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just-jordie-things · 9 months

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[part thirteen] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 5.6k warnings: !!manga spoilers!! swearing, jjk-verse style fighting series summary: when (y/n) (y/l/n) catches wind that the notorious sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro, has children, she makes it her personal mission to find them. the catch being she couldn't tell a soul about them- the risk of the zen'in clan learning about them was too great. keeping the secret isn't the hard part, it's lying to her friends, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, and of course gojo satoru, that she struggles with. especially when satoru has suddenly become so keen on keeping an eye on her lately.

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[part thirteen] : “Melt My Soul” ___

How long after a traumatic incident does your body begin to process it? A minute? A day? Or was it the very moment the incident took place?

Does the soul know that this event was going to change the body forever? Or is it the body that processes the trauma the quickest, in order to protect the soul from the impending pain and grief?

It feels as though someone had drilled into (y/n’s) bones, and filled them with metal. Quick hardening, heavy, toxic metal. It keeps her trapped in place, stuck.

So stuck, she glances down to study the concrete of the sidewalk, just to see if there was a curse there keeping her put, or cement being poured over her feet.

But no, there was nothing holding her in place. It was simply her own mind, processing the scene before her too slowly for any of her other bodily functions to operate.

She’s standing outside of a KFC, of all places, close to Shoko’s side, and just barely hiding behind Satoru. She doesn’t exactly mean to be hiding, but again, she can’t bring herself to move. Her hands are curled into fists so tight that they’re shaking- or was that just me? She wondered, and hoped at least no one could notice.

Shoko did. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of (y/n’s) trembling hands since she’d arrived.

Neither of them had said a word, but even if they weren’t frozen in shock, there wouldn’t have been a chance to. Satoru hadn’t offered even a moment for someone to cut in with their own piece of mind.

“What’re you getting at!?” He snarled loudly, not caring about the non-curse users passing by, just trying to go about their days.

(y/n’s) eyes landed on a particular disgruntled couple, who hastened their steps upon seeing the public display. How she wished to be them, at this moment. What a luxury, to find this scene annoying, maybe mildly entertaining.

To think the world as she knew it was crashing down around her, burning up into a crisp. If only she could walk away and roll her eyes.

“If I could be you…” Suguru speaks and it sounds rehearsed, calculated, as if he’d had this conversation before. “Wouldn’t my impossible ideal become possible?”

“You can’t be serious” Satoru’s voice finally drops in volume, and (y/n’s) eyes dart from one friend to the other.

She stares at Satoru hard, trying to read him, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. It’s useless, because she already knows. She already knows exactly what he’s thinking, because she’s thinking the same thing.

Satoru’s hand curls into a fist, and when (y/n) notices it, she relaxes her own hands, which suddenly feel sore from how long she’s kept them tensed. Her palms feel raw as the cool breeze hits them.

For the first time since she’d arrived, she opens her mouth.

“Don’t do this, Suguru,”

All eyes are on her now as she steps forward. Her entire body is aching, maybe from the intense workout she’d done before warping here, maybe from the way the heartbreak is killing her soul.

But then again, what was one more heartbreak?

“Just- just come back, okay? Come back home and we can- we can talk this out”

Satoru and Shoko stare at her, surprised by the offer, wondering if she meant it, that she’d forgive him for his heinous crimes against non-sorcerers, against his own family.

What they don’t know is she’s speaking without thinking. The words that fall from her take a piece of her heart with them, making them sound like the most sincere thing she’s ever spoken, but truthfully, she just doesn’t want to accept that this is who Geto Suguru was now. She wanted to give him a chance to prove it all wrong. She wanted to give them all a chance to forget the last few months and go back to normal.

Suguru chuckles, shaking his head and plastering on a smile.

“Ever the hypocrite, (y/n),” He says, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Her posture stiffens, and her features harden too. Forgiveness was only Plan A. Her fingers twitch at her sides, and she fights the urge to curl them back into fists.

“Your exhaustion becomes you,” Suguru continues, with a smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes, which are pointed at her with a venom (y/n) can recognize even from the distance she’s at. “I see you’ve made your choice”

It’s a comment that doesn’t make sense to the others, but (y/n) knows fully well what Suguru was getting at. Her teeth grit together.

“Don’t you speak to me about choices!”

On it’s own angered accord, her arm shoots over her shoulder, fingers wrapping firmly around the hilt of one of her swords. Before she can unsheath it, Satoru’s hand is around her wrist, halting her.

Her head whips towards him so fast she hears a joint pop in her neck, but she’s not bothered by the unsettling crack, consumed enough by her rage to glare at him, silently demanding to know why he was stopping her. Satoru doesn’t say a word, but when he slowly releases his hold on her, she doesn’t try to draw her weapon again. The fire in her eyes doesn’t die as he holds her glare.

Suguru laughs to himself, shrugging his shoulders.

“I suppose this is goodbye, to all of you”

Satoru and (y/n) look back over to him, neither of them knowing what to say. Shoko is wilting behind them both, not having said a word since Satoru and (y/n) had shown up.

Suguru raises his hand, giving what appeared to be a friendly wave. It feels like a finishing blow. With that, he turns around, and walks away. He doesn’t run, he doesn’t summon one of the many curses he could have used to carry him away at high speed. He simply strolls away.

Satoru raises his arm, and (y/n) watches with baited breath as he positions his middle and forefinger to his palm, tucked there by his thumb, and keeps it aimed directly at Suguru.

It’s only for a few seconds, but with her breath caught in her throat, it felt like ages.

Did she want him to do it? Her heart pounded in her chest, getting quicker with every beat. Did she want to stop him, just as he had stopped her? Did she want to beg him not to kill him?

The question hits her, and her breath is finally released, a heavy, shaky exhale that makes her entire body deflate.

Did she want Suguru to die?

Satoru lowers his arm, although his eyes are still trained on the spot his best friend once stood. He was gone now, lost in the crowd of people. Leaving the three of them to stand together, staring at that spot, at a loss for words.

What was there to say? Their best friend had defected, he wasn’t the person they knew, he was a murderer.

(y/n’s) the first to move, although it’s staggered, she takes a step back, putting distance between herself and the others. Satoru and Shoko look at her with worry, and Shoko even reaches out a hand, as though to help stabilize her. (y/n) takes another step backwards.

“(y/n/n)...” The girl whispers, but (y/n) can’t even meet her eyes. Her own eyes are glazed over, locked in a fixed position on the ground.

I can’t dwell on this, she thinks to herself rationally. Her heart begs her to let go, to sit down, to breathe, but she ignores it. I need to move on. I need to focus on Megumi and Tsumiki. I can’t let this distract me.

“(y/n), slow down,” Shoko’s voice is closer to her now, and (y/n) barely registers how her hands set on her shoulders with a feather-light weight. “Breathe”

She doesn’t notice her breathing has gone ragged, uneven. She’s panicking. This is a panic attack.

Move on, she wills herself to get over the incident like it wasn’t her present situation. Think about the kids, and move on, she tries anyway, because she has to.

The funny thing about trauma was that you couldn’t bend it to your will. It hits her now that her chest is heaving, her mouth is dropped open as she gasps for air.

Shoko’s trying to get her to focus, something about matching her breathing, and looking at her, but (y/n’s) vision was blurry, and she couldn’t hear a thing over her pounding heart and her own thoughts.

You only have two days left to prepare, she reminds herself. In two days, the Zen’in Clan is going to come for Megumi, she repeats it like a mantra, a toxic coping mechanism to combat the panic threatening her body.

She had no time for things like panic and fear.

If you don’t get it together, you’ll lose them. And if you lose them, what will you have left? You’ve pushed everything away to protect them, you put your life on pause, and you’re about to risk what’s left of it by challenging one of the most prominent families in Jujutsu Society.

Finally, her head snaps up, wide eyes meeting Shoko’s, who flinches upon the contact, and then she turns to Satoru, who was now also standing before her. (y/n) doesn’t say anything as she looks between them both, and neither do they, at first, but their concern is evident.

“Are you alright?” Satoru asks, leaning in closer as he speaks. She holds his eye contact, but it doesn’t look to him like she’s processing a word he’s saying. “(y/n),” He says her name, catching a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “Can you breathe?”

You don’t have time for panic, the voice in her head reminds her ruthlessly. You don’t have time for any of this.

She looks back to Shoko, whose tears are spilling onto her cheeks, after too long of holding back her emotions. Her lip quivers, and her hands tighten on (y/n’s) shoulders, gripping the fabric of her uniform shirt.

You need to leave, the voice commands, and she doesn’t give it a second thought.

She draws her hand upwards, not noticing the violent tremble of her entire arm, she brings her middle and pointer finger to her forehead, closing the rest of her hand. Satoru recognizes this motion instantly, and jumps forward to rip her hand away from her head.

Using Hexing Eye so recklessly couldn’t be good for her right now. She hadn’t perfected it, hadn’t learned to use it as a means for teleportation, and without a hex in place, she was bound to lose consciousness as soon as she warped.

(y/n’s) faster, throwing herself backwards just as she closes her eyes and focuses her mind on her dorm room.

“Don’t-!” She barely hears Satoru’s voice before she’s warped away. It’s distant, almost an echo, almost dream-like.

Her body lands hard on the floor of her room before she even has the time to open her eyes again. With a groan of pain, she tries stretching her already aching limbs.

I guess that’s why you don’t teleport while mid-fall, she thinks bitterly, pushing herself off the floor on a shaky arm. Her legs aren’t any better, wobbling like jello as she half-drags herself onto her bed.

She’s going to be bombarded by Satoru and Shoko later, for this defiant act, she knows. And even as her strength is giving out and her vision is blurring in focus, she thinks it was what she had to do.

She tries to plan on what she’s going to do tomorrow when she sees the Fushiguro kids, but she loses consciousness just as their faces flicker in her mind.

Using Hexing Eye without a hex on the place she was warping to still wasn’t a viable form of transportation.

A tear slips down her cheek as she passes out, still in her uniform, mind still swarming with half-baked strategy plans, and fear.

Despite finally getting a few hours of sleep after two days, it wasn’t a night of rest. ___

When (y/n) picks up the Fushiguro kids from school the following afternoon, they can see her weariness right away. Even though she smiles, and excitedly asks about how their last couple days had been, they can see through it all.

The bags under her eyes are dark and heavy, and she’s moving slower, almost stumbling over her own feet. Tsumiki and Megumi share a look of concern, neither of them knowing how to approach the subject. As involved as (y/n) was in their lives, she hadn’t been very open about her own life outside of them.

Tsumiki takes her hand as they walk home together. She knew she wouldn’t be strong enough to catch her if she fell, but she hoped that it was enough to bring her some sense of comfort.

Megumi tangles his fingers together, picking at his skin nervously. He’s reminded of the day in the park, when he’d seen her talking to a supposed friend from her school. He remembers how she’d looked when she’d told him that a fellow peer of hers had passed away.

She has that same look in her eye now, he notices.

(y/n) feels him staring at her, and when she looks down at him, she gives him a smile.

It looks genuine enough, but he knows it isn’t. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

Once they get back to the Fushiguro house, (y/n) is quick to whip them up an afternoon snack while they get started on their homework. Tsumiki and Megumi get right to work, quietly focused on their assignments.

(y/n) sets down the plate of snacks between them, quietly praising them for working so hard.

As she takes a seat next to Tsumiki, Megumi notices the way her body seems to slump into the chair, as though melting into it. He quickly lowers his gaze back to his homework, but the sight troubles him.

She looked like she was going to drop and pass out any moment.

He tries not to worry about it, because she might not be a real grown up, but she was older than he was, and she was always put together like a real grown up. Megumi knew that he looked up to her like a grown up, and grown ups didn’t look like this.

He didn’t know what he was looking at, really.

Both kids finish up their homework quickly, and are quick to gather on the sofa to watch tv and relax for the evening.

(y/n’s) slower, still sat at the kitchen table while they dove into their program. She was still mulling over her options, trying to figure out if it was wrong to hide the letter from them, or if it would be more wrong to tell them about such an adult matter.

Which wasn’t fair, she cursed herself, hanging her head in her hands. She wasn’t an adult either, she shouldn’t have to deal with all of these decisions either.

Despite her better judgment, she decides to put it off for just a little longer.

She gets up from her seat, and slowly makes her way over to the living room sofa, plopping herself in the space between both kids.

“So, what are we watching? Catch me up” She tells them with a smile, and Tsumiki happily fills her in on the drama in her favorite characters’ lives.

(y/n) tries to sink back into that familiar, domestic feeling she’d grown accustomed to when she’d first joined their lives. That sense of normalcy that she’d tethered herself to. But even as she engages with Tsumiki, asks her silly questions about the show, she can’t help but fear this may very well be the last normal night she spends with them. Tomorrow was Friday, so she wouldn’t see them, and the next day… well, the next day she’d have to face the Zen’in Clan.

Before her mind can derail further, (y/n) feels eyes burning in the back of her head, and she turns to see Megumi staring up at her, completely turned away from the tv.

His expression is neutral, but his eyes are hard as he holds his stare on her. She almost feels uncomfortable, but she covers it with a small chuckle and a quirked brow.

“Somethin’ wrong, Megumi?” She asks.

His eyes shift to his sister, who gives a small shake of her head, warning him not to say anything about (y/n’s) troubling demeanor. Megumi sighs, and sinks back into the couch, focused on the tv again.

“No” he mumbles back to her.

He’s not a good liar, but he’s eight, so (y/n) lets it go. He seems to relax as he watches the show, anyway, so she figured whatever it was, couldn’t be too big of a deal.

The rest of the night continues in the same way. Until eventually she’s bringing them both upstairs to put them to bed, just like she always does on nights she spends with them. Except tonight, Tsumiki hugs her for a little longer than usual, and Megumi lingers in front of his bed, unwilling to get it.

“Megumi,” (y/n) calls softly from his doorway. “Are you alright?”

He turns around to face her, revealing the book in his hands. Charlotte’s Web.

He hesitates before speaking.

“I’m not tired…” He says, but his voice sounds slow and sleepy. “Will you read to me for a bit?”

(y/n) smiles, nodding her head back at him.

“Yeah,” She agrees, not thinking twice about the time, or how she should be getting back to Jujutsu Tech soon. “Yeah, of course”

“Can we go back to the couch?” He asks.

(y/n) wants to ask why she can’t read to him while he’s tucked into bed like she usually did, but she quickly assumes he’s just being a kid that wants to fight sleep, so she nods her head.

“Sure” She agrees with a smile, and steps out of the doorway so he could lead the way down the stairs.

Megumi climbs onto the couch with his book in one hand, his other hand reaching for the ratty old throw blanket on the cushion beside him. (y/n) takes a seat beside him, taking the book and flipping to the page that he’d last marked.

“How many times have you read this now, anyways?” She asks.

Megumi ducks his head shyly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I dunno,” He admits. “It’s my favorite”

She smiles as she looks back at the page before her.

“It’s becoming my favorite too” She says, before she starts at the top, and begins reciting the story she’s told him many times before.

She gets through about a chapter and a half, with Megumi curled up in his blanket beside her, his eyes following along as she reads. He’d had most of the story memorized by now, it really was his favorite, but he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Hey, (y/n)?”

His voice is quiet when he cuts her off mid sentence, but (y/n) stops speaking instantly, turning to give him her attention.

“What is it?” She hums, her finger holding her place in the book.

“Tsumiki said it was rude to ask,” He began, his eyes focused on his lap. “Are you okay?”

(y/n’s) brow furrows in concern, but Megumi doesn’t look up, too busy playing with his fingers.

“It’s not rude…” She says slowly, trying to find the right thing to say. “And I’m okay”

It’s not very convincing.

Megumi looks up at her, blinking his wide eyes as he stares at her in disbelief.

“You don’t look okay,” He says, and it’s blunt, but it’s the truth, and he doesn’t know how else to make her be truthful with him, too. “You look tired. And sick”

(y/n) chuckles at how intuitive he is.

“I appreciate the concern, honey,” She says, trying to play it off. “But don’t worry about it, I’m just fine”

“Did you have another mission?” He asks.

(y/n) winces, shaking her head.

“No, not exactly,” She says honestly. “I’ve just been… busy… that’s all”

Megumi frowns, not caring for the bullshit answer. It wasn’t like her to lie like most adults did, when they thought they were being smart and misdirecting. (y/n) almost laughs at how such a young boy can tell when she’s beating around the bush.

“Megumi, you don’t need to worry about me-”

“But you worry about us all the time,” He mumbles defeatedly. “And you don’t look very good so… so we’re worried about you,”

He blinks, and (y/n) swears she even sees tears in his eyes. Fretting over him, she closes the book, and brings one leg onto the couch so she could face him properly.

“Can you just tell me the truth?” He asks quietly.

(y/n) sighs, but nods her head. When he asks her so sincerely, she can’t bear to lie to him again.

“Of course,” She says, because if he’s telling her it’s what he needs, then it must be the right thing to do. “Megumi…” She starts, but the words fail her as soon as she tries.

How does she explain her situation to an eight year old?

“I… I had a friend. A close friend,” She begins.

Megumi’s eyes widened.

“A boyfriend?”

“No,” (y/n) scoffs, pushing his shoulder gently. “I’m too busy raising kids, I don’t have time for a boyfriend. But this was my best friend. And he… well he recently left the school”

“The one from the park?” Megumi tilts his head.

(y/n) frowns, before turning her face away to quickly hide the sadness of the whole situation she’d been trying to bury. It appeared she had quite a friends that weren’t around anymore, for whatever their reason. Megumi also frowns at this.

“No… no this is a different friend,” (y/n) says quietly. “Do you remember when I told you about the sorcerers who… who don’t want to follow the rules?”

“That they defect?” Megumi asks.

If it didn’t break her heart, (y/n) would praise him for his sharp memory.

“That’s right,” She murmurs. “Well… that’s what’s happened to my friend,” She tells him. “He didn’t want to follow the rules anymore, so… he left”

“Oh…” Megumi looks back down at his lap. “Did he die?” He asks quietly.

“No, no he didn’t die,” (y/n) said.

She lays her palm between his shoulder blades, rubbing his back comfortingly. Even as she censors some of the truth from him, she feels like her words are still putting a weight on his shoulders.

“I’ve been sad because he left,” She tells him. “I probably won’t ever see him again”

I hope I don’t see him again, she thinks.

“That’s worse,” Megumi says sadly. “I’d rather know that they’re gone forever for a reason”

(y/n) feels her heart leap into her throat, and she can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking about his dad. She’s surprised a child so young could understand how she feels. It hurts her more, knowing he’s experienced this same heartache.

“I think I’d have to agree,” (y/n) hums, raising her hand to mess up his hair. Megumi looks up at her with a frown. “It’s not easy being a Jujutsu Sorcerer,” She tells him. “I never said it was easy, never thought it’d be easy…”

Megumi pulls her hand out of his hair before she could mess it up further, before he fixes the messy locks himself.

(y/n) looks at him, and swallows the lump in her throat that makes her want to cry. If only he were older and she could explain all of this to him.

“But listen, Megumi,” She leans forward, and hopes he can take her seriously, even for just a minute. “You don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’ll be just fine,” She gives him a smile. “I’m sorry I made you worry, but you don’t have to worry that little head of yours about me anymore, alright?”

Megumi isn’t sure if he should believe her, but she ruffles his hair again with a laugh just to mess with him, and when he swats her hand away she only laughs more, so he thinks she’s okay, for now.

“You know you don’t have to raise us, right?” He asks.

(y/n’s) eyes widen at him, stunned to silence.

“It’s okay, if… if you have to go. You have a lot to do, don’t you?” Megumi drops his head again. “We would understand. We would be okay”

Her heart breaks, and before thinking, she reaches out and wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Megumi, I’ve told you before,” She has to focus on keeping her voice even. “I’m sticking around whether you want me to or not”

His hands cling to the back of her shirt.

“There’s nothing that would make me leave you guys. I knew what I was getting into when I met you both. I knew what I was getting into when I started looking for you. And I’m still not going anywhere”

She rubs his back and keeps hugging him until he pulls away. Her focus remains on him, and she frowns when she sees tears on his face. Her fingers gently reach out to brush them away.

“I know you won’t just leave” Megumi sniffles.

(y/n) takes his little hands, smiling at him fondly.

“I won’t ever leave,” She whispers. “I’ve put a lot of trouble into watching out for you two. You’re important to me. And I’m going to make sure you guys can have everything you want”

Megumi musters up a small smile.

“Okay,” He mumbles, pulling his hands away to wipe the rest of the wetness off of his face. “Can you read a little more?”

(y/n) smiles warmly, and nods her head.

“Of course,” She says, picking the book up again, flipping through the pages to find the spot she lost.

Megumi gathers himself up in the blanket once more, and when she finally finds their place and begins reading again, he leans against her arm. He might have an eight year old’s willpower to stay up late, but the tiredness had finally caught up to him.

It didn’t take long before he fell asleep against her. (y/n) stayed still for a while, marking her place in the book and setting it aside while she sat quietly with the sleeping boy.

She petted his head gently, untangling the knots in his hair with careful fingers, and making his body relax more as he drifted deeper into his slumber. Even long after he’d fallen asleep there, she remained by his side.

I hope you believe me, Megumi, she thinks as she lays her own head against the back of the couch cushion, suddenly finding the old thing the most comfortable place she’s ever rested. And I hope you forgive me.

