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yandere-daydreams · 4 months

Text

Title: Nurture.

Paring: Yan!Geto Suguru x Reader x Yan!Gojo Satoru (JJK).

A Continuation Of Nursle.

Word Count: 11.0k.

TW: Dub/Con, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Imprisonment, Mentions of Pregnancy/Childbirth, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Implied Semi-Public Sex, Forced Marriage, Panic Attacks/Disassociation, Mentions of Stalking, and Nonchronological Timelines. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You were never supposed to meet Geto Suguru.

It’d been a misstep in the never-ending trudge that was the cosmic timeline; a mistake on behalf of the universe that left you on the doorstep of his temple, glancing between the rustic entryway and the scrap of paper one of your student’s mothers had slipped into your hand a few weeks prior. “They should be able to help with your little problem,” she’d explained with a wink, a knowing glance towards your stiff shoulders, the dark bags under your eyes. “One visit, and you’ll feel like a teenager again.”

You’d smiled politely and told her that you’d give it a try and shoved her note into a drawer below your desk to be swiftly forgotten. You went to a doctor, then a chiropractor, then a psychologist, then briefly considered making an appointment with a fortune teller before finally relenting and deciding that you were, in fact, desperate enough for a miracle healer. It took three trains, two taxis, and more than a handful of helpful strangers, but you’d arrived at the messily scrawled address in one piece. You could still turn around, try your luck with another specialist, another bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills – sane solutions that sane people fell back on when they encountered problems that sane people had. You could go back to your flat, your ever-growing pile of ungraded tests, and pretend you’d never been here at all. You could do the thing that crazy, desperate people didn’t do, and you could leave.

You took a deep breath, braced yourself, and crossed into the entryway.

An attendant caught you as soon as you’d stepped inside. He was male, middle-aged, wearing the most strained, plastered-on smile you’d ever seen as he bowed his head to you. After a moment of nervous delay, you returned the gesture. “I—Uh, a friend of mine pointed me in your direction,” you stuttered out, doing your best to speak through your anxiety. “She said your head priest could…”

You trailed off, struggling to find the right words. Thankfully, the attendant cut in before you could make yourself look like a complete moron. “Geto-sama?” Impossibly, his smile widened even further. “You’ve come to the right place - he’s a truly miraculous healer. He’s seeing another poor, suffering soul at the moment, but you’re free to wait outside of his sanctuary.”

With a quick nod and a few words of thanks, you were swiftly taken to and abandoned in a small sitting room that, you could only guess, led into the innermost shrine. You sunk into a remarkably uncomfortable wooden chair and managed to sit still for all of three seconds before looking for your next distraction. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to find.

Two girls sat on the other side of the room; sisters, you guessed, if not twins. One (Mimiko – it’d still be a few days before you learned her name) was perched on the edge of a chair identical to your own while the other (Nanako) sat cross-legged on the floor between her legs, fiddling with a hand-held console as her sister tried and failed to braid her hair. You couldn’t help yourself – a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you watched Mimiko clumsily fumble with the messily divided strands of hair, her frustration written clearly across her expression. You’d always been comfortable around kids, as much as you never wanted to have your own. You didn’t know much about healing priests or mystic illnesses, but you knew how to handle a struggling seven-year-old.

When she looked away from her work, seeming to notice you for the first time, you offered her a bright smile, a quick wave. “Having a hard time?” you asked, gesturing towards her messy handiwork. “I can show you a few tricks, if you’d like.”

There was a long moment of hesitation, a quick look shared with her sister. “I understand if you don’t trust my credentials, but…” You fished out a few spare hair-ties out of your pocket: bright pink and adorned with equally garish bows, the color and design enough to make Nanako’s eyes light up. One of your more absent-minded students tended to forget hers, and you’d gotten into the habit of carrying a healthy stockpile on her behalf. “I did bring my own supplies.”

A few minutes later, you found yourself dutifully combing out Mimiko’s hair while Nanako admired her new pigtails. They seemed reluctant to talk to you, but you did your best to make polite conversation – well, as much as you could with two stand-offish grade schoolers. “Are you two waiting for someone?”

Mimiko pursed her lips, but Nanako wasn’t so shy. “Our dad,” she filled in, the kind of pride only an idealistic child could have for a parent heavy in her voice. “He hates monkeys.”

“Oh.” You did your best to sound surprised, rather than confused. “Does he work for the temple?”

“Mhm – he’s really strong, and super important.” She waited for you to num in acknowledgement, then went on. “You’re here to see him, right? He can definitely help you, if you are.”

Your hands faltered, a lock of Mimiko’s hair slipping out of your loose hold. “Your father’s… the head priest?”

Nanako nodded enthusiastically, and for the first time, Mimiko chimed in, “He’ll probably get rid of your creepy friend.”

This time, you stopped moving entirely. “I’m sorry, my friend?”

Mimiko glanced over her shoulder, moved to speak, but the screen door leading into the shrine slid open before she could answer you. It wasn’t an attendant, this time, but a man in monk’s garb with hair that reached past his shoulders and a grin less strained but just as artificial as that of his attendants. Geto Suguru, although it’d still be some time before you knew to call him that.

His dark eyes found you first, before moving to his daughters. “Girls,” he started, tone more playful than chiding. “Are you bothering my guests?”

The twins exchanged a long, weighty look before Nanako pushed herself to her feet and hurried to her father’s side. With a sigh of mock exasperation, he leaned down, letting her whisper something into his ear as you rushed to finish Mimiko’s braid. You couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it was enough to earn a pair of pursed lips from Suguru, a languid shake of his head. Without responding to her, he straightened his back, already ushering you inside. You took a deep breath, then followed him into the shrine.

He made no attempt to put on a show of false hospitality. Wordlessly, he left you loitering in the center of the very empty, very large room while he stepped onto a raised platform and collapsed onto his side, propping his elbow on a cushioned, stand-alone armrest. This time, when he sighed, it seemed to be out of a more genuine exhaustion, his eyes falling shut briefly as he propped his chin on his fist and brought his free hand to his temples. “I have to apologize for my daughters. If I could watch them constantly, it still wouldn’t be enough.” He opened his eyes, and instantly, you felt the full weight of his stare. If it hadn’t been a feeling you were so used to, it might’ve been enough to send a chill down your spine. “Now, how can I be of service to you?”

You dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to fidget. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping, lately. There’s been this weight on my back, like—”

“Like you’re being watched?”

He spoke confidently, as if answering a question he’d written himself. With your hands clenched into fists at your sides, you nodded. Suguru’s head lulled to the side, his smile taking on a satisfied lilt. “I thought so. Tell me – have you had any scorned lovers in the past? Boyfriends, fiancés, that type of thing?”

“A stalker,” you admitted. “But, he passed a few months ago. There was an accident, and—”

This time, he cut you off with a snap of his fingers. It was brief, barely a flash of movement, but you caught something in the corner of your eye – an amorphous shape perched above your right shoulder, a thousand eyes spotted across its baggy skin and a hundred curling tentacles wrapped around your arms, your chest, your stomach. You shut your eyes, winced, and when you opened them again, the creature was gone and Suguru held a small, pitch-black marble between his thumb and forefinger. He took a second to evaluate it before letting out an approving hum and bringing the marble to his lips, swallowing it whole. In your shock, it didn’t even occur to you to look away.

“These things tend to linger.” It was a meager explanation, but you accepted it whole-heartedly. For the first time in months, you were able to straighten your back, to drop your shoulders, to stand up without a single part of you crying out in protest. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so relieved.

“Thank you,” you nearly gasped, bowing at the waist. “Oh my god, I— I don’t have much money, but—”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask for compensation. Consider this—” A click of his tongue, a roll of his wrist. “—a favor between friends. The most I could ask for is a little of your time, in return.”

You would’ve given him your first-born child, if he’d asked for it. “Of course, anything. I really can’t thank you enough, sir.”

“It’s just— I’ve been trying to find a tutor for my daughters for the longest time, and they already seem fond of you.” For the first time since you’d stepped into his shrine, he sat up, facing you directly. “I understand that you’re a teacher?”

You left the temple a few minutes later, a new number programmed into your phone and a smile brighter than anything you’d worn in years painted across your lips.

You moved in with Satoru the same day he met Himari – as much being told to shove everything you couldn’t live without in a bag because you wouldn’t be coming back to your apartment could be called moving. You would’ve fought it more, but he’d been holding your daughter, and you couldn’t take that kind of risk with her. Not again.

Time seemed to pass in slow, thick clumps. Hours would pass in the blink of an eye and seconds would drag on and on and on until you couldn’t stand the idea of pretending you cared, anymore. A nursery was thrown together in one of Satoru’s guestrooms. When you mentioned that you’d never slept so far from her, Satoru cooed and kissed your cheek.

“It’ll be alright, baby. I’ve got enough monitors to last ‘till she’s eighteen. And, no offense, they’re a little more reliable than what you’ve been using.” Another kiss, this one to the corner of your jaw. “Besides, I don’t think you’ll want her sharing a room with us.”

Something pricked at the back of your throat. “I could sleep in here, with—”

“Nope.” He was kind enough to shut you down before you could so much as start to get your hopes up. “Honestly, she should count herself lucky I’m willing to share at all.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Instead, you closed your eyes, and when you found the strength to open them again, the world was dark and your body was cold.

Once the novelty wore off, you fell into a steady routine. Once or twice a week, you’d make the trip to Suguru’s temple and do your best to drill seven years’ worth of public education into Mimiko and Nanako while their father saw his unfortunate visitors. They were smart girls, even if they were more interested in your love life than multiplication tables, and when you thought about Suguru had done for you, you couldn’t say you minded spending a few hours of your weekend in a scenic, rural temple surrounded by Suguru’s (sometimes off-putting, but never unpleasant) congregation.

It took two months before you saw Suguru’s composure slip. It’d been a mistake – an accident on your part as much as it was on his – but you hadn’t thought of it in such fatalistic terms in the moment.

You kept your hands in your pockets as you wandered through the temple’s courtyard, stretching your legs while the girls finished a worksheet on long division (chosen by Nanako over English contractions, much to Mimiko’s protest). Idly, eager to give them as much time as you could, you made your way around the inner sanctum’s perimeter, rounding a sharp corner before abruptly coming to a stop.

Geto sat on the edge of the raised porch, eyes closed and his shoulder braced against the side of a support beam. You moved to flee, to apologize for interrupting his meditation, but you noticed his hunched posture, his slightly parted lips, and let out a breath of a laugh, your panic fading into pity.

Ah, the poor thing.

He was so tired, he’d fallen asleep sitting up.

As little as you’d expected to see a grown man sleeping in public, you weren’t surprised. Suguru was always running himself ragged; either hosting guests or holding sermons or running errands on the temple’s behalf, always coming back with a certain weight to his steps and an off-kilter quirk to his smile. With a sigh, you kneeled next to him and after a moment of hesitation, shrugged off your coat, taking care not to wake him as you draped it over his shoulders. Immediately, he relaxed – an ounce of the tension in his shoulders dissolving as he slumped into himself. You’d considered waking him up, but decided against it. Your own months of sleepless nights and never-ending days were still fresh in your memory. You didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on a few precious minutes of much-needed rest.

You heard a screen door slide open, a high-pitched voice call your name from the other side of the temple. You pushed yourself to your feet, but paused, spared another glance toward Suguru. It was a stupid, spontaneous thing to do, you didn’t give yourself time to think better of it before brushing his bangs away from his face and pressing a kiss into his forehead – the kind of kiss you’d give to one of your students in the wake of scraped knees and playground arguments. When he failed to stir, you pulled back and crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to keep yourself warm as you started back to where his girls were waiting for you.

Satoru was at your door as soon as the bell rang.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you must’ve known he wouldn’t give up old patterns so easily. He loitered in the hallway while your hyper-active students filtered out, slipped inside as the last of the stranglers did their best not to gawk at the inhumanely tall stranger with unnaturally white hair. By the time he crossed the threshold, you and Megumi were the only ones left, the latter dutifully waiting for his daily busy work at the corner of your desk.

Satoru acknowledged him with a click of his tongue, a quick ruffle to Megumi’s hair before he moved onto you. “There’s my pretty girl,” he half-said, half-sung as he slung an arm around your neck, pulling you into his chest. “Had you on my mind all day. Couldn’t stop wishin’ I had your pretty ti—”

You cleared your throat into your hand, nodding pointedly towards Megumi. Satoru’s grin faltered, then collapsed into a pursed-lipped frown. He didn’t say anything, but his thumb dug into your shoulder, his cruel eyes flickering to you over the dark lenses of his glasses. You didn’t need any further instruction. If Suguru taught you anything, it’d been how to get rid of unwanted company.

“Megumi.” You waved him toward you, and despite the mix of distrust and exasperation written clearly across his expression, he stepped forward. Still, you braced yourself before going on. As little as you wanted to associate him with Satoru, to blame him for what Satoru did to you, you hadn’t been able to meet his eyes all day. Whenever you looked at him, you couldn’t help but think about Himari, and whenever you thought about Himari—

“You usually walk home with Tsumiki today, right?” He didn’t, but you couldn’t think of a better excuse. Lately, it was all you could do to put one word in front of another, let alone actually manage to clear away enough of the thick, buzzing static clouding your mind to form an intelligent thought. “You should really get going, before she starts to think you left without her.”

His gaze dropped to the ground. He mumbled something just a breath below audible, and you forced yourself to smile. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I don’t want to leave you alone with him.” His tone was clipped, his eyes narrowed. “He’s… He’s gross, and weird, and you shouldn’t talk to him.”

If he’d been any other kid, if Satoru had been any other adult, you might’ve laughed, chided him for speaking so rudely about his elders. Instead, you only sighed, your smile faltering as you brought a hand to his shoulder. “We’re just going to have a little chat, that’s all. I promise, I’ll be just fine when we see each other tomorrow.” You paused, lowered your voice into something playfully conspiratorial. “Between you and me, I think he’s pretty weird too. Thanks for looking out for me.”

