowman is." He deadpanned. "And no, I haven't. Have you?"

"No, but there should be enough snow to make one. Do you want to?" You asked and tipped your head his way, his eyes meeting your own.

A mischievous grin slowly but surely made its way onto his face, the right side of his lips raising first. That in itself was enough of an answer.

You both did your best to gather enough snow to begin to form the bottom portion of the man you were set to create. Without the use of gloves, your fingers began to grow stiff, not to the extent that it had caused you pain but enough that it drew your attention. Though, even with the noticeable stiffness in your fingers, neither one of you faltered in your molding. Although there were no parts of the ground that went uncovered by a sheet of ice, that sheet was thin and, most of the time, every time you attempted to scoop a grander amount into your hands, the ice grew muddy.

Smacking your lips in frustration, you groaned. "Ugh, dammit."

Reiner, who had been crouched a few feet away from you, looked up at the sound of your distress. "What's wrong? Don't tell me you're giving up already." He teased.

"No, obviously." Your eyes rolled in displeasure at the notion. "This snow just keeps on gettin' so damn muddy every time I try to scoop too deep." You explained as you flicked your fingers in an attempt to disperse the dirt from your digits.

The dilemma you faced had caught the attention of your companion. His amber irises began to inspect his surroundings as he brushed his palms together and stood on his feet. He approached a tree layered in the white iridescent snow, with few petioles clustered with needles escaping the sheet, and deemed it worthy. "Alright. Get on." He ordered.

The abrupt demand caused an incredulous expression to display onto your face, "Excuse me?" You answered.

In response, he crouched down again and patted the tops of his shoulders, "Hop on."

"Why?"

"Because the trees have plenty of clean snow we can use. I'll give you a boost and you can grab what you can, got it?" He explained.

His demanding attitude caused you to roll your eyes once again, before begrudgingly plodding over to his form in compliance. "Why do men always go 'round actin' like they can order me around?" You asked, rhetorically, though that didn't stop him from hurling the attitude back your way.

"You'll live." He said as you situated yourself as best as you could into a sitting position.

"I better. It would benefit you most if you didn't drop me." You replied and he lifted himself slowly. After he reached his full height, you did your best to gather as many bunches of crystal shavings into the safety of your arms — but as you inspected your surroundings, you had noticed that the higher you looked, the more bundles of frost had gathered onto the tree branches. You hummed softly as you contemplated how to handle your situation, before deciding on the most obvious action.

"What's wron-" Reiner began, only to get bombarded by a countenance full of frozen stardust that had caused him to splutter. He panicked when his legs wobbled slightly and then realized that you decided to take the plunge to stand on his shoulders. "Whoa- what the hell are you doing?!" He exclaimed as he took ahold of your ankles to stabilize your stance.

"I can get greater quality snow the higher up that I go, so quit moving so much and get on your tippy-toes." You justified your actions as your own followed suit.

"You better not step on my face or I swear to the walls-"

A light chortle bounced off of your lips, "You swear to the walls? I've never heard somebody say that here, are you from Stohess or some shit?" You asked sarcastically.

"I don't give a damn, just make sure that I don't get a face full of foot." He gritted as his stance relentlessly swayed back and forth.

You stretched your arm as high as it could reach while the other served as an anchor to the tree. "Almost there-" You murmured as your fingers slowly inched closer to your target. Unfortunately, just as your thumb and index fingers had gotten ahold of the cluster of needles, the entire white sheet that sat atop of it gradually slid down and descended towards your face. Your eyes widened in realization as you emitted a coherent, "Oof-" before your legs gave out and your body plummeted with the blanket of snow hugging your face.

Your form had fallen backwards which had caused the boy supporting you to do the same, creating a domino effect and an intelligible thump as you collided on the ground.

After a few moments of digesting the rumpus events that had occurred, you briskly sat up and shook your head to discard the ice particles that had found themselves tangled within your hair. The eerie silence that followed produced your heart to accelerate in panic, "Reiner?!" You called out.

"M under here." Came a muffled voice.

"Oops, my bad." You apologized. You didn't realize that he had broken your fall, but it explained the painless clash. You pulled yourself off of him and sat beside where he laid.

Finally free of the burden on his chest, he sat up from under the snow with wide eyes and disordered hair. "You almost suffocated me." He accused.

Chuckling at the state he was in, you ruffled his hair and snowflakes flew from his head. "But I didn't."

An obnoxious snort came from the boy and he gently clutched his stomach. "I can't believe you did that, it was so damn stupid." He derided.

Joining him in his laughter, you breathlessly defended yourself, "Stupid, but it got the job done. Look at all the snow we've got to work with now." You gestured to the pile of fluffy powder surrounding your forms.