She drifts off to sleep with her hand on his head, and hopeful thoughts that she can do right by him. ___

With a jolt, (y/n’s) body is thrown forward in bed, tears streaming down her face and her hand outstretched, reaching for an imaginary figure, one that had been suffering before her in her dreams, but now was nowhere to be seen.

Panting to catch her breath, she tries to tell herself it was just that, a dream. Well, a nightmare. It was over now.

“(y/n)?” A tired, raspy voice rang out, before a warm hand smoothed over her shoulder. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“Satoru,” She breathes out his name as she turns to face him, a relief spreading through her chest upon seeing him there. “You’re here”

Her breathing steadies as she looks at him, his sleepy eyes and disheveled hair a sign that he’d actually been sleeping comfortably. She was surprised, considering he’d spent most of his nights in her room to dote on her, to ensure she was the one that slept well. Since Yu’s death, she’d been plagued with nightmares, the reminder that even jujutsu sorcerers face their mortality had been brutal.

“Well ‘course I am,” Satoru mumbles, giving her a small smile. “Where else would I be?”

She’s not sure why, but when she’d first laid eyes on him, his presence had shocked her before it had relaxed her. Her brows furrow as she wonders why that is, but she quickly brushes it off and lets herself relax.

The nightmare was over. She was here now, and so was he.

With languid movements, Satoru props himself up on his elbows, his eyes flickering over her curiously.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, pulling his hand from her shoulder to rub the tiredness out of his eyes. “Your nightmare?”

(y/n) pulls her knees to her chest, keeping her arms wrapped around them so she could comfortably rest her chin there. The longer she was awake, the more the horrors of her dream seemed to fade away, until it was just a few flashes of images that barely made sense.

“I think I’ll be alright,” She replies, laying her cheek against her folded arms so she could look over at him. “Satoru,” She hums his name softly. “Thank you, for staying with me,”

He gave her a look, displaying his confusion with her sudden sentiment.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” She says. “And I should have, a long time ago. So, thank you. For everything”

Satoru sits up, mimicking her position as he rests his arms on his legs, staring at her with an intensity behind his cerulean eyes that only she seemed to be able to take on directly.

“You want to thank me…” He says slowly, before his brows furrow. “When all of this… has been your doing?”

The chill that shoots down her spine seems to spread over her heart. The relaxation that had settled into her bones now replaced with freezing cold fear. (y/n) lifts her head up, unblinking as she stared at him.

“What?” She mumbles, her voice barely audible.

“You couldn’t track down Toji, and I almost died” Satoru spits out.

“No…” (y/n) shook her head in a small but trembling motion. “No, I… I followed him for days I- I did everything I could to-”

“Tch,” Satoru scoffs, the disgust evident in his face now as he glares at her. “And then you don’t even have the guts to fess up,” He mutters. “You sneak around and lie and cheat. What makes you think it will be any different?”

As he snarls at her he shoots forward, and she flinches, hard enough she had to steady herself so she didn’t tumble out of her bed.

“You think that you can protect them? You?”

She’s still shaking her head, unable to find her voice, or any words to defend herself. Where was this coming from? Why was he doing this?

“You can barely operate your own cursed technique, you have the ability of a first year, and you’re spineless, (y/n). It’s pathetic that you consider yourself a jujutsu sorcerer”

“‘I- I’m doing everything I-” She tries to speak, but it’s useless. Her breath had gone ragged and the panic inside of her was bubbling up too much for her to focus on speaking.

Satoru leans closer, and even though they’re both sitting, he towers over her as his glare hardens. She’s never seen him so filled with hate, and the fact that it’s directed at her makes her heart drop to her stomach.

“Your ‘everything’ isn’t good enough,” His voice is a low growl.

Tears burn in her eyes.

“How can you be the only one that doesn’t see that?” He laughs bitterly. “How are you the only one left that can’t see how weak you are?”

“I- I’m sorry-”

“Even your apologies mean nothing!” He yells now, and she squeezes her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to look at him any more. “You’re destined to fail, you’re weak, just like the rest of them. You can barely protect yourself, you think you can protect Megumi? Tsumiki?”

“I have to try!” She wails, but it’s drowned out by his vicious laughter.

“And when you fail, their blood will be on your hands!” He’s practically roaring over her.

She’s cowering, sobbing into her hands as she desperately attempts to wipe the tears from her face, but it’s no use. They won’t stop. Satoru scoffs at the sight, disgusted by what she’d been reduced to.

“Face it,” He mutters. “You could have stopped Toji, and you failed. You could have stopped Suguru, and you failed. Now you think you can take on the Zen’in Clan?” He scoffs and shakes his head. “You’ll die in vain” ___

“Stop it!”

(y/n) shot outwards, her strained voice leaving her throat in a pained cry, but as the blur in her vision clears away, and she gains her bearings, she realizes she’d just awoken.

A dream? She thought distantly, looking around herself, finding she was still in the Fushiguro’s living room.

That’s right… I fell asleep here… reading…

But she finds that Megumi is no longer sleeping at her side, and the blanket he’d had was now thrown over her lap. He must have woken up and gone back to his room. The realization that he’d given her the blanket to keep her warm brings her a moment of peace. Picking up the ratty material that was barely enough to keep her legs covered, (y/n) begins to calm down.

Her breathing calms, and she closes her eyes to focus on bringing herself back to the present. It was all just a cruel dream.

However it’s not as easy when she’s alone, she realizes. There was a time, although short, where when the nightmares would rob her of her sleep, there was always a comforting presence right there, ready to lull her back to sleep with a warm embrace.

And sometimes he’d read to me, she recalls.

Although the plaguing images of her nightmare had worn away from her mind now, she still feels a wetness pool in her eyes.

She missed him. Dearly so.

A tear drops to her cheek against her will, and soon she was quietly weeping into her hands.

Deciding to lay back on the couch, she gives in to staying the rest of the night at the Fushiguro house. She’d never stayed the entire night, but she was long past curfew now, and she was in no position to walk or warp back to Jujutsu Tech. She carefully pulls the small blanket over herself as she settles into the cushions. Her tears wet the place where she lays her head.

If she survived this, she’d have to thank him, for all the nights he stayed by her side, she recalls the short period of warmth that her dream had brought her. She hopes she can drift back into it’s sweetness. And then she’ll have to get on her knees and apologize for the rest of her life.

She knows she won’t earn Satoru’s forgiveness.

If I survive. ___

(a/n): wow that kfc breakup do be hurtin but it hurts so goood. reblog to dry ur tears <3 taglist: @whats-humanity-lol @malinq-ashida @mor-pheus@bekahtaylorgriggs@pookiea@megumimind@thealchemical@pearlstiare@niallerhere@96jnie @purpleguk @peqch-pie@yukinemaroop@makis-girl@sadtoru @kamikokii @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @googlesheetshoe @vzleria

xoxo ~ jordie

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader friends to lovers #friends to lovers #gojo satoru x reader series #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru fanfiction #gojo satoru scenario #satoru gojo imagne

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cutielights · 2 months

Note

Hey pookie!! I luv ur work sm and I was wondering if u could do a rottmnt boys x spider woman reader ab them reacting to her stopping a collider like miles did? Idek if u watched into the spider verse but maybe something like that if not u could wing it if you'd like tysm hope u have a good day/night! ❤️

>>:] yes. For the purposes of writing, im going to act as if you were a spider person for at least a year before this. Not supposed to be Miles’ story, but pretty similar (if that makes sense)

i waNT THE THIRD MOVIE. Frikin dying of miles morales deprivation over here, hand over the sunflower boy with in tact parents

@moonchhu THE OTHER SPIDER PERSON ONE TAG LIST

That Really Big Earthquake

LEO

“Heyyyy, I haven’t seen you in twenty four hours which truly is a record for us, I missed you, did you miss me? I bet you did right? Go on tell me aaaalllll about it.”

“So, I was just kinda minding my own business, y’know, thwipping and thwapping and going about being an awesome hero when I bumped into myself? Kinda. They looked like me, but they were different, and didn’t look like me, but, I knew they were me! Because my spider sense went off and they could do stuff I could do, but also some different stuff! And then we freaked out for a little bit before I went to auntie May to show her and she showed me four more other me’s who were hiding out in her basement and then we tried getting them home and we had to sneak about in this fancy restaurant wearing bow ties, and we cried and they went into this collider thing, also it turns out my favourite cousin was working for the evil genius corporation and he’s dead now and it feels like my fault, I’m so totally fine don’t worry about me. Howwasyourday?”

“Haha, what.”

“Stopped the collapsing of the multiverse.”

“Oh it sounds so simple when you put it like that.” Yeah okay sarcasm queen

Made you some tea after that, let’s just, take a breath for a minute, m’kay?

He has decided it’s a self care day now, at least he did after thoroughly checking you for injuries

How you do not have a concussion will always escape him, not one broken bone? Seriously? After all that?

Please remind him you’re an actual super hero and not a pane of glass

“Wait what was that about your cousin?”

RAPH

“Hey! How was your weekend?”

“Crazier than yours.”

“Okay, Bet.”

One explanation later sponge bob narrator voice

“Wait, so you’re telling Raph, that huge earthquake that happened, happened because of you and five alternate versions of yourself?

“That’s excluding a lot of things I just told you but, I am telling Raph that, yes.”

Huge bone crushing hugs are in order, according to him at least. And I mean, is he wrong?

Not letting you out of his sight for ages, please, Raph, let them go home

“Why are you so worried? I did it, I won!”

“It’s more the fact that it happened and less the fact that you’re mostly fine.”

DONNIE

Othello Von Ryan: Stay home, S.H.E.L.LD.O.N has picked up on some strange (possibly universal fabric destroying) activity. Also there has been some earthquake activity in the area you were in yesterday, not that I have a tracker on you. Because I don’t.

Only Two Legs: I handled it don’t worry :D

Othello Von Ryan: ?

Othello Von Ryan: Traverse to My Lab.

“Heyyy Deee.”

“Stop. Explain. This better be your attempt at humor.”

There was silence for a long while after you had messily glued together words to describe the past 24 hours, before he took a deep breath.

“First, How dare you stop the multiverse from collapsing without me that’s incredible rude. Second, therapy. Third, that earthquake and power surge destroyed My Lab, thankfully I have backup backups to my backups, but I couldn’t use the internet for an hour straight.”

“Y- You’re more concerned about the internet?”

“Not what I said. Now let me check you for a concussion.”

MIKEY

“Hey they took down those art displays.”

“The what?”

“Oh you weren’t here, BUT there was these reaaaallllyyyyy cool art statues along this street! Look, hey, look, I took pics!”

“Oh cooollluuuhhh that’s not an art display that’s five different fire hydrants merged into each other.”

“Haha yeah it does kinda look like that doesn’t it? I thought it was supposed to be a dog.”

“Mikey, no-“ You pulled him aside into an empty alleyway, trying to explain what had happened over the past twenty four hours.

It was an interesting experience, but you got there eventually.

Best believe this boy is giving you the biggest hug ever, and then buying pizza.

Oh, and Dr Feelings is going to be paying you a visit. Multiple. You can’t escape him.

“So they weren’t art displays?”

Speedily bulk writing and scheduling rn bc im going on a holiday with zero internet.

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deadvnstudios · 2 months

Note

oh no! i got into a argument with the romanceables and they said something so stupid that upset me! how do they apologize? :3

"H-hey. Can you just... come to my room tonight? I… I have something I want to show you."

Upon entering Tempest's room later that evening, you're immediately struck by its uncharacteristic cleanliness and the candles meticulously arranged along his shelves. They cast a warm glow over Tempest, seated on his bed with legs crossed, cradling a guitar in his lap. He proceeds to serenade you with a song, personally composed for you, by him. The performance is brief, encompassing only a single verse, and as the final note fades, Tempest asks you to forgive him.

"Oopsy-daisy, baby's breath. Iris-pectfully apologize. Please forget-me-not… and uhm… Look. Bad puns aside, what I'm trying to say is… I'm sorry for upsetting you."

The morning after your fight, you find Vein lingering outside your room, a vibrant bouquet of your favorite flowers in her hands. Before you can react, the flowers are crumpled against your chest in a crushing embrace as Vein pulls you into a whirlwind hug. The world blurs as she spins you round and round, leaving you with only two choices:

a) vomit from dizziness or

b) accept her sincerest apology

"Fine, I messed up. Happy? Now pick your apology – but you only get one, got it?"

Insisting that you would be unable to sleep until she apologized, Mary storms into your room in the dead of night, jarring you from sleep. Taking advantage of your grogginess, she pins you to your bed and fans out the thin, crumpled slices of paper clutched in her hand. She orders you to select one. On each slip of paper, a different IOU is written:

IOU a full day of doing whatever the hell you want to do

IOU a movie night where we watch all of your favorite trash movies

IOU a letter detailing all of your least annoying traits

IOU a homemade dinner of your choosing (...but cooked by Noel, he owes me)

"Darling dearest, how much longer will you leave me to linger in the hall? My night will be frigid, unbearably bothersome as I shiver on my lonesome without you by my side….could you find it in your heart to forgive a fool? At least one foolishly in love?”

You sigh as Mona continues to dramatically plead at your bedroom door, talons tapping incessantly against the wood as her anxieties begin to emerge. As you finally open the door, she rushes in and nearly tackles you to the ground. Trapped within her hold she noisily smooches over the entirety of your face, cradling you like you’re something precious. Irreplaceable. You two will have a serious talk in the morning, but you’ll spend the rest of the night tangled together, cuddling under the sheets as she whispers into your ear every reason she fell for you to begin with.

“Beloved, the affliction of affection ails me; my world becoming insipid and dull in your absence. In having wounded you, I have wounded myself. I will eagerly bleed my heart dry in repentance if it can’t beat beside yours. I would give you all of myself to see you smile at me once more. Please, return to me tomorrow. I miss you.”

The note Sorin slipped under your door is littered with a stray tear mark here and there. Your heart aches as the the crooked letters, scribbled on hurriedly, bleed across the page from the dampness. When you go to find him the next morning, Sorin eagerly intertwines their fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles as they beg for your pardon and your company. The two of you plan to take a nap in the sunlit garden, but you have to silence Sorin with a kiss as he prattles on, praising your character.

”Wait…I…please. Hear me out.”

Noel heaves against the doorframe, one arm holding open the door you’d planned to shove close. Though his ears burn in shame, he requests that you join him that evening for dinner. In his room. Alone. When you arrive you’re taken aback by the makeshift candlelit dinner set up on a picnic blanket on the floor. Noel sheepishly lights a candle, letting you know that he’s prepared your favorite. He doesn’t want to talk while the two of you are hangry.

#fool's paradise #indie games #visual novel #vn #indie game #vein #mona #tempest #noel #mary #sorin

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jhuzen · 10 months

Note

if ur requests are open…virgin Kazuha with a player m!reader.

Reader made a bet with Beidou about how long it’ll take to get to fuck Kazuha since he’s one of the people on the Crux that the reader hasn’t fucked and Kazuha overhears.

He knows he shouldn’t give in, but he’s wanted the reader for so long so they end up fucking (and confessing feelings because I’m a romantic😭).

tip [m.reader]

actual title: [just the] tip, LMAO. I AM BACK FROM THE DEAD AND I’M BRINGING THREE SMUTS WITH ME. anyway. i think we all know when i say soon, it means 2 weeks later. fuck. i’m so sorry yall i do not know how to squeeze my brain for creativity. so the past two weeks, i’m just working out and gaming and illustrating. also i was halfway through the smut when i got the request for the player reader aND THATS WHEN IMAGINATION STRUCK. so anyway have this adorable samurai, tysm baby for letting me win your 50/50 again ilysm mwah.

𖦹 gentle sex, romantic stuff, they say ily in the end (and i am jealous), it’s been weeks since my last smut so bear with me, an attempt at an oral, fingering, penetration, lots of reassurances, top male reader

It all started with a simple bet between you and Beidou. She was the same captain that challenged you many times in drinking contests, after all (most of which, you’ve lost to her). And while you cannot exactly handle all of your alcohol like she can’t, no one could say the same when it comes to your visceral need to possibly get every living being on the bed with you.

It was a running joke between the entire crew. With your utterly promiscuous nature, you’ve managed to bed every bachelor and bachelorette on the Alcor. It was an amazing feat and an occurrence that happened so much, people would casually compare your performance with each other. Granted, it was embarrassing, but such is the price of being so… whorish.

Not a single soul was saved, even the sweet housekeeper from Mondstadt and his superior that were traveling to the nation of freedom to strike a deal with an elusive winery owner weren’t saved from your promiscuity. Beidou was already hurting from the sides from all the laughing she’s done once she realizes the fleeting glances between the two of them towards you were no mere coincidences.

But maybe not a single soul being saved was… an overstatement.

All of them weren’t safe except for one — the elusive ronin that frequently traveled with Beidou’s crew; Kaedehara Kazuha himself. For some reason, he was the one person that you couldn’t bed, and unfortunately for you, Beidou noticed. She noticed how your flirtatious flair would tone down, turning you into the most unassuming version of yourself that any of the Alcor has ever seen whenever you would entertain Kazuha up in the crow’s nest, a gentle smile on your lips instead of that knowing smirk that could leave anyone writhing.

Beidou already had an idea by then, but she decided to aid you in getting things moving as she made one bet to you.

“If you can get our romantic poet in bed with you, I will retract all drinking contests in the future.”

Your terms were flimsy and shallow. But you figured your liver would greatly appreciate the deal. And if you won, you only said that the captain would have to admit that, although untrue, you have, at some point, beaten her in one contest.

Had you only known what your dear little ronin has in store for you.

Kazuha, admittedly, is an absolute romantic. The verses in his poetry could not make that mere fact any clearer. His mind and heart can coordinate and weave the sweetest words lodged in limited verses that sing the sweetest praises to the unknown.

And often you were the victim of it. Kazuha was well aware of how subdued you seem around him, suddenly discarding the playboy persona that you were known around for, your very reputation that despite the efforts that Kazuha made in order to evade it, it still somehow managed to take the longest detour right to his heart.

You were a magnet that had limitless attraction Kazuha was just a drop in a sea of particles that continued to gravitate to you, despite his constant rumination that you were never going to be a constant in his life. He lives to seek every corner of the world while you discovered the uncharted parts of someone else’s bare skin in your endeavors.

How ironic was it that in his inconsistent lifestyle, he was terrified of having you — someone who is just as much of constant as his stays on places while he wandered through all nations.

But the tiny voice at the back of his head were screaming, pleading for a chance to even experience the atmosphere with you when wrapped in the haze of lust and sex.

It was probably why the moment he overheard your tiny wager with Beidou, the restraints that he kept on his poor longing heart suddenly loosened. And it was probably why the moment you amped up your flirtatious tendencies, Kazuha was suddenly breathless.

To experience of being the end of your smooth words was something Kazuha can only describe as what it feels like to get a taste of his own medicine. Suddenly, you were more forward, you didn’t wait for him to ask you and gaze at the skies with him on the crow’s nest. Everywhere he was, you were suddenly around, like a persistent python that coiled around him until he could no longer breathe — and he loved it.

Maybe it’s why your advances were easily reciprocated by him. Maybe it’s why all of a sudden, he wanted your hand to linger under his chin. Maybe it’s why, out of all his resistance to your charm, it all comes crashing down into a futile effort.

And maybe it’s also exactly why his heart hammered with persistence against his ribcage despite the ache in his knees as he knelt and did his best to suck you off with little to no experience under his belt.

You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast to meet Kazuha’s teary eyes. He was already ruined just from this, mouth barely able to take in more of you. But you were a persistent teacher, and he was an eager student.

A smirked played upon your pretty lips, hand gliding over to Kazuha’s soft cheek before pinching it, stretching his mouth just a little bit more as you slowly pushed your hips, watching your cock make it barely even halfway through Kazuha’s mouth.

You were used to the experienced men that could take you in skillfully even with your size, but the inexperience was somewhat of a breath of fresh air — if not, utterly adorable. The way his tongue refused to stay flat while your cock pushed in, his teeth grazing against your sensitive head ever so slightly, and archons, those lovely tears that glistened through his wet eyelashes as the honorable ronin looked up at you for any form of approval.

“You’ve no idea how incredibly delectable you look right now, love.” Your smooth voice filled his ears and he hummed, pleased from the praise, leaving you hissing as the vibrations from his mouth enveloped your cock.

“Think you can manage a few more inches?” You asked with a curious grin.

Kazuha doesn’t think so, but the innate need to please you and seek your praise was something he quickly found out the moment you stripped him of his robes and adored his body with your sweet words. He nodded, a little unconvincing, a little reluctant, and a little nervous.

You guided his hands that rested on your thighs to grip the base of your length, “For better leverage,” you said, though quite true, it was equally just an excuse to feel his cute little hands around you.

The ronin nodded once more before pushing further, dipping his head until he can take more of you. His cheeks burned and the moment the tip of your head hits the back of his throat, Kazuha immediately pulls back, coughing. You ran your hand through his hair, flashing him a reassuring smile.

“Too much?”

Kazuha’s lips were wet from his own saliva. He opened his eyes to see a tiny sinful string of saliva that connected his lips to your cockhead. He looked up at you with so much determination, almost eager to try again, and while it was immensely adorable, you decided to take pity on Kazuha as you pulled him up to your lap.