His scowl deepened, but he didn’t protest. After tossing one more glare in Satoru’s direction, he trudged out of your classroom, letting the door slam behind him. You didn’t have time to feel relief or dread or much of anything before Satoru was on top of you – his knee planted between your thighs, one of his hands groping at your waist while the other caught your chin, holding you in place while his lips crashed into yours, the kiss mess and open-mouthed and desperate. “The brat’s annoying,” he muttered, as he pulled away. “But I can’t say I don’t see where he’s coming from. If you’d been my teacher, I don’t think I would’ve been able to stop myself from bending you over your desk ‘n earning a little extra credit.”

A wave of nausea washed over you. You couldn’t stop yourself from buckling forward, but Satoru had already moved on, found his way to the side of your neck. “Please, don’t talk about my students like—”

Your voice gave out as he bit down – burying his teeth in your throat in less of a love-bite and more of an effort to eat you alive. You barely managed to stop yourself from crying out, but panic quickly swallowed whatever pain you might’ve felt. It’d leave a mark, one you wouldn’t be able to hide, not completely. Against your will, your mind flashed to Megumi and, if you’d been just a little weaker, you might’ve collapsed, passed out while Satoru lapped the blood now trickling down your throat. If you’d been just a little luckier, you might’ve fallen apart entirely.

Your hands shot to his hair, and Satoru let out a throaty groan. His hands fell to your thighs, and before you could so much as think to struggle, you were laid across your desk, folders and worksheets pushed aside in favor of trapping your body underneath his. “Always wanted to do this,” he muttered into your shoulder, already pulling your skirt to your waist. “Might have to go into teaching, too – just so you can return the favor.”

He might’ve gone on, but you were done listening.

You would have to request a change of classroom, tomorrow morning.

Nanako returned your coat to you a week later, rolling on the balls of her feet and grinning from ear to ear.

You saw Suguru more often, after that.

Granted, not too often, and never for very long. He was still a busy man, and most of your interactions were limited to minute-long conversations as you found each other heading in the same direction, a few niceties exchanged as you dropped Nanako and Mimiko off at the door of his shrine. He never struck you as overly guarded, but you could count the number of times you’d heard him speak about himself on a single hand. If it hadn’t been for his girls, you probably would never have learned his given name.

Winter had begun its swift and relentless approach, and you found yourself standing outside of the temple’s gates, watching the sun slip below the horizon and debating if it would be worth it to cough up the cash for a taxi, rather than dragging yourself through the labyrinth that was public transportation in the dark. As you checked your phone for the dozenth time, you caught a flash of movement in your peripheral and glanced up only to find Suguru – changed out of his monk’s garb and into a plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants that made him look more like an exhausted college student than the head of his own temple. He nodded to you by way of greeting, and you flashed him a smile. “Waiting for someone?”

“Something like that.” You looked back to your phone and sighed. “I might have to make our next session a little earlier. I forgot how dark it could get and, well, you know what it’s like in the city.”

You withered, but Suguru only brightened. “Let me give you a ride.”

“Are you sure? I’d hate to—”

“Please, (Y/n).” You could see why he had such a dedicated congregation. When he spoke, it was impossible not to listen. “Just think of it as a favor between friends.”

You wanted to refuse, to tell him not to waste his time, but a streetlamp buzzed to life somewhere above you and the last trace of your resolve crumbled. A few minutes later, you were in the back of a sleek, black car – Suguru sitting next to you and his driver hidden behind a tinted partition. More time than you would’ve liked passed in tense silence before you, more motivated by discomfort than gratitude, broke the quiet. “I was surprised when I found out Nanako and Mimiko were homeschooled.” Before he could respond, you realized how it must’ve sounded and tried to backtrack. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just—you’re always so busy, and they’re such bright girls. I’m sure that, if you ever did want to get them enrolled, they’d do very well. It’d free up a lot of your time, too.”

You thought you saw him wince, but it could’ve just been a trick of the light. By the time you turned to face him properly, his expression was unreadable – his lips pulled into a thin line and his dark eyes focused on some unseen point in the distance. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” he admitted, before letting an airy sigh. “But… I made a lot of bad choices, when I first took them in. The were a bad situation, and I was young and stupid, and I— I think I might’ve fucked things up. For them, at least. I probably would’ve ended up in the same place eventually.” Another sigh, a lengthy pause. When he went on, his tone was heavier, his usual confidence greatly diminished, if not absent entirely. “…you don’t think I made a mistake, do you?”

You took a second to think, letting your eyes fall to your lap. “I don’t,” you said, finally. “The girls seem happy, and you’re providing for them. They won’t have normal lives, but—” You hummed, shrugged. “Who does?”

He seemed to relax, the harsh edges of his expression dulling. His eyes shifted to you. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

This time, you didn’t hesitate at all, shaking your head with a slight smile. “Consider it,” You let your tone dip into something teasing and secretive, raising your chin the way he tended to when talking to guests and members of his congregation. “a favor between friends.”

Your showmanship earned a dry chuckle, a softened gaze. After a long beat, he asked, “Would you mind if I, uh…” He trailed off, tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Would you mind if I tried something?”

Now, it was your turn to laugh. You’d assumed he was in his mid-twenties, but he must’ve been younger – he was acting like a teenager. “Go ahead, Suguru.”

Despite your reassurance, he stalled for a few seconds before, more than a little stiltedly, bending at his waist and resting his head gingerly on your lap. It was an awkward position, the back of the car too cramped for him to lay down properly, but his eyes fell shut and after the initial shock faded, you could only smile, raising a hand and combing your fingers idly through his hair. When you pulled the elastic band holding his half-bun together out of place, letting his hair fall loose over your thighs, he didn’t protest, only going that much more limp on top of you.

You two stayed that way for the rest of the trip; his head in your lap, your finger carding through his hair, the only noise that of traffic and the occasional muted hum when your attention started to drift. It was only when his driver pulled onto the curb in front of your complex that Suguru raised his head, blinking himself back into consciousness. You turned to let yourself out, only to feel him take up one of your hands – his fingers soon intertwined with yours. You didn’t have time to ask him what he was doing before you felt him cup your cheek, before you felt his mouth against yours.

The kiss was gentle but warm, shallow but lingering. He held you there, his lips barely yours, for a second, then another, before you snapped out of it and pulled away – your disgust as immediate as it was it was self-concentrated. If Suguru felt the same way, he hid it well. You could only make out the slightest trace of hurt in the down-turned corners of his parted lips.

He started to say something, but you were already rushing to apologize. “I’m sorry, Suguru. You’re a sweet kid, but I’m—” You forced yourself to laugh, the noise jolting and strained. “I’m nearly twice your age.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t care how old you are.”

“Exactly.” You shook your head, dragging a hand over your face. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been more clear about, I don’t know,” You gestured vaguely. “—everything. And I should really—”

Again, you moved to leave, and again, he stopped you. This time, he caught you by the wrist. “I’m not a kid.” You tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened. You felt something in your forearm begin to ache. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you how serious I am.”

“Absolutely not.” You pried the door open and jerked away from him just in time to stumble out of his car and onto the pavement. You saw his posture straighten, his body tense as if he was going to try to lunge at you, but mercifully, he must’ve thought better of it. His anger was, instead, focused entirely into his unblinking stare, and you did your best to speak in spite of the way his eyes burnt into your chest. “I… I think it would be for the best if we didn’t see each other, for a while. Tell the girls I’m out of town, and—” You swallowed, dryly. “—I think you should get some rest, Suguru. You need it.”

As awful as it made you feel, you slammed the door shut before he could respond. He didn’t try to chase you, but his car hadn’t moved by the time you made it to your flat. With your doors locked and your blinds pulled shut, you watched it until, hours after midnight, you nodded off.

He was gone when you woke up, and you could only hope he’d be mature enough to mind his distance.

Satoru’s face was buried between your thighs when you heard his phone ring, his hands curled around your thighs and your body perched on the edge of one of his rarely used marble counters. You would’ve missed it entirely if you’d been a little closer to the edge, if he’d been just a little nosier as he moaned and grunted into your cunt, but you weren’t, and he wasn’t, and the sound of that melodic dial-tone cut through the haze like a knife through fog (relatively ineffective, but still violent enough to draw attention). You straightened as much as you could, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging, gently. “Satoru, I think—”

“It’s not important,” he muttered against your thigh, drawing back just far enough to be audible. “’s probably just the kids. They said they were coming over, but—” He flashed you a smile, bright eyes catching the light. “They can wait ‘till we’re done. I can’t just leave my pretty girl unsatisfied.”

Immediately, the haze stiffened and shattered into a panic-inducing, heart-racing clarity. You straightened, cursed under your breath, but Satoru tongue was already lapping over your soaked slit, the bridge of his nose grinding against your clit as he all-but worshipped your pussy. This time, you didn’t tug, but pulled – doing what little you could to pry him off of you, but all you earned was a throaty whine, his fingertips dug that much deeper into the plush of your ass. His tongue bullied its way past your clenching entrance, curling and thrusting, and it took everything you had not to snap your thighs shut around his head, not to give him what he wanted. “Satoru,” you spat, using the same tone you’d put on for a misbehaving student. “S-stop.”

It was more of an instinct than a decision, more of a reflex than a choice, but either way, it didn’t seem to make a difference. With his eyes blearily focused on your expression, his mouth latched onto your pussy like it was the last thing he’d ever taste, he fucked you open with his tongue until your toes were curling, your legs twitching, your vision burning pure white in a way that made you wish you could give up on sight altogether. He nursed you through your climax until the last of your energy was spent before pushing himself to his feet and slamming his mouth into yours – his teeth cutting into your lips and your taste heavy on his tongue. By the time he pulled away, you were panting and he was wearing that awful, careless grin. You never thought you’d miss Suguru’s calculated smile, and yet.

And yet.

You didn’t have time to be angry. The kids came first – a thought that, if you’d given yourself a chance to linger on it, would’ve been more of a cause for concern. “Go clean yourself up, I’ll take care of the kitchen. Call them back as soon as you’re finished.”

“I love it when you get bossy,” he said, with a dreamy sigh. “It’s hot in a, like, ‘put me over your knee and spank me’ way, y’know?”

Your only response was a quick shake of your head, a repulsed curl of your lips. Satoru only laughed, pecking your cheek and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “They’ll love you. Megumi likes to act shy, but he can’t shut up about you. Tsumiki’ll just be ecstatic to have a baby sister,” he mumbled into your throat. “You wouldn’t break their hearts, would you?”

It might’ve hurt less, if there hadn’t already been two little girls somewhere in Japan who knew that you absolutely would.

You called Suguru from the curb in front of your flat, your head in your hands and tears streaming openly down your cheeks. He let it ring once, twice, before answering. You could practically hear the smile in his voice, practically feel the smugness in his tone. “I thought we weren’t talking, dear?”

You swallowed back another ragged sob. “It’s back.”

He was there within the hour – alone, this time, no girls and no driver. You stayed where you were as he let himself into your flat, returning only a few minutes later with a thoughtful hum and a thin frown playing on his lips. “It’s rare, but it does happen,” he started, as he sat down next to you. He was dressed in street clothes, rather than his monk’s garb. Somehow, that only made it more difficult to look at him. “Particularly restless spirits can lie dormant before reappearing stronger and more attached to their living host. A standard exorcism might no longer be enough to banish it.”

You felt something heavy and pointed drop into the pit of your stomach. Calling it 'stronger' was an understatement – you couldn’t believe something so massive, something so awful had ever been attached to you. When you let your mind wander, you could still see its dripping, pitch-black arms writhing over the walls and ceiling of your bedroom, still feel its countless eyes burning into you – a hundred, no, a thousand times worse than it’d been when Suguru had first sent it away. You buckled at the waist, burying your face in your knees, and Suguru rested a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles into your shoulder. You were thankful for the comfort, even if it would’ve taken you another few weeks to completely forget the feeling of his hand around your wrist. “Can you…” You cringed, shrunk into yourself. “Can you help?”

“Oh, absolutely.” If he’d been just a little more cocky, he would’ve been purring. “But I’m afraid it’ll cost you more than a favor, this time.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“I know.” His hand went still, settling on your shoulder. “But I need you to give me something, this time.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Anything,” you repeated, with all the desperation of a sinner laid bare before the altar. “Please, Suguru. Anything.”

“I need an heir.”

You could practically feel your heart split open and shatter inside of you. “…an heir?”

“For the sake of my congregation,” he said, like that explained anything. “We’ll have to get married first, of course. You’ll be taken care of until the child’s born, and then, you’ll be free to go.” His hand fell to your own, squeezing gently. “Or to stay with us, if that’s what you prefer.”

Any other time, the idea alone would’ve been enough to make you sick. Any other day, you would’ve told him that he could have anything, anything but that.

But, in the moment, all you could seem to think about was your flat and the monster inside of it. You felt yourself nod and, before you could take it back, heard Suguru laugh, felt his lips against your temple. “You’re making the right choice,” he muttered, the words nearly lost against your skin. “I love you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it back.

Tsumiki and Megumi were asleep in the guest room turned makeshift nursery. Megumi had been slow to warm, quick to hear Satoru introduce you as his ‘one and only’ and assume the worst (which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly wrong), but Tsumiki hadn’t been so stand-offish, and ultimately, whatever concerns an eight year old could have for your safety crumbled under his sister’s desire to fawn over your newborn. You were glad. You didn’t want him to worry about you. That was a mistake you’d made with Nanako and Mimiko. You’d let Suguru give them a reason to care if you left, and then, you’d left.

Your gaze drifted to Himari. She’d always loved attention (a trait you could only assume she’d inherited from her father), and she’d spent most of the afternoon and the entire evening basking in Tsumiki and Megumi’s adoration. Currently, she was sitting in your lap, giggling and clapping her hands together as you idly bounced her on your knee. The sight alone was enough to make your heart soar – any thoughts of Satoru and his wards fading into the background as you leaned forward and peppered her tiny face with kisses. It was a miracle that you loved her at all, let alone as much as you did. Pregnancy hadn’t been kind to you, and it wasn’t until the moment she was born that you could stand to think of yourself as a mother of a child, rather than just the incubator to a cultist’s pipedream. You’d never wanted children, but now that you had one, you couldn’t imagine letting anything in the world take her away from you.