Satisfied with what the sacrifice had accomplished, he nodded his head in determination and all but leapt back onto his boots. "Let's resume then." He said resolutely and reoccupied himself with rolling a clump of his snow until he had deemed it compacted enough to remain stable. You followed after with your own portion of ice that would soon be the middle of the body.

"Okay, so he's not gonna be as big as I had expected, but that's fine." He articulated his thought process, before turning to you. "Not all men have to be big and tough, right?"

With a faux pout, you began to tease, "Aww, is that what you tell yourself everyday?" You asked as your hands constructed what you planned to make the figures head. "Yes Reiner, you would know that not all men have to be intimidating." You had jested.

Stupefied features painted his face as his brain perceived your words. "What? You don't think I'm intimidating?" He asked you as his hands absentmindedly searched the ground for suitable stones to furnish as eyes.

"Well, you're not much taller than me really." You reminded him as he tossed you the stones he had acquired. "Anyways, I don't think you'd even qualify as a man, yet. Isn't chest hair needed for that or something? I doubt you've hit that milestone." You further expanded your reasoning as to why you didn't find the boy particularly threatening. Perhaps his stature did form most of your opinions on the subject, but you didn't doubt that the empathetic and somewhat sensitive nature he had allowed you glimpses of had also played its part.

His jaw dropped at the audacity you had to utter those words to his face. "I'm like a good couple of inches taller than you." He informed you matter-of-factly.

You embellished the stones like ornaments and meticulously placed two twigs in a downward arch so that your creation could have appeared blissful. "And yet I bet I could still topple you if I tried." You muttered and whether that bold statement was the truth or not did not burden you. Not unless he had suddenly decided to test your theory, but you doubted the thought to go through the effort had even crossed his mind. You sat back and admired your labor, though you noted that you weren't quite finished, as your ice person hadn't donned a nose yet.

In response, the boy mischievously feigned a pout as he observed your concentrated state. His pale fingers steadily inched closer to your most recently added detail and he maneuvered the dark wood in such a way that the arch aimed upwards instead of the latter, making your person don a frown that had replaced the grin you had concocted.

"You're making both men here sad, girl whose name I still don't know." He said woefully, before carving tear tracks onto the apple of the snow persons cheeks with his fingernail.

Indifferent to his fatuous display, you quipped, "Y'know, I'm getting tired of speaking with boys." And carved a set of feminine eyelashes onto the snow person. "That's better. I feel less disgusted."

Your actions only forced him to scoff, and he mimicked the same motions as before to carve a thick line across what would have been the upper lip of your creation, had they truly been personified. "Some guys have long lashes to pair with a thick mustache." He informed you.

Recognizing a challenge, your eyes narrowed playfully and you dragged your finger across the chest, forming arches that indicated the existence of breasts. "I've seen a couple gals with a nice stubble." You added, forcing the grin that threatened to manifest onto your face away, which didn't work as well as you had wanted it to. In fact, it hadn't helped at all.

Reiner, having had been inspired by your bold move, followed with his own. And so on and so forth, until your shared person had barely even been identifiable and the only thought on your mind was how exhilarated the moment of hilarity and bliss you shared with your companion had made you feel.

So, for your final move, your arm reeled back and swung forward with forceful momentum. Your sleeve had made contact with the frigid ice and caused it to disperse every which way, a great amount found its way towards Reiner before he could have even thought to dodge. Without a single flinch, he took it one step further and used his leg to stomp the rest of the form away, the snow doing the same to you as it had done to him previously. Not that the temperature had bothered you, in fact you embraced it as you typically did and vibrantly gleeful giggles spilled from within your vocal cords. Both of your melodies of exuberance mingled and interlaced to form flawless harmonies.

It was in that moment that you noticed, you had not belly laughed in so long, not as you did then. You hadn't felt so light about anything in your entire young life, and with a stranger that had yet to know your name. The pain that enveloped your core earlier that day had subsided and was replaced with a different kind. One that you had found you didn't mind. One that came with tears caused by the exertion of experiencing such pure bliss. One that caused you to cradle your stomach in an attempt to ease the contracting muscles. One that allowed release and transported your body into a state of euphoria. It was a state that you had begun to crave.

And you hated yourself for that.

How dare you experience such a tender emotion, and on that day, of all days. — When the people who deserved it the most weren't there to. How dare you live your life as if they had never existed. How dare you not spend your days mourning in a never ending rotation. How dare you have the will to proceed with your days in spite of what you lost. How dare you even think to ask for more.

And so your feelings of ardor morphed into those of anguish, your roars of hysteric laughter shifted into a paroxysm of cries in agony, and the comforting warmth nestled inside of your chest transformed into a raging inferno in the process of combusting your insides. The twisting and knotting of your lungs had returned and the pressure was slowly killing you from the inside out.