“I-I can do more…”

“And we’ll work on that next time,” you said with the same soft reassurance that he has heard from you every time you and Kazuha would engage in a conversation. But it wasn’t what made his heart jump — it was the fact that you opened up the possibility of a next time for him. A possibility that this isn’t a one time thing as he feared.

Before he could even process anything else, his back hits the soft mattress beneath him. It should have been intimidating, but to see tower over him with such a huge figure, Kazuha could only feel the unbridled warmth that radiated from you. He waited with bated breath as you looked down on him, a smile so inviting that it doesn’t even remotely feel like he was participating in a bet, that you were making love to him so tenderly instead.

“Think it’s time for me to finally take care of you, hm?” Your soft croon reached his ears and he could only nod, meek yet still so bloody excited for what happens next.

He could feel his breath get caught in his throat the moment your hands easily opened his legs, and he willfully complied despite how his thighs quivered under your grasp. He watched seat yourself in between his legs, watching you open up that one familiar package of lubricant. You squeezed a generous amount on your fingers before turning to him.

“Try to relax, yeah?”

“M-Mhm…”

Kazuha doesn’t question the way his back immediately arched up as his body responded to your fingers that slowly penetrated him. He could feel the coldness and he shivered, squirming at the tight fit. He could feel it all too much. His hand immediately shot up to latch onto your strong shoulders while he let out a strangled gasp.

Your little samurai was all too enticing, “My~ what a mess I’ve made you, and just from my fingers alone too…” You laughed and Kazuha can only whimper closing his eyes shut to avoid any further embarrassment, though it was clearly futile by then.

Your slowly pumped your fingers, feeling out Kazuha’s gummy walls. He clenched on your fingers with every movement, leaving him writhing against the sheets. It was a sensation that he was all too new in experiencing. His soft gasps and quiet whines echoed through the walls of the remote inn that you graciously paid for under the guise of taking shelter with your travel companion.

Kazuha cried out your name so sweetly, and it was as if the heavens are calling you.

“[Name]… m-more…” he pleaded with a tiny voice, barely managing while your fingers continued to penetrate through his walls that continued to pulsate around your digits. You indulged in every moan that spilled from his lips as you pumped your fingers even more.

You licked your lips, eyeing the samurai in bliss so hungrily. He was ethereal even when he’s a complete mess with sweat cascading through his soft skin and his hair completely tousled as he continued to squirm from your ministrations alone. You drank the very sight of him and you couldn’t wait to take him then and there.

A choked gasp suddenly weaseled out of him as your fingers finally grazed his prostate.

“H-Hah—!” You watched in fascination as your endeared ronin came just from that alone. Cum dripped down from his cock, making a tiny pool on his abdomen. Kazuha was breathless, his body quivering in inconsistent intervals as he reached his high all too early. He looked at you, just as surprised as you are.

“O-Oh… D-Did I—? Already?” Kazuha’s embarrassment was unparalleled, but you were quick to quell that as you leaned in, showering his heaving chest the most chaste kisses, filled with so much care and love that were absent from your times with others. No amount of sweetness could amount to your shallow ones when it wasn’t Kazuha.

“You treat it like it’s a problem,” you chuckled and Kazuha’s face flushed at your playful chastising. Of course it must be a problem. One too many he’s heard about people lasting in bed a better feat when it comes to sex. But you were quick to refute the little beliefs he had. “It only means I’m making you feel good, no?”

Kazuha nodded, speechless for once at such a gentle treatment. He’s heard from the accounts of others just how rough you can be, some men even having to complain about it to you openly, while you only gave a tiny apology before slithering away. But this, even Kazuha wasn’t too certain if this was something new for you or if you thought that he was too fragile to handle you. He griped to himself at the thought and he quickly grabbed onto your wrist.

“I-I’m ready,” he muttered, giving you the full green light.

You have half a mind to question him for a second time, but his look of determination and your own cock that only throbbed painfully against your abdomen was enough to persuade you.

Kazuha could only look on, his eyes widening when his struggles earlier to take you in just with his own mouth came back to bite him in the ass. He looked up, a little frantic as the anxiety only flooded through him — he could barely suck you off without suffocating, how could he take you in so easily.

You only leaned to kiss at the shell of his ear, as gentle as you can, “Don’t worry, we’ll stop if you can’t.”

His arms were quick to hook around your neck, looking down and quivering a little as he felt the way your cockhead brushed against the rim of his entrance, prodding at him with so much temptation. “But… I don’t want it to stop…” he mumbled, only making you laugh at such a sweet sentiment.

“One at a time, mkay? It’s your first time,” You whispered as you slowly lined up, your shaft already prodding at Kazuha’s lubed up hole. “Ready?”

Taking a deep breath, Kazuha only nodded, surrendering control to you to take care of him.

It wasn’t a mistake to be so near him as your ears indulged in Kazuha’s sweetest cries as you slowly eased yourself in. You didn’t bother going all the way as you felt him clench around you even with just a few inches in. It was adorable, remotely endearing as you continued a couple more inches.

“W-Wait,” he was quick to plead, and you stopped, listening intently to his whims.

“Why don’t we practice with just this much, hm?” It wasn’t even a surprise as Kazuha quickly agreed, eager to follow you. He succumbed into the submission of being under your control, to let you do as you please to him and you relished in that very permission to take in every bit of him even the slowest ways.

You drew out some quiet sobs from poor Kazuha as your hips drew back, only to stop just before you could pull out. Your sensitive head alone could even feel the slightest bumps within his walls and it was absolutely divine.

Kazuha hiccuped through his tears despite your shallow, languid thrusts — barely even fully inside and yet he’s already so spent. You could feel every gasp getting pulled out from his system with how his cock seemed to brush against your abdomen with every movement.

“Feels good?” You asked and he only nodded — quite frankly it was a miracle that Kazuha could even still make of what you can say.

“D-Deeper, [Name],” Kazuha begged, coming out in a tiny mewl that you couldn’t seem to refuse.

You followed through his demand, letting in a couple more inches inside and he was squealing so wantonly. The way his walls clenched onto your length, he could feel every sinful throb within his tight warm walls and he couldn’t help but squirm, inching away from your cock when you held him down.

“You can do it, you’re a good boy, yes?” You smiled, your thrusts slowly growing deeper and deeper until it left him writhing underneath you. You could feel the delectable scratch on your broad back as he clutched onto you for dear life.

“M-Mhm… a good boy,” he parroted, his mind numbing with each thrust, his hips slowly meeting your movement as the fervent need to feel you grew inside him.

You were just as easily losing it as your hips moved in a steady pace. Never had you even been this gentle on someone even — but somehow Kazuha brought it out of you. Your soft grunts melded with his delectable moans as you moved your head, lips just a hair distance away from him.

And then it spills from your lips;

“Fuck… I love you so much…”

Kazuha’s eyes snapped open and you immediately stopped your movements, your cock still inches deep inside your little ronin.

A wave of clarity washed over Kazuha as the realization hit you both.

“You mean it?” He asked, love in his eyes with so much anticipation.

You only laughed as you leaned in, “Couldn’t get anymore obvious with that,” you quipped, all too amused as the blush overtook Kazuha’s face down to his neck. A little taken aback, but he only smiled, bringing you in close for a sweet kiss.

“Well, I share the sentiment.” Kazuha mumbled, his breath ghosting over your lips as a lovestruck expression completely took hold of his pretty face.

“Would it kill you to say it back?”

“I love you too.”

You only showed your satisfaction with your lips on his, your fingers digging into the soft flesh of his waist as you lifted him up. A needy whimper was pulled out of Kazuha’s throat as you thrusted one more time, a mischievous and eager smile grazing your face.

You were going to show Kazuha so much more.

And lucky for you, you’ve got the whole night to express that love to each other.

#can you hear me crying because i’ve never felt so single #NEXT ONE #we’re gonna be screwing two dragons in their own separate fics #ofc ofc #genshin impact x male reader #kaedehara kazuha x male reader #kazuha x male reader #kazuha smut #sub genshin impact #jhuzen’s stupid one shots #jhuzen’s shameless filth

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runa-falls · 11 months

Text

scratches and bites - 1

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Almost kidnapping, age-gap but completely legal, grumpy/asshole Miguel, injury, them claws and fangs, sexual tension, cockblock lol

a/n: yes, i’m back at it with some writing. sorry for being mia lol. this became a lot more dark-ish than I initially anticipated–my bad. I was also gonna do a smutty one-shot, but i needed some background so ._. my bad again. now imma hunker down on pt 2. hope you enjoy ?

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a grumpy man and you make him grumpy. You regularly go against his orders, create chaos, and invite danger. So this is how you met (which may explain some things...)

w/c: 1.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist

----

Miguel O’Hara is a grumpy man.

It’s almost like there are tiny weights holding down his brows to maintain his glare or ribbons pulling at the corner of his lips so he’s always frowning. Needless to say, being subject to an O’Hara scowl is not uncommon. Everyone in the spider-verse has had their turn. But you have seen it more than anyone. In fact, you might be the number one reason why he’s rarely seen in a relaxed state.

You’re not even sure why you were recruited in the first place. When Miguel showed up, it was only a few days after you were bitten. You had literally just woken up from your Spider-coma to find what every spider-person experienced: sticky hands, superhuman strength, and a sixth sense.

Endless thoughts ruffled your mind, overwhelming your already overly-sensitive body. Just as you were starting to fully freak out, a bright and distorted series of lights and noises invited a very tall man, dressed head-to-toe in a red and blue suit, to casually walk into your childhood bedroom.

You sat there shaking in disbelief as you watched the broad-shouldered man slowly reveal his face, easily taking off that terrifying mask before regarding your small figure on your bed. He almost looked inconvenienced or bored as he met your eyes.

This has to be a dream.

“Alright, come on.” Those were the first words he said to you. He gestures to the portal impatiently, waiting for you to come to your senses and follow his orders. When nothing happens he raises his brow. “Don’t have all day.” His tone is clipped like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“What? ” It comes out hoarse and small, "No." If it weren’t for his sensitive hearing he probably wouldn’t have picked up on it over the noises the portal was making. Your fingers clench harshly against your blanket.

That marks the first time you saw his infamous scowl. He adjusts his stance, resting his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent. “No?" He chuckles humorlessly, "Well, you don’t really have a–”

“Who the hell are you?”

He shakes his head dismissively, “It doesn’t really mat–”

“Did you do this to me?” You lift a hand that has remnants of a Spanish flash card that you accidentally picked up when you leaned against your desk. You tried to peel it off but ended up ripping it into smaller pieces that were still stuck to your palm. His stare is patronizing as it lands on your flash card confettied hand.

“Is this new to you or somethi–”

“So you know about it?” You accuse, "You did--"

“Stop fucking interrupting me.” You flinch as he basically growls the words in irritation. As he steps closer to you, light pours over his figure, highlighting the intricate pattern of his suit that clings closely to his muscles. You cower slightly, noticing the menacing scars over his cheeks and the heat in his nearly red eyes.

His voice is low and dangerous as he addresses you, “You’re spider-girl, or spider-woman if you prefer, though by the looks of it,” His eyes glaze over your face and body, “you’re still just a kid.” He continues to inch closer as he speaks, unconcerned by the way the portal closes suddenly behind him or the way you start to shuffle away from him. “A radioactive spider bit you and gave you powers, lord knows why, and now you are to use them for good. End of story. Now,” His hand darts out before you could react and grabs a hold of your arm, “you’re coming with me so we can save everything and fix all this shit that is fucking up the multiverse.”

You attempt to yank your arm from his hold, but it only makes him grip you harsher. “Why are you doing this to me? I don’t even know why this is happening! I j-just woke up, I swear!” He doesn’t spare you a look as he mutters lowly into his watch.

Another portal opens, exactly like the first one he came through, but placed a bit farther away.

Now you’re panicking.

“Didn’t you hear a thing I said?” He pulls you from your bed, almost dragging you off the mattress. You try to claw at his hands, but his grip remains unaffected. If anything he’s just growing more frustrated.

“Ok, ok, ok. I’m spider-woman.” You continue to pull away from him, dragging your legs as a way to slow him down. “Please, I promise to use my powers for good! I will be a nice neighborhood spider-thing–Just please let me go! I didn’t do anything–”

“This isn’t a discussion.” He pulls you up and closer to him until he’s basically carrying you to the portal, one arm supporting your spine and another under your legs. You squirm relentlessly in his arms, trying to make it hard for him to get a good grip on you. “Stop…Fucking…Moving–” Sharp, fire-hot pain zips up your body as claws sink deeply into your skin. The side of your thigh and abdomen throb with unbearable heat as you’re shoved closer to his chest.

“Ahhh–fuck!” Your eyes sting with tears as your body catches up to the burning sensation of his claws retracting back into his body.

“Shit…” You look up as you hear his softened voice and see that he’s staring right back at you. The portal in front of the two of you continues to hum, but it quiets as your eyes met his. “Kid, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—You just, you gotta come with me. The fate of everyone and everything rests on our shoulders.” The pain on your side dulls as you silently listen to the growing desperation in his voice. Somehow you’re able to divert those sensations, you might even be healing already. “I know you’re new to all this superhero stuff, but trust me when I say that I need your help. We all do.”

You’re almost afraid to ask, “...We?”

“There are countless spiders across the multiverse, all with interconnected lives.” You feel the large warmth of his hand gently stroke against your aching thigh like he’s trying to soothe the pain with light touches. “I’ve recruited a couple thousand, but we still need more. There's darkness rapidly spreading around the multiverse, displacing heroes and villains from their original dimensions and destroying whole universes.” The colors of the portal reflect off his red eyes as he stares right through it, mind somewhere else.

You let it sink in. The whole multiverse. Everything and everyone. And you.

Your arms slowly link around his neck so as not to startle him, and you pull yourself closer to him. You secretly enjoy feeling his firm chest against you, suddenly realizing how much larger he is compared to you, but when you twist the wrong way you are suddenly reminded of the small gashes on your side. Your quiet hiss shakes him out of his thoughts. Your lashes, sticky from the few tears you’ve shed, frame your eyes prettily as you stare up at him.

“Ok.” It comes out quieter than you wanted but he immediately reacted to it.

His brows raise in surprise, “Ok?” You nod. “Ok. O–Alright, that's um, great. I mean, thank you.” You nuzzle your head into the warmth of his chest when you see a corner of his mouth perk into a small smile. Why is he making you feel this way? How can your body react like this to someone about to literally kidnap them? “D-do you want something for these, uh, marks…” His voice is hushed and almost sounds sheepish as his fingers carefully smooth over the marks he left on your skin. A soft groan leaves your lips as he applies too much pressure against one of the puncture wounds.

“Yes please.” His fingers stop their movements and you can barely feel the way his body stiffens at your words.

“Alright, honey.” The hand under your back drags upwards, tracing your spine until it rests against the back of your neck. Goosebumps litter down your body as the warmth of his palm meets your bare and ultra-sensitized skin. He lifts you closely until you can feel his breath against the skin of your throat. Your eyes flutter closed. “Brace yourself.” The rough timber of his voice is enough to make you unconsciously clench your thighs. Time slows as you feel the sharp edge of – are those fangs?

You’re so focused on the gentle brush of his incisors that you barely notice the borderline possessive way he’s holding you. Like a wolf preparing himself for the meal of a lifetime. Just as he’s about to sink in and finally give you the relief that you’re practically begging for, an engine roars to life.

An engine. In your bedroom.

Well, there’ve been weirder things.

Both of you separate slightly at the noise and watch as a motorcycle slowly rolls into the room. There sits a heavily pregnant spider-woman with a very unimpressed look on her face, eyes bouncing from you to the nameless man cradling your body.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spider man 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse

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penny00dreadful · 6 months

Text

Rookie Mistake

AO3

17th August 2023

Someone was following him home.

They were keeping their distance at least. But they'd been keeping their distance through the last three turns.

They could, at the very least, try not to make it obvious what they were doing.

Usually someone following him wouldn’t be a problem. Steve was an expert at what he did and losing a person who was tailing him was easy.

Or it used to be anyway.

His back had taken much longer to heal than any of them had expected and he’d been told his chances of walking again were fifty-fifty. Pretty much a coin toss.

But he’d started to get the feeling back in his legs again around the three month mark. While all of it still hadn’t returned and the doctors were unsure if it ever would, he could at least walk again.

He couldn’t move as fast nowadays, though the cane helped. But it didn’t help enough to escape from his followers' sight.

He was slow, he couldn’t run and he couldn’t stand for extended periods of time.

He could walk for even less. Which was probably why Claire at the gas station had kept shooting him concerned glances.

Walking to and from there was pretty much the extent of what he could do in a day.

Barely fifteen minutes there and back, but enough to have him exhausted and trying to keep the pain at bay.

Eddie was gonna lose his fucking mind once he found out. He worried too much. Steve still remembered the first words he heard when he woke up in the hospital.

“If you ever do that to me again, I swear to god sweetheart, I’ll take you out myself.” Spoken through teary eyes and with shaking hands as he reached for him, like if he didn’t touch him immediately Steve would drift back off into a coma.

This was the first time Steve had been home alone for an extended period of time since he'd been recovering. Eddie had looked at him with a stern pointed finger and an order not to do anything stupid.

So of course he had decided he was going to walk to the nearby gas station to pick up some of their favourite snacks.

They were gonna do a lazy streaming binge session later that evening, complete with a blanket fort like little kids, when Eddie got back from helping at the garage with Gareth.

What else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t drive anymore. He didn’t have the strength in his legs for the pedals.

And the gas station was just outside the estate they’d chosen to settle in. Eddie had wanted to be closer to his Uncle Wayne and be able to see his friends again and Steve could never refuse him that.

Except now he was limping home, cane in one hand, paper bag of junk food in the other, with pain and exhaustion shooting up his legs, right into his weakened back.

He could barely even focus on the space around him, he was concentrating so hard on just putting one foot in front of the other and getting home without passing out from the pain, never mind fighting off an assailant.

In his heyday he wouldn’t even have had to think about how he would handle this situation.

Now, however. Now he felt so fucking helpless.

There was a gun concealed in a secret pocket just inside the front door. If he could just get to it, he might make it out of whatever this was.

Even though Steve was on medical leave and Eddie was… retired, old habits die hard. They’d never not be trained to be killers and expect something around every corner.

God, he’d been so stupid. This was so stupid. Eddie would never let him hear the end of it.

Steve would be lucky if he could keep upright once he hit the front door, everything was so painful.

But Steve was well versed in pain. Literally trained in it. Torture, interrogation, field medicine, pushing past injuries to get the job done. Steve had handled it all, always dreading the idea of being put behind a desk. Even now he was determined to make sure that didn’t happen.

No offence to Robin and her job. He’d be dead ten times over without her but it just wasn’t something he could fathom doing.

There was a mentor position opening up though.

Dimitri was retiring to spend more time with his family which meant that Steve could possibly be looking after the new recruits in the near future.

Y’know.

If he didn’t fucking die here and now at the hands of some idiot lacking subtlety.

As far as anyone in the neighbourhood knew, Steve had moved to the area with his husband while recovering from a catastrophic fall, which wasn’t exactly incorrect.

The best lies were the ones that had truth in them.

And the neighbours had all been very… neighbourly. It was a little foreign to him. He was used to growing up in upper class neighbourhoods where he would maybe shoot a quick smile and a hello towards the couple across the road but apart from that, he pretended they didn’t exist and vice versa.

But here, though it was a solid middle class suburb, they all actually spoke to each other.

Bastien would usually chat while he was out walking his golden retriever named Bread.

Lucy and Anthony, a couple in their eighties, knew everything about everyone and gave them the best neighbourhood gossip.

Sandra loved hosting a cookout and invited them every single time.

Even the neighbourhood kids were all very sweet for a bunch of teenagers.

Best of all was their next door neighbour, Chrissy.

She had knocked on their front door with a freshly baked apple pie in one hand and an invite to her big blowout divorce celebration in the other. It was only the day after they’d moved in and Steve had hobbled downstairs to find her and Eddie chatting like they’d known each other forever.

Steve had originally worried they were only being included in these events as the token queers of the neighbourhood. Just so all these middle classers could pat themselves on the back for their diversity but those worries were quickly put to rest.

Their acceptance was quiet. It wasn’t braggadocious. It was sweet.

Chrissy's divorce party had been a wild night full of karaoke, an obscene amount of chinese food and glass upon glass of pink, glittery, fruity cocktails.

All things that Jason had hated.

Things Chrissy loved.

Things she hadn’t been able to enjoy in her own home in years. But now she was free to do whatever her heart desired.

Chrissy deserved way better than Jason anyway.

She had leaned into Eddie’s side and taken Steve’s hand in hers and slurred that she wanted “what you guys have. You’re so sweet to each other. How long have you been together?”

They had made eye contact over her head with raised eyebrows.

The start of their relationship was always a bit of a blurred line.

“Seven, eight years maybe?” Eddie had said, holding her steady with an arm around her waist.

“Really?” She’d asked, blinking her big eyes up at the two of them. “That’s such a long time. Jason and I got married after a year. Don’t do that.” She added, pointing back and forth at the two of them. “It’s a bad idea.”

Steve patted the hand that was held in his. “We won’t. Don’t worry.”

Especially considering they’d already been married two years by then.