Maybe, if he’d been a little kinder to her, if he hadn’t already had two daughters to spoil and adore, you might’ve been able to justify loving Himari less than you did, might’ve been able to leave her in his care when you pried a window open and fled in the middle of the night. He’d never been cruel to her, but no part of you believed that he wouldn’t have been if she’d failed to do what she’d been made for – if your love for her hadn’t been enough to keep you by his side. Even if you hadn’t loved her at all, you still would’ve taken her with you. No child deserved to be left in the care of a monster like Suguru.

You choose, deliberately, to only think about Himari, to tell yourself that you only ever had to think about Himari. You couldn’t afford to break your own heart a second time.

Choosing not to think about Megumi and Tsumiki proved more difficult.

It was a courthouse wedding, the ceremony little more than a few signatures and a hesitant ‘congratulations’ from the officiant. Suguru’s assistant – a blonde woman who looked at you with equal parts sympathy and disgust – acted as the witness. Suguru explained that, after your first child was born, there would be a more elaborate ceremony, something with rings and dresses and flowers that the girls could participate in. You were too dissociated to point out that there wasn’t supposed to be anything after the child was born, let alone something that would leave you that much more bound to him.

You expected him to take you back to your flat, or the villa on the outskirts of the city you’d visited a handful of times when he couldn’t meet you at his temple, but instead, you found yourself standing in front of one of the tallest, brightest hotels you’d ever seen. “It is a special occasion,” he said, as you stared blankly at the entrance. “I wouldn’t be a good husband if I didn’t spoil my wife now and then, right?”

“Please,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever you say, my love.” His smile was giddier than you’d ever seen it, amusement heavy in his voice. “Let me give you a hand.”

The interior was no less agonizing than the exterior. You could feel a hundred pairs of eyes burning into you as you hung off Surugu’s arm, your own legs too weak to be trusted to support you. Rather than relief, dread coiled in the pit of your stomach as he led you to your room – a suite on the highest floor. You considered, briefly, trying to tell him that you were afraid of heights, but decided against it. Even in your own head, it sounded too childish to be believable, and you couldn’t imagine dragging this out for a second longer than it absolutely had to be.

You stepped into the room and were immediately reminded that Suguru had been the one to make the arrangements. A bottle of wine sat in a bucket of ice on a velvet-cushioned ottoman. Bouquets of roses and their disembodied petals had been carefully spread across every possible surface – painting the room with misshapen splotches of bright red. A colorless atrocity of white silk and lace had been laid across the king-sized bed. You got close enough to recognize it for what it was (bridal lingerie, veil and all) before turning away and collapsing onto the foot of the bed, your vision blurry and your heart racing.

You felt your mouth go dry, your throat tighten, but you forced yourself to speak. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the silence. “Am I—” A pause, a distraught glance towards the monstrosity. “Am I supposed to wear that?”

“I might’ve been a little overzealous,” he admitted, stepping in front of you. Slowly, he lowered himself onto one knee, taking your hands in his. “I’ll be gentle, if that’s what you’re worried about. The only thing I want you to feel is pleasure.” He brought the underside of your wrist to his lips. “I love you.”

You couldn’t be sure what it was. How sincere he sounded, maybe, or how young he looked kneeling in front of you, away from his temple and out of his costume. He kissed the back of your hand, and a ragged sob tore past your lips, all the tears you hadn’t been able to shed during the ceremony suddenly beading in the corners of your eyes. As you tried to keep them at bay with your free hand, Suguru’s smile wavered, and for the first time that you’d seen, fell away completely.

He posed the question softly, carefully. You wished he would’ve been just a little more eager to break you. At least, then, you could’ve hated him for it. “…you really don’t want to do this, do you?”

There was no point trying to lie. You shook your head and watched as Suguru deflated. His eyes had always been dark, but in that moment, you could’ve sworn they’d never seen any light at all.

Before you could brace yourself, his mouth crashed into yours with enough force to bruise. You tasted blood, felt his tongue rake over yours; whatever gentleness he’d promised to show you little more than a distant fantasy. As his mouth moved against yours, his hand slipped under your dress – two fingers dragging over your slit through your panties before his thumb found your clit through the thin material and he pushed a rough, impulsive pattern into the sensitive bud. You shrunk into yourself, your hands finding their way to his chest before you could stop yourself from trying to push him away, but Suguru didn’t seem to care, to notice. Your panties were torn away entirely, and like a man possessed, he fell back to his knees between your open legs and started to devour you whole.

Your thighs were pulled onto his shoulders, his hands curled around your hips as the flat of his tongue laved over your slit, teasing the entrance of your pussy and flicking over your clit. He alternated between tracing vague figure-eights into your cunt and lapping up the slick starting to drip from your poor, confused pussy – your exhausted body eager to accept any affection Suguru had to show you, if you could even call what he was forcing onto your affection. You tried to reach for him, to pull him away from, but you failed to so much as make contact before he let out a near-violent snarl, calloused fingertips burrowing into vulnerable flesh as he pulled you that much closer, hauling your ass off the bed and leaving you on your back, your arms crossed over your face and your ankles crossed over his back. You sobbed openly, now, but your disparate cries were interrupted by cracked whimpers and half-swallowed mewls – little, pathetic sounds you didn’t have the strength to suppress. Suguru didn’t stop. Honestly, you would’ve been surprised if he could hear you at all over the sound of his own heady panting, of his tongue fucking into your now-soaked cunt.

You almost regretted not taking him back to your flat that first night – when he kissed you like you were the most delicate thing in the world. If you’d given in right away, he might’ve had the self-restraint to hold back. Or, to try to, at least.

One of his hands left your waist, falling low enough for the pad of his thumb to press into your clit. Messily, roughly, he toyed with the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves as his tongue thrust shallowly into your cunt, curling and splitting apart the hot, clenching walls of your pussy. You felt a deep, full-chested moan reverberate up the length of your spine, and that was enough to leave you tumbling over the edge, to leave your thighs clenching around his head as you came undone on his tongue. He ate you out through the aftershocks, but didn’t stop - fucking you open with his tongue until you’d stumbled through another climax, then another, a mix of slick and saliva soon coating his chin and staining the sheets below you. By the time he pulled away, you were crying not from despair, but overstimulation; pangs of pure heat searing your nerves and leaving your cunt aching for reprieve. You were only vaguely aware of the mattress dipping beside you, of his chest pressing into yours as he kissed you for what felt like the hundredth time. As his lips pressed into yours, you decided that, if tonight was the last time you ever had to kiss someone, it wouldn’t be so bad. Not when compared to the alternative.

“I love you,” he mumbled, and then again as he pulled away, “I love you.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your voice felt like something you were no longer entitled to use; a vague concept that’d been placed at an inconceivable distance by some cruel deity. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Suguru bare his teeth in frustration. Your dress wasn’t so much removed as it was torn away from you, and you couldn’t help but wither without it. Modesty could only count so much when you could still see your arousal coating his lips, but still, it hurt.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he pulled you into the center of the bed and haphazardly dragged his shirt over his head. You shouldn’t have been surprised. You’d seen his bare arms plenty of times, watched him lift Nanako and Mimiko clean off the ground without so much as a trace of strain, and yet, something inside of you still curled up and died as your eyes raked over his sculpted chest, the corded muscle that seemed to cover every inch of him. More out of shock than anything, you moved to sit up, to put some distance between yourself and a man who looked like he could’ve torn your head off your shoulders on a whim, but he was quick to stop you, to press a palm into your chest and force you back onto the bed. With his other hand, he dragged his pants down just far enough to free his cock and, instantly, whatever desolation you might’ve felt at the sight of his bare chest was multiplied ten-fold.

You didn’t realize you were shaking your head until you moved to speak, your voice shaking and small. “That’s not going to—”

“It will.” That authority – that tone of absolute control – was back in full force. Still, you couldn’t seem to make yourself believe him. “I won’t stop until it does.”

Your heart fell into your stomach as he dragged his swollen, leaking tip over your pussy – the flushed head catching on your abused clit and drawing an airy whimper past your lips. He was, by far, the biggest man you’d ever seen, let alone slept with. As if that wasn’t enough, he was already harder than you knew someone could be – thick, pearly beads dripping from his tip and down his shaft, his more prominent veins almost pulsing as he aligned with your entrance. Even his balls were fucking huge.

Fit for a breeder, something vicious and awful whispered into the back of your mind. You tried to ignore it, but you couldn’t disagree.

Your eyes darted to his expression and met his, already blearily focused on you. You opened your mouth, but anything you might’ve said was stolen away from you as his hips bucked forward and he thrust into you, bottoming out in the same motion.

You’d been right, when you’d tried to stop him.

He was going to kill you.

Already, he was too much. A fresh wave of tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his cock threatened to tear you apart. Suguru let out a raspy groan, his head falling forward and he drew back, pulling out of you until only his head remained in your pussy only to snap his hip and bury himself that much deeper, only to stretch you that much further. “See?” One his hands fell to your lower stomach, the heel of his palm pressing into the soft flesh like he could feel the outline of his cock. He might’ve been able to. You were too scared to check. “You’re a perfect fit.”

There was another grunt, another breathy groan as he fell into an unsteady pace – every thrust brutal and back-breaking. His hands found their way to the headboard, curling around its upper edge as he fucked into you. He didn’t so much find the right spot as find a way to hit every spot constantly, his cock filling your pussy to the brim, leaving you desperately trying to clench down around him to no avail. A high-pitched whine – fractured and pathetic – tore past your lips, and Suguru let out an airy chuckle. “Not gonna be able to get enough of this.” His pubic bone scraped against your clit and you threw your head back, your back arching off of the mattress. Your sensitivity was rewarded with another laugh, a hand brought down just to grope idly at your chest. “I can’t let you out of my sight, from now own. I think I’ll lose my mind if I have to go a day without feeling this perfect pussy wrapped around my cock.”

It was hard to think, let alone piece two words together. Still, you managed to spit something out, fighting to speak above the sound of skin against skin, hips against hips. “B-but, you said— the baby—”

“Fuck the baby. This—” He slapped your clit, his touch harsh enough to make you cry out. “—is all mine.”

A hand around your throat, a new brutality to his thrusts. His grip wasn’t tight, he wasn’t choking you, and yet, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think about anything other than his cock and the feeling of your cunt being split open around it. “You’re mine.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought he sounded relieved. “And you always will be.”

Meeting Suguru had been a mistake. Asking for his help had been a mistake. Agreeing to this terrible deal had been a mistake.

But, cumming around his cock as that final possessive sentiment trickled past his lips was the biggest mistake you’d ever made or ever would make, again.

Your cunt clamped down around him – a vice around his cock. With your fists balled around satin sheets and your legs wrapped around his waist, your body convulsed underneath his, your pussy doing everything in its limited power to milk him dry. You heard Suguru curse under his breath, his hips pushing flush against yours as something thick and searing flooded into your cunt. What little managed to leak out around the base of his cock was caught with two fingers and forced back in; no drop wasted.

With a heavy exhale, Suguru dipped lower, his lips grazing over your cheek, then the curve of your neck. You shut your eyes, letting yourself deflate. It was over. No matter how you might’ve felt, no matter how much you might’ve wanted to crawl out of your skin, it was ov—

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pulled out of you, only to push back in; his rough, punishing pace only made slightly more bearably by the weight of his orgasm.

The next morning, you’d wake up to Suguru’s arm around your waist and a pregnancy test on the bedside table. It’d be too early to tell, but you wouldn’t bother to so much as open the box. Nothing could’ve kept Suguru from trying again, and again, and again in the days to follow.

Come to think of it, you couldn’t be sure if he ever stopped.

“How long is this supposed to last?”

Megumi and Tsumiki were walking a few yards ahead of you, stopping to stare into every other shop window before running ahead, and Himari was currently tucked against Satoru’s chest, occupying herself with a thorough (albeit, mostly oral) investigation of the collar of his shirt. You couldn’t cook and Satoru refused to do much of anything before noon, so the only choice left was to chase after promises of crepe trucks and cafes. Your question earned a hum, a glance toward you, but not much more. As little as you liked about Satoru, you were thankful he had such an even temper. Suguru was never so slow to react.

“Forever, preferably,” he answered, with a slight shrug. “Or until I die, at least – sorcerers have a pretty high mortality rate. I’m the best at what I do, but even the strongest ant gets crushed eventually.” He paused, pressed a quick kiss into the top of Himari’s head. “I’ll make sure to leave a big trust fund, though. You’re gonna be living off your daddy for a long, long time.”

You let your eyes fall to the sidewalk. “You don’t have to pretend you care about her. I know you’re only doing this because of him.”

If he’d denied it immediately, you wouldn’t have believed him. If he’d sworn that Suguru had nothing to do with it, if he’d dropped to his knees in front of you, if he’d told you that he loved you, you wouldn’t have believed him. But, in the end, he only pursed his lips, his head lulling to the side as he considered it. “At first, yeah,” he admitted, tracing patterns into Himari’s back. “I heard that he’d gotten with someone and… I got curious. I guess I was a little jealous.” He paused, his tone abrupt going light and sheepish. “I might’ve gone a little overboard, in retrospect – making the brats go to your school and following you around and all. I just wanted to see what kind of person could make Suguru go soft, but then I saw how you were with the little princess—” He lifted Himari above his head, grinning up at her while she spouted happy gibberish. “—and fell for you, head over heels. All I could think about was gathering you both up in my arms and takin’ you home.”

“You make us sound like stray animals.”

“I mean, you kind of are, right?” You jutted your elbow into his side, and he rolled his eyes dramatically. “Okay, okay, you’re runaways. I didn’t know you were so pedantic, (Y/n).”

He slotted Himari against his hip, his attention momentarily falling away from her as he shot a quick, teasing smile in your direction. “I like you.” His voice was soft, dull – like he was saying something you didn’t already know. Like he was giving something away. “And I want you to stick around.”

“I’m sure Suguru would’ve said the same thing.”

“I’m not like Suguru.” He found your hand, his fingers soon intertwined with yours. “I wouldn’t let you go so easily.”

You opened your mouth, but closed it again just as quickly. Ahead of you, Tsumiki turned on her heel and waved excitedly. She’d picked a café (presumably with minimal input from Megumi); a picturesque little spot with a sun-speckled patio and overgrown garden boxes. Satoru’s hand tightened around yours, tugging you forward, and just this time, you didn’t bother trying to pull away.