Reiner was stunned at the rate of which your emotions had performed a one eighty. One second he had felt his stomach churning with butterflies and the next, he found that his heart had plummeted and squashed those very insects that littered his insides at the sound of your wails. His eyes that were once shut in ecstasy had grown wide in concern. Your body had begun to curl inwards as you fell to your knees and you bowed your head enough that it met the cold hard ground.

He had no idea of how to react.

"W-what's wrong? Are you hurt- or did I do something?" He asked and you couldn't help but sob louder, your arms moved to enwreathe themselves around your figure. "Do you need water? I can go fetch some fresh if you want or something." He offered desperately in an attempt to find a solution to make your cries subside.

"St-Stefan." You had barely managed to emit the name in between your heaves. It was so faint and muddled that it had forced Reiner to strain his ears to decode what it was that you had asked for and even then he wasn't sure he had heard you correctly.

You just wanted Stefan.

"Is that a friend of yours? Do you want me to go get him? It'll probably take a while for me to get to your settlement and back but maybe if I could help you come with me-"

"He's dead." You breathed. "You can't go get him because h-he's dead!" You spoke with cracks present in your voice that carried its fragility.

In response, the boy froze and his eyes flew to anything but you. While your screams had subsided a small amount, your tears continued their downpour and sharp hiccups came sporadically, they were so powerful that you couldn't have prevented the jolts that ran through your body.

In the end, he had decided to remain quiet and allow you to attempt to regain your composure at your own pace, which you did so. By the time you had felt calm enough to speak, nearly thirty minutes of silence had ensued. You moved to sit crisscross as you trained your heavily lidded eyes ahead.

Even then, you didn't speak right away, only let the words gather on your tongue until it felt right to share them. "It's their birthday." You finally admitted what had been plaguing your mind from the moment the sun peeked over the horizon. "Both of them. Isn't that such a crazy coincidence? Six years apart and they still enjoyed spending it in the same ways too."

Your voice was so small that Reiner didn't dare to interrupt in fear that it might've disappeared completely. He let you unpack what it was that had caused you to sob so uncontrollably, that even mere laughter was enough to break the dam that aided you in retaining such overwhelming emotions.

"I never knew the exact date that I was born, so Stefan... such a kind Stefan, he suggested that I celebrate it on the same day that they did. They both didn't mind sharing with me, even if that meant they had to split the occasion in three." You spoke of the boys fondly and with so much adoration that brimmed your eyes. "I guess that kind of means that today is my birthday too. Although, I'm sure my actual one has passed already. I don't know why I think that way, but I do." You said and your lips had begun to feel chapped. "He would've been thirteen today... and baby Ciel-" Your sentence broke when a wave of hiccups bubbled in your throat as tears had threatened to fall once again. "Cielo would've been seven." You punctuated your statement with a broken sob and your head burrowed into your knees as you hugged your legs against your chest.

Reiner was petrified.

He did not want to know more for he feared that he knew the answer as to why you had spoken of them in past tense. Your confession had served as a sort of wake up call and reminded him once more just why he had arrived at your island in the first place. He wanted to flee and create as much distance as he could have between the two of you because he did not want to face the truth of how his actions had affected the people around him, least of all you. He reminded himself what he had been taught since young, what his people had deemed your own and he wished it didn't cause such an internal conflict. He berated himself for it — why would you, someone he had yet to learn the name of, cause him to question himself and the people that raised him into what he had become? It should not be that way, and especially not on your second meeting.

You were simply someone he had yet to know the name of, is what he repeated to himself... though, he had acquainted himself enough that he wouldn't mind seeing you everyday that would follow if it meant that he would soon learn it.

The mere sight of your form that had become so frangible had hurt him, pierced his heart and dug the blade in deeper with each tremble he saw your body endure. Why it did, he did not know, and though what he yearned for the most right at that moment was to flee, he did the opposite and drew closer.

Because when did thirteen year olds ever pay heed to what their minds pleaded.

Comforting and warmly snug arms swaddled your figure, a sentiment that was foreign to your body; a side effect from the copious amount of nights you had spent laid awake with the same emotions and thoughts plaguing you, though in those instances no consolation was offered. He didn't say a thing but simply embraced what he could of you and listened to you pour your heart out.

"The thing is, I'm not even mad that I spent the whole morning cryin', it's the only thing that I've felt in a while. Most days, I spend my time in the fields to keep busy, but even when I'm not, I just feel so fucking empty. So, in the nights where I do cry myself to sleep, I feel so relieved in the morning because it proves that I'm still human and not losing my mind. So, when I felt anything other than my usual torment, I got so damn mad at myself because, today of all days, my mind decides to make me feel something resembling happiness when really, I should keep crying my eyes out because the people that should be here, aren't." You didn't even realize that was how you had truly felt, but it was true and you allowed your tongue to spill every subconscious thought it had withheld for the first time in a long time.