As the night wore on and more and more stories had come out about what Chrissy’s marriage had been like, Eddie had offered, with three cocktail umbrellas in his hair and a Pink Lady in his hand, to hunt Jason down and make him disappear.

Chrissy had giggled with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh sure, you big softie.” She said as she lightly swatted his arm. “If he starts calling around unannounced again, then go ahead."

Eddie had smiled, sweet and innocent, but his eyes had been sharp and hard and Jason needed to watch his fucking back.

Steve had been able to convince him to at least give Jason a warning the first time, before he completely wiped the guy from existence.

But only one warning was all Eddie would concede to with a pout and a mutter of ‘You’re no fun’.

If Jason couldn’t take a hint and kept coming around after that, it wasn't Steve's problem anymore.

In general their time in the neighbourhood was nice. It was domestic. The area was safe and sleepy and naive to most of the wrongs of the world.

It was something Steve and Eddie had never had the chance to have, especially considering the start of their relationship had been so… combative.

Which is what made the guy trailing behind him stick out like a penguin in the desert.

He was unfamiliar.

In an ill fitting black suit that looked like something out of a bad spy movie and greasy slicked back hair.

Steve wasn’t scared of him.

He was clearly inexperienced.

Or just stupid.

The guy kept his gaze locked on his target, one hand constantly in his pocket and a look of grim determination on his face.

Obvious.

But he also seemed to be growing in confidence too. Getting slowly closer and closer.

Steve kept his pace slow and relaxed, trying his best to hide the pain and exhaustion he was feeling sinking into his back and down his legs.

And trying to hide the fact that he knew a fucking idiot was tailing him.

If some fucking newbie gang member or whatever was able to take him down because Steve couldn’t help but push himself, he was going to be so pissed off.

All he needed to do was get inside.

Unlock the door, get inside and he’d be able to grab one of their concealed weapons and take care of whatever this was.

Easy peasy.

Or it would have been easy peasy if not for the second guy.

The second guy who’d descended on him just as he pushed his front door open, looping an arm around his neck.

He dropped his bag and his cane, scrabbling against the hold and just barely brushing the hidden gun compartment with his fingers before he felt it.

The sharp sting of a needle in his neck and the cold of whatever it was spreading through his veins.

The last thought that ran through his head before everything went black was that Eddie was going to be so dramatic about this.

He didn’t know how long it was before he woke up but he could take a guess.

It was an empty warehouse he was being kept in, if the bare concrete walls, metal roof and high ceilings were anything to go by.

The windows were right at the top, only letting the barest sliver of orange daylight through.

The sun was low enough Steve guessed he’d only been out for an hour.

The whole place smelled of damp and was shrouded in shadow, the only light being that bit of orange sun and one bare light bulb hanging over his head.

Brimborn Steelworks, he thought.

He could smell the sea air, hear gulls outside, and the warehouse had been abandoned for as long as they’d been in the area so it was a pretty safe bet.

Just outside the circle of light he was washed in, he could hear muttering and bodies shuffling around.

About four by his estimation, along with the sound of metal parts shifting against each other.

Guns.

Fantastic.

Just what he fucking needed.

His hands were knotted behind his back, not even tied to the chair he was sitting on. Who used rope to tie people up anymore?

Aside from certain… intimate circumstances, Steve hadn’t had to deal with rope in ages.

Not since… well.

It was usually zip ties or duct tape that were used.

Much quicker, much easier to conceal in pockets or pouches.

And judging by how he was tied, fingers pointed downwards, inner wrist to inner wrist and just a bit too tightly, these guys had absolutely no experience with ropes.

Kinky or not.

They hadn’t even bothered to blindfold him.

Or gag him.

Eddie would have never been so sloppy. He could’ve done better than this to Steve with his eyes closed and on a Tuesday afternoon.

If he was at full strength, he’d have been able to manoeuvre the weak bindings of his ropes until he was able to tug them free and kick the shit out of the closest guy until he got his hands on his gun.

Then he’d be out of here and on his way home before Eddie had the time to properly spiral.

But he wasn’t at full strength, he could barely even pull against the binds around his wrists, tugged at an uncomfortable angle behind his back.

Not a gentle angle and not at the proper straining points he was used to.

The rope was rough and harsh against his skin instead of the delicious soft bite of the silken binds.

But it was fine.

He wouldn’t be here long.

“He’s awake.” A voice in front of him said.

The accent was mostly American but with the slightest tinge of Russian underneath.

Great.

Two men in ill fitting black suits with their guns held loosely at their sides stepped into the light. The other two stayed behind him, probably as some kind of security or intimidation measure.

Well, it was nice to see them try.

Cute almost.

“Hello.” Steve sighed. “Can you guys tell me what this is all about so we can get it over with, please?”

“Oh,” the one in front of him sneered, “he thinks he’s funny.”

“I think I’m very funny, yes.” Steve nodded, relaxing into the chair as much as he could.

The guy scowled. Clearly he hadn’t learned that sometimes having fun on the job was necessary. Helped alleviate stress. “You’re gonna answer our questions.”

“Sure thing, Drago.” Steve nodded. The guy really did look like Drago. Big meaty head and short crop of blonde hair. “Hit me.”

Drago smirked. “If you insist.”

With an almighty crack he brought the back of his hand down across Steve’s face, snapping his head to the side.

He could feel the blood welling up in his mouth where his teeth had cut into his cheek and the heat from the strike blooming over his skin that would no doubt turn purple within the next day.

God, never start an interrogation with violence.

Fucking casuals.

Steve sucked at the blood pooling in his mouth and spat it at Drago’s feet.

“You’re going to regret that.”

Drago scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Who do you work for?”

“Scoops.” Steve grinned with blood stained teeth and a nonchalant shrug. “Scoops Ahoy. That little ice cream shop at the mall?”

“Cute.” He sneered.

“Thank you.”

“Maybe you need more persuasion.” A voice came from behind him and a sharp blade was pressed against his neck. “How would you feel if I were to cut your pretty throat?”

Steve ran his tongue over his bloody teeth.

“Do it.”

There was a stutter of movement as the four of them glanced at each other.

“You think we won’t?”

“No, go on, do it.” Steve pressed his neck against the blade which was immediately pulled away. “You think you can get more answers out of my dead body?”

The guy with the blade swung himself around to face him, digging the point into his cheek this time with a snarl.

Steve couldn’t even be bothered to give him a name in his head.

He’d be Knife Guy.

Didn’t matter.

He’d be dead soon.

“Or,” Steve continued, “do you think that I’m going to cower to any more of your threats now that you’ve just shown me you’re not willing to kill me?” He laughed. “Never start with your last resort.”

The tip of the blade was dug in deeper and dragged across his cheek, cutting into his skin but Steve could barely feel it as he distantly heard the sound of tires screeching to a stop outside.

No one else seemed to have noticed.

“We don’t need to kill you, we just need to make you talk.”

“Well,” Steve sighed, grimacing at the hot sticky blood running down his cheek. If he was lucky it wouldn’t scar.

If they were lucky it wouldn’t scar.

“I suggest you hurry up, you’re running out of time.”

The four of them laughed. “You think your buddies are coming for you? We targeted you because you were alone and impeded. You had no safety net around you.”

“You sure about that?” Steve took in each of their faces, all looking so confident in a job well done. “You’re right, my buddies aren’t coming for me. If they were, you could take your time. But as it is you’ll all be dead in about,” he tilted his head, listening for the first distant gunshot, which sounded only half a second later, “three minutes so…”

“If not your buddies then who?”

“You guys seem a little new at this.” He said gently, like he was speaking to children. “Have you ever heard of The Shadow of Hawkins?”

Their blank faces told him all he needed to know.

Fair enough.

It was a fairly obscure name after all.

And a bit ridiculous.

“How about The Demon of Dresden?” He glanced around. “No? The Bloodyhanded? Ringing any bells?”

Steve blinked at them all in bewilderment.

Did these guys know anything?

The gunfire outside was getting louder and closer to their building and the guys around him seem to have finally clued in, clutching their guns tighter.

Like that would do anything for them.

Steve refused to give them a moment of reprieve.

“Really guys? He’s gonna be so offended.” He shook his head, as though disappointed. “Well, maybe you’ll know him by his most famous title.” The last gunshot cracked through the air leaving a terrible silence in its wake. “Kas. The Betrayer.”

Every one of them flinched at the name, the colour draining from their faces as a door slammed open in another part of the building.

“He's trying to scare us.” Knife Guy swallowed. “Kas is dead.”

“He was." Steve nodded. "But you had to go and resurrect him. But here’s another one for you.” He grinned again, blood coating his teeth and leaned as far forward as his bindings would allow him, despite the strain on his back. “Who do you think I am?”

“Why does it matter?" The third guy spat, but Drago had a horrible realisation dawning on his face.

"You…"

“Who?” The fourth asked, whipping his head back and forth to look at the two of them. “Who is he?”

“He… you…” Drago shook his head, his full accent apparent now. “You can’t be!”

“Who gave us our intel?!” Knife Guy shouted at the others, also cottoning on.

“You…” Drago swallowed. “You’re his-”

“Sweetheart!” Eddie’s voice echoed around the warehouse seeming to come from all directions and none all at once.

Knife Guy was by his side in a flash with a fist in his hair and the blade pressed against his throat again.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Steve said, glancing up. “He’s very protective of my hair.”

His fist only tightened.

“Fine,” Steve shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Hey fuckos!” Eddie was still shrouded in darkness, completely hidden from view. “Tying him to chairs is my job!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh, for god's sake.”

Drago stepped in front of Steve, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest, pointing his gun towards the various dark corners. “If you want your-”

Four loud gunshots rang out, echoing throughout the room.

Steve felt the warm splatter of blood across his face.

Four bodies fell to the floor, a clean bullet wound through three of their foreheads.

Knife Guy, the one who had his hand in Steve’s hair was screaming in agony, clutching his blown apart knee.

“An hour, sweetheart.” Eddie’s figure stormed out of the dark, coming to a stop just in front of him. He still had grease from the garage streaked over his cheek and embedded into the creases on his hands to go along with the copious amount of other people’s blood spattered all over his body. “I leave you alone for one hour and I have to answer a call from a worried Chrissy checking to see if everything's okay because our front door is wide fucking open. How did you go and get yourself kidnapped by Ruskies?”

"Oh, I'm sorry, please continue to tell me how getting fucking ambushed outside our home is my fault."

"It didn’t start outside our home, did it?"

Knife Guy wailed again and Eddie looked down on him with a cold glare.

“Oh, sorry.” He said, not sorry at all. “I must have missed.”

With a simple squeeze of the trigger he put a hole through Knife Guys head and the screaming stopped.

Steve expected Eddie to walk behind him to cut his binds but instead he just swung his leg out and sat himself down on Steve's lap.

"It started at that fucking gas station because you can't sit down for five minutes straight." Eddie pulled a small pocket sized first aid kit out and tilted Steve's head to the side. "Even if fucking Hippocrates or god damned Florence Nightingale rose from the dead and told you to take it easy, you'd still be ignoring their orders." He scoffed as he roughly pressed a butterfly bandage over Steve's cheek. "And you call me the hyperactive one." He mumbled.

Steve winced, glaring at him as Eddie pressed down particularly hard on one strip.

His mouth was still pulled into a deep frown but he stroked his fingers gently over Steve’s cheek, caressing his face with the gentlest of touches.

"You okay?"

Steve couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Yeah baby, I'm good. But they got the angle of my arms all wrong. It's really uncomfortable."

"Hmm. Well as an expert in tying you down to chairs, I'd have to agree. How dare they steal my thing. I fell in love with you when you were tied to a chair."

Steve raised an eyebrow, complete disbelief written on his face.

“Oh yeah?” He tried to bring their faces closer but he was impeded by his bindings. Eddie just gave him a feral grin. “Which time?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Tell me.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie cooed. “No.”

“Asshole.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Would you mind?" He tugged at the ropes again. "My back is fucking killing me."

"Of course." Eddie muttered into Steve's mouth but never properly closing the distance while simultaneously lifting his weight up. “All you had to do was ask.”

With the bindings now gone, his shoulders and arms felt like fucking lead and the blood rushing back into his hands was causing terrible pins and needles.

Eddie was digging his fingers into Steve's muscles, trying to alleviate as much of the strain as he could.

Steve closed his eyes and groaned, his earlier ill-advised trip was catching up with him again and he was dreading having to walk out of this place.

He just wanted to be at fucking home, in his fucking bed with his fucking husband.

Or maybe they could still do that naked blanket fort in the living room with a movie marathon and an obscene amount of snacks.

When he opened his eyes again, Eddie was on one knee with his back to him.

“Hop on.”

Steve grumbled but couldn’t find it in himself to argue, sliding himself forward, slinging his arms over Eddie’s shoulders and allowing himself to be carried off.

Eddie was strong and steady under him, barely flinching as he grabbed tight to Steve’s thighs and stood.

Their walk back was quiet and Steve wasn’t looking forward to the amount of paperwork that would have to be filed as a result of this but he hoped since he was still on medical leave he could get out of it.

The sun was starting to set outside, the sky splashed with brilliant shades of reds and oranges and pinks. Now that he was outside he saw he was correct about where he was being held.

Brimborn Steel Works.

Still got it.

When he turned his head back around to face forward he saw that Eddie had driven Steve's beloved bimmer here.

The driver's side door was flung open and the car was at an odd angle, the direction and darkness of the tire marks behind telling Steve that Eddie had practically drifted into the lot at speed.

There were a few bullet holes in the doors and the passenger window was shattered but it wasn’t the worst that car had ever seen.

Bodies littered the ground around them, all in the same out of date suits Steve’s four goons had been wearing, all with the same guns, all with the same kind of build and all with slowly coagulating pools of blood and brains around them.

Damn.

Eddie really didn’t hold back this time.

Steve looked back at his car.

He couldn’t drive her anymore.

Probably never would be able to again.

They’d talked about trading it in for a model with push-pull controls for his hands instead of floor pedals so he could have that freedom back.

But they hadn’t gotten to it yet.

Eddie had taken his motorcycle to the garage, he would have arrived home with it. Probably seen the front door wide open and a grocery bag on the ground like Chrissy said.

It would have been quicker to get here on the motorcycle.

But Steve couldn’t ride on it.

Not as a driver or passenger.

At least not yet, not until he was further healed.

So Eddie had come here with the car, either because of hope, stubbornness or pure confidence, knowing he would get Steve back.

Steve smiled to himself, tightening his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and burying his face in his neck, peppering little kisses on any skin he could reach.

“You okay back there?”

He could hear the grin in his voice as Eddie lowered him down into the passenger seat, turning on his knees to rest his forearms across Steve’s thighs.

“Yeah.” Steve smiled down at him. “Just… thanks for finding me.”

Eddie straightened up to his full kneeling height, taking Steve's face in his hands.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He leaned up, pressing the softest of soft kisses against Steve’s lips, full of love, adoration, dedication.

Steve could feel it pouring out of him and into his own body.

The gentlest intimacy from a man who could cause so much violence.

Eddie brushed their noses together. “I’ll always come find you.”

“You always say that.”

Eddie hummed. “Because I always will.”

AO3

A prequel fic set in this universe will be dropping next week 👀

@geekymagicalpotato

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #pennys anniversary event #spies au #spy steve #“retired” eddie #rookie mistake #tw guns #tw murder #tw kidnapping #rookie mistake fic

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boneblushed · 5 months

Text

But on a Wednesday, in a cafe

muggle!au, James x fem!reader, I’m going through a really tough break up right now so writing this = therapy

I’ve been spending the last eight months / Thinking all love ever does / Is break, and burn, and end

Perhaps you should be used to it by now, this never-ending chasm of pain that begins and ends at the base of your ribcage.

It’s a deep, aching hurt, the kind that promises to linger until you’re forced to surrender. A draught of cool air pulls through your chest, alerting you to the tired heart squeezed within it. Every time you think about him—about the life you shared—it breaks and splinters, rocketing another of its shards into the surrounding structures. A dreadful pang.

Who knew love could hurt this much?

It’s taken a while for your heart to look the way it does. A few weeks ago, it was held within your shaking palms, wrung through with desperation as you begged him to return. Here… take it, please? It belongs to you… it’ll always be yours.

Prior to that, when the aching wounds were still fresh, you wove bandages from hopeful ignorance, fastened them with blind faith. No, love couldn’t possibly be as fickle as he was making it out to be; you couldn’t let yourself believe it was, you’d simply have to bide your time until he came to his senses.

Until he told you how wrong he was, how much he didn’t mean any of it. Of course I didn’t fall out of love with you, of course that can’t just happen; I love you, I’m sorry, forgive me?

And pathetic as your broken heart is, you would be ready to do so, no matter the stakes.

It makes you stomach roil as you think back on it now — the power he had over you, how callously he wielded it every time you spoke. Has. Present tense. The fissure deepens.

It’s terrifying, how quickly your world can shrink into nothingness. Once upon a time, you’d considered him your soul-mate—your person—and now it’s as though the pair of you are strangers, even less than.

It’s true what they say, indifference pierces deeper than hatred. After all that you’ve been through with him, all that you’ve shared, how are you supposed to simply move on and find love elsewhere?

The cobblestone path you walk along is well versed with your rumination. A quilt of autumn foliage crunches underfoot, a petrichor rich scent present in the air. Every shop window you pass boasts Thanksgiving deals that you ‘just don’t want to miss!’; it’s nauseating as much as it is heart-breaking, having to do the holidays without him for the first time in six years.

It’s probably pity more than it is fate that leads you to the new cafe in Godric’s Hollow — you’ve shed far too many tears for the Universe to bear, plagued with motion sickness from how quickly your sadness turns yearning again.

You miss him. It’s right there in your eyes, how much you miss him. James’ on barista duty whilst his colleague Remus mans the register; the latter may discern the melancholy in your features, but it’s James who recognises the exact significance of it.

He’s been through it before, you see, with Lily Evans. His gaze softens, dappled brown eyes falling over you in paces, and he wracks his brains for things he’d have wanted when he was going through the worst of it.

Except, the one thing he wanted no one could realistically give him — Lily. Who’s your mystery boy? Is it truly as over as your eyes say it is?

“Uh, hey,” you greet. Your voice doesn’t crack as much as it’s barely loud enough to register.

“Hey,” Remus responds, sending you a small smile. Playing it cool whilst his knee nudges James’ under the counter. “What can I get for you?”

“Just an iced latte please,” you answer. “With oat milk, if you have it.”

Remus punches in your order as you reach for your wallet. The cappuccino James’ making overflows.

“Shit!” He curses, jerking back his hand hastily, the skin scalded. Droplets of burnt coffee fly onto the machine as he shakes them off.

You startle, turning to look at him. “You alright?”

“Coffee’s on us,” James replies, reaching over Remus to cancel the order. His peripheral vision catches the incredulous look he sends him, but he thinks it a disservice to look away from you in this moment. The melancholy in your eyes ebbs a little. James’ heart soars.

“Really?” You ask, your voice a little louder now.

“Oh yeah,” James responds, faux-serious. “You’re our fiftieth customer today.”

“You’re lying,” you say, a flicker of a smile on your face.

James shrugs, grinning handsomely. “D’you want the free coffee or not, oat milk?”

You raise your eyebrows in response, pretending to zip your lips and throw away the key. James nods approvingly.

He discards the dregs of the cappuccino he was making, starting anew with his gaze flitting over to you intermittently. You watch the trees sway through the high windows to the left of you as you wait, your hands clasped in front of you, one wrist held in a palm. He knows, as he watches you, that you have to go feel all of the pain to see a way out of it.

So he keeps his mouth shut for now, and hopes this cafe will become a regular haunt.

Weeks, a month, two passes. He takes it slow. He thinks your dreadfully pretty but that’s besides the point right now; when he was grieving his relationship with Lily, all he wanted to do was mope and be left alone. No number of Sirius’ “friends” could quell that deep, overwhelming hankering in his chest.

“Hey,” you greet one day, resolute.

James raises his eyebrows at you. Remus is off sick. “Hey?”

“I’m paying today.”

James snorts, shaking his head. “No way.”

“I’m tipping heavily,” you warn.

“Wow,” James sighs sadly. “Like you would any other employee, huh? And here I thought we were friends.”

“Shut up.” You scowl. Not really; it baffles James, how your features can still look so sweet when they’re contorted all angrily. “You’re right. You don’t even need this job.”

The thing about James is, his family owns half the establishments in town square. He’s one of those enigmatic personalities that you’ve always known to rule your hometown; around when you are, dancing around the corners of your gaze, kind and ever-present but never very important. Until now.

He grins handsomely, dropping into a curtesy. He oozes fondness and it makes you forget things often. “Nepo baby at your service, sweetheart.”

“That’s what I don’t get about all this,” you say. “You don’t… why’re you wasting your time here? Is this gig just a way for you to pick up chics?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“James.”

He grins wider, raising his arms in surrender. “Full disclosure?”

You cock your head to one side, intrigued. “I’m listening.”

“Well… it actually started as a way to fill my time,” he answers, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I went through a pretty tough break up last year, and I couldn’t bear to be sat at home hurting over the same shit over and over.

“So dad got me this gig. I didn’t even get paid in the start, honest. I barely did anything; made like, one coffee over eight hours. But I was around people, and that helped. I don’t know.”

You swallow. It sounds far too familiar to your own circumstances, and a distant ache rings through your chest — a reminder. “I know the feeling.”