The man on his knees in front of you was older – his hair receding and dotted with grey. A salaryman, you guessed, judging by his wrinkled suit, the ink stains on his sleeves. You couldn’t see his expression, not with his forehead pressed against the floor of Suguru’s sanctuary, but you could hear the pain in his voice as he pled for Suguru’s help, see the slight tremble in his shoulders. You didn’t have to assume the cause of his distress.

You couldn’t be sure when you started to see the spirits – or, the curses, you mean. It must’ve been around the end of the first trimester; your little glimpses at crooked monsters and mangled beasts solidifying into full, unrelenting exposure. Suguru suggested (after he’d finished celebrating what he would, later on, refer to as the best day of his life) that it might be a symptom of the pregnancy, that carrying a sorcerer’s child may’ve triggered some pocket of laden cursed energy buried inside of you, but you couldn’t help but think of it as some kind of cosmic punishment, even if you couldn’t begin to guess what you were being punished for.

It had to be a punishment, though. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be watching a small swarm of winged, imp-like creatures bite and scratch at the cowering salaryman, each swipe of their claws and nip of their pointed teeth enough to leave ragged, bloody stripes in his arms, his back. You felt bile rise into the back of your throat, but forced yourself not to shut your eyes, to keep your expression one of unbothered neutrality. Suguru would help him, just like he helped you.

As if by way of encouragement, you let your nails scrape over his scalp. After you started showing, the only job Suguru deemed you capable of was that of his new headrest. He took care of everything else – petitioning for maternity leave, moving you out of your flat and into the villa he shared with his girls, rewriting every little aspect of your life to better the role you’d inhabit for the next nine months: his pregnant wife. Currently, he was on his side, on leg bent at the knee and his head propped on your thighs, your fingers threaded through his hair. You’d cringed at the idea, at first, but Suguru insisted that it wouldn’t be an issue. The perks of leading your own cult, you guessed. No one could challenge his authority when he was the only authority they could possibly look to.

After a moment longer than you would’ve liked, Suguru cut off the salaryman’s incoherent rambling with a slight hum. Immediately, the salaryman fell silent, and Suguru let his head lull to the side, leaning into your palm. “Manami,” he started, addressing his assistant. She’d been called in shortly after the salaryman made his entrance. “How long has it been since our honored sponsor’s last donation?”

She glanced toward her tablet. “It’ll be five months this week.”

The salaryman scrambled to apologize. “I—I’m sorry, my store went out of business, and I—”

The corner of Suguru’s lips quirked downward. The entirety of the swarm descended onto the salaryman before you could so much as flinch away.

To say they tore him apart would be an understatement. One second, he was there, bowing in front of you, and the next, little more scraps of fabric and disembodied viscera decorated the floor of the sanctuary. Suguru snapped his fingers and, in an instant, the creatures vanished – leaving behind only gore and the thick stench of copper hanging in the stagnant air. Your hand stilled in Suguru’s hair. You might’ve passed out, if you’d been able to process what you’d just watched.

Suguru took notice of your distress quickly. That, or he just wanted to bask in his kill more privately. “If I could be alone with my wife for a moment, Manami.”

Her eyes flickered to you, lingering for a moment before she bowed her head. “Of course, Geto-sama. I’ll fetch someone to clean up this mess.”

Once she was gone, Suguru rolled onto his back, letting his eyes fall shut. “These fucking monkeys,” he sighed, with a shake of his head. “I swear, they’ll be the death of me. They can’t even seem to die without causing more trouble than they’re worth.”

“You can control them?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, dear.”

“The spirits.” And then again, with more urgency, “You can control them?”

His exasperation was swiftly replaced with self-satisfaction so potent, you could nearly taste it. “Would you expect anything less from me? Only a handful are strong enough to be helpful, but even pests can be put to good use.”

You felt like an idiot for asking. You felt like an idiot for having to ask, but you just couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “My spirit. The one I came to you for.” It felt like your tongue was coated in salt and ask. “Was he one of the stronger spirits?”

A beat lapsed in silence, then another.

Finally, Suguru let out a long, raspy exhale and brought a hand to your stomach. “I hope it’s a girl,” he muttered, almost absent-mindedly. “I hope she looks just like you.”

You took a single, stilted breath.

When you met your daughter a few months later, impossibly tiny and infinitely lovable and so agonizingly helpless, it would almost be a relief to see Suguru’s face staring back at you.

“She has your eyes.”

You heard his voice before you saw his face, but you would’ve known Suguru from aura alone. You froze in the doorway of the unlit nursery, searching for him in the darkness, but Suguru didn’t make himself hard to find.

“Not the color, but the shape.” He was standing next to the cradle, a soft smile painted across his lips and your daughter in his arms. She was sleeping, and you were thankful for it. You’d kept Himari away from him as much as you’d been able to in the weeks leading up to your escape, but even their minimal exposure had seemed crushing, at the time. Above all else, you never wanted your daughter to be able to recognize her father’s face. “Oh, but she must have my temperament. I’ve heard she rarely cries, even with nuisances like Satoru around.”

You’d left your phone in the living room. Satoru wasn’t home and he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning, but maybe, if you screamed, someone would hear you. Maybe, you’d be able to run while Suguru tore them apart, limb by limb.

In the end, it was all you could do to make yourself speak – your voice thin and prone to catching in your throat. “Get out of my apartment.”

“But this isn’t your apartment, is it?” With a quiet, hushing sound, he lowered Himari back into her cradle and turned to face you. “Honestly, if I’d known you were just going to run into another man’s arms, I would’ve been more careful with you. I wonder if you’ll feel more loyal to your husband with a chain around your neck.”

“You manipulated me. You made me have a ba—”

“I loved you.” He cut you off with all the delicacy of a rusty knife sawing through flesh. “I do love you, even if I’m starting to question how much of it you deserve.”

He stepped forward. You wanted to turn away from him, to run, but your body was uncooperative, too rigid to do anything more than shake as he came to stand in front of you. “Can you say it back to me? Just this once.” He brought a hand to your cheek. “I’ll forgive you for everything, if you do.”

You tried to. Not for him, but for your daughter – made expendable by her failure to keep you bound to Suguru. You tried to, but all that slipped past your parted lips was a wordless cry, torn and anguished and far from what he’d asked for.

“No?” He feigned disappointment, letting out an airy sigh. “I guess that’s to be expected.”

He took a deep breath, then rested his head against the dip of your shoulder. His hand fell to your stomach as he spoke into your skin.

“Maybe, after we have our second, you’ll change your mind.”

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 4 months

Text

Realizations

Dad!Simon Ghost Riley x Wife!Reader

Thank you guys so much for 1k, it means the whole world for me because now once did I expect to ever have my page grown this big and not once had I imagined that I would make these many friends here who happened to be so sweet. Also to @connorsui who has been most definitely been waiting the answer to this.

So in honor of 1k, I wrote this long awaited backstory for Ghost and Lovie (Ghostie's parents) that I hope you guys will enjoy since it so happens that our beloved @ave661 has posted another Dad!Ghost render. (Credits to her again for the renders in this post <3) (Sweetie, I love you but that tag on Soap with this render was unnecessary 😭🫶)

To the people who congratulated me, through replies, likes and reblogs, I owe y'all a fat kiss. Mwahhh <333

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @thesnowurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @trepaika @starryylies @demidemon09

Warnings/Disclaimers: Stalking (not by Simon), Typical mentions of CoD violence?, Mentions of Simon's past abuse, Creepy guy?? (Not Simon), Mentions of violent and a bit gory descriptions on what wanted to do to the stalker, This is not proofread yet.

With the words of my mother and in true reputation style, Are you ready for it?

I think I need to say this on my account again, English is NOT my first language and all copyrights regarding the plot and some characters within the storyline belong to me. Edit: please help me y'all, I'm losing so much relevance in the span of less than a month, my recent works have gotten nothing and I'm scared that this post proves that. I think I've learned my lesson never to take breaks ever again 😭

Simon never imagined himself in this predicament, always thinking that he'd be out there somewhere, more likely drowning himself in a mission. Not even a home, he thought that if it hadn't for your persuasiveness to interact with him back then then he'd still be back in that shitty apartment complex.

Simon placed his duffle bag on the wood of the porch, the jingling of his keys while he looked for the correct one. He tried his best to make as little noise as possible, it was passed midnight, the last thing he would want was to disturb his wife and daughter from resting.

Hauling the duffle bag in and throwing it on the couch, Simon opt to see what his girls were up to. The giggling and commotion making him smile, you both were supposed to be asleep by now but you were unable to put her to rest because she's just too hyper, so that left you to entertain her by tossing her up and catching her.

"Dada..!" A squeal from the room came, the little one snapping her head to the opening of the door making you look as well, Simon took a peek from the half-way opened door.

Adorable little thing clapping her hands together, pleased that her dad is home while sitting on her mom. She got off, crawling near the edge of the bed with no sense of danger, fortunate for her that her dad is quick with catching her before you could.

You took a deep breath from the shock, looking at your husband and smiling sweetly at him. He asked you not to get off the bed as you were about to, laying next to you he snakes his arm underneath you on your waist and pulls you in.

"I missed my girls.." He said, voice deep and laced with exhaustion, despite that his hold and gaze was the warmest it could be.

"We missed you too Si, so much." You mumbled as your eyes flutter shut to enjoy his touch. You opened them to the sound of a kiss, he kissed the little one's forehead then yours.

Sometimes you vaguely remember the first time he and you met, how it even came to be, this life of domesticity. You, him and your little girl, family is a heavy word for Simon but it was just perfect. This was the family he wanted, the family that he thought he didn't deserve and never would have.

The feeling of coming home to all this started because you were so forgetful, who knew that would be the skill that brought you to him..?

• ──── ✦ ──── •

He emptied his pockets, to the lieutenant's dismay, the box of cigarettes only had one stick left. Since he was going out to smoke it anyway, he might as well get another box from the convenience store nearby. He took his keys from the kitchen counter and headed out, hearing a little commotion that peeked his interest.

Simon never paid much mind to whatever was going on within his apartment building despite the many gossips that were present within the building and the renters. So it happens that the old lady next to his place mentions how they'll be a new tenant in the other apartment next to his.

'Thank God' Simon thought, not that he was particularly religious but he'd been hoping for the longest time for the former renter to leave because let's be honest, who wants to live next to a frat boy with no sense of shame or consideration given that walls are thin? Little did he know he'd be blessed with the next one..

"Oh- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to.." Simon hears a voice from a little below him, he'd only register what had happened after the fact. Poor girl carrying this box bumped into him a little too hard, so much so that she stumbled back a bit.

You stared up to the 6'4 man blinking, he only shrugged it off to which you smiled to. You tried to make small talk since you were new and it wouldn't hurt to at least know one person right? After all, you were trying to step out a bit of your comfort zone.

"Hi.. I'm [Name].." He only stared at you for a while and replied, "Simon.." you gave him a warm smile before nodding and continuing to bring the boxes into your new apartment while your new neighbor entered the elevator.

You cut the boxes open to start unpacking, a few minutes in and you decided to go on a short break, you rummaged through the small box of food only to find that the recently bought box of tea was empty. You sighed at this, humming as you remembered the convenience store you passed by earlier on the way to the apartment.

Taking your keys and locking the door behind you, you made your way out the complex and walked a few blocks, you only started to notice how late it was with the streetlights coming on even though the sun is only about to set. That's something to get used to, hmm?

The cool breeze hits your skin as you enter, scent of faint instant coffee and many other kinds of foods and products made themselves known. You walked around for a while, checking on what other things you might need but then you tried to remind yourself that you were saving up and on a budget so you took a box of tea and walked up to the register.

You heard footsteps behind you falling in line, after placing the box on the counter, you searched your pockets for your wallet.

'Shit..!' you cursed yourself out mentally trying not to panic as Simon basically watches you frantically patting your pockets, you left your wallet back at the apartment. "You left your wallet-" Simon stated the obvious, "I'll cover it.." there wasn't even a time to argue with him, he just stepped next to you and placed the pack of cigarettes.

"I'll pay you back as soon as we get back to the apartment" You insisted to which Simon only shrugged and declined, it's just a box of tea and it's not like it'll make him go bankrupt, besides he liked your taste, the one you got happened to be his favorite brand.

Since you were headed in the same place anyway, you and Simon walked back together side by side, however one thing you did find odd was when he gently took you wrist and pulled you inward next to him, he was the one now closest to the road.

The walk back was silent, a comfortable silence. A few days after that encounter, you made sure to make an effort for him to know that you appreciated his gesture back at the convenience store. The lieutenant was alarmed by the knock on his door, opening it to find no person but a tupperware filled with buttery shortbread cookies.

He smiled at how tiny the plastic container looked in his hands, how he noticed the note attached "Thanks for the tea, this isn't that special but I hope you like it -[Name]" and the Sanrio themed stickers stuck onto the lid and on the top part of the tiny note. You ran out of sticky notes..

Simon found himself snacking on those cookies later on, oddly enough, they reminded him of his mom.. how she used to love baking back then, it was her way of escape whenever Simon's "father" wasn't home, as well as gardening.

For the first time in a while Simon "Ghost" Riley let out a smile that wasn't smug or a smirk but a genuine smile, one that had warmth to it, one that no matter how hard his mind tried to surppress it, his body refused to.

It didn't take long for you and Simon to get to know each other a bit, little by little it seemed like you two were becoming like friends rather than just neighbors. Let's be honest, who just randomly gives their neighbors weekly baked goods for the sole reason of "just because they wanted to"?

You found yourself always looking forward to the Friday nights chilling with him at the rooftop, mugs with hot tea on hand while he smoked and you read.

Listening to his stupid jokes and remarks that slowly turn into deep conversations and life things. Simon was just... far more open than he's ever been, sure he's talked about his day before to his comrades but never like this, not in a way where he's pouring his heart out, letting you in on how he feels about certain things.

He just got back from a mission, a rough one to be exact. Shoulders slumped from exhaustion as he walked the streets near the apartment complex, no space for his bike so he had to leave it somewhere private while he fidgeted with it's keys.

Simon swore that he almost jumped out of his own body, first instinct being to push you off but he recognized you. He gave you a questioning look, hands were shaking as you so desperately linked you arm around his.

"Hmm?" He hummed, hearing you mumbling something but it was incoherent to his ears.