Seconds of silence turned into minutes and minutes had felt as though they had morphed into hours. You knew that much time could not have passed because while the sun did seem to grow a shade more aureate, its position in the sky did not yet suggest preparation for nightfall. Your swollen eyes and throbbing head almost forced you to doze off in the warmth of Reiners arms, you leaned into him and felt the vibrations of his pounding heart, your own resounding beats following directly after in consonance.

Though, it seemed that he did not intend to stay without words. "You know, birthdays are supposed to celebrate birth." He stated.

Your brow furrowed, "What?"

"Well, and this is gonna sound cheesy but bear with me here, it's called a birthday for a reason." His voice was so mellow, you didn't mind him breaking the silence. "It's not supposed to be a remembrance of death, it's a celebration of the life you've been allowed to live, a celebration of your existence. It's the reason that most people blow out candles, some believe that it's to ward your wishes of purity and a lambent future to whatever god you praise, while others use it as a way to thank them instead, for the aid they have provided in the life they've built."

"And if they don't have a future? What if they truly are gone, what then? And what if the life they have lived wasn't prosperous or anything to be proud of?" You genuinely asked. Both Stefan and Cielo lived a life full of bad deals and if any god had played a hand in that, why would you thank the architect of a dilapidated structure?

"They're never truly gone, not unless you will them to be. You don't have to remember them for what they lost or never attained, but instead, for all their wins and what they gratified."

What he said had made sense to you, and in any other situation, perhaps those words alone would have been enough to persuade your view to change. But, every angle at what the boys had that you descried, you could not fathom what merit their life had possessed. In your eyes, they were robbed of the chance of pursuing further miles stones that they had yearned for, and maybe it was wrong for you to assume as such but those feelings came from a place of deeply rooted love that you harbored for them both.

Hesitantly, he continued, "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that your point of view of what they got to experience was not enough, which is fair because, to you they deserved the world. But, have you considered that maybe they saw their life as fulfilled? Or that they were content with the small things they were able to accomplish? And maybe it wasn't, but isn't it better to hold that perspective in your back pocket? As if, if they had the chance to look at what or who they left behind, they would feel it was enough."

"Maybe, but does that mean they're happy to have left me alone? They didn't have to both go."

"Not necessarily in a way that they're glad to have left those things or people behind, but content as in, they trust those people to keep moving forward or maybe even pick up where they left off, in a way."

That was the second instance in which you had doubted your long term goal. Both Stefan and Cielo promised that if they were granted the opportunity at actualizing your aspirations of venturing beyond the walls, they would have taken it without a second thought, and in return, you had promised the same, but in the moment, you were under the impression that you would do so together. Doing something so new, strange, and alien completely terrified you. So, while it was not enough to sway your long term goal in the opposite direction, that conversation fermented the seed of doubt, that had been previously planted by Annie, into your psyche. There was doubt in your road to revenge.

"Or! I could be completely wrong and overstepped my boundaries." He panicked at your silence, his arms and head pulled away hastily.

You faced him and wiped at your nose and cheeks to rid them of the aftermath of your meltdown. "No, it's okay really. I- uhm... needed that. I'm sorry for ruining...whatever that was." You trailed off, not really comprehending where you were headed with the apology.

The ghost of a smirk appeared on his face as he took in your words. "Oh? And what was that?" He jested.

"I just said, 'whatever that was' which means I don't know." You told him with a whimsical eye roll.

He hummed, "What a shame."

"Not really." You added.

He chuckled lightly at your remark before sincerity slipped back into his expression, "But seriously, you don't need to apologize, I get it. And plus, feel free to sucker punch me if I'm overstepping but, today is your birthday, right?" He asked.

You looked at him suspiciously, uncertain at what he was getting at. "Not really, I don't know when mine is. Also, I'm sure it's passed already, like I said earlier. Today is Stefan and Cielo's birthday." You explained, not wanting to make the occasion more for yourself than you already had.

"I'm sure both Stefan and Cielo wouldn't want to celebrate it alone, right?" He told you with hesitance very obviously laid within his tone. He was walking on eggshells as to not tip over on the tightrope of your boundaries, which he had felt like he was dancing on. He also made sure not to ask the forbidden question, one that he ached so badly to ask but he knew the answer would create such a disorder in him.

"You've never even met them."

"Nobody wants to celebrate a birthday by themselves. Who would light their candles?"

"We don't have candles, idiot." You tittered.