“And then I met Rems, and introduced him to my mate Sirius,” he continues, raising his eyebrows. “Turns out they’re fucking mad for each other, who’d have thought it? And it just reminded me… I don’t know, that there’s still hope.”

Another pause. You know what he means, but you want him to say it anyway, for your own sake.

Your lashes flutter closed. “Hope?”

“To love again. Eventually.”

His rough timbre reverberates through your insides. You nod, slowly, and when you open your eyes, unshed tears darken your lashes. James frowns, but he doesn’t intervene. He knows this feeling; his own heart mourns its melody.

He hands you your coffee soundlessly.

“Thanks,” you says, your voice cracks.

When you turn around, you know you’ll be back tomorrow. And then the next day, a few days after.

You aren’t sure when you start believing it too. But slowly, slowly, without even knowing you are, you begin smiling more. Ruminating less. No one’s ever given you this many free coffees in the past. James’ tally surpasses your ex-boyfriend’s by week four; the small talk’s more about you than about him, and he learns your quirks with this startling sincerity that you didn’t think you’d ever experience again.

The more you see of James, the more you recognise how much love your past relationship lacked. Strangers, friends, more than. All you did was blink.

Though of course, you’d be lying if you said the melancholy didn’t wax and wane, flow through you in waves that make your entire being crash ashore.

James knows this. He still feels the odd pang of heartache at the thought of Evans.

On Christmas Eve, the air feels different. The melted snow in your hair glistens in the warm light of the cafe, and for the first time since he met you, James sees it reflected in your gaze.

“The usual?” Remus asks in lieu of greeting.

“Times two, if possible Rem,” you say. You turn to James. “Coffee?”

James startles for a moment before he regains his composure, his wide, brown eyes falling over your in paces. You’ve always been breathtakingly beautiful, but something about your features seems different now, better.

Softer. Healed.

“You’re paying though, right?” James asks, faux-serious.

“I see,” you reply, folding your arms across your chest. “As long as it’s not a date, you have no problem paying for things?”

“Shit,” James wolf-whistles approvingly, jumping over the counter so he’s standing right in front of you. You gaze tilts, messing with your centre of gravity. “This is a date, huh?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Do you want it to be?”

James raises his in tandem. “If that’d make you happy.”

A pause. “You know,” you say quietly, breaking eye contact. “After my break up, I didn’t think anything’d make me happy ever again.”

James’ features soften. He reaches forward and cups your jaw, returning your gaze to his. “And now?”

“Can’t you see it in my face, James Potter?” You smile poignantly. “Yes is the answer to your question, by the way. It’d make me very happy.”

Behind you, Remus begins to clap. James groans and drops his head to your shoulder, deftly flipping him off. “Don’t fucking start, Moons.”

“Are you kidding? Coffee��s are on me, by the way. Pads is going to fucking die when he finds out.”

But on a Wednesday in a cafe / I watched it begin again

#james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #James potter

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kivino · 7 months

Text

MASTERLIST

Requests are open!! Make sure to read the rules for requests in my pinned post before requesting!!

Number of requests currently: 1

Message me if you want to be in the taglist!

Everything is (sort of) arranged in chronological order of posting. Once I have more works Character Masterlists will be available.

Personal favorites are in bold!

Created - 26.08.2023

Last updated - 01.12.2023

HEADCANONS

Fantasy AU with Valeria! - Fluff, SFW

Platonic!TF141 x Eastern European!Reader - Fluff, SFW

Roommate!John ‘Soap’ Mactavish x Reader - Fluff, SFW

FICS

Night time bonding || Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gn!Reader - Fluff, SFW

Summary - You have a hard time falling asleep. Ghost has the same problem.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader smut drabble - NSFW

Summary - The title is pretty self-explanatory.

Hush || Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gn!Reader - Slight angst, fluff, SFW (requested)

Summary - Different situations where reader and Ghost hug because he’s too afraid to say “i love you” at the moment, but both of you know what his hugs mean.

Take us back || Zombie AU || Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Gn!Reader - Angst, gore, mcd

Summary – The new world was rotten, and you rotted away with it.

Every time, I fall for you || Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Gn!Reader - Fluff, suggestive

Summary - Kyle fell for you hard, but he doesn’t know if it’s mutual.

Double vision || John ‘Bravo 0-6’ Price x Paramedic!Gn!Reader (requested) - Fluff, SFW

Summary - John gets into a car crash on his leave and meets you - a cute paramedic who instantly attracts his attention.

I don't care what's in your hair || Roommate!John 'Soap' Mactavish x Gn!Reader - SFW, Fluff, Teasing, Friendly banter

Summary – Your roommate Johnny comes back after his deployment and his hair looks like it needs a little trimming.

Big guy || Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gn!Reader - SFW, fluff

Summary – Ghost takes a liking to the nickname you give him, but struggles to understand just how much he likes it.

Closer || Slasher!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x M!Reader - Dark themes, kidnapping, dead dove do not eat (requested)

Summary - You hear various dark rumors from your colleagues and you don’t believe them, until there is one particular ghost looking you right in the eye.

SERIES

Out of the shadows || Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Shadow!Gn!Reader - Slight angst, action, SFW

Summary – After the betrayal of Task Force 141 and the slaughter of civilians in Las Almas you decide to leave Shadow Company on the spot, which works out sideways, leaving you with simmering hate towards the man whom you used to look up to and new interesting figures in your life.

First step. - Where you cut ties with Shadows.

Second step. - WIP

Third step. - WIP

RANDOM THOUGHTS

Price, who’s down bad for his spouse

What if there was a cure to the zombie virus? (“Take us back” fic related)

Slasher!Ghost

WIPS (this is getting a little out of control now)

Lost and found || Zombie AU || Platonic!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Child!Gn!Reader - SFW, Hurt/Comfort, Found family, Parenting

Out of the Shadows || Second step || Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Former Shadow!Gn!Reader - SFW, Slight Angst, Revenge themes, Violence

Out of the Shadows || Third step || Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Former Shadow!Gn!Reader - SFW, Slight Angst, Revenge themes, Violence

Angel of small death || First verse || Priest!Phillip ‘Shadow 0-1’ Graves x Gn!Reader - SFW (for now), religious inaccuracies, idk anything about american catholics i'm eastern european and i will use it as an excuse /j

Whatever it takes || Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gn!Reader - Angst, SFW

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andysorbit · 11 months

Text

Praise & Worship - Teaser (M)

Churchboy!Doyoung/Camboy!Doyoung x Churchgirl!reader

Warnings: soft dom!Doie, corruption, unprotected sex (be smart), overstimulation, dirty talk, phone sex, spitting (I know I know I'm a spit enthusiast) daddy kink, fingering

Now, this is a black church ya'll. This aint your memaw Doris' church nah sir we bumpin them ol' negro spirituals

Note: The warnings above and the content below are all subjected to change as I continue working. Be warned. Also, any typos found will be fixed in the final draft.

Playlist (because why tf not??)

The Battle is the Lord's - Yolanda Adams

I Won't Complain - Rev. Alyn E. Waller

My Redeemer - Nicole C. Mullen

Mary, Don't You Weep - Aretha Franklin

praise

/prāz/

verb

To express warm approval or admiration of.

worship

/ˈwərSHəp/

verb

To show reverence and adoration for.

The week eases by and Saturday night rolls around like clockwork. You take your time preparing your clothes for church and then make a pitcher of peach iced tea that you plan on dropping off at Brother Isaac's house before church in the morning.

You unwind after a nice bubble bath and dress in an oversized t-shirt and those feelings of yours bubble back up. Of Doyoung's body against yours, of what it really feels like to be ravished.

Sometimes, there's a look in his eyes that you can't place and it's led you to believe that there may be a side to Doyoung that you've never seen and it gives you chills more intense than the ones he gives you in church.

On impulse, you ordered a pink dildo online a few weeks ago but your guilt is why you never even opened the packaging but tonight, your curiosity gets the best of you. You look at it then put it back in the box.

It's a step.

You started off with good intentions. Really. A simple Google search:

Is it a sin to masturbate?

Clicking between Christianity.com, GotQuestions.org, and reading answers and Bible verses on NeverThirsty.org for so long that you begin to wonder why the hell you should even possibly care anymore because it's all a mixture of yesses and noes.

Then comes the twist that makes you groan in defeat. The matter of lust. Can you even masturbate without lusting after someone?

You close the tabs and search for porn sites for something to watch. It's all anticlimactic. You expected more but... this is all a bit much.

A pop-up catches your eye:

DaddyDoie is live! Sign up to say hi now!

"Doie? Oh please," You scoff but you sign up and your username is BrownSugarPrincess. Is it stupid? Yes. 100% but you didn't sign up to seduce anyone or to attract any lascivious attention to yourself. You signed up because there's no way that's your Doie.

You confirm your account and you're redirected back to the livestream.

You shriek.

It is Doyoung.

Or maybe it's not. You can't see his face and the camera cuts off just at his neck and Doyoung definitely has a necklace just like that and those shoulders... there's no way that's Doyoung...

But it really could be...

You lean in closer to your laptop and take in his naked body with little regard to your previous research on where your soul will end up after doing a thing like this.

You slap your free hand over your mouth when he sighs, "BrownSugarPrincess. Cute name... You're my thousandth subscriber, sweetheart, so.. you've won yourself a surprise," he says softly as he strokes himself a litle faster.

You'd recognize that soft, honey voice anywhere.

"Oh my God," You whisper

You watch his hand fist his cock and you're frozen; anchored in place by the sex dripping from his voice.

"I'Il send you a DM and you can tell me when you're available to claim your prize," he says slowly.

You type your reply:

BrownSugarPrincess: oh wow that's pretty cool... thank you but maybe give it to the next person? I don't think I should.

Doyoung chuckles devilishly, "Such a polite girl. It's okay, we'll talk after. I think I could change your mind."

You want to close the tab and toss your laptop across the room but you can't. His cross necklace sits so nicely around his neck and the fact that he's even still wearing it is obscenely attractive.

"God... please," You whisper. You're unsure of what you need God to do for you because more than the willpower to put your laptop away, you want Doyoung inside of you.

"I know what you want," Doyoung chuckles as his hand slows down. He's a tease.

Your hand is in your panties before you realize it and you softly touch your clit as you abandon all of your morals from earlier.

Doyoung stops stroking himself and lets his cock smack against his stomach with a heavy flop.

"Oh... fuck," You pant as you stroke yourself a little faster.

You admire the girth and wonder for a moment how long it would take you to stretch around his cock.

He's fucking huge.

He gently runs his thumb over his throbbing tip and spreads his precum so slowly that you whine.

"Get a good look at it, baby," he sighs, "You think you could take all of this?"

The comments are flooding in and you don't read a single one of them because how could anyone focus on typing with this indescribable being on their screen?

He chuckles as he wraps his hand around his cock once more, "You've been very quiet BrownSugarPrincess... or maybe I can just call you Princess? I bet you're really sweet... I know why you're not saying anything... I know you're touching that pretty little pussy."

You buck your hips and the sound of his voice alone is enough to send you over the edge but you fight it off because you don't want this to end.

"I know you're soaking wet for daddy. In your bed with your hands between your thighs.. stroking that soft, warm pussy. I know you're wishing I was there to stretch you out and fuck you like a whore.. yeah, Princess.. Daddy wants you to keep going. Do that for me, baby."

Your tongue runs over your bottom lip and your fingers speed up, "Oh... fuck, fuck... fuck... fuck," You pant and you're so close and he knows it. He knows what he's doing.

He strokes himself faster and you match his pace. The moans that fall from his mouth are the most delicious sounds you've ever heard and you lose the battle.

Your body trembles as you cum and soon his cum is shooting up his stomach and covering the back of his hand.

"That was so good, wasn't it?" he sighs.

You nod and of course he can't see you but you do it anyway because he has you stuck on stupid.

"Okay...well that's all for tonight. Thank you for coming... Princess, I'm gonna clean up and then l'll be talking to you," he says and ends the live.

You get up and clean yourself up too. The guilt kicks in as you step into the shower and you scrub your body so harshly that you think just maybe you've washed the sins of you.

"God... please.. forgive me. I'm so sorry. l'm so, so, so, sorry. God, cleanse me. Help me, Lord," You whisper over and over as you rinse the soap off of your body.

You towel off once you're done and go back to your bedroom. You reluctantly check the site's notifications and you yelp.

DaddyDoie: Hello, Princess

It was sent five minutes ago.

Again, I apologize for the delays and I hope this satisfies you for the time being! As always, feedback is appreciated and encouraged!

full fic can be found here

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2smolbeans · 7 months

Note

I am OBSESSED with your Obey Me writings. Would it be possible to something where one of the brothers (or others) disguises themselves as someone else in order to sleep with their darling? Imagine if you tried to run away and they're still trying to make you love them so they know they can't just force themself onto you, but at the same time they NEED your body. Maybe it's even a continuous thing, imagine the horror if every new lover you take on turns out to be them. Over and over again you try to run away but end up running right back into their arms. The gaslighting potential is perfect for a yandere who wants the more subtle approach.

ANONN THISSS 💖💖 Also sorry this took so long to finish 😭

A Demon Inside The Church

Yandere Satan x Antro/mythologist reader

Tags: Religious themes, gaslighting, manipulation, minor nsfw depictions, stalking, impersonation, minor character death, deception, body marking, paranoia, attempts at escaping, Mc has a crush on someone, branding pact mark, possessive behavior, isolation.

*This is unedited and long

___________________________

You weren't always a superstitious person. In fact, you were a person of science, an atheist. However, you were always fascinated with what stories life had to offer, its history, and, as of recently, its beliefs. Mythos, urban legends, and religions- it had caught your eye when your philosophy professor had mentioned them in his typical lesson. A one-off mention, but you decided to look more into it. For some reason, it had unlocked a childhood memory of when you used to read Greek mythology back in middle school.

As of late, you started going to the church near your university campus. You weren't Christian, and by no means did you believe in an afterlife. But you were curious about Christianity and its beliefs. In the beginning, you weren't fascinated with the repetitive worship music that sounded the same. If anything, you had a hard time staying awake as the singers kept repeating the same words and phrases over and over.

But it was worth staying as the sermons would begin after. Each sermon teaches a new belief, a new lesson, a new verse. You were in awe with how the pastor would passionately preach his words, the things you'd learn about the people in the church.

It made you curious about what it would be like to study and record the cultures, religions, and traditions of people around the world. After all, if just learning and investigating your typical local church from an academic point of view was enjoyable, imagine the possibilities of branching out! Maybe perhaps becoming an anthropologist wouldn't be so bad.

You balanced it out, your school, and then your church. For once, everything felt like it was in place, you had reconnected with your old passion, recognizing faces, making acquaintances. You were truly happy.

Funny enough, you even met this guy who happened to be around the same age as you.

Brown eyes, brown hair. He was an average looking guy, nothing made him stand out. You didn't know his name, or if he went to the same university. But every Monday at exactly 3am, he'd show up and read at the library. It was interesting- he was interesting.

Like the bored nerd you were, you started speculating in your head. Why did he always appear at 3am? Was he perhaps a ghost that would only appear in the witching hours? A vampire that walked amongst the earth when it was dark? A low ranking angel who liked to relax in the church?

Of course these were all just make believe scenarios. You had a tendency to make up backstories or scenarios about recurring people. You weren't much of a talker or socializer, you didn't have a lot of close friends, but for some reason you had a bit of courage to go up to the man and talk to him. Though funny enough, the moment you approached him, he was already smiling at you, patting a chair next to him.

Awkwardly shifting your way towards the brown haired male, not expecting him to even acknowledge you. You sat down, trying to muster up any words. But soon enough, you calmed down as he spoke, his warm eyes comforting you as he let out a chuckle.

"Hey, no need to be nervous! I'm just chilling here"

He pulled out the chair for you, his chin resting on the palm of his head as he had a small grin on his face.

"Nono- uh, I'm not nervous..Just uhhh- sorry I don't know..”

You trailed off, unsure of what to do in the small talk.

"It's fine, no sweat! Anyways It's kinda nice talking to you for once"

"Sorry? Wait, do I know you?"

You let out a chuckle, feeling your cheeks heat up from the embarrassment that began to creep up.

"Well, I mean I dunno? I mean if you're wondering how I know you, I just see you around class here and there"

You perked up, accidentally raising your voice from your excitement, immediately covering your mouth with your hands as you apologized.

"WAIT SO YOU- Oh shit sorry..Wait so you also go to Morninghaven?!"

"Always have~"

The two of you talked for hours. By the time you both parted ways, it was already six in the morning. Little by little the two of you got closer, eventually getting each other's numbers and sitting together during each lecture. Apparently, he just liked going to the library at 3am because of how empty it was.

It was funny how the both of you had so much in common.

Damien was his name. That brown haired geek, Damien. It had been at least 5 months since you've known him, and you hated to admit it, but he was the first close friend you've ever made in a while. He indulged in your hyperfixations, listening to your rambles while he also returned the favor. He was talkative, always sure to give a long answer to something so small. Even if you were to ask him about his favorite color, he would somehow turn the conversation about the meaning and ‘biology’ about colors.

“Why do you do that?”

You suddenly asked him, sipping at your drink as he sat across from you.

“Do what?”

You swayed your legs back and forth, the height of the bar stool keeping your feet from touching the ground. Listening to the jumbled up conversations that warmed the cafe, you stared at Damien. Smiling while feeling flustered, eyebrows perked up, your voice perked up - you let your mind speak as you put your drink down.

“We always talk about something small, and somehow it devolves into a whole essay of a conversation about big things!”

You exclaimed, gesturing your hands, hoping that it would help aid your poor choice of words that you thought you made.

“Oh sorry..My bad…”

“Nono! It’s not bad! I’m just wondering why? I thought it would just bore you..Or that I was boring to talk to..”

You deflated, sinking down to your seat as you sipped your drink. Damien leaned forward out, ready to retaliate.

“What?! What are you saying?”

“..Do you just ramble because I don’t bring much to the conversation..?”

The both of you stayed in silence. You were trying to hold back a laugh as you purse your lips, while Damien had a deadpan smile.

“....Stay still. I’m gonna slap you”

Immediately, Damien began to reach for you from across the bar table, nearly knowing it down as you slapped away at his hands from touching your face. You were laughing hysterically while Damien muttered to you to “stay still damn it!” and “This is what you get for being such a dumb dumb!” while he continued his efforts.

“What! Gahh! Stop!!”

“Fine, fine! But y’know, have you ever thought that maybe I like rambling to you because I want to talk more with you?”

…Being around him was one of your favorite things throughout the day. He was just so warm..So comfortable to be around. He made you feel wanted, something that you haven't felt until you met him.

"Are you an angel?"

His voice pitched from the other side of the call.

"Pfft what?! That's so random! What is this all about?"

You playfully rolled your stomach onto the bed, your feet up in the air while your legs kicked up and down slowly.

"I'm serious. Are you?"

Rolling his eyes, Damien let out a smug smirk.

"I dunno, depends on you"

You'd be lying if you said that you didn't have some sort of attraction towards Damien. Sure, it was a small crush, but you were happy with the friendship you had with him. You didn’t care if he had gotten another partner or if he didn’t share the same feelings. You were just happy being with Damien who liked talking to you.

Though, you were wrong about that. Ironically, after a week of not seeing Damien. He had actually opened up to you about his feelings towards you. Telling you how he needed a break from spending time together, how he had realized he was slowly falling for you - how he didn't want to ruin the friendship between the two of you. He was scared to see you once he realized how strong his feelings were towards you. After that, the two of you started dating. The relationship felt strange at first, but you weren't complaining. Whatever you needed, Damien was there. When you were sad- Damien was there to comfort you. Whenever you walked to class, he was always right by your side.

It's always been like that, even when the two of you were just friends. But didn’t Damien also have friends to hangout with as well? He'd always go out with them every now and then, and you'd be left on your own whims.

But now?

There wasn't a time where Damien wasn't by your side.

Another thing you've noticed about Damien was that his temper sometimes got the best of him. When it came to the smallest of things- an ant crawling on one of his books, when you would hold your bible close to your chest, how you sometimes looked at other people for ‘too long’. He would either scoff or nearly pop a vein on his head.

How possessive he was towards you, always kissing you and holding you close. Sweetly convincing you to come back to bed, to always look at him, that he adores you too much for you to leave so soon. Bad mouthing the acquaintances that would take up your time from him. Jokingly wishing that they would drop dead or fall ill so that you could focus on him more.

The way he was prideful and rough he was whenever the two of you would be alone and intimate. His hands all over you, his teeth nipping at every inch of your skin. Almost as if he was in a hurry to get those marks all over your body. How he’d mutter those words into your ear, repeating it like a prayer while he shoved your face to whatever surface there was. How beautiful you looked to be ‘finally his’. How sharper his nails would feel whenever he grabbed your hips. The way he would rhythmically pump into you repeatedly, always in a trance with the purpose of cumming inside you. Always lovingly belittling you whenever you cried from the overstimulation, out matching your stamina in an inhuman amount.

It was weird how he never let you look at him whenever the two of you were doing those sorts of things..Was he trying to hide something?

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"How come you never let me see you whenever we do it?"

"...I don't want you seeing something you might not like.."

"Aww.. You know I love every part of you.. "

He hugged you, resting his head against the crook of your neck.

"If only.."