"Behind us.. please Si, help..." Come to think if it, you never knew when Simon turned into Si. Best believe he knew and still remembers when perfectly.. not the time, there's a serious threat, he didn't look. He didn't need to, guessing by the heavy footsteps, some creep decided to follow you at this hour.

He slowly slipped his arm away from your grip and snaked it around your waist, pulling you in closer to his side while the two of you continued treading closer to the complex. You closed your eyes for a few seconds at a time hoping it would end.

• ──── ✦ A few days later ✦ ──── •

Knocking, frantic knocking was what Simon heard at his door. He wasn't expecting anyone, so why the sudden visit? He opened the door and saw you, Simon knew something was off from the look on your face, you looked pale as if you were sick to your stomach while trying so desperately to catch your breath.

"Can I please come in.. Simon..?" You asked in between breaths. You looked around you, especially behind you, body shivering a bit. He took notice of this and had no hesitation, he pulled you in by your arm. His grip firm but gentle, Simon closed the door behind him.

"Remember that guy who was creeping around when I asked for your help..?" You tried to explain but Simon already knew the moment your mouth opened. You had a stalker.. it was best to call the cops on shit like this.

Simon did his best even though not knowing much about how to comfort someone, he did well in making you feel safe without having to tell you that he'll do so, you just know it in your gut that he'd protect you even if it's just now.

Your breath picked up, slowly backing away from the door as you heard footsteps, clenching your fists and hoping that he didn't see you enter Simon's door. Simon wrapped his arms around you, keeping you in place and from further backing away from the door.

You felt his palm drag up and down your back, it was extremely warm, it stopped for a while. His arm wrapped around your waist, other hand in your hair pushing your head down a bit so it was buried in his chest while you gripped his shirt. Simon felt your trembling body against him slowly relax.

"Deep breaths, angel.." The nickname he whispered would've made you smile under any other circumstance but not right now, you needed to calm your nerves before you panic and make an impulsive decision that could hurt yourself. Like instructed, you followed along Simon's demonstration, pressing his forehead onto yours maybe just a bit too intimately.

You winced at the loud sound of banging on the door, you knew it too well. Simon shoved the handle of his combat knife in your hand, he told you that if anything were to happen, protect yourself with it.

As soon as the Lieutenant swung the door open, you could hear punches, things knocking over and among other things, your stalker's voice.

You'd never forget that, how pitchy it was. Nails on the chalkboard was the best way to describe it, how the man was cackling almost made you annoyed. Simon called on security and the man was dealt with, you came out from hiding and saw both fear and anger in Simon's eyes.

You would never know how much he wanted to tear that man's heart after skinning him alive for even bringing fear into your eyes.

Simon "I care too much for someone I just met" Riley finally saw how his knuckles and fingernails were caked with blood, went off to go wash it and himself.

Getting back to you after half an hour, you reached out for him only for him to withdraw, you looked at him confused and he looks at you with pure guilt..

Your eyes widened in realization, "Oh Simon.. I'm not scared.." you smiled at him. He reached out a shaky hand to you, hesitating before closing his hand back.

You took his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips and giving it a small kiss, hoping it calms his nerves. Well it did the opposite, it even more overwhelming for him having you kiss his palm while you look up at him, watching you nudge your face into his palm so invitingly.

The way your lashes just sat perfectly atop your cheeks while you slowly blinked up at him. Pressing the same scarred and calloused hands that almost killed a man that night on your face and rubbing the back with you thumb.

Simon had never felt that much guilt before for hurting someone, only after he saw the look in your eyes, which in turn were not something he caused. For the first time in his life too, Simon was comforted by something or rather someone immensely..

1K notes · View notes

dreamcubed · 8 months

Text

me! | george weasley x reader

song; me! [taylor swift, brendon uri(n)e] pairing; george weasley x fem!muggle!reader genre; accidental marriage, s2l, fluff, comedy word count; 7,8k timeline; post-second wizarding war (fred lives au) warnings; swearing, referenced alcohol consumption, references to hook-ups, references to sex, references to the war summary; after waking up in bed with a red-haired stranger and no memories of the night prior, you run off as quickly as you can. it isn't until months later when you're trying to buy a house that you learn that you can't just leave that forgotten night in the past

thought it would be ironic to have the song with the lyrics "i promise that you'll never find another like me" and "i'm the only one of me" with one of the twins lol

masterlist

"you're the kinda guy the ladies want."

————————————————

Typically, you were more responsible than this. You had always stayed away from drunk hook-up culture, hoping (perhaps too idealistically) to find organic love. Yet, on the night of your cousin's bachelorette party, you got so drunk that you found yourself in bed with a stranger the next morning. And you didn't know what to do.

All you could do for a few moments was look around the hotel room that you had evidently decided was necessary for the hook-up - and although you couldn't remember a single thing after your tenth shot at the club, the fact you were both naked gave away the events of the night prior.

He was red-haired, and quite nicely toned, but he also donned a partially missing ear. You couldn't see his face, so at that particular moment you couldn't judge whether or not drunk you had good taste. You pushed that thought aside - that was the least of your concerns. You needed to get out of there and forget that anything had ever happened, which shouldn't be too difficult thanks to the alcohol-induced memory loss.

So, with that, you slipped out of bed and scavenged for all your clothes around the room, and then quickly departed. You made it all the way down to the lobby without any human interaction, but it was there at the desk that you finally had to communicate.

"Heading out for a bit, Mrs Weasley?" the receptionist smiled at you.

You frowned, not understanding why they would address you as such - probably had mistaken you for someone else. But, you were in a hurry, so just grinned and nodded, leaving to never return.

***

Not many people were fortunate enough to buy their first home (alone) at the age of twenty-four without any help from their parents, but you had chosen a rather well-paid career path and had been meticulous with your money savings, so this was a reality for you. After a few months of working with a real estate agent to view houses and find the perfect home for you, you had finally come to a decision.

You had stumbled upon it really, when travelling from London to visit your family, you came across a road that you had sworn hadn't been there before. Curiosity had overcame you, and you had driven down it to find the cutest village named Godric's Hollow, which could also be described as peculiar. A lot of things in the village didn't make sense - like the fact they all seemed bewildered at the sight of your car - but the architecture was gorgeous. When you drove past an adorable rustic cottage with a 'for sale' sign out front, you didn't even have to think twice about viewing it.

It was a strange process, however, as the sign didn't have a number for the real estate agency, but instead read 'owl Cauldron Realtors for more details'. You asked around for information about Cauldron Realtors (a particularly strange name, comparable to the robes many of the older members of the village wore), and they pointed you in the direction of the realtor's.

From then on, the process to view the house and apply for a mortgage had been relatively normal, if not a bit old-fashioned in the lack of technology used. However, you reasoned that it was a small village and that they merely hadn't updated themselves like cities just yet.

***

"Why have you asked me to come here?" you asked as delicately as you could upon entering Cauldron Realtors.

"We have had something come up," Mr Linseed said to you. He was an eccentric old man, constantly adorning a pair of half-moon spectacles perched on the tip of his nose.

"Like what?"

"You told us that you weren't married."

You frowned.

"And I thought it was a bit strange given your muggle situation, but honestly I had simply assumed that you were a squib."

He was using a lot of words that you didn't understand. You had heard the word muggle passed around in the time that you had spent in Godric's Hollow, but had been unable to find out what it meant online or in any dictionary. Everyone used it so commonly you had felt too embarrassed to ask.

"Obviously, this changes the process for you to apply for a mortgage. We need your husband to sign off either that he will partially own the house or have no claim over it."

"I don't understand- I'm not married," you said.

"No?" the man raised a brow at you, "When we searched for legal documentation of your name, we found that it hadn't been Y/N L/N for a few months, but instead Y/N Weasley. I didn't think much of you not having gotten around to changing your bank details yet since it hasn't been long, but going by your maiden name is a little strange. So, I assumed that the marriage was short-lived."

Why did Weasley sound so familiar? You wracked your brain for when you had heard it before.

"Heading out for a bit, Mrs Weasley?"

Your eyes widened.

The guy from the hotel.

"What did you say my husband's name was?" you said slowly.

"I didn't, but George Weasley," Mr Linseed replied, "You knew that, though, correct?"

You nodded, "Yeah... just making sure."

The man frowned at you, "He is quite well-known I suppose - the shop Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is quite famous. Anyhow, here are the new forms that I need you to fill out and then we will be back on track."

You accepted them in a daze, but snapped your eyes up towards him again, "Where can I find Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"Diagon Alley, of course," Mr Linseed was clearly confused that you didn't know where your husband worked.

You had never heard of Diagon Alley, and he sensed that.

"You know? Through The Leaky Cauldron? On Charing Cross Road?"

Finally, a name you recognised.

"Oh, yes. Thank you, Mr Linseed, I'll be back soon."

God, what a process to get yourself a house.

***

You were pretty sure that in all your visits to Charing Cross Road, you had never seen that pub squeezed between those buildings before. But, you weren't about to complain, as you were desperate to find George Weasley and sort everything out. You couldn't remember his face, but you remembered his red hair and partially missing ear - that should be enough to identify him.

You hoped, anyway.

Upon entering the gloomy pub, you were met by quite a shocking sight - but one that wasn't entirely indifferent to Godric's Hollow. Except, you would describe the pub as having a more creepy ambiance, in a way. Beady eyes peered in your direction as you walked up to the bar, and you tried to hold your own as a woman with matted grey hair and disturbingly long fingernails smiled at you with missing teeth. You forced a smile back.

"Excuse me," you said to the bartender, who was similar to the woman in energy, "How do I get to Diagon Alley?"

He pointed to the door out the back.

"Just through that door?"

"You'll need your wand too," the woman who had smiled at you said, "To tap the wall."

"Wand?" you squeaked.

"I'll show you," the woman said eerily.

In any normal circumstance, you would have declined the offer, but you had already had so many new experiences you found yourself following her out the back.

"You're not one of us, are you?" she asked with a giggle of glee, pulling out a wooden stick from her pocket.

You didn't reply, watching as she brought it up and tapped some of the bricks on the wall. To your amazement, they then parted, presenting to you the most bustling and magical street that you had ever seen.

"Diagon Alley," she stated, "Although I prefer Knockturn Alley."

You thanked her, and hurried into the street.

***

The pet shops were strange: mostly having owls, cats and toads. The book shops were strange: having cages of moving books in the display windows. The clothes shops were strange: pretty much exclusively selling robes and pointed hats. All in all, Diagon Alley was the most eccentric place you had ever been.

There was a broomstick shop, a wand shop, and a place to buy cauldrons. You were so out of your depth that you decided you should focus on the task at hand.

It wasn't long before you found a bright and buzzing shop named Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, looking ten times more exciting than all the shops before it. You were almost overwhelmed with all the young people inside once you entered, and it finally became obvious to you that it was a joke shop. The numerous prank items on display were clearly enchanted in a way too, only furthering your amazement at this street.

You scanned around for a redhead, but it was really difficult to spot anything within the chaos. Eventually, you located a flash of red by the till and hurried over. The queue was unfortunately long, but you waited impatiently nonetheless.

When you finally reached the front, the red-haired man behind it looked at you, and you couldn't help but noticed he had two full ears.

"Are you buying anything, miss?"

"I'm looking for George Weasley," you said quickly.

He rose an eyebrow at you, "What for?"

"It's a long story, I really need to talk to him."

"I'll fetch him," he said, and disappeared out back for a few moments before returning with a man almost identical to him save for that all-too-familiar ear. He didn't look at you like he recognised you - maybe he drank so much he had memory loss too? That would make sense, considering he hadn't tried to find you either.

"Can I help you?" George Weasley asked, gesturing for you to move to the side so that his twin could continue at the till.

"This is gonna sound crazy, but," you took a deep breath, "You're my husband."

"You're right, that does sound crazy," he chuckled.

"You woke up in a hotel room a few months ago, right?"

His eyes widened, "I thought I hooked up with someone," he said, "Wasn't sure, though, because I woke up alone."

"Sorry about that. I don't really do hook-ups, I kinda freaked out and bolted."

"I don't really do hook-ups either," he shrugged, "No hard feelings."

"Anyway, as I said, it turns out we got married that night."

"Wow. I honestly can't remember anything."

"Me neither," you shook your head, "And we can't get an annulment - the cut off is three months. And we were way too efficient with sending off the marriage registration - we did it immediately."

He hummed, "That's quite a predicament. Divorce, then?"

You nodded, "Yes, obviously. But that will take ages, and I'm trying to buy a house for myself right now. I need you to sign off that you have no claim over it."

"That's no problem," thank God he was agreeable, "But what's your name?"

"Y/N L/N," you said, "Well, legally Y/N Weasley."

The man smirked at you, which admittedly made your stomach flip. Drunk you definitely had good taste: this man was gorgeous.

"Where's the house you're buying?" he asked.

"Godric's Hollow."

"Ah, my sister lives there," he hummed, "Nice village."

"Can I ask you a question - since you're my husband and all?" you didn't know why you added the last bit.

"Fire away."

"Why does everyone keep going on about muggles and wizards and witches and magic? I'm so lost, I don't know what's happening."

"Wait- you're a muggle?"

"As everyone apparently keeps saying."

He chuckled, "Oh, wow. My wife's a muggle."

"What does it mean?"

"I'll explain," he gestured towards the door to the back room, "But it'll be a lot to take in."

"I don't care, I just want an explanation."

And so, your husband, George Weasley, explained about the wizarding world that he was a part of. And how, by marrying him, you had automatically been granted permission by the Ministry of Magic to be an exception for all anti-muggle charms. Which was why you discovered the road to Godric's Hollow all of a sudden as a non-magic person, which you learned was what muggle meant.

At the very end of his explanation, you sat back in the armchair he had offered to you, "That explains so much. It's insane- but I'm relieved that it's not me going crazy."

"Must be quite a shock," he hummed, "I can't believe we got married. Are there any photos?"

"I mean, I suppose we could find the chapel we got married at and ask."

"Maybe it will trigger some memories of that night. I got drunkenly married - who knows what else I did?" he sighed.

"I don't know if I want to know."

George shrugged, "Better to find out that way than have a random woman come into your place of work and announce she's your wife."

You grimaced, making him laugh.

"I'm just teasing."

"Can I get your number? So I can contact you when I need to?" you asked.

George stared at you, "Number?"