He hummed in thought, "Maybe not..." He moved to unbuckle his jacket and pulled out a small black pouch from within a hidden inside pocket. He fluidly untied the knot that sealed the objects inside of the portable bag and stuck his hand inside to search for something specific. Lo and behold, you didn't expect that what he would slip out was a set of matches. "This is survival 101, never leave your post unprepared." He informed you boastfully.

The sight had caused your eyes to widen as you exhaled in surprise. "What- you've got matches?" You whispered.

"Duh." He quipped which caused your astonishment to diminish. "I know they're not candles but this should do. Plus, it's not like we need it to burn for long, just make sure to blow it out quick." He explained.

You shook your head as he further baffled you, "Wait, what? Me? I'm gonna blow it out?" You asked with a finger pointed towards your face.

He mimicked your actions, his own digit being used to emphasize you, "Yes, you. Who else?"

"But why?"

He set his pouch down and opened the small box, sliding the portable miniature torches out and grabbing a singular one, before setting the rest away. "Because, I don't have nothing to say to them. Even if today isn't your actual birthday, why wouldn't you want to celebrate it with them? Make a wish, tell them a secret, or simply ask them a question. Either way, once you blow them out, the smoke will ward your words their way. Isn't that a great tradition?" He asked and punctuated his question with the ignition of the little flame in his hands as he settled it between both of your faces.

Although the woods weren't yet a dark abyss, the flickering minute inferno did not fail to set alight Reiner's features. His honeyed eyes seemed to shift a shade deeper, the vibrant saffron flame reflected its visage onto his pupils, a sight that brought among the warmth to your insides once again. The dips and valleys of his face were highlighted, bringing to your attention details that you hadn't before espied. The delicate arch his nose took, the way the hair of his brows were slightly darker than those on his head, the form in which his cheeks were sculpted but still kept their youthful bounce, and even his lips appeared more voluminous due to the shadows on their perimeters. A familiar sensation had arose within you, it caused your mind to grow hazy and your surroundings to darken, and left the boy before you in an angelic halo.

Your enchantment was not one sided, for the flames glow had enhanced your profile as well. Both of your gazes connected in the illusion of being the sole inhabitants of the land from with you plucked and plowed each day. The flickering of the match before you had awoke you from its spell and reminded you of the fact that you were merely two humans in a world overrun by mindless monsters.

You cleared your throat and directed your eyes downward before you swallowed and set your sight onto the object in the hands in front of you. "Uhm, so do I say it out loud or-" You begun.

He visibly flinched in response to being awoken out of his delusion and looked anywhere besides the face he was caught memorizing. "Oh, yeah. I mean, no! You have to say it in your head otherwise it won't ring true." He explained before lowering his voice for the latter part of his instructions. "And you have to uhm... tell me your name. Cause, I have to say it for this to work." He added. "Rules are rules, you know."

"Oh, really?" You said, a brow lifted and your lips did not attempt to hide your forthcoming smirk.

"Yes." He nodded curtly.

"Y/N."

A smile carved itself onto his face as he took in the sound of your name for the very first time, of many to come. "Okay, Y/N." He nodded and tried the foreign word on his tongue; which slipped out as smoothly as fall honey. "Make your wish."

In preparation to speak to the loved ones you had lost, you sat on your knees and scooted closer to the light. You closed your eyes and searched deep within your cavernous soul for the words you craved to direct to the afterlife, if such a place existed. You asked yourself, if you had one last chance to ask or dispatch your words to both Stefan and Cielo, which ones would you choose? And you steeled yourself, and allowed your phrases and vocables to rebound throughout your mind, while you inhaled the strength to proceed.

'I hope I make you proud.'

And then, the once dancing flame, extinguished.

Fun fact: Remember that flower crown mentioned in the scene of Stefan’s death? Yeah, he was making that for you before… yk: 💀☠️

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dddomenstarstwst · 2 years

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okay so ive had this idea in my head for, like, several days and haven’t seen anyone write it soooo may i request a rinne x reader hatefuck? he’s hot but also wow that personality is. a lot. he should go to therapy

I feel you, my dear, i fully do. He's such a dick actually, i wanna slap him dumb. So, uh, maybe i got a little carried away. Oops?

➜ Annoying

Character: Rinne Amagi

Genre: Smut

Warnings: sub!Rinne, dom!gn!reader, hate sex, slapping, cock stepping, degradation, brat!Rinne, dumbification, rough sex, asphyxiation

Word count: 888

You couldn't stand Rinne Amagi. You hated him with every fucking inch of your body. He was just too much. You had no idea how his unit mates manage not to kick him in the nuts whenever they see him.