He was controlive over the little things you did.

“Why don’t you wear this? I don’t want people staring at you..”

“You have some time, right? So why don’t you just come with me instead of them?”

“Are you asking me to lock you up in this room? No? Then why are you making it so hard to just listen to me?”

He was always demanding to know where you were and what your plan for the day was. Making sure he had tabs on your daily activities.

Now that you noticed it, Damien was more..Dry. Sophisticated. Calculative. Sure, he would be somewhat expressive, smiling, and softly speaking. But, back then, he was more loud, more..Different. You felt so alienated from him at times. What happened? You couldn’t put your finger on it.

Was Damien always like this?

Damien even stopped going to the church. You found it weird since Damien loved going to church with you. It was the place you first met each other. He loved how you would study the pastor's words, making serious notes about the lessons. Sitting right next to you as he also made notes regarding the philosophy of Christianity. You were a church duo, even though the both of you weren’t religious.

But now..Damien hated it. Often complaining how annoying the pastor was with his scriptures. The thing he onced loved became the thing he despised the most. He was once friendly with the pastor. Now, you only find him staring eye to eye with the pastor, stoic towards his words.

"Be weary of the sweet temptations of the world. For Satan is cunning, speaking with honeyed words, luring you into damnation."

"But folks, we have to remember this. There is no need to fear him! He is dethroned, casted away by god. We must always declare his defeat. That is how we remove the authority of the enemy.”

You swore from the corner of your eye, and you saw Damien grin from that statement - as if it was personal to him. The next day, the pastor fell severely ill, according to his wife. You were worried, of course. You talked with the pastor here and there, and you wanted to at least send some medicine or soup for the poor man. Damien, however, just laughed at your attempts, hugging you as he pushed his face against your chest. Calling you adorable for ‘wanting to bother the old nut’.

You had a dream a few days later. You were in the church library, alone. Everything was distorted, books meshed together like liquid, people’s faces blurred out. But, Damien was there, waiting for you. The sweet angelic Damien you knew from the past, smiling and patting a chair that was next to him.

“I missed you”

Before you could say anything, you woke up. You couldn’t place on why you were feeling the way you were feeling, but you were incapable of holding back the tears from flowing. It was like you were grieving over a dead person. But, really- you were sad over nothing.

You were slowly getting paranoid over the small things that were starting to recur. Whenever you walked outside, there was always an owl there- it’s neck following your movements. The small whispers that you swore you could’ve heard calling out to you. The hands that would wrap around your waist whenever your back was turned. Your bible and church notes trashed or missing. The bite marks that would appear out of nowhere when you would wake up. Your mind pulled into a trance whenever you would stare too long into Damien’s eyes. The dreams..How your memories were vaugely replaced little by little with someone else you’ve never encountered.

The worst part was, your mind accepted it as normal - your body seemed to relax at the thought of it. But it wasn’t normal, you knew that.

You had a slight theory in your head, a terrifying thought that brought you shaking whenever you questioned its validity. Was this even Damien? He was acting so fucking weird ever since he disappeared for that week. Everything was just so odd. Like you were cursed by an unknown force. What if this wasn’t Damien? What if Damien was missing and you were dating some skin walker? When you knew Damien, he felt so warm and comfortable to be around. Now, if anything- it often felt too possessive, lustful- intense when you were with him.

It didn’t help when you found that mark behind your back.

____________

“Hey..Babe, what is this?”

"Oh that? Yeah, you're weird. I told you going to that party was a bad idea, but you didn't listen. You should've seen my face when you showed me it! Why did you think getting that tattoo was a good idea?"

But it wasn't a tattoo. The more you looked into the strange mark on your back, the more concerned you got. It was green, almost glowing. A demon marking.. A ritualistic mark that bonds you to the demon who claimed you as their own. You've read about this. The mark was equivalent to a proposal, promising an afterlife full of happiness in hell. What party did you even go to?

When did you get this?

"I don't know hun..You just showed up with it"

How the fuck do you get rid of it? Fuck, did you have to get laser surgery?

"Honey, calm down. It's not that bad. It's just a tattoo. Plus, I think it looks wonderful on you"

Nonono, you don't want this. Why was there some fucking satanic pact mark on your body?

"Maybe you should stop reading those books..Or maybe just take a break from the whole demons and angels church thing."

Why was this on your body?

"Honey, you know there’s no harm in it right? I think those books are starting to get into your head.."

Maybe...But still it was fucking creepy! But nonetheless, the constant studying and fixation of demons and hell were starting to tire you out. Maybe, you should focus on your assignments more..

___________

Time passed and it had been at least a year since you and Damien were dating. You were in your final year until graduation, and surprisingly- things were going smoothly. Though your paranoia worsened. You had tried to remove the mark behind your back, even paid for laser surgery to remove it. Explaining to the dermatologist that it was an accident tattoo. Though when the mark was removed, it appeared the next day- as if it completely healed over the treatment.

The relationship hadn’t changed..Damien was still possessive and greedy for your affection. However, Damien was somewhat back to his old self…Somewhat.

Thinking about the past, the stalking, the mark behind your back- it had brought an old familiar feeling back. The church, you wanted to go back and attend it. To at least say hi, for old times sake. To get some answers- some comfort about your fears. You contemplated on bringing Damien, but ultimately heavily decided against it. So you went at night, opening the doors to be greeted with the warmth you were once familiar with.

You smiled as you saw the pastor on the stage, cleaning up and checking up on the instruments for the worship band.

“Sir! How are you? It’s been so long”

The pastor walked towards you, extending his arms out to you as he smiled.

“It’s been so long! What happened? I thought you moved!”

You chuckled, hugging him close as you embraced him, enjoying how cozy he felt.

“Nono! Of course not! Things just got in the way. But I’m glad you’re still here”

The pastor stepped away, eying you up and down, wanting to say something before holding back as he motioned you to follow him. Walking behind him, you both ended up in the office that was located in the basement of the church.

“Sit, I want to talk to you about something”

He sat down behind the table, rummaging through the wooden desk, looking for something as you sat across him.

“I’m a bit worried for you. You disappeared for a while..Something seems off about you..Is anything bothering you?”

You sat quiet for a bit. Should you mention the mark? You wanted to, but you were scared with the answer that would come out. So you didn’t mention it, but you mentioned the other instances you felt when something was wrong.

“Well..I felt paranoid. Whenever I’m not looking it felt like someone was there, touching and whispering in my ear..There’s always there..Like-”

“An unease? That the room feels a lot heavier?”

“Yeah..Exactly like that..But it’s no longer like that! Sure it’s here and there, but it’s really nothing”

The pastor just stared at you. Biting his lip before handing you two things. Anointing oil, and a bottle of holy water..

"I think you should take these. The anointing oil will help protect whatever room, person, or thing of yours"

You took it, examining the items as he continued speaking to you.

"With the oil, you just take a bit of it on your finger and draw a cross on it. It's best that you say a prayer before it"

You nodded your head, smiling as he continued.

“I plead the blood of Jesus Christ over this room. I pray and demand that any spirits in this room be gone in the name of the lord. That this oil that is anointed with the holy spirit will shield and protect me from Satan.”

"Like that?"

Smiling, he gestured his hands, telling you to hold the items close to you.

"Of course! And with the holy water..Well I'm assuming you've watched a bunch of horror movies haha!"

Thanking the pastor, you eventually made your way back home. Promising that you would keep in touch with him as he ushered you outside the doors. When you finally arrived at your dormitory, you let out a scream as Damien stood in front of you.

“Jesus! Damien! Don’t just stand there!”

“Where were you?”

Oh right, you didn’t tell him..

“I was just out running some errands, walking around, sorry I forgot to tell you..”

You felt more worried about him finding out about going back to the church rather than his concern for you.

“Are you lying?”

You exclaimed as you dropped your bag, patting his shoulder as your lips stretched out to a thin line.

“Damien..I would never lie to you..”

You almost felt guilty for deceiving him, but you didn’t want him to know.

“..Well, let’s go back to bed okay? The bed felt cold without you..So please?”

He pleaded with you, turning off the lights, guiding you to the bed short after as his hands grabbed onto yours.

“Haha, of course.”

“I love you so much..”

______________

You’ve been thinking about it, using the oil and holy water. When Damien was gone for an hour to do an exam, he needed to pass. You, who were free from all of your work, decided to open the anointing oil. Putting a few drops of the oil on the tip of your finger, you anointed the room. Drawing a cross, as you said a small prayer.

Maybe one or two more would be best? You thought of nothing of it. It was just a gift, something that you wanted to try. Something that would perhaps ease your fear. Nothing would come out of it.

But something did.

Damien had a severe headache and reaction the moment he stepped in your room. Groaning in pain as he nearly fell to the floor. Clutching his head in pain as the ungodly sounds of wheezing came out of his throat. You were terrified as you saw Damien try to get ahold of himself. Whispering to himself while you stood there, frozen.

Adrenaline rushed through your body as a million thoughts went through your head. He was just stressed, right? He just came back from an exam, maybe he's tired. You tried to rationalize your extreme theories to calm yourself down. But even then, a few words had slipped out of your mouth - unconsciously wanting to test out your theory.

"Get behind me Satan."

He knelt as he stared at you in disbelief.

".......What?"

Your voice shook in fear, your eyes furrowing as you stared at your boyfriend.

“You heard me. Who are you?”

Fixing his composure, Damien looked at you concerned. Cautiously approaching you while also keeping a safe distance.

“Honey, what are you talking about? Calm down okay? Take a deep breath, I was just a bit stressed from staying up all night”

You sneered as you were quick to grab the holy water from your cabinet, loosening the cap as you raised your voice.

“Cut the shit. G-God..What did you do to Damien?!”

Tearing up, you shouted as you splashed the holy water at him. Making sure to throw a large amount towards his face.

“Honey what are you talkin- FUCK!”

He sneered in pain, cowering down as he tried to cover himself. Now you were panicking as your theory was confirmed. You had almost felt bad, stupid, delusional even. But now? Your fight or flight senses were triggered.

“W-Why did that hurt you?! HUH?! T-TELL ME!”

You waved the bottle frantically. Your eyes widening as you saw his skin burning in agitation from the water that hit his skin. He tried to excuse himself, to save whatever grace he had. But you weren’t having it. Screaming out scriptures, dousing him in holy water- you had eventually revealed him for what he truly was.

Blonde hair, curled horns protruding out of his head, the sharp tail that moved side to side swiftly. He wasn't human. This wasn't Damien.

“This hurts you! You’re..A demon..In the name of the holy-"

But before you could finish your sentence, your prayer, your last ditch effort to handle the situation, he interrupted you. Rushing towards you he pinned you against the cabinet that you were standing behind. His hands gripping onto the edges of the wood, your body sandwiched in between the hard surface and his chest. With nowhere to escape, you tried screaming- but he was quick to wrap a hand around your throat, threatening to squeeze deathly tight, warning you to keep quiet.

“Are you finished? I could kill you right now and take you with me for all eternity. But I would rather take my time and not hurt you... So just be good for me, okay?”

You nodded your head frantically, trying to speak as your words were whispered. He eyed you, loosening his grip around your neck.

“Why? Why are you doing this? Who are you?”

In awe, his lips softly kissed your cheek, trying to comfort you as you teared up from fear.

“Aww..Love..Well, it’s obvious isn’t it? Satan, that’s who I am. I know this is a lot for you but, I want you to know that I love you. Okay?”

Satan.

Satan?

The demon that replaced Damien, the one who made you breakfast everyday. The one who was jealous whenever you dared speak to anyone. The one you gave your virginity to..?

Satan himself was in love with you? Satan, the prince of darkness, one of the rulers of hell- was here professing his love to you. How long has he been using Damien’s face for? Where was Damien if he was taking his place?

“Where’s Damien then? What did you do to him?”

You asked, your lips shuddering as you thought about him. If he had disappeared, then..

“Don’t worry about him, he's fine. Better than how he was wasting his life away before”

A surge of panic coursed through your body, your hands instinctively shoved Satan away with all of your strength.

“YOU KILLED HIM?!”

Unfazed, he sighed as if you were overreacting. His palms reached out towards you, telling you to calm down from your outburst.

“Now, he wasn’t in any pain. He didn’t even see it coming, so don’t worry about him. Afterall, he became the sweet angel you always thought of him as. So either way, everyone benefits in this situation”

Your jaw clenched as your eyes wavered at the demon who stood in front of you.

“I’m not going to hurt you...I’m not doing this for the sake of destroying your life. In fact- I’m doing it for the sake of making it better! I love you, you don’t understand - I need you. You fascinate me - you're the only human on this earth I deem tolerable!"

"I had to do it, I know it’s hard for you to understand, but Damien was just a nobody in your life. There are lots of people like him out there in the world. So please, just think for a moment."

You recoiled as you felt his sharp nails softly outline the curves of your face. Cringing as you stood there fear, hearing his insane ramblings.

“You’ve read about me. Studied me. Talked about me. You were just as interested in me as I was for you. Don’t you think that's special?”

Bitterly, you spat at his face.

"I want you gone. Out of my life. I will never love you- you'll never have me. Get out."

He looked at you, almost remorseful as you glared at him- only to then smirk and roll his eyes..And with that, he disappeared in a blink of an eye. For a good year, even until graduation- you never saw him again. It was almost as if he never existed.

All the messages, the call histories, everything- they were gone.

____________________

It had been a few years ever since he stopped approaching you, only deciding to watch you from a distance. Hiding in the shadows, lurking in the small corners of your home, he admired you.

It drove him mad when observed your cute little attempts at avoiding him. Always wearing that small cross around your neck, never interacting with anyone outside of the church. Praying everyday on the edge of your bed before you go to sleep, hoping to ward him off forever.

You were such an adorable little sheep. So desperate to keep him away, not knowing it only made him want you more. Every night he watched you, hungrily devouring your body with his eyes, enjoying how meek you've become. He wanted to take you right then and there, surprising you with his presence when he would emerge from the shadows. How would your face look in fear? Would you scream at him? Attempt to perform an exorcism?

Would it be enjoyable watching you break down from the spot? Hearing you whimper when he would corner you. Watching you plead for him to leave you alone. The slow burn of you fearing him, only to reach out to him out of desperation when he's hovering over you.

You're starved aren't you? Lonely, and starved for an ounce of emotional attention. You haven't been talking to a lot of people lately, even when you're in the illusion of safety when you're in the church. He felt so bad for you, yet so eager for you. All vulnerable and alone..You're still sad about that human boy weren't you?

That's okay.

There was nothing a new face couldn't fix.

Sooner or later, he'll have you forget about him. He'll have you wrapped up around his finger. You'll live your perfect minuscule human life with him until death do you part- temporarily. After all, heaven wouldn't allow an angel with the mark of the beast into their pearly gates, would they?

A new face, a new name. He would meet you again at the church. Charming you with his words, coaxing you with his sweet voice that was hard to resist. Making you smile again, hearing that angelic laugh of yours, feeling your warmth when you cuddled underneath him.

He missed how good it felt to be with you. He loved every bit of it. How it gave him an excuse to act out on his pent up urges towards you. To have your legs so nicely wrapped around his torso, drowning in pure lust from those sweet sounds you'd make. To finally have your body all to himself.

It wouldn't last for long though.. You were smart- too smart. You always somehow found out a way to identify him through the smallest of ways. Through the subtle gestures he'd make, the appearance he decided to appear as, or even from saying an old ancient spell against him just to see his reaction. You even went as far as spraying him with holy water like some sort of cat at one point.

How intentive!

That's why he loved you. You were so intelligent, brighter than most. That's why he didn't mind doing it over and over again. Like a game of cat and mouse. You'd gain a sense of security, feeling confident that the man right next to you wasn't him- only for it to break again when you came to terms with the truth.

He didn't mind. It was exciting watching you ponder about him. It was special what the both of you had together. Seeing your face contort in pure anguish and rage when you realized that the person you had slept with, the one you had trusted your whole heart with, was only him the entire time. How you would beg, even try to bribe him with intimacy and sex- just for him to leave you alone. Pleading him to stop impersonating people and potential partners.

"But this is fun darling. Watching you break down every time~"

"I can't just give it all up for something I can do whenever we're together"

"There's really no issue here, you're the only one who's making it a problem"

"Running away, panicking for no reason…You already know I won't hurt you. I just want to love you."

"So really, when will you stop?"

No matter how much you run, he'll always have you in his arms. Even in death, you won't ever be able to escape him.

How long will it take for you to crumble and accept him? When will you stop running away from him? Time and time again, you would run away- only to come crawling back to him.

So why don't you just accept the inevitable?

_____________________________

173 notes · View notes

yesimwriting · 10 months

Text

Final Girl (Part 10)

Final Girl Masterlist (updated chapters 1-10 and extras, asks/extras involving the final girl fic verse are under the tag ‘final girl fic’)

A/n i’m leaning towards starting to write shorter chapters in order to be able to update a little faster but idk

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of learning that a certain redheaded journalist is making you a focal point of her true crime novel.

----

In the least cynical way possible, sometimes I think a part of my mom craves conflict. Not in a narcissistic or violent way, just in a protective one.

She doesn’t pick fights for the sake of having them, she doesn’t tear into things for the rush of adrenaline or to feed some complex. My mom likes standing up for people in a way that would be annoyingly self righteous if it was any less genuine. Any incident that could be interpreted as blood in the water has her diving in head first, ready to ward off any potential sharks.

That’s why nothing about this rampage is surprising. She’s been pacing the length of the kitchen without giving the phone in her hand a break, typing out numbers at an unbelievable speed, only occasionally pausing to flip through the phone book on the counter.

“Well then put me through,” she stalls long enough to put a hand on her hip, “Not to an assistant, not to the station, or the publishing company. Get Gale Weathers on the phone. Now.”

This is the third time she’s pulled this stunt since I walked into the kitchen to grab a pity snack. The way she presses her lips together tells me that this time hasn’t been any more successful. “She’s too busy? Well, I hope she’s not too busy for a law su--” Something cuts her off. My mom blinks. “Hello?”

“I told you that threatening to sue people wouldn’t work over the phone.”

She pulls the phone away from her ear with a sigh. “It’s not a threat if I mean it.” The phone is placed on the counter as she turns her attention to the phone book. “That woman can’t do this. You, and your legal guardian, never consented to your likeness or story being used.”

Unfortunately, that’s not completely true. Or, at the very least, it’s not that concrete or straight forward. When something’s news, information becomes a lot less easy to claim as personal or yours. Especially if personal information is kept vague enough. The second I was attacked by Ghostface and the news reported it, a lot of me in that context became a lot less legally sound. I’d have to prove it defamed me or hurt my life, which can’t be done before the book comes out.

“We can’t prove that until the book is out.”

She sighs, “There has to be something.” My mom taps her manicured nails against the granite counter top.

My stomach twists with helplessness as the most urgent issue rushes to the front of my mind. It’s more than just someone taking advantage of my trauma or the fact that books are so much more permanent than any news headline ever could be. Books take time to come out, to circulate, which means that this tell all could reach its peak during my college app season. Princeton could see this. All colleges could see this.

“Mom...” I can feel the tremor in my voice, but I can’t bring myself to stop it.

In a way, isn’t this best case scenario? Compared to what could have happened? Isn’t this such a small thing compared to what happened to Casey? I know this, but I can’t quite bring myself to feel it fully. Not when it comes to something I’ve worked for my entire life.

“What if--what if this gets in the way of Princeton?”

She presses her lips together, watching me openly in a way that’s become familiar. “Oh, pumpkin,” she breathes, moving across the counter to pull me into a hug, “I’m sorry you’re going through this.” I squeeze her tightly. “And that I don’t know what to say or how to help.” She smooths my hair down gently. “But when it comes to school, all you can do is keep up your grades and when the time comes, write the best essay you can. And if they’re stupid enough to turn down your weirdly-good grades and insane resume, then screw Princeton.”

Despite myself, I smile. Those soft digs at my type-A-ness aren’t lost on me and the sense of familiarity I get from them instantly make it easier. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, and if you want, you could always write your own tell-all book that would outsell hers because yours is from the--”

“Excuse me?”

She lets go of me, taking a step back at my offense. “I’m not telling you to write it, I’m just saying a published book would look good on an Ivy-league application.”

Sometimes I’m so crazy about school that I forget my mom is also capable of insanity. “Mom!”

My mom lets out a sigh. “What? You’ve been obsessed with Princeton since your dad gave you his old college sweatshirt in the third grade, but now I’m crazy?”

She’s half joking and I know she’d never actually push me to write something like that, but my stomach still turns. Yes, I have made a ton of jokes about having no morals when it comes to college apps, but it’s different now. Anything that has to do with that Ghostface stuff feels tainted. I don’t want success from him. I don’t want anything good from Casey’s death.

I pick up the spoon that’s sunken into my partially melted bowl of ice cream. “I am not exploiting this.”

She holds her hands up in defense, “It’d ruin Gale’s book, jump start your career in journalism.” My mom extends an arm, asking for my spoon. I sigh before handing it to her. She eats a healthy spoonful of ice cream. “Two birds, one stone.”

I scoff, taking the spoon back and eating my own spoonful. "You’re sick.”

My mom steps back form the counter. “Just a suggestion.”

I’m about to assert my previous point when the doorbell rings. I raise an eyebrow at my mom, silently asking if I’m expecting anyone. I’m not so I just shrug, moving away from the counter and towards the door.