"How do wizards and witches communicate?" you exasperated.

"By owl."

You blanked.

"You might want to get yourself one if you're moving into a wizarding village."

"How do they know where to go?"

"They just do."

You sighed.

***

"So, I phoned the chapel that we got married at and they confirmed that we signed the marriage registration and sent it off immediately," you said to George, taking a seat opposite him in your flat that you currently resided in, "They also posted this to me." You presented a large envelope to your husband and watched as he carefully opened it - even though it was already unsealed thanks to you.

He pulled out a marriage certificate: lettered in italic gold writing and clearly signed on the bottom two corners. As he pulled that out, another piece of card fluttered to the ground. You chewed your lip as you watched him pick it up.

"Wow," was all he said.

It was the same reaction you had when looking upon the photo of you and George at the alter: lips pressed together with smiles creeping on to your faces.

"We look so happy."

You hummed, "The photo hasn't triggered any memories for me."

You watched curiously as he waved it about. "It's weird that muggle photos don't move," he commented, "But- yeah- I can't remember anything more either."

"Maybe it's been too long," you reasoned, "Perhaps if we'd seen the photo the day after, it would've helped."

"Probably," he shrugged, "I can find a charm or potion that will help us remember - if you want to."

It hadn't occurred to you that magic was now a readily available tool.

"I'm not sure, to be honest," you said after a while, "I just really want to seal the deal on my house."

George nodded, "Of course, I'll sign the papers saying I have no right to it."

"Thank you for making this so easy," you said, giving him a warm grin, "When I found out I was married, I was so worried it was to a complete asshole."

"When I found out I was married, I thought it was simply a cute way a gorgeous woman had of flirting with me."

You felt heat rush to your cheeks at his comment. George was a stunning man: his damaged ear only added a rugged element to him, enhancing his beauty in a way that you didn't know possible.

He noticed your flustered reaction and chuckled a bit, "However, there is one problem with me signing those papers that your real estate agent really should've mentioned."

"What?" you filled with worry: that house was your dream house.

"If you're buying a house in the wizarding world, you're going to need a wizarding bank account."

"He kept going on about galleons," you thought for a moment, "But then he converted to pounds so I didn't think much of it."

George hummed, "Yes, but you're still going to need to pay in galleons."

"How do I get a wizarding bank account?"

"Only wizards, witches, squibs and muggles married to any of the former can access one. Oh, and muggles with magic children, even if they aren't married."

You realised what he was getting at. "So I can get one, but..."

"But it has to be a shared one with me."

You pulled your hands down your face, "But I love that house so much."

"I promise you I'm not trying to trap you."

"No, no- I get it. I just- that means I'd have to stay married to you until my mortgage is paid off. And that takes like thirty years."

"Even then, the bills would still need to be paid in galleons."

"Oh, fuck," you muttered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

George watched you in silence.

"I'm sorry. I'll divorce you and forget about the house," you said eventually, "It's not fair for me to force you to stay in a marriage for the rest of your life - I mean, I can't force you."

"I didn't say anything about that."

You frowned. In your mind, there was no other option.

"I'm willing to do it."

"George, it's just a house, you really don't need to-"

"I will," he reiterated, "You realise that if you divorce me, you won't be able to access the magic world anymore?"

It had become something you were so excited to explore that you were disheartened by that fact.

"It would be cruel for me to take it away from you, I think."

"But-"

"So, I will set you up on my bank account, sign off on the house, and stay married to you."

Your mouth was opened wide as you stared at him, and in a flash you had leaped across the coffee table in order to pull him into a hug.

"You're so amazing," you mumbled, hugging him tighter as he returned the embrace, "Thank you so much."

"Hey, anything for my wife," he chuckled.

Your heart stopped.

***

"I've had to change my name on my driver's license and passport and bank account and everything else," you sighed, "Such a hassle for a fucking house."

George, who was walking with you throughout the empty house that you had just officially bought, chuckled, as he seemed to enjoy doing, "You must really love this place."

You shrugged, "The house, I would probably get over. An entire magical world that I would lose access to? Not so much."

He hummed, gazing around the place. You had decided that he at least deserved to see the property that he had given up so much for you to own.

"I can't wait to begin decorating," you sighed, "I have big plans for the downstairs rooms and the master bedroom."

"What about the other bedrooms?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest," you pondered, "I'll probably make one of them an office, but the other two, I honestly don't know. It'll be a while before I have any kiddly winks running around."

"How come?"

"I need to find a man to create them with first," you reminded, "And that will be especially complicated since I'm married."

"Not if it's with me."

You were pretty sure his words held a joking undertone, so you laughed.

"Well, I shan't keep you any longer," you said, "I guess we'll keep in touch?"

"Stop by my shop as much as you can," George replied, but you sensed a slight trace of sadness in his voice.

Nonetheless, you smiled, "Of course."

***

Was two days later too soon to take George up on his offer of stopping by? Maybe, but life was too short for you to not do the things that you wanted to do. Plus, you were exhausted from moving furniture and painting (since you were stuck doing it the 'muggle' way), so a getaway from your new home was needed.

After getting someone from the Leaky Cauldron to let you into Diagon Alley, you made your way down to the corner that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes sat on. You couldn't help the fond smile that tugged on your lips as you pushed open the door and heard the tinkle of the bell above you. The last time you were there, you had been too nervous about meeting your husband to properly appreciate the joyful buzz of the shop; it was truly a marvel to witness. You wish you had grown up with access to such extraordinary things.

"Hello," a redhead popped up beside you.

You jumped a little, not failing to notice the fact this man, although initially appearing to be George, had two full ears.

"Hello... Fred?" you attempted to recall his name.

He nodded, "I must say, I wasn't expecting my sister-in-law to pop by today."

It hadn't occurred to you that George would have mentioned his marriage to his twin brother, but now it seemed obvious that he would have.

"Is my husband here?" you asked, adding a joking undertone. Nonetheless, you couldn't help but notice how warm saying that made you feel.

"Of course, he's out back."

"Should I...?" you trailed off.

"You don't need to ask permission to go out back," he chuckled, in a strikingly similar way to George, "You're married to one of the owners."

"Yeah, but-" but before you could finish your sentence, your brother-in-law had disappeared. With a sigh, you proceeded on your way to the staff-only space, unable to push aside how special you felt being able to freely enter the area.

It was only when you caught sight of George's back did you realise that you had nothing to say and had simply stopped by.

"Y/N!" he smiled, turning around upon sensing your presence, "What brings you here?"

You shrugged, "You said to stop by often."

His grin stretched wider, "That I did, I'm glad to see you."

You felt shy after hearing him say that, and avoided eye contact.

"How's moving in going?"

"Oh- well. Exhausting, though," you sighed.

"I can't imagine having to do everything without magic," he said, "If you want any help to speed up the process, I'm more than willing."

You shook your head, "You've done enough for me."

"I could never do enough for you," he half-mumbled, but you heard it. You couldn't believe it, but you heard it. "I'm free this weekend," he said at a more regular volume.

"I mean- if you're sure-"

"Of course I'm sure."

"I-" you stopped yourself, "Thank you, George."

"Georgie!" a voice called from the front of the shop, not long before a short plump woman appeared in the doorway. "There you are," she said with hands on her hips.

"Oh, hi, mum," he said, "I wasn't expecting you."

"I was just in town looking to pick up your father a new shirt - I don't know how he wears them out so quickly!" she sighed, "I thought I'd take the chance to invite you over for a roast on Sunday."

You smiled at the evidently kind woman.

"And who is this?" she asked.

"This is Y/N."

"How did you two meet?" this time she had a glint in her eye.

"Uh, funny story, actually," George scratched the back of his head, "We're married."

You were surprised at his honesty with his mother.

The woman's eyes widened, "And you didn't tell me!"

"No one knew, mum- not even us," he quickly added.

She seemed to ignore what the last part of his statement implied, and swooped you into her arms, "Welcome to the family, my dear, we have a lot of time to make up for! You'll be coming on Sunday too, yes?"

She didn't give you a chance to reply.

"I'll have to tell your father immediately - do all your siblings know? I expect Fred does. Probably Ron too." She paused, "I haven't even introduced myself! Molly Weasley - call me Molly, of course."

"Mum-"

"Godric- I have so many people to tell! I'll see you both Sunday at four o'clock, please don't be late."

And with a hug to both of you, Molly Weasley departed just as rapidly as she had arrived.

"I'm sorry about that- my mum can be very full on," George apologised.

"I think she's sweet."

A soft smile graced his face, "Yes, she's a very lovely woman."

You hummed.

"I'll get you out of the dinner."

You frowned, "Why?"

"Well, my family will think you're- well-"

With a shrug, you replied, "I don't mind."

"I have a big family."

"I know."

"Most of them are quite loud people."

"That's okay."

"They'll ask a lot of questions."

"George, I want to meet your family," you realised as soon as you said them what your words could potentially mean.

"It's just- I- I don't want them to scare you away."

"Scare me away?"

He nodded.

You chuckled, "I'd like to see them try."

***

Sunday rolled around quickly, and as promised, George showed up at your house to pick you up at five to four. You figured that his parents must live very nearby if he was picking you up so late, but you hadn't given it much thought. All you had done was focused on yourself, dressing up what you deemed the adequate amount for a family event.

A knock sounded on the door, and you quickly rushed to open it, smiling when you were faced with the red headed man that you could call your husband. He was wearing a knitted jumper and baggy jeans, which was a relief to you since you also sported a knitted jumper, just with a skirt instead.

"Hello," you said, almost shyly.

"Hey," he replied, "You ready to go?"

"Yep, let me just-" you hurried back inside to grab the bouquet of flowers that you had bought for his mother, you weren't familiar with the guidelines for meeting family as you had never been in a relationship long enough to reach that stage, but flowers had felt like the right thing.

"Oh, for me?" he said teasingly.

You shook your head, dramatically holding them away from him, "You would be so lucky."

He chuckled, "Right, let's get going," he held out his arm for you to take, "You're gonna want to hold tight."

You frowned, but took his advice nonetheless, taking a firm grip of his bicep which had a hardness that made your heart flip. But before you could dwell on that thought, you felt like you had been sucked into a vacuum and spat out again in a split second. Your stomach cramped up and you felt nauseous as you fell on to grass in a completely new location.

"Sorry, that often happens the first time," George quickly helped you up along with the flowers, which thankfully were unharmed.

"Did we just- teleport?" you asked, holding your stomach. Thankfully, the nausea was already dissipating.

"We call it apparating but yes, we did."

"Why couldn't I be born a witch?" you whined, following George as he began walking up the path ahead of you.

You could only be amazed when the strangest house that you had ever seen came into view: looking like it should tumble over instantly with the mismatched extensions stacked on top of each other. Not too long ago, you would have been worried about its sketchy looking state, but now you immediately concluded that it was kept steady by magic. Even at the distance you still were from the house, you could hear a lot of noise coming from it.

"I bet you anything Fleur and Hermione insisted on being early," George grumbled, "Making my brothers look like angelic sons."

You smiled to yourself: his relationship with his siblings was making you want to reach out to your sister.

George didn't bother knocking when you reached the door, simply throwing it open and grinning at everyone who was stood around the kitchen. You couldn't help but feel some level of nerves as you were faced with so many strangers.

"George! Y/N!" Molly beamed, pulling you both into a hug, "I'm so glad that you could make it."

You presented the flowers to her, "I got you these."

"Oh, they're gorgeous!"

You watched as she pulled out her wand and arranged them in a vase without even using her hands. You didn't think observing magic would ever get old.

"Thank you, dear," she said, before turning to the others in the room. There was Ron, who you vaguely recognised from the shop, with a curly brown-haired woman on his side. Then there was the most ethereal woman that you had ever seen next to one of the more rugged looking men that you had seen in your time. There was also an older, balding, red headed man, who you suspected to be George's father.

"Y/N, you might remember Ron here," George said, and you nodded, "And this is his fiancée, Hermione. This is my dad, and over there is my oldest brother, Bill, and his wife, Fleur."

"Our little shit of a son is running around here somewhere," Bill added.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N," George's father shook your hand, "You can call me Arthur."

"I didn't realise you were bringing a guest, George," Hermione said.

"Oh, she's no guest," Molly smiled, "She's family."

The only person who didn't exchange confused glances was Ron.

"I'm his, uh, wife," you said, feeling awkward. You didn't really want to say it, because it felt like you were lying to them even though you weren't.

What followed was an array of congratulations, and Hermione accusing Ron of not telling her when he clearly already knew. And then, upon being asked, you both finally revealed that it was an accidental marriage upon which you were both very drunk. Molly was new to this news as well, but nonetheless, before you could give any more detail on where your 'relationship' with George currently stood, she spoke.

"As irresponsible as that was, I think there's something beautiful in the fact that you're now happily married."

While you weren't unhappily married, you didn't know how to say that you didn't know you were married until a couple months later, and that you weren't in a relationship with George. He said nothing to clarify, either.

That was when a small boy tumbled into the room.

"Ah, zis is Victoire," Fleur said, "Our son."

He was just as red headed as his father.

God, your kids with George would probably end up redheaded.

You internally froze at that thought - why had it seemed so natural to imagine yourself having kids with George?

You were yet again distracted from your mind, as seemed common in the Weasley household, when more people arrived. It was Fred and his fiancée, Angelina, as you soon learned. Shortly followed by Harry Potter, allegedly quite a celebrity, who was dating George's only sister, Ginny.

The only person to arrive alone was Percy, who had a much less chaotic energy than the rest of his siblings.

"You'll meet Charlie at some point," Molly said to you, "But he lives in Romania for his work with dragons."

It was insane to you that George had five brothers and one sister; having six siblings seemed like such a hectic upbringing. That thought almost led you to brush over Molly's mention of dragons - dragons?

Once again, you were introduced as George's wife, solidifying you in their eyes as a sister-in-law. These were your in-laws, you realised.

"Dinner's almost ready," Molly announced over the noise of all the people.

Many people rushed forward to help the woman with the finishing touches and laying the table, and you felt like an ass for not assisting as well, but you would have been of no help. They were all using magic, which was ten times faster than you could complete any task.

"What year did you graduate school? I can't remember you," Ginny said, evidently assuming that her lack of recognition was because you had been in a different year at Hogwarts from her. George had told you how most witches and wizards in a similar age group knew each other because of there only being one magic school in the country.