Rinne loved to tease you, he specifically seeked for you in the hallways just to fuck with you. It was almost his sole purpose. That, and he also found riling you up hot. Whenever you were mad, veins popping on your hands, eyes burning him in a deadly gaze, teeth gritting audibly - fuck, it made him horny.

You knew what he was trying to do, you knew how he looked at you when you got mad, you knew how very visibly he gulped, how the shade of pink covered his cheeks whenever you barked back at him. That alone made you hate him even more, to the point that you slapped him one time.

He was being annoying as usual, but somehow it was a thousand times worse. He was joking about how you were undressing him with your eyes and stuff, how he sees you looking at his dick. You were already in a bad mood, and his endless teasing wasn't helping. So you slapped him, it just happened. You weren't controlling yourself.

"Fuck! Rinne, uh– Sorry about that," he stood there, eyes wide open, mouth agape, a red mark forming on his cheek. You thought he was going to be mad, throw a tantrum and tell the higher-ups of the ES about it. But he... Smiled. You watched as the dumb smile spread on his face, you thought he was crazy, maybe you broke him, maybe he just needed therapy.

"Can you do that again?" It was your time to stand there with eyes staring at him, not understanding what the fuck he just said. He grabbed your hand and put it on his stinging cheek, "Slap me. I know ya want to." And you did.

You don't remember how you ended up in one bad with that asshole, but he was honestly pathetic. With the way he arched his back like a cheap whore, or how utterly pornographic his moans were you thought he was taking a d regularly. Hm, maybe that's how two of his unit mates manage to stay sane in his company. Kohaku, you're sure, punched him once or twice.

Rinne grinded back on you, taking more of your dick, grinning like a maniac when you slapped his ass. What a slut. He was enjoying every single second of this, you wonder if he ever imagined spreading his ass for you. You thrust into him harshly, still lost in thoughts.

"Hey! Pay attention to me! Ya fuckin' me, okay!" You grabbed his flaming red hair and pulled it back, glaring at him. What a dumb guy, can't see the signals. You're not lovers, you're fucking him because you want to put him in his place.

"Shut up, whore. Stop acting like we're lovers, i hate you and that's why I'm fucking you right now. Just because you're taking my cock in your slutty ass doesn't give you the right to order me around, bitch!" He whined at your words, hips buckling back. You let go of his messy locks and press his face into the mattress.

Rinne was shaking from your rough pounding, the lack of air only added to his pleasure. He felt you shift your position, pulling out of his stretched out hole. He tried chasing you, but you steadied his hips. He turned his head to the side, blue teary eyes watching your movements. You looked mad and, oh fuck, how hot you looked. Rinne wiggled his ass, inviting you in.

You scoffed at his behaviour, before grabbing him by the waist and slamming your cock fully inside. Rinne moaned your name out, his legs were trembling and giving up, if not for you, he would have collapsed already. You continue fucking him roughly, your breathing heavy.

"Oh! Ah, ah, yes! Fuck me like a whore!" You gripped his waist harder, surely bruises are gonna be left there, not like any of you cared. You observed as Rinne reached down to jerk himself, he was getting close. Your hand made its way to his throat, settling there and squeezing his neck, cutting off the air.

Rinne was overwhelmed, he never felt like this, not even when Niki and MERUMERU fucked him at the same time. Well, actually that was hot too, but maybe not as much as how you absolutely demolished him right now. Fuck, he needed to come so badly, especially when he felt the hand on his neck gripping so hard.

You thrusted with all your might, sending Rinne over the edge. His vision got blurry, stars appearing before his eyes, he was coughing because of the lack of an air, his whole body convulsing. You pulled out, letting him flop down on the bed.

"I'm hopping after that you'll stop bothering me, dumb bitch." You made your way out of the room, leaving him there. Rinne finally steadied his breath, before grinning to yourself. Oh no, not after being fucked so good. He'll make sure to rile you up even more from now on. Maybe he should invite you to fuck him alongside Niki and MERUMERU.

#enstars #ensemble stars #ensemble stars x reader #enstars x reader #ensemble stars headcanons #enstars headcanons #ensemble stars fanfic #dom!reader #dom!gn!reader #enstars fanfic #enstars imagines #ensemble stars imagines #rinne amagi #rinne amagi x reader #sub!character

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vennilavee · 1 year

Text

iv. the damned

blood&pearls mlist

wc: 2.1k

summary: you venture out to the land, only to witness fire, ash, and blood raining from the sky.

warnings: active cannibalism

If you listen closely, you can hear the gentle, pale winds in the mountains speaking to each other and the branches of the trees whispering. The stillness of the creeks and the bubbling of the hot springs is a melodious charm to your sensitive ears. You close your eyes and lay your head in the water, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight on your sunkissed skin. Rose petals float on the surface of the water next to your arms and your legs, brushing against your skin teasingly.