There’s a chance it could be Wells. He’s at work, but it wouldn’t be the first time he forgot his keys. I peak out the window and am instantly pleasantly surprised. I’m more excited than I can justify as I reach for the front door’s lock.

The door creaks open and I fight down a grin. I don’t know why they’re here, but I don’t mind the unexpected visit. I had been planning on moping and rotting in bed until school.

“Hey,” I mumble, latching onto my surprise.

Stu flashes a warm smile in greeting, “Hey, sweetheart.”

I wrinkle my nose at the nickname despite its tameness. My mom’s way too close for that. I’m torn between making a joke about it and avoiding drawing attention to my concern and giving Stu a reason to push. I settle on looking over at Billy. He’s standing in a way that feels a little stiff.

There’s a chance they called first, since they usually do when they come over through the front door instead of just showing up at my window. “If you called, my mom’s sort of taken over our phone line.” They both already know about Gale’s book and the fact that she’s editing it to include me, since they were both there when I found out. That still doesn’t make it easy to talk about, “She’s hunting down Gale Weathers.”

"Then I’m scared for Gale Weathers.” Stu raises his eyebrows, exaggerating concern.

Billy nods once, “She deserves it.”

That’s true. I wasn’t exactly kind to her during our brief meeting, but she ambushed me at school after I was attacked. But that can’t be enough to justify what she’s doing now, especially without so much as a ‘heads up, you’re in my book’ phone call. If you’re going to potentially ruin someone’s future because they happened to have survived a serial killer, it wouldn’t kill you to call first.

“Anything...else up?” Stu’s question surprises me. Maybe I didn’t react fast enough or I still look as worried about all of this as I feel.

I don’t want to get into the details of my concern. I freaked out in front of them enough after I saw Gale’s announcement on TV, but there’s no way I can get away with acting like I’m perfectly okay with it all now. I guess I’ll go with deflecting, “Just my mom being a total college obsessed psycho.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth tilts upwards, almost a smile. “You had to get it from somewhere.”

I glare at him in a way that I really hope is cutting. “Shut up. I’m not psycho.”

“I’ve seen the Princeton poster in your roo--” I shake my head sharply, extending an arm to softly punch Stu’s arm.

He stops, more out of surprise than decency. I drop my voice to a low whisper in order to explain, “My mom’s not that distracted, and she doesn’t know you’ve ever been in my room.” Stu grins at my seriousness. “And she can never find out.”

This only makes him grin more openly, “Keeping secrets for me?”

“I’m not above kicking you guys out.”

Billy sighs, a defensive huff. “I didn’t do anything.”

A slightly too aggressive you brought him here almost slips out, but I manage to stop it. Maybe if I was in a more joking, lighthearted mood I’d let myself make that kind of aggressive joke, but I’m moody and there’s a good chance my irritation will slip into that. it’ll taint the comment and make it something a lot more serious than it’s supposed to be.

“Yet,” I settle on, trying to feel as easy as the comment.

He frowns, eyebrows pulling together like he just watched me kick a puppy. After a second, Billy parts his lips, but he doesn’t get to say anything back.

“Who’s at the door?” My mom’s voice carries from the hall and to the entryway, a moment later she appears. I turn my head in time to see her polite smile, a little irate thanks to how the last day and a half have been. “Oh, hi, Billy, Stu.’’ Her greeting is flatter than usual as she barely takes a second to look up from the phone. “Come in, come in.”

I step back to create space for them to come in. Despite my mom’s instinctual fall back to politeness, she barely notices the difference as she hits redial before pressing the phone to her ear. “Do you guys want anything to drink or...are you hungry or...going...” She trails off, attention visibly shifting as she waves us off, “Hello, can I--look, that’s great, Jocelyn, but I need to get in touch with your supervisor?”

With one last force-of-habit smile, she turns away from the entryway and walks out. I walk towards the front door, instinctually shutting and locking it. “That’s basically my life now.”

“Poor thing,” Stu’s voice is thick with false sympathy, “Your mommy’s fixing everything for--”

“Shut up.” The reply comes out too quickly, too serious.

Stu blinks once, clearly not expecting the hint of actual tension and hostility that managed to press itself into the two words. “Someone’s moody.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a long second. “Sorry, I didn’t--” Sighing, I try to force the stiffness out of my body. “This book thing’s starting to get to me. I know that’s not an excuse, I just--” I don’t know how to explain the knot in my throat or the nerves in my stomach.

The thought of this one thing I was delusional enough to think that I might be able to one day put behind me being everywhere is starting to claw at my insides. That helplessness is being amplified by a strange form of guilt, because I’m the one that’s still alive, so why should I get to complain?

“Hey,” Stu interrupts my derailing train of thought. He places a hand on my shoulder, “No hard feelings, okay?”

I nod, irritated at myself for the tears I feel burning in my eyes. “Okay.”

“You wanna get out of here?” Billy’s question is so low I almost convince myself I made it up. But then he lets out a breath and tacts on something else, “...Or we could go upstairs or watch a movie or whatever?”

The offer is so gentle I nearly melt. “Did you guys want to do something?”

They did come here, probably for a reason. Not that they never come over just to hang out, but they usually have some kind of plan or suggestion, like going over to Stu’s or driving around or watching a specific movie.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing.” Billy’s reply comes out slowly, his eyes not fully focused on me. “We called and you didn’t answer, and after the news thing...”

That’s fair. I did leave Stu’s house pretty fast after the Gale Weathers thing and haven’t talked to anyone outside of my house for over 24 hours. Usually people worrying about how I’m handling things makes me feel uncomfortably hollow, but this doesn’t make any of that come up. Maybe it’s because they’re not making it feel like pity.

“Uh...” There’s honestly not much that seems fun right now. A part of me still wants to crawl under my covers and pretend that nothing else exists, but they’ve pulled me out worse moods before. “I can show you guys that album I was talking about?” The offer feels weak, a little hollow. Stu squeezes my shoulder before relaxing his arm. “The CD’s in my room.” I shrug, looking between the two of them, “Or we could do whatever.”

“You’ve been talking about that CD for a long time for someone who always forgets to bring it.” Stu’s not even trying to hide his accusation as he starts walking down the hallway.

I cross my arms, giving Billy a look that asks if he can believe all I have to deal with. “Yeah, I’m just worried your top 20 pallet is too complex for our tastes to ever overlap.”

Stu scoffs, “Yeah, I’m the one that’s into top 20.”

“Out of the three of us?” Billy’s question rivals Stu’s blatant sarcasm.

I fight down a smile as Stu turns his head enough to glare. The display of irritation is short lived, because Stu has to turn back around to avoid tripping on the first stair step. He nearly misses, but recovers so quickly I wouldn’t have noticed the misstep if I hadn’t been looking at him. Sometimes his stability surprises me, because Stu’s energetic and lanky enough to warrant being a little clumsy, but he’s a lot better at not tripping than me.

We walk up the stairs, the only sound filling the space is my mom’s voice, too far for any specifics to be made out.

“I think I miss your mom not trusting us.” Stu lets out a wistful sigh.

Rolling my eyes, I push open the door to my room. “Don’t worry, she’s just distracted.”

Even though my mom’s phone tirade is definitely helping her be so easy, I know what he’s talking about. When Billy and Stu first started hanging around, my mom felt the need to hover a lot more. She’d check up on us a lot more than she would when I was alone with Sidney or Tatum. My mom would also make a lot of jokes and comments in order to pry as (not so) subtly as possible. Slowly, she became more accustomed (or maybe desensitized), to them and now my mom acts a lot more normal in front of them. When they leave, she normally still pushes a little, usually through humor, but it’s a lot more tolerable now.

Stu walks into my room before I can, walking towards my bed. “We’re growing on her.”

I sit down next to him. “Or she finally gets that you two barely register as guys to me.”

Stu moves, intentionally bumping his knee into mine, hard enough to make my knee move. Once he has my attention, he flexes an arm. “I’m all man, angel.”

There’s an exaggerated quality to his reaction that I can’t tell if I’m meant to take seriously or not. It’s the uncertainty that makes me let out a slight laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He turns his head, leaning back slightly as he presses his palms into my comforter. “Then how’d you mean it?”

My face feels a little warmer than before and I can’t figure out what that’s about. I’m used to Stu pressing after comments like this. Sometimes his humor focuses on making someone feel uncomfortable. Retreating or acting awkward gives him a reason to keep pushing. But I have no good way to answer.

I wipe my hands on the fabric of my jeans. “Don’t start.”

“Maybe I don’t get it.”

I stand, throwing him a dirty look as I move towards my CD player. “Maybe you’re full of shit.”

He huffs, “Mean.”

My fingers skim the row of CDs on my desk before finding the one I’m looking for. I use my nail to pop open the case. “Yeah, I’m a real bully.” Billy, who’s been lingering near my desk, opens my CD player before I can. I set the disk in place. “Can you believe him?”

Billy shakes his head once, a few strands of hair falling out of place with the motion. He picks up the CD case and starts studying the back of it. “I can’t believe you can’t.”

Stu lets out a distracted sound of protest. I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned around and found him fidgeting with something. My room’s not a total disaster, but I’ve been too busy moping to fully clean it, so there are a lot of contenders for things Stu could be messing with. I can’t think of anything that’s within his reach that’s embarrassing or important, so I let it go. Billy seems a little tense and considering the headspace he was in the last time I saw him, figuring that out is important.

“Fair,” I hum, shutting the CD player, “You uh--” His eyes flit upwards, away from the CD case. The look is kind of stiff, but not annoyed or wary. It makes me realize that I don’t really have a good way to finish my sentence. Asking if someone’s okay never feels natural. Especially when he’s only been here for a few. “You okay?” I force myself to focus on the CD player, messing with the volume instead fo just hitting play. “You seem a little tense.”

He sets the plastic case down. “I’m okay.” Billy straightens, shifting his weight off of my desk. The movement is small, he hasn’t even taken a full step, but the change makes him feel a lot closer. “Just can’t believe she can do that.” His tone takes on such a hard edge it takes me a second to realize what he’s talking about. Is the book thing really bothering him that much? “To you, to--does she think she’s untouchable? That guy’s still out there, what makes her think he won’t find her and rip that bitch’s--”

Billy cuts himself off with no warning, eyes focusing on me. I blink. Billy might come off as intense and reserved before you know him, but he’s never seemed explosive or prone to emotional impulsivity like that. Even when I briefly thought he could have been the killer, he never came off as aggressive. He never even held the fact that I put his life in danger and accused him of being a serial killer against me.

This tension is new and it came from feeling defensive over me. The realization that it has something to do over me makes me more antsy than Billy’s actual words.

“Woah,” Stu says through a dry laugh. “Relax, dude, there’s no need to write the next news story for her.” Stu swings an arm over my shoulder. I’m still stuck on what just happened, so it takes me a millisecond too long to weakly attempt to get Stu off of me. He pinches my shoulder, the nail of his thumb digging into my skin just enough for it to register as stinging. “You’re in poor Billy’s head.” I can’t tell if Stu’s teasing is meant to be sympathetic towards Billy or accusatory towards me. “Give the boy a break.”

My chin briefly tilts downwards, a compulsory movement that seems to genuinely want to listen to what’s clearly a joking command. “I’ll try.”

Stu relaxes his hold on me, dragging his thumb up and down the exposed skin of my shoulder, soothing the skin he accidentally irritated. I extend my arm, turning on the music absentmindedly. The room doesn’t exactly feel tense, but I feel a lot smaller than I did a few seconds ago. I don’t know if it’s because of the dip into a gory, too real topic or Stu’s comment or if I’m still just irritable.

“Guess it’s not your fault,” Stu hums, squeezing my shoulder once, “You can’t help being lovable.”

I try to keep myself focused as I adjust the volume of the first song. “That’s true.” He lets go of me and I stand a little straighter. “We all have our faults.”

Billy lets out a breath that’s suspiciously close to a laugh. “Yeah, your only flaw’s that you’re too perfect.”

“You were the one ready to support a murder for her,” Stu defends bluntly, “Not saying that Gale Weathers doesn’t deserve what she gets.”

In all honesty, I had been so distracted by the way the book would affect me and my chances to get past the Ghostface thing that I didn’t even think about the actual killer. This could get him to hurt someone else. Gale Weathers could be making herself a target, but I find the thought unlikely. The more I reflect on why he left me alive the more I think that it might have been because there’s more of a story when there’s a survivor. He joked with me about the final girl thing. He also called me once without attacking anyone. The asshole probably gets off on attention.

Gale Weathers is probably the safest person in this town. The more she talks, the more attention he gets. It probably also helps his ego because he knows everyone’s after him and he hasn’t been caught. It’ll probably get him to hurt someone...just not her. Not that I hope Gale gets stabbed, it just makes her choices that much more selfish.

I scratch the back of my wrist, staring at my open palm. The tiny white line, the scar carved into the skin of my hand seems bigger right now. “I don’t--it’s not like I want Gale to get hurt.”

“No one’s saying you do,” Billy says, voice patient.

I sigh, a part of me wishing this hadn’t come up. This was the last thing I wanted to think about, that’s why I’ve been ignoring calls and just focusing on homework. I walk away from my desk and sit down on my bed before slumping back semi-dramatically. If this is how Billy and Stu are acting, everyone at school is definitely going to start treating me weirdly again. Maybe Gale will be there, trying to chase me down for a quote.

Ugh...maybe I can get my mom to bully the principle into letting me homeschool for a few days. A week maximum. Or maybe she’ll let me pretend to have mono or something. I have most of my textbooks here and I could get assignments from--

My bed dips, cutting off my train of thought. I turn my head enough to see Billy. “I--” His voice comes out so low I’m surprised I even heard him over the music. “I didn’t want to bring all of that up for you.”

There’s a softness there that makes it easier to genuinely shake my head dismissively. “It’s okay.”

His eyes briefly meet mine. “I also didn’t uh--didn’t want to freak you out or--”

“You didn’t.” That’s true, at least in the way he meant it. That level of anger over something that only really affects me did surprise me, but it’s not like he scared me. He hesitantly focuses his attention on me. I prop my head up on one elbow, watching him carefully. “You’re not as scary as you think you are.”

Billy tilts his head, his lips tugging into an uncertain smile. “Oh, yeah?”

He’s probing, likely trying to trick me into a compliment. “You’re losing your edge.” I keep my voice as nonchalant as possible as I drop my elbow and lay down again. “I think it’s all the time around me.”

His eyebrows draw together like he’s seriously considering my hypothesis. “Valid theory.” The bed moves with no warning, the space to my left indenting. Billy lays down next to me without moving to make sure there’s enough space between me and the headboard. His arm presses into mine. “All the time in here can’t be helping either.”

Billy does come over to my room a lot, usually crashing here when he needs to avoid his dad and doesn’t want to talk about it. Recently, though, he hasn’t been around as much. I didn’t think too much of it until I went over to Stu’s and saw that Billy wasn’t up for much of anything. “It’s the exposure to all the fluffy pillows.”

“Probably.” Something warm brushes against the back of my wrist. Billy carefully traces an invisible line up my forearm. “This song’s nice.”

The warmth of validation tugs at my chest. “It’s my favorite one on here.” He follows the same trail back down the inside of my forearm. “I think you’ll like the uh--” There had been a specific one on the track list that reminded me of a few songs he had shown me before. I list the titles in my head until I remember the right one, “Fourth track.”

“Hm,” he hums in a way that doesn’t feel dismissive, just relaxed.

The bed shifts again. I crane my neck back, eyes straining to see behind me. After a second, I make out Stu circling my nightstand. “This is new.” He’s picking something up. Stu sits back down, making it easier to see what’s caught his attention.

Oh. Not new, but I don’t blame him for not having my bookshelf memorized. “Not new.” He turns the book onto its side, studying the worn spine as if to confirm what I’m saying. “Just haven’t read it in a minute, thought it might cheer up.”

There have been few problems that American Psycho and Patrick Bateman haven’t been able to at least help. It didn’t make me feel a lot better, but it was nice to distract myself from a real life murderer with the fictitious kind.

Stu pauses, skimming the back of the book. “A little dark for a pick me up.”

“It’s well written.”

That’s true, and its commentary on social values and the rise of well off, stockbroker success and the culture that’s developed because of it is interesting and a creative analysis of society’s values. It also helps that despite being written with only a few redeeming qualities and being the literal villain (and weirdly misogynistic), I might have the smallest bit of a thing for Patrick Bateman. Not that I’d ever go for anyone like that in real life, but my fascination with his character is definitely a guilty pleasure. A guilty pleasure they really don’t need to know about.

He thumbs through the pages, attention focused like he’s actually reading it all that fast. Stu nods once, setting the book down at the edge of my bed before picking up a sweatshirt I almost forgot was still on my bed. He takes a second to feel the fabric of the sleeve before loosely folding it. Stu leaves it next to my book before laying down.

We’re all lying horizontally now, but Stu’s backwards, his head closer to my torso and legs than anything else. The position makes it easy for me to secretly move my hand and softly flick his shoulder. Stu snaps his head in my direction, expression so shocked and slightly horrified I might as well have slapped him.

It’d probably be smart to backtrack, but I’m clearly in no mood to make intelligent decisions, so I let myself laugh. The sound is a quick, too-smug giggle. Stu’s eyebrows pull together at the sound, the look concerning in its seriousness. I move to pull my hand back, but my reaction is too late. Stu throws his hand forward, grasping onto my wrist. I yank back once, had enough to be considered serious. Stu squeezes tighter, pulling my arm forward with an ease that embarrasses me.

“Stu!” A partial squeak, a partial laugh.

He squeezes my arm to his chest, forcing my body to lean forward. I squirm, attempting to slip out of his grasp. I come close to escaping when I twist my arm back and turn my wrist without warning him, but Stu recovers. Growing desperate, I use my free hand to shove his shoulder. That backfires, too, encouraging him to use his other hand to keep me trapped.

The play fight escalates, both of us trying to win without getting up or seeming too invested. My wrist makes a cracking sound as I finally slip out of his hold. He’s quick to throw his arm forward and grab me again. Before I can even think to react, Stu tugs my hand upwards and briefly nips the side of my hand.

I gasp so dramatically one might think he tried to gnaw off my entire hand. “Did you just bite me?” Stu laughs, finally letting me take my arm back. I take a second to examine my hand, even though his teeth barely touched me. After deciding that my unmarked skin will one day recover, I prop myself up on my forearm and look over at Billy. “He fucking bit me.”

Billy turns his head, unbothered by our conflict. “You started it.” There’s an underlying smugness that makes me want to shove him. I frown openly, not caring if I get accused of pouting. He sighs, holding up a hand. “Fine. Let’s see the damage.”

“I didn’t even touch her.”

I roll my eyes at Stu’s defense. Did it hurt? No, but it was deeply offensive. “You’re lucky I don’t bite you.”

Stu lets out a breath, “Sweetheart, you can bi--”

“Do not.” I keep my voice stern as I look at Billy’s waiting hand. He asked to see the damage, but there really isn’t any. The skin beneath my thumb wasn’t even grossly damp. It was more about my shock. But I still listen, setting my hand on his.

Billy pulls on my hand gently, studying my skin intently. He even takes a second to bend my fingers and stretch them back out. “Think you’ll live.”

I nod, letting Billy take his time still examining my hand. “Optimistic prognosis.”

He shrugs slightly, his shoulder bumping into mine. “Only if you’ve had all your shots.”

Stu’s scoff and offended, “Fuck off,” are nearly drowned out by my laughter. Billy sets my hand down between us carefully. My giggling fit is drawn out by the rush of fondness in my chest. These two really are so much weirder than people realize and I wouldn’t change it for anything. Wow. They really are my best friends, and maybe arguably the most important people in my life.

Feeling this close to anyone usually makes me want to be flighty. I’m not used to it when it comes to people I haven’t known my entire life, and there’s an inherent nervousness when it comes to growing attached to people you don’t completely know. It is kind of weird to feel this close to them and I haven’t even seen Billy’s room yet, so it makes sense that sometimes it feels different than what I’m used to.

“What are you thinking about?” The question takes me by surprise, breaking the easy silence that’s been carried by the soft music.

I blink at Billy’s words, a small part of me reacting like I’ve been caught doing something embarrassing. “Uh...nothing.” Fairly true. It’s not like my train of thought was focused or made much sense. Still, though, I should probably give him something more so he doesn’t assume that I’m trying to hide a mental break down. “...That you’re one of my best friends and I’ve never been to your house before.”

Stu lightly squeezes my forearm. “You’re not missing much.”

“You bit me,” I mumble, “What do you know?”

He relaxes his hold on me in order to run his knuckles up and down my arm. “It was a love bite.”

“Like a feral cat.”

Stu scoffs. “This is why Billy doesn’t want you at his place.”

Wow. Rude. I part my lips, ready to insult him. “Okay,” Billy interjects, “Don’t start again.” A part of me’s offended by the defense. I should be able to fight Stu over this. “You guys are kids.”

I glare, “Rude.”

“Fine, let him bite you again.” My nose wrinkles, but before I can say anything, Billy continues, “And he’s not wrong, you’re not missing much.”

He’s probably right, I’ve just been thinking about it a little more than usual. “Until I see it, I’m going to think that your bedsheets are bright pink.”

“Actually, they’re bright purple.”

The sarcasm comes out so quickly, so casually, I almost think he means it. “Nice try, but I’m still assuming neon pink.”