"I didn't go to Hogwarts," you said.

"Oh, did you study abroad?" she asked, walking over to the table with you.

"No, uh, I'm a- I'm a muggle."

Her eyes widened in realisation, "Oh! I see," she hummed, "That makes sense now that I think about it."

"You're a muggle?" Hermione, who had overheard, said.

You nodded.

"I'm muggle-born," she said, "I was raised muggle."

"I was raised muggle too," Harry added on, "But I'm not muggle-born."

After that point, Arthur Weasley kept posing an array of questions to you, explaining that he was fascinated by muggles, and it was even what had led him to having the job that he did. Wanting to be liked, you answered all his questions as best as you could, and found his childlike curiosity quite endearing.

"Leave the poor girl alone, Arthur," Molly scolded her husband.

"I don't mind," you replied, and, really, you didn't.

The food was absolutely delicious, to the point you almost moaned when you first put it in your mouth. You didn't think you had ever eaten such delectable food before, and you made sure that Molly knew.

Once the first course was finished and dessert was being brought out, Bill and Fleur stood up.

"We have an announcement to make," the latter smiled, looking to her husband.

"Fleur's pregnant," Bill grinned, placing his hand on her abdomen.

"Oh, that's wonderful news!" Molly exclaimed, "How far along?"

"Twelve weeks, two days ago," Fleur said, "In ze clear zone, as zey say."

"We don't know the gender yet," Bill added.

"For your sake I hope it's a girl," Molly sighed, "It took me six tries."

"We will be happy eizer way," Fleur said simply.

You couldn't help but get the sense there was some level of tension between her and Molly, so you leaned over to George as everyone began chatting again, congratulating the expecting couple.

"Do your mum and Fleur get along?" you whispered.

"Well, yes, but they haven't always," he whispered back, "My mum thought she was vain at first, even thinking that she would call off the wedding when Bill got that scar." He was referring to the large mark on his eldest brother's face.

You hummed.

"They've mostly resolved their problems now, but I think there will always be a bit of tension."

After dinner, you wandered around the home, observing all the moving pictures of the family.

"Aw, you were so cute back then," you said to George, looking at a photo of him as a toddler on a mini broomstick.

"Are you saying I'm not anymore?"

You shrugged.

"And how do you know that's me and not Fred?"

"You may be a twin, but there's only one of you, George," you said in passing, not realising how much those words meant to your husband. As much as he loved being an identical twin, there were times where he didn't want to be seen as part of a package deal. Even his mother struggled to tell him and Fred apart before his ear injury, but you- you could recognise him instantly.

Your gaze moved up the wall.

"That's an interesting clock."

It didn't tell the time, but instead had a hand for all of Molly and Arthur's brood, all currently pointing in the direction of 'home' apart from who must be Charlie, which pointed at work.

"Even on Sundays, he works," George sighed, "You know, there was a time where me and Fred had the same hand."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but after he moved in with Angelina, mum had it altered."

Your eyes flicked over the 'mortal peril' section of the clock, and you didn't realise you had read it aloud til he responded.

"Thankfully that hasn't served a purpose since the war."

It was unbelievable to you that such a life-changing war had happened while you remained completely oblivious.

"I suppose we'll have to expand the guest list for our wedding," Angelina approached you, making you turn away from the clock.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," you said.

"No, no. An extra person is hardly anything," she smiled, "You're family, of course you're coming."

Family.

"Well, thank you."

"Of course."

***

As you and George said your goodbyes and departed, you couldn't help but let out an elated sigh, "Your family is so warm."

He smiled, "I'm glad you like them."

"They're like, everything I want my in-laws to be."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Loud, happy, there for each other - with the slightest hint of drama, of course. They're perfect."

"We've been through a lot together."

"Yeah, I expect so."

You both fell into a comfortable silence, one that had you feeling content with your life in the most heart-warming way.

"You ready to apparate again?" George broke the silence when you reached the end of the path.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you grasped his arm tightly, prepping yourself for what was to come.

You didn't fall to the ground this time when you appeared outside your house, but you did still feel nauseous for a few moments.

"I'm really glad you came," George said.

"I'm glad too," you smiled.

And then there was silence - tension-filled silence. The kind of silence that led up to what you had secretly hoped would happen this entire time.

His lips on yours.

You moved your hands up to his hair as the kiss got more heated, flashes of memories dancing through your brain.

You met at the bar your cousin's bachelorette party was at, and began chatting. He was charming, and funny, and you were both really drunk. You went on a walk together - you walked past a chapel.

You had suggested getting married - jokingly, but he had then said.

"Why don't we?"

And so you did, giggling and laughing the entire time, even when you kissed. The kiss held the same magical feeling as it did now, that's what had triggered the memory.

He had kissed all along your jaw and neck as you both filled out the forms, and it wasn't long before you both booked a hotel and by all technical terms, consummated.

"I remember," you parted from him breathlessly, only to kiss him again.

"Me too," he mumbled, pushing you back against your front door.

"Do you want to come in?" you asked.

***

This time, you were the one to wake up alone in bed, but that wasn't the only difference. You remembered every single moment and sensation from the night before - and from your wedding night, for that matter. A smile almost crept on to your face, but it dropped when the panic set in that George had upped and left like you had before. You scrambled out of bed, pulling a shirt and some pants on, and then rushed down the stairs to see if he was anywhere in your house.

And he was.

There your husband was, in the kitchen, cooking a full English breakfast - using magic, of course. You had electric appliances installed when you moved in, since most magic homes didn't generally possess them, but with George there, you supposed they weren't really necessary.

"Hey, love."

Love. That's what he had called you all of last night and your wedding night.

It made heat travel to your ears.

"Hi," you replied shyly.

"Take a seat, I'm almost finished."

You obeyed, deciding to let the wizard take care of you, even though he really had done too much for you ever since you met him - the second time, that was.

Your dining table was a temporary one, as your entire home was still a work in progress: it wasn't easy decorating an entire house by yourself, especially without the assistance of magic. Nevertheless, it did the job. George came over with the food and sat opposite you, gesturing for you to dig in.

"Thank you," you smiled, picking up the cutlery.

"I told you, anything for you."

"You're too perfect," you mumbled, making George chuckle.

"My ear may be injured, but my hearing's fine."

You looked up at him to make eye contact, feeling like he could read you with his gaze, "Your ear makes you even more perfect."

"I'm glad you think so, would be a bit upsetting for me if you didn't."

"I aim to please," you grinned.

***

"You didn't tell me the wedding would be quite so soon," you huffed, straightening out the pastel pink dress you adorned in the mirror.

George shrugged, tightening his tie, "Didn't think about it."

You were, of course, in reference to Angelina and Fred's wedding, merely two weeks after the dinner in which you met the former. Out of all the moving boxes you still had left to unpack, you had been forced to dig for a suitable outfit that fitted the colour scheme.

Aside from work, you and George had been practically glued at the hip in the days since he first stayed at yours - and he had been consistently staying at yours ever since. He had probably spent about three nights total at his own flat in that time span. So much to the point that when he came over the day prior, he had brought his suit for the wedding with him, fully anticipating that he would be spending the night.

You hadn't put a label on what you currently were, other than legally married, as it was.

"We have to be early," he said, "Since I'm the best man."

"I'm aware," you replied, sitting on the edge of your bed to pull your shoes on, "I'm pretty much ready."

"Alright, let's go."

***

The ceremony was a beautiful occasion: held at the Weasley house, The Burrow. The entire garden was decorated beautifully in shades of pink, purple and white, with bouquets of flowers adorning every table and chair. Obviously, a drastic difference from your own wedding.

You were sat in the crowd while George was up near the altar with the maid of honour, but he was not your focus. Angelina was a transcendent bride.

When it came to the meal, you were - to your shock - sat on the primary table where the newly weds were. You supposed that it made sense, since George was obviously going to be sat by his twin brother, and you were his wife. Generally, married couples weren't separated at events. You were certainly relieved, since you hardly knew anybody else.

The only other people on the main table were Molly, Arthur, Angelina's parents, and Angelina's maid of honour and her partner. There was a second table for the rest of the Weasley siblings and their partners, and so on and so forth for more distant relatives and friends.

Once the toasts were made, the meal commenced, and you hadn't realised how hungry you were 'til that moment.

"Slow down, love," your husband commented, "I'd prefer if you didn't choke."

You shrugged, your mouth full. Once you had eventually swallowed, you said, "Much grander event than our wedding."

"We could always renew our vows," he said, and even though he had made many comments about wanting to do anything for you, and had done many intimate things to you in the bedroom (and elsewhere in your house, for that matter), it felt like the first real confirmation that you were in a relationship. Even more, that you weren't just in a marriage out of convenience, but instead because you simply wanted to be.

You parted your mouth to reply, when some children from Angelina's side began causing chaos by running around. "Lord, our kids better behave," you muttered.

George turned to look at you, and it was then that you became aware of what you had said.

"Our kids?" he was grinning.

"Shut up," you mumbled.

"Never - just let me know when you want to start, love," he winked at you.

"A bit too soon, I think."

He shrugged, "We got married within a few hours of knowing each other."

"We were drunk."

"We can get drunk again."

You sighed, "We don't even live together."

"I can move in."

You didn't have anymore rebuttals.

"Are you out of arguments now?" he asked.

You reluctantly nodded.

"Perfect."

***

Instead of apparating directly to your house, you and George decided to take a late night walk around Godric's Hollow. It was such a pretty village, and you had yet to appreciate its beauty in the dark, with all the magical lamps glowing around you. But, you knew that you and George needed to have a conversation, especially after the kids talk from earlier.

"Are we together?" you asked him, even though your interlocked hands should have answered the question.

"We're married, love."

"Yes, but are we together?"

"I'd like to think we are - do you?"

You remained silent for a few moments, before nodding and looking at him in the darkness of the night.

"Then there you have it."

"I just don't get why."

"Why what?"

"Why you've done so much for me when you hardly knew me."

George chuckled, "I admit, I don't know exactly when I made the decision to do anything for you, but when you strutted into my shop, determined as ever, and announced that you were my wife, I just-" he paused, squeezing your hand, "You looked so cute and I knew- in that moment- that I would never meet someone else like you."

You felt like you were melting on the spot.

"It may have seemed selfless that I helped you get the house - but, to be honest, it was the perfect excuse for me to trap you to me- make it easier for me to pursue you, that is."

"I love you, George," you sighed.

"I'm glad, because I've loved you for quite some time now."

"Love at first sight?"

"You would be so lucky."

You let out a childish giggle at that.

"But, yes, I think it was."

——————————————————

masterlist

written; 18/08/2023 —> 03/09/2023 published;04/09/2023 edited; —/—/——

673 notes · View notes

yanderu-deredere · 1 year

Text

bite.

★ what kind of girlfriend invites you to some bonfire in the middle of the forest only to leave you there? a shitty girlfriend, that's who. now, you're kind of buzzed and lost. thankfully, you spot a cabin. hopefully, the people there can help you out.

a/n: mom says it's my turn with the wolf pack!! here's another long thing but this time it's for the wolfie pack that ive been promising for a while now! hopefully it lives up to your guys expectations LOL i really love these yanderes and the werewolf lore i sprinkled in is my own brand of crazy

for those in disbelief, wondering how does this fit in my lil city. well, there's a forest at the outskirts of the city and i want there to be werewolves so there's werewolves!! got inspired by @not-a-bot-just-shy and their poly wolf pack so please check theirs out too!

while i was writing this, i decided that it got like really long so i decided to write a few more parts LOL im so sorry ive been slapping you guys with so many different chaptered stuff! but i hope itll be worth it!

part one (here) ★ part two ★ (chew.) ★ extras (bite and chew.) ★ extras (taste) ★ part three ★ (swallow.) ★ part four (digest.)

pairing: poly werewolves x male reader word count: 3475 warning: bottom reader has male parts and pronouns, reader is implied to be attracted to both genders, reader may be under the influence of alcohol, reader may have a shitty girlfriend, yanderes may be under the influence of the moon? wild, polyamorous ending (all three with the reader)

You grumbled, pushing past branches and leaves as you stomped around the forest, angry at your girlfriend for basically ditching you. Well, not ditching you. But, she did invite you to this stupid bonfire only to force you to drink and then ignore you the entire night.

She was the kind of girlfriend who was super into the full moon, tarot cards and mystic readings so she thought it would be fun to run around half naked tonight, thinking maybe something witchy and magical would happen.

You thought it meant having a hot make out session in front of a sexy bonfire so, of course, when she begged you to come, you agreed.

You were unfortunately wrong.

She was probably with that stupid buff friend of hers, draping herself all over him. So what if you couldn't tell whether or not you were a 'Sagittarius rising' or whatever and he could? You couldn't help but be annoyed at the thought of the two of them having fun.

You wouldn't call it cheating but it was definitely something.

You had stormed out in anger, hoping your girlfriend would care enough to chase after you. Unfortunately, she didn't even care enough about you to do that.

Or, even worse, she didn't notice that you'd left at all.

You pulled your phone out of your hoodie pocket and glanced at the time and battery. It was getting really late and your phone was almost dead. Damn. You didn't have any signal either so no hopes of calling someone for help.

Why were you so petty and dramatic anyway?

You heard a thump and your heart jumped into your throat. You looked around, scared as all hell, only to realise there was light in front of you.

You hurried forward, hoping to whatever higher power there was that it was civilization. Unfortunately, it wasn't. Fortunately, it was some sort of rustic looking house, large enough to fit a big family.

The thumping was from someone chopping some wood.

He looked buff, like a weightlifter with a little bit of pudge. He was a ways away from you but you could tell he was definitely taller than you, with the messiest ginger hair you had ever seen.

The stranger was wearing a tight worn down tank top and jeans which, honestly, he made look really good.

You hadn't even gotten close before the guy whacked his axe down, looking around the clearing like he was searching for something and, as if he'd heard you, his head snapped right to you.

You flinched but decided just coming out right then was less suspicious than hiding.

"Uhm! Hello!" You stepped forward, face and ears feeling a little hot from embarrassment "I'm really sorry to bother you but I'm like so lost and I just need directions--"

"You're not supposed to be here." He suddenly snapped and it made you take a step away from him, your eyes fluttering from one of his bulging muscles to the other.