The fairies do not understand why there are so many roses and red rose petals in the water recently. Roses are not native to Lord Sukuna’s domain, they mumble in confusion to each other. Roses would sooner die than be in full bloom in the demon’s presence.

You only laugh and dip your head underwater.

Little do they know that roses have been growing in your lake ever since you had made this a home. It looks vastly different from when you had first arrived. Dull yellows and greens were now lively and vibrant in rich hues. A tiny waterfall sits just beyond the lake, tucked away behind the tall trees with unwavering leaves. You go there to be alone and to wash your hair.

You have not thought of the vast, lonely ocean much since your arrival. You have not thought of home. Perhaps there is a gnawing feeling of uncertainty settling in your bones- have you made the correct decision? Do your parents- your family- despise you for your selfishness in leaving all you have ever known to live on the edge of your childish dream?

Your father always said you looked at the world with color in your eyes. To avoid seeing the bleakness for what it was. But in truth, darkness was all that you did see. You have dreamed of yellows and reds and purples beyond the depths of the ocean since you were young. You have dreamed of choking on the air and touching the hazy sun with your bare hands.

You dip your toes into the warm water. It now has a rosy purple hue from the flushed lotus flowers growing in your lake. More fairies have made their way to your little oasis, making a home within the blossoming tree branches and the blooming flower petals in the plentiful lush green bushes surrounding the trees.

It smells sweet. You cannot quite place what the scent is- your nose is only used to salt and the sand. The sweetness reminds you of a place you do not know. Perhaps a place that you could know.

The fairies tell you that it is the season of springtime. Milky white, amber and burgundy flowers bloom all around you in bursts of rebirth. It is almost too cloying to your eyes, the sudden appearance of so many different shades that you have never once seen before. There have been moments where you must dip your head underwater to adjust to the sharp shards of sunlight.

But as always, the warmth of the world draws you out like a moth to a flame. The mountain lingers in the distance, perched far from your eyes as you wonder when the four-eyed demon will pay you a visit again.

You come to learn quickly that the sunshine fatigues you. While the sun is in its peak hours, you are coaxed into sleep by the bushes of roses under the willow tree. The fairies watch over you as you rest, only for you to come alive at night.

Sleep corrals you deep into your floating dreams, filled with striking red eyes and morose laughter at your attempts at climbing the mountain that pierces the clouds looming over your head.

Something is calling you towards the distant mountain, beckoning you closer and closer. Just for you to get a taste of the crisp air that should poison your lungs.

Your father’s words echo in your head, muffled and warped when you dip your head under the water to gather your thoughts. You were born to live and die by the sea. The voice is loud in the water, consuming your own quiet voice. How can you be quiet in your own mind?

In your own mind, where you should be your most powerful. In your own mind, where you should reign free. Untethered to your supposed birthright. Untethered to what destiny has in store for you.

Is it truly destiny if it is the beliefs of your mother and father? Or is it blind obedience?

Poking your head above the water once more, the voices seem to quell and dim to nothing more than a whispered nuisance. You gasp when you suddenly see grey and black clouds of air escape the base of the mountain in sharp puffs.

Smoke. The fairies have told you what smoke and fire is. Where there is smoke, there will be fire and Lord Sukuna fervently loves his fire.

You are meters and meters away from the base of the mountain, but the caustic scent of the smoke still makes you cough violently.

Ropes of water glide off of your body in rivulets as you rise, and you take one step in front of the other towards the sure carnage that awaits you.

Only an absolute fool would willingly walk into the foray of death. Perhaps Sukuna was right- you are just a naive, foolish girl in a world of men and gods who will do anything to steal power from each other.

It did not take you long to find the source of the smoke and the fire. Though the heat is painful as it kisses your skin, you venture further into the forest. Corpses of women and children are littered along the forest floor, while the men have been beheaded or left for dead, moaning and bleeding from their guts.

You stop in your tracks and blink curiously at the women and children piled on top of each other. It's almost too grisly for you to stomach. Limbs lay scattered carelessly, as if these pieces of flesh belong to a toy and not a formerly breathing, talking, living human.

But what stops you is the darkness radiating from these corpses’ chests. Only a thread holds the dead skin together. A gaping hole and dried scarlet blood sits where a heart should be beating. Instead of a heartbeat, you see a black hole seemingly pulsating in time with your breaths.

What had these people done for Ryomen Sukuna to kill them so brutally and cast their entire village ablaze?

If there is one thing you know about the demon king, it is that he despises ungratefulness. There are no remains left of this community, only ashes and spilt blood. Death and decay tickles your nose, settling on top of your arms like a warm embrace.

You have seen this before. Once in a far away dream, perhaps.