He sighs, “It’s neon now?” The question’s mumbled, and before I can say anything back, Billy sits up.

Stu turns onto his side, eyebrows drawn together in order to silently ask what’s up with Billy. “What are you doing?”

“If she’s going to make up things about my room until she sees it...” He walks away from my bed, stopping close to my door. “We should get it over with.”

Oh my god?? I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I also wasn’t prepared for the wave of excitement buzzing in my chest. I sit up too quickly, too telling. “Really?”

It’s a casual thing that I really don’t want to make weird, but I wasn’t angling to get him to take us over there. And the thought is nice, they’re my best friends and a bedroom gives insight into a person. It’s also the perfect distraction after everything that’s happened today.

“Yeah? Really?”

Billy shrugs, already reaching my door. “It’ll be better than whatever she makes up about it.”

A good point, because I was already thinking about ways to work in an assumption about him having zebra print lampshades and posters pulled from pre-teen magazines. “Am I getting that predictable?”

He raises his eyebrows and Stu tries to conceal a laugh. I roll my eyes as Billy returns the question, “Getting?”

“Haha.” Why do I hang out with them? I take back all the warm, fuzzy thoughts about them.

I push myself to my feet, looking for my shoes. Stu sits up, waiting for me to find my sneakers. Because I was planning on hiding in my room until school, I almost didn’t change out of pajamas and now I’m glad I changed into some leggings and a comfortable shirt this morning.

My shoes were hiding underneath a pillow. I free them and sit on the edge of my bed to pull them on. Stu taps my knee, getting me to turn. “What?”

He pats his lap once, implying something I don’t get. When I don’t react quickly enough, Stu sighs and bends forward. He pulls on my laces. “I can--” It’s too late, he’s already looped them once and is working on doing it again. “Double knotted?”

Stu squeezes my ankle after tying my last shoe. “You trip too much for me not to.”

I scoff, “You were almost nice.”

“I’m always nice to you, angel.”

rolling my eyes, I move to stand after Stu straightens.

“Grab a jacket,” Billy mumbles, “It’s cold.”

If my mom could see this, she’d never make another joke about him again. Actually, she’d probably say he’s one of my only friends with good sense. “Nerd.”

He gives me a more-than-slightly-annoyed look as I reach for the jacket hanging on my desk chair. I make a point of holding up the jacket before folding the fabric over my arm.

----

It’s a lot harder to not look like a little kid on a field trip than one would think. Maybe it’s the jacket that’s gone from neatly folded over my arm to a wadded up lump pressed snugly into my chest, held in place by my crossed together arm. The spring in my step could be part of the problem, a slight bounce that has to be a result of the touch of fall chilliness in the air and has absolutely nothing to do with internal excitement. That’d be way too dramatic.

Billy unlocks the door and pulls it open. Stu walks in first, I follow. We walk down a short entryway that leads to a main living area. The living area is put together, radiating a neatness that almost feels clinical. Maybe that’s an exaggerated way of taking in the precisely angled arm chairs and the glass figurine that’s sitting on the coffee table, but I can’t help the thought. It has to be a byproduct of the ‘organized chaos’ my mom raised me on, a stack of magazines in the living room that never seem to fully straighten and unmatched pillows that get paired together to tell a story.

The space is nice, though, some underlying factor I can’t pinpoint making it still feel a little homey. It’s almost like the room’s covered by an invisible cloak that makes it clear that people live here, that this isn’t some open house. I take my time looking around the room, trying to find a source for this feeling.

There are a few framed photos, but none of them revolving around family enough to offer a homey feel, just pictures of a little boy growing up. The fuzzy one of the boy at maybe the age of six stands out on the coffee table, his smile reveals a missing tooth in a way that makes it a personal favorite. For a second, I think the subtle lived in atmosphere could be coming from the few knick knacks on the coffee table and book shelf, but quickly rule that out. Sure, they’re objectively nice decorations but they don’t fit together in that way. There’s no way a dad didn’t pick them out.

I guess the feeling comes from the details. The most comfortable looking arm chair is the one closest to the bookshelf even though that corner of the room is almost a little too cramped for the two to sit next to each other. The rug matches the walls and the couch in a way that makes the cream colored pillows seem sad and out of place.

“Is it everything you thought it’d be?”

Stu’s voice snaps me out of my train of thought. I nod once, stepping towards the coffee table. My hand reaches forward, picking up the picture of the kid with the missing tooth. “Oh, most definitely.”

Billy sighs at the same time Stu lets out a quick, easy laugh. “That’s a good one.”

“Put it down,” Billy mumbles halfheartedly, but it’s too late. Stu’s at my side, taking the smooth frame. He holds it up and then down, squinting like he’s studying a complex work of art. “This was a mistake.”

I grin, “Once again, most definitely.”

“You used to be a real softie.” Stu delivers the comment in a way that feels almost factual. I bite down a joke about how used to feels like an exaggeration as Stu sets down the frame.

Billy frowns a little too pointedly. “Yeah, I was the one that was sensitive.”

I turn my head towards Stu, who’s stiffer than he was too seconds ago. There’s definitely a story there. “What’s that about?”

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” Stu pouts, lazily extending an arm in my direction. “He’s always been jealous of me.”

Mhm. I roll my eyes, sighing as I reluctantly step forward and meet him halfway. Stu squeezes my shoulder. The gesture is gentle enough, but I still halfheartedly try to push him off. “Yeah, jealous sounds like the right word.”

He huffs. “Don’t be mean.”

I force my thumb downwards. My nail pinches at my skin a little but it works, I get in between the fabric of my shirt and Stu’s palm. He curves his hand to give me the space I need. “I’m never mean.” He tries to squeeze my thumb down flat. “Seriously, though,” I turn my head enough to look at Billy, “Story?”

Billy tilts his head just enough for me to notice and his eyebrows pull together. The feeling that he’s silently trying to tell me something I can’t interpret tugs at me briefly. He straightens his stance before I can read too much into the look. “Imagine that with the impulse control of a seven-year-old, that’s the story.”

Stu being a former terror is a topic that’s been touched on before. Usually, the issue with befriending people that have known each other their entire lives is that you’ll never have the childhood experiences together. You’ll never know whose parents hosted the sleepovers or who had constantly scraped knees or who went through an embarrassing obsession with some child targeted franchise.

It’s a fair thing thing to be intimidated by. And normally, it’d sting from time to time, but with them it rarely does. I like hearing the stories, like the details that come up.

Stu scoffs in complaint, fighting back with renewed interest as I come close to freeing my shoulder.

“He used to have a thing for bugs,” Billy offers after a second, “Didn’t like when people would mess with hives and-and food routes or whatever.”

The hand on my shoulder nearly goes slack. I blink, twisting my neck to look at Stu, whose staring straight ahead. “Shut up.” The words come out uncharacteristically passive, and maybe even a little flat.

Picturing Stu as one of those insect fact kids wouldn’t come to me naturally, but it does kind of fit. Not the defending them, but the interest in something that gets people to react.

“Really?”

Stu sighs, “Not really.” Again, a surprisingly flat defense. “I didn’t have a thing...just thought they were...” He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, “Cool.”

“So cool you had to put a beetle in Valerie Thompson’s cubbie.”

...And there it is. I laugh despite myself, imagining a second-grade Stu and some poor girl getting into some kind of argument and then later finding something crawling between her crayons and coloring sheets. Maybe it’s a good thing we met when we did. Little me could be a monster in her own way, a way that wouldn’t have fit theres. “That poor girl.”

“Valerie Thompson had it coming,” Stu says, “Y’know what she was like.”

I don’t know if it’s weird that I assumed that Stu was talking to me or both of us instead of just talking to Billy. The comment was small, offhanded and focused on a topic only they know about. It’s fair for him to not be talking to me. Rationally, I get it. That doesn’t mean I like it, though.

I’ve seen them interact in ways that make it feel like everyone else is invisible. They get each other like that. Anyone that’s around them long enough to see them relax has to get it. It’s the kind of understanding that makes people insecure about their own best-friendship. Not that it makes me feel like that. Most of the time.

Something about it right now burns more than usual. My feelings aren’t hurt, I’m not upset because that wouldn’t be fair, but I’m not comfortable and breezy either. That just makes it worse, why does it feel different now?

Maybe my irritability is a result of multiple things. All I’ve had to today is a few spoonfuls of the ice cream that I mainly picked at so that my mom wouldn’t worry and I’ve had no water. The whole book thing has been stressful, too, and the pulsing ache of a migraine is starting to settle behind my right eye.

It was nice of Billy to invite me over because I asked, but maybe it’s too early for me to be out again. Maybe what I need is the safe enclosure of my bedroom, dim lighting, and a nap.

I try to shake off my discomfort by acting on instinct. The instinct of a feral toddler that isn’t getting enough attention. I twist my thumb, poking his hand with my nail. I’m not being mean about it, but I could have been gentler. Stu doesn’t react, which only adds to my annoyance.

My knuckles bend, giving me the space I need to get enough leverage to separate Stu’s hand from my arm. He lets me.

“Guess he hasn’t changed that much since he bit you today.”

The direct comment has me easing slightly. I get myself to smile. “Clearly.”

Billy takes a partial step forward, “You good?”

I scratch the back of my arm, trying to ground myself in the present. Be normal. “Yeah...just tired.” Which is true enough. I wipe at my face, pinching the bridge of my nose in an attempt to control the dull pain. “And I feel like I’m getting a headache.”

He nods, expression cloudy. “You want tylenol or water or...something.”

Pull it together. I force my hands to my side as I shake my head once. “I’m okay, just spaced out for a second.”

“You need to lay down?” Stu tilts his head, watching me like a part of him thinks I could faint.

My fingertips press into my side. “I’m good, it’s just a migraine.” This is what happens when someone decides to write a book about the most traumatic thing I’ve ever gone through. “Probably just stress.” They’re staring attentively. I can’t blame them for their concern. If I freaked out right now, this wouldn’t be my first meltdown. The fact that it’s warranted makes everything feel like too much. “Can we get back to analyzing Billy’s baby pictures? I think I saw one with a pool floaty on the bookshelf.”

“Baby pictures are low tier.” Stu briefly lifts a hand before dropping it dismissively, swiping at the air. “The real making fun of Billy’s in his room.”

“Really?”

"Yep. All the angst.”

Intriguing. “All the angst and pink sheets, right?”

“Neon.”

Billy sighs once, reluctantly stepping forward. This is all out of his control now. “You two don’t need to be around each other.”

He walks past the couch, approaching a hall that leads away from the living room. Stu turns his head the second Billy’s back is to us. “So jealous of us.”

Despite myself, I smile, finally feeling a bit more at ease. “So.”

We walk down the hall together. Billy’s fully ditched us, but Stu knows where we’re going. The hall is short, we pass one door before Stu stops us in front of one that’s partially open. He opens it fully with a gentle push and walks in without a second thought.

I’m still stepping into the room when the bed creaks loudly thanks to the sudden addition of Stu’s weight. He’s making himself just as at home as he does in my room, rolling onto his stomach to reach for a pillow to tuck beneath him.

Billy sighs from his desk chair, moving his legs off the foot of the bed. “What did we say you were? Seven?”

Stu cranes his neck, glaring at Billy before relaxing again. “And a half.”

“Feels generous.” The joke comes out instinctually, but my attention’s already divided.

Billy’s room is made up of deep blue-grey walls, not quite dark but nowhere close to light either. All the furniture is made of dark wood that matches the hardwood of the floor. The room is decorated a little neater than one would expect for a teenage boy, a few posters that are sized too well to not have been picked out carefully. They’re movie themed, though nowhere near as openly gory or sexualized as the one’s in Stu’s.

Everything’s also nicely organized. Like, even more organized than my room. No clothes on the floor or laundry sitting in a basket or on a chair in a pile that’s left to grow until it eventually topples over. What I can see of his desk is also put together, no assignments or unfinished books or projects cluttering the surface.

I walk towards the bed, siting down on the edge. The comforter is navy blue and a lot softer than I thought it’d be. His sheets are dark colored, neutral plaid. Not hot pink or an obnoxious shade of purple, unfortunately. I can’t bring myself to mind being wrong. The space is really Billy in a reserved sort of way. It fits him.

“No pink sheets.” Billy’s voice snaps me out of my analysis. It’s a good thing, too, because I was probably seconds away from touching things on his bookshelf and messing with the lamp and being nosey about knick knacks. I’d feel worse about the desire to pry and investigate for entertainment’s sake if both of them weren’t constantly looking through my things.

My hand brushes the edge of the sheet that’s folded over. “Disappointing.” I twist awkwardly to better look at him. Billy’s bouncing his leg, not looking at anything in particular. “But besides that, it’s nice and not as embarrassing as Stu said it’d be.”

Billy’s eyebrows draw together, “As?”

Stu props his head up on one elbow despite the fact that most of his arm sinks into a pillow. “Look through his underwear draw and then we’ll talk.”

I laugh, surprising myself with how loud and genuine it is. The suddenness aggravates the background soreness of a headache. I ignore it. “You’ve looked through his underwear drawer?”

“It--” Stu cuts himself off with a sigh that sounds suspiciously close to a laugh, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

Our laughing fit ends as Billy stands up. “Where are you going?”

He walks around the bed, barely glancing over at me to answer, “Give me a second.” ...Okay? “Don’t look through my underwear drawer.”

“No promises,” Stu calls after him.

Billy doesn’t react, extending an arm and instinctually half-shutting the door. Stu adjusts, forcing himself to sit up. He’s farther back on the bed than me, but his legs are so long his knees are nearly level with mine. “We’re not really gonna do that are we?”

Stu half laughs-half scoffs, wrinkling his nose and scrunching his eyes together in pretend disgust. “I’m good.” I smile. “We can tell him we did, though.”

“We should also tell him we found something really embarrassing.” Stu raises his eyebrows and I immediately regret it. I scoff, reaching back to smack his arm. “Not like that, I meant like a stuffed animal or something.”

“Don’t you have stuffed animals?”

My posture stiffens, a tiny part of me offended that he’s implying that my children are something I should be embarrassed about. “That’s different.” I frown, thinking of the one stuffed animal that lives on my bed and the few that live around my room. “And you said you liked them.”

Stu never said that, but he has implied it. Nothing crazy, just a few debates between a duck my mom had given me as a child and a bear from my grandparents. He even asked about their names.

He shrugs, turning towards me. His knee taps against mine. “I’m not complaining.” I narrow my eyes, skeptical if this is leading into some kind of joke. “As long as Daisy leaves Blueberry alone.”

I fight down a laugh, because laughing would undo all of the work I’ve put in to convincing him that making up lore about my stuffed animals is something he should stop. “You made that up.”

He tilts his head, “That’s what Daisy wants you to think.”

“I don’t even think you actually remember which one’s Daisy and which one’s Blueberry.”

Stu gasps like I’ve slapped him. “Daisy’s obviously the duck with the--the sweater--blue sweater with daisies--and Blueberry’s the bear in overalls.”

This time, the giggle slips out. I’m still not convinced he’s not making fun of me in some way or setting up for some kind of joke, but the way he grins might make it worth it. “Too easy. Which one’s Jellybean?”

He presses his lips together to demonstrate serious thought. “The...bookshelf one. The bunny with the--the ears.” Stu lifts a hand, using his fingers to try to draw something long and floppy in the air. “The grey one.” I grin. “And the last one’s French Fry, the dog on your desk for good luck.”

“Okay,” I manage reluctantly, a confession pulled out like a tooth, “You did a good job.”

Stu’s smile impossibly widens, reaching forward to wrap an arm around me. “I know my girl.”

I sigh, mumbling a quick, “Not your girl.” Stu ignores me, squeezing me to him a little more confidently. “And you know I don’t actually think French Fry’s lucky anymore, he just lives there.”

He scoffs, “Don’t talk about French Fry like that, babe, all he does is guard your homework.”

I frown, craning my neck to look at him, “Are you making fun of me?”

“No,” he breathes the word out in a way that makes it feel like the opposite of what it means.

Some joke about how French Fry’s going to have to start guarding me from him is almost out of my mouth when something creeks. Billy’s opening the door, a glass in his hand. He extends the glass towards me. I take it instinctually, even though I have no idea what the water’s about.

“Drink,” Billy says, already moving to the other side of the bed, “For your head.”

Ah. Not the first time Billy’s blamed an issue on me not drinking enough water. Even though I didn’t ask for anything, the gesture makes my chest feel warm. I take a few long sips. “Thanks.”

Billy nods once, sitting at the edge of the bed. Stu twists himself to make it easier to look at Billy. “You know she just said French Fry’s not lucky.”

“Wow,” Billy shrugs, a distinctly sarcastic lilt to his shock, “That’s blasphemous.”

I roll my eyes before drinking some more water. “I just meant that I’m not like five and that I don’t actually think he can bark away the bad grades.” A barely covered laugh overlaps with the last of my words. I snap my head towards Billy. “What?”

“Bark away the bad grades?” Okay, it sounds dumb now, but when I was younger the thought of doing my homework in the presence of French Fry was comforting. A school counselor recommended him to keep me calm during tests and now he’s just a good omen. “You just--you don’t seem like you were that weird a kid and then you say--”

“I was not weird!” A little defensive for someone that was in the fourth grade with a stress plushy. “I was--I was like one of those kids that was basically an extra excited old person.”

Stu’s arm slips off me as he adjusts the way he’s sitting. “Yeah, that sounds normal.”

Really? After what’s been established about him? “Okay, bug boy.”

He glares, openly offended. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” Billy’s interjection tells me that he’s hitting his petty fight limit earlier today than usual. He only tries to preemptively intervene when he’s hitting a specific wall that Stu and I make people realize they have. “Before you guys start fighting like little kids, have you had lunch yet?”

Unless you count a bowl of ice cream that ended up abandoned in my kitchen...

Stu sits up a little more, “Nope.” He turns his head enough to look at me, “What about you, angel?”

I tap my nails against my knee. “Not yet.”

“Wanna go to that pizza place?” Stu offers, already moving towards the edge of the bed to stand.

The thought of food isn’t particularly appealing, but I’ve moved past the stage of panic that made the thought of eating nauseating. What is nauseating is what could happen if I go out in public. Gale Weathers has been nonstop promoting her book. What if someone recognizes me? It was bad enough when the attack first happened and my school was buzzing with journalists...Now things are confirmed and Gale Weathers can’t keep my name out of her mouth.

My grip on the glass of water tightens, “Sure.”

“We can do something else if you want?”

Ugh...a selfish part of me wishes I had it in me to pretend not to hear the hint of uneasiness in Stu’s voice. I could shake my head and say that pizza’s good, blame my hesitance on the beginnings of a migraine and sleep depravation.

“It’s not...” Both of my hands grasp the glass. I press my thumb against the rim with enough tension to leave a red line indented into my skin. “She’s still talking about it and--and I saw some other show doing a segment on it and my name came up like three times in the five minutes that I watched.”

It’s going to take over my life. Slowly but surely, it’ll take more and more. The buzz will die down and the side stares and not-so-mumbled comments will stop, because they did before. But then the book will come out and it will start again, and by the time it stops being super relevant it’ll be linked to my identity. Colleges will see it, any job that requires a background check will find it in seconds, and all it takes is for one person to find out and then it’s everywhere.

What if I get into a great school and start making friends and then one person realizes they’ve seen my name before or looks into Gale’s career for whatever reason and then suddenly it’s everywhere? It’ll cling to me like a shadow, the label of victim the kind one and the conspiracy theorists...

“You don’t have to put up with it.” Billy’s voice is low, almost unfeeling. I don’t get what he’s saying. Billy understands my question before I can ask. “The Gale thing--if she wants to use your name every two seconds to promote her book, you should let her know you’re not okay with it. Don’t make it easy for her, you’re not helpless.”

The sharpness in his tone doesn’t feel aggressive, it’s urging. Honest. “Sorry, that was--”

“Don’t be sorry.” I mean it. The directness and the lack of coddling forced me out of my the-world-is-ending spiral. My mom’s trying to track Gale Weathers down logically, but with someone that doesn’t mind playing underhanded to get what she wants, you have to work the same way. She ambushes people all the time. “I think I needed to hear it.”

Gale’s office is probably in a public directory, and if it’s not, she’ll probably try to find me at school. There’ll be a chance to tell her off, a chance to stop her. Or at least, to get her to stop mentioning me like I’m a tagline.

“We’ll take her down,” Stu encourages, gently bumping his fist against my arm, “After food.” He stands up, the bed shifting beneath his weight. “C’mon, if anyone looks at you, I’ll beat ‘em up.”

I roll my eyes, letting Stu pull on my free hand until I stand up. “You offer to do that a lot. I think you just want to beat someone up.”

“Nah, if I did, I’d just punch Billy.”

Billy lets out an exhausted sigh as he stands. “Seriously?”

“What? I’d say I’d punch her, but she scares me a little.” Considering how often Stu and I do fight each other, I really doubt it. “She fights dirty.”

“Yeah.” Billy’s agreement comes out suspiciously fast as he opens the door. “I’ve seen her kick your ass.”

----

a/n billy and stu when someone else takes advantage of y/n’s trauma: 🤯🤬

also next chapter should be a lot messier hehehe

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#scream #scream x reader #scream 1966 #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #Poly! Ghostface x Reader #finagl girl fic

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