Despite blood raining from the sky and the demon king himself perched at the top of a manmade throne of skulls, you continue on.

You must be interrupting a sacred, intimate moment as you witness him hold the still beating heart in his hands as if it is nothing but the apple of his eye. He looks at it for a brief moment, almost admiring the veins connecting and intersecting, only to spit out into nothingness.

He exudes power in the way he cares so little for the frail, beating heart in his strong hands. Sukuna opens his mouth and devours it without a second thought. It is a rough motion, one filled with callousness for the sanctity of life. Sukuna meets your eyes with an intense gaze as he swallows and licks his lips in delight.

You shiver.

His eyes blaze as they thrum with raw power and bloodlust drips from his irises, but you cannot look away. His kimono is stained scarlet, surely not of his own blood. Blood dribbles from his mouth, pooling at his chin and smearing onto his white kimono.

“I wonder how a virgin mermaid’s heart would taste?” Sukuna’s voice booms as your ears twitch. You grimace.

“I am no mermaid,” you reply easily, stepping over the corpses to be closer to him. Blood stains his hair, his nails, his chest… You try not to look below the opening of his robe. It is fruitless, however, when he rips his robe off of his own massive body.

“Would you allow me a taste?” he says, barely over a whisper, but you hear him clearly, “They all taste the same now. Nothing tastes as delectable as the first one.”

“No, I would not allow you a taste,” you reply easily. Sukuna would savor your salty blood on his tongue and feel it drip down his throat. If only you would just say yes, a yes full of resounding, yearning.

“Ah,” Sukuna says ruefully, “One of these days you will allow me a taste of your precious little flower.”

“Perhaps if you are deemed worthy of such a delight,” you murmur, “For now, you will have to relegate yourself to the humans, I suppose.” You clear a path for yourselves to reach the top of the throne easily, a smooth concrete path for your ease of walking.

Sukuna is not surprised when you stand close enough to touch his bloodstained skin and twirl your fingers to gather the moisture in the air and clean him.

“What a mess,” you drawl as you take his chin in your hands and rub his mouth of the congealed scarlet, “Did you not learn any manners in this lifetime?”

“I do not want to hear about manners from a foolish girl of the water,” Sukuna says, but makes no move to push you away. Your sharp nails pierce his skin but he does not flinch.

“Well, you would just kill anyone else who attempted to tell you so,” you say smugly and run your wet fingers through his mottled hair.

He does not comment, only allowing your hands to roam across his chest and rub the dried, clotted blood away. The mouth on his stomach purrs in delight only for you to smack its eager tongue away.

“Manners must not be very common for you land dwellers,” you muse, pulling your hands away only for the lips on his abdomen to protest.

“I take as I please,” he says in a tone of finality. You say nothing and look over your shoulder at the carnage that the four-armed demon has laid on the forest floor. Far away screams of anguish pierce the night air and coil together with the smoke rising from the trees, billowing out into the sky and into nothingness. Your eyes soften at the macabre remains of the village but you tug his ear painfully, as if to wordlessly reprimand him.

Sukuna does not stop you when you step away from him and from his impromptu throne of jagged edges and bones. He does not stop you when you twirl your hands to attempt to put out the fires surrounding him, or when you turn on your heel to leave him behind and return to your self-made oasis.

It has been no more than six nights since you had shown your face in the forest to unveil your curiosity of Sukuna on his gory throne made of blood and bones. He has not seen you since that night, and he has no desire to visit your silly little pond with your silly little flowers.

Uraume grows wary of the king’s impatience. He had insisted- no demanded- for new seeds to be planted by the lake behind his shrine. The same small body of water had laid barren for years and years. It is unlike Sukuna to suddenly grow interest in what he had previously referred to as a “wasteland” and a “place for only maggots and rotted corpses”.

And yet, Uraume sits on their haunches, patting down soil and ensuring that the land is pleasing to the king’s eye. Or rather, pleasing to your eye.

The seeds will only take a few days to bloom, but they wonder if you will make an appearance. Sukuna seems to be throwing tantrums in the shrine for no good reason- his robes being folded incorrectly, his fruit not being cut the way he desires, the floor mats not being properly placed.

Truly, Uraume thinks the king is irritated by your lack of presence despite all of the work that he is putting into making the lake presentable. Flowers, trimmed bushes, pebbles lining the edge of the small pond… Even freshly planted trees to provide shade for when you would sunbathe. All for seemingly nothing.

Uraume scoffs. Ryomen Sukuna is many things, but reason clearly escapes him. His courting rituals fail to entice you in any regard, and Sukuna is not a man who fails.

tags: kentobean @misslovingpearl @aeanya @helenas-revenge

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk x reader

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