If he wanted to snap you like a twig, he could easily do it.

"Right," you held your hands up as a sort of sign of surrender, "I totally get that but my friends-- We have a bonfire nearby-- Well, I don't really know how nearby-- I got lost--"

He seemed to see how frantic you got because he sighed and nodded, holding his hand out "C'mon, there's no way anyone would find their way through the forest at night."

"Stay the night and we'll drive you to Lovelock in the morning." He wrapped an arm around your shoulders when you got close enough though, from the tone in his voice, he didn't seem very happy.

"You can call me Mel. I live here with my partners, Leo and Sam." He guided you to the door and opened it for you "Sorry I'm a bit messy, was trying to cut wood for kindling."

"All good! Thanks for housing me. Sorry I'm being such a bother." You bowed your head a little, very apologetic since he seemed so inconvenienced.

Then, you didn't know if it was the alcohol in your system or if it was just from how good-looking the guy is but you suddenly felt the urge to lean against him and giggle "You know, I'm not entirely convinced this isn't some elaborate mirage."

"Mirage?" He looked understandably confused as he easily held up your body which practically draped itself on him.

You nodded, sighing almost dramatically "I was stuck in that forest for forever! I thought I'd never find my way! And I feel like super-sexy--mean-muscle-lumberjack is the exact fantasy my mind would conjure up."

He seemed to realise he was being a bit stand-offish or something (probably from the fact you described him as a mean muscle lumberjack) because his personality did a complete switch "Oh, ummm, I apologise. Sorry for being weird, my partners and I aren't really-- em, in the state for having guests--"

Just as the two of you finally made it through the front door, Mel definitely much more easily than you, the sound of someone else caught your attention.

"Melk--" Speak of the devil, a fluffy ashen haired head peaked out of one of the doorways leading further into the house, blue bespectacled glasses peering at you "Who's the twunk?"

You felt your cheeks grow warm. Twunk? You were definitely more hunk than twink. What even constituted as twink anyway? You doubted you were small or thin enough! In fact, if either of you were the twink, it would've been him, with his lithe model body!

He was like an exact opposite to Mel; where Mel was tanned and muscled, this stranger was pale, of average height and looked like he could shove you a little at most.

Differences aside, he both of them were absolutely handsome. It made you feel a little left out. Were you on some movie set?

"Leo, don't be rude. He's our guest." Mel placed both his broad palms on your shoulders, introducing you before giving you a little nudge forward "And this is ou-- umm, my partner, Leonard. He's a pain in the ass but he grows on you."

The little stumble in Mel's sentence went completely unnoticed to you but the sudden weird expression on Leonard's face didn't.

Still, you didn't want to be rude to someone who was putting up with you for a night so you smiled as sweetly as you could "Hi, really nice to meet you!"

It was obvious Leonard didn't think the same because his smile was obviously forced "Nice to meet you too!"

Then, he hurried off and you could hear his sock-clad feet thumping through the wooden floors of the house "Saaam!"

"I'm so sorry about him." Mel pulled you to him, your back against his chest, and leaned forward, apologetic expression on his face.

You just chalked it up to him being a really touchy person and smiled nervously, nodding "It's all good! It's totally understandable, I came out of nowhere, after all!"

That polite look on Mel's face vanished for a second, replaced with a look that was gone too fast for you to place. Thankfully, you didn't think you had to worry about it because Mel was helping you take off your shoes and leading you to the kitchen.

"You must be starving." He pulled out a chair for you "Let me heat something up for you."

"Handsome and polite..." You murmured, your hand rubbing at your aching and empty stomach before, a bit more loudly, you said: "No, I can't possibly ask you to feed me too!"

"It's really nothing, just pressing a few buttons on a microwave." Mel waved off your concerns, grin on his face as he did just that; sticking a glass tupperware container in the microwave and setting it to some arbitrary time.

You sighed and relented; mostly because you were definitely still hungry and buzzed from the alcohol. You wanted nothing more than food in your tummy.

As you were taking in the yummy smell of food heating in the microwave, there was the cacophony of hurried steps on wooden floor before Leonard and a man you didn't know appeared in a doorway.

He was also gorgeous. Goes to show that good looking people flocked together. He had black shaggy hair in a low pony and a noticeable scar on his upper lip but it didn't take away from his pretty face.

He even had two moles under his left eye which made him look even more beautiful (if that were even possible).

He was like a middle man; not exactly twink-ish like Leonard but not exactly buff like Mel. Definitely on the more muscular side, though. Definitely bigger. He could probably bend you in half, that was for sure.

"Leo said--" The man burst in before turning absolutely dark red in the face upon laying eyes on you, an almost inhuman whine leaving his lips "Hello."

"Hello." You grinned at him, finding his actions way more funny than weird "You must be Sam, right? Nice to meet you."

"Isamu. Y-You can call me Sam." He nodded, agreeing.

Then, to continue his train of weird actions, he bowed at the waist, still looking flustered, before scurrying away. Leonard snickered, looking especially mischevious before following after him.

"What's up with all of you and your partners looking supernaturally gorgeous?" You whispered conspiratorially to Mel.

Instead of asking, he just laughed, all deep and rumbly, like you'd said a particularly funny joke.

You pouted, unsure if you'd really said something that was worth laughing at that much.

"You were at a bonfire, you said?" Mel said instead, opening the microwave to pull the glass tupperware out, whatever food in it obviously steaming.

You nodded, excited at the prospect of food "Yeah, my girlfriend invited me but then she ditched me to go hang out with some buff guy."

"Jokes on her, I guess, I found an even buffer, hotter guy to hang out with instead." You grinned at him, looking quite like the cat that got the cream.

Mel just let out another smaller laugh, putting the tupperware container with a plastic spoon and fork in front of you.

You were a little awed by the fact that he could touch the hot glass but chalked it up to the fact that he was just really tough.

The food was just fried rice (which was honestly more fried vegetables than rice and it made you almost laugh) and what you guessed was grilled chicken with teriyaki sauce. Aside from the vegetables in the rice, there was also broccoli.

Thankfully, there was a lot of chicken so there wasn't too many vegetables.

"Make sure to eat your vegetables." He sat in front of you, looking like he was holding back a smirk.

You pouted at him but rolled your eyes and speared a small broccoli branch and put it in your mouth. Then, you made an exagerrated 'MMM' sound to show him how tasty you thought it was.

He laughed again but, this time, it sounded fake "Sorry, I always have to remind Leo to eat his vegetables. It becomes habit after awhile."

"Understandable." You gave a curt nod "I'm bad at eating healthy so I can relate to Leo."

"Well, you definitely won't be eating badly under my roof." Mel crossed his arms (which made his biceps absolutely bulge) before leaning back in his chair, an almost arrogant expression on his face.

"Good think I'll only be living one night under this roof, huh?" You joked back, thinking that was the right thing to say.

Instead of the laugh you expected, that strange expression was back on Mel's face. You stopped mid-bite, looking at him curiously, a worried expression on your face "Did I say something wrong?"

"No." The expression was gone quickly, like before, and his polite grin was back.

He sat up again, his arms uncrossing and his hand reaching over to cover yours on the table. You just grinned at him, confused by the gesture but figured, like you thought before, he was just a touchy guy.

"Sam, Leo, come here and hang out with our new guest!" Mel suddenly yelled, making you flinch a bit with how unnaturally loud his voice got.

"Sorry." His hand tightened around yours, apologetic expression on his face as his thumb rubbed comforting circles onto the side of your hand "Didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay, just got surprised!" You waved off his concern as you smiled and shrugged his hand off so you could properly eat. You didn't want to admit it but his touch had your heart fluttering wildly in your chest!

"Here, you were at the bonfire to have fun right? We can have our own fun here." Mel wolfishly grinned at you, his eyes alight with a playful look on his face "We have a couple of cases of beer here if you want?"

"Sure." You looked eager at the offer, nodding your head quickly. Usually, you wouldn't have accepted, Mel being a stranger and all, but you were already a bit inebriated and he was just so handsome that he convinced you easily.

He stood just as Isamu and Leonard entered, both looking flustered and weird.

Of course, excited by the prospect of getting more drunk and forgetting your problems with a bunch of hot strangers, you gestured for them to come sit next to you, not at all minding their weirdness.

Isamu quickly sat next to where Mel was sitting, his back ramrod straight and his hands in his lap. If you had a protractor, you were sure he would measure at ninety degrees exactly.

Leonard, on the other hand, looked relaxed and almost cocky as he sat next to you, even going so far as to scoot the chair closer.

"Mel said he was going to get some beer, do you want to drink with us?" You asked them happily and Leonard made a face like he was disgusted with the suggestion while Isamu immediately nodded.

"Our handsome guest here was just telling me his girlfriend ditched him for someone else." Mel walked over, two bottles of beer in each hand "We can't have him being sad over that right? We have to help him forget all about that stupid bitch."

You scowled, feeling as if maybe you should defend your girlfriend. Mel couldn't just randomly call her a bitch like that, right?

But then, he literally flicked the caps off of the beer bottles like they were made of paper and you thought maybe, a muscly hot guy like him was allowed a few red flags.

He handed you a bottle and you took a fat swig before giggling "Thank you so much for taking me in and for taking care of me like this! I feel so bad for imposing on you guys! You guys are so wonderful!"

Leonard leaned against you, your shoulders bumping against each others' "Don't worry about it. In fact, it's really our pleasure!"

You grinned before wrapping an arm around Leonard and pulling him close, completely missing the look the three of them shared with each other.

Before you knew it, you were just knocking them back, swapping happy stories with the three of them.

Apparently, Mel first moved out here and built the house with the money he inherited with his family. The family itself seemed like a sore subject but he looked entirely too happy to rant about how he made the house.

Then, Isamu came next when he got lost trying to find his dog? The dog died a couple of years later since she was already a senior dog but the two hit it off and started dating almost immediately after Mel helped him find the old geezer.

After Isamu's dog died and he graduated college, he moved in and they literally found Leonard who had tried running away from his overly controlling parents.

When Leonard graduated college, he moved in too. Now, the three of them lived together. The only one of them that really commuted was Leonard but not that far since he worked at a cafe pretty much near the edge of the forest.

You awed and gushed over their relationship, absolutely enamoured by how sweet it was that they all found each other.

At least, that was the last thing you remembered.

"You're a little bit of a light-weight, aren't'cha?" Mel laughed and you felt his entire chest rumble under your palms, his collar bone hard and cozy under your cheek.

"Huh?" You hummed, a little confused.

You got the gist that he was carrying you somewhere. You could feel his big, warm hands on your waist, his fingers almost sneaking underneath your clothes and his rather noticeable nails tickling your skin.

You could also feel your feet stumbling a little on the floor so you knew he wasn't carrying you.

"Hey, pay attention!"

You snapped into reality a bit there, looking around. You weren't in the kitchen anymore. In fact, you were standing in the middle of a living room, right in front of a coffee table.

Mel's hands were all over you and Isamu was right next to you, fretting about whether or not you were going to fall over. The only one not touching you was Leonard who had his arms crossed, looking at you annoyed.

"Oh, sorry." Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to understand what was happening "I don't know what's going on with me, I just--"

"It happens to the best of us." Mel waved your apology off, wolfish grin on his face as if he was quite proud of himself "Nobody can out-drink me, after all."

"I feel like none of you are drunk at all! Just me..." You groaned, forehead pressed against the crook of Mel's neck, arm around him tightening just a little bit.

Even with all of your strength, he didn't even budge one bit.

Isamu just chuckled nervously, his warm hand comforting as it rubbed up and down your back "Call it a buff guy's fast metabolism."

"Leonard isn't even buff!" You pouted at Isamu, your head suddenly flinging back to lean against his shoulder, looking at him with the sweetest puppy eyes.

Isamu stuttered, cheeks reddening "L-Leo didn't drink, di-didn't you see?"

You turned your head a little, cheek still resting against Isamu's shoulder as you squinted at Leonard.

Your memory was so hazy now, after the number of bottles you drank. You couldn't really remember how many bottles Leonard drank.

Or, really, how many bottles you or anyone drank.

"I think I need to lay down." You huffed, moving to go to the couch.

Before you could, Mel wrapped an arm around your middle, pulling you close, his lips brushing against your ear "Woah, there, watch for the table."

You felt your ear immediately turn hot and so did your cheeks. You knew it definitely wasn't the alcohol either because you felt the heat between your legs a little too.

You cursed the three of them (especially Mel) for being so sexy.

Then, you looked down, glaring at the offending piece of furniture. You didn't think you were about to trip on it but it must've moved to foil you on your way.

"Thank you." You turned your head and, as you did, you underestimated how close Mel was and accidentally brushed your lips against the corner of his.

Instead of apologising, you just giggled and escaped his grasp when his arm went slack. You practically dove into the couch, unfolding the what felt like dozens of comfortable soft looking blankets and scattering the pillows.

You started arranging them around you, forming a little nest of sorts. You figured the giant sectional was where they'd put you up for the night so you might as well get comfortable.

You thought you heard the three of them muttering but you got so focused on getting your sleeping arrangements right that you couldn't find it in yourself to pay much attention.

It was wild to even see the sectional! You definitely couldn't complain! The thing could fit the four of you easy and then some! You would sleep comfortably by yourself!

"Well then!" Mel suddenly cleared his throat, making you flinch and turn your head to him (reminding him oddly like an adorable meerkat) "I guess we should leave you to get settled..."

In your daze, you missed both Isamu and Leonard huffing and shoving at Mel but you definitely didn't miss the way Mel took a step back, as if more than happy to leave.

Immediately, your eyes watered. "Wait, you didn't want to hang out more?"

The three of them panicked.

"Oh, no, no, you just looked like you were getting comfortable--"

"I-It's just that w-we just didn't want to get in your way--"

"Way to go, meat-head, you dumbass--"

You just crossed your arms and sniffled, trying to look as angry as possible "I'll forgive you if you hang out with me a little longer."

"I may be a little... emmm, inebriated but I'm not sleepy yet." You added, a little proud of yourself for being able to use such a big word.

Mel chuckled a little but nodded "Okay, sounds good. What do you want to do then?"

"Let's watch a movie!" You immediately pointed to the TV, grin on your face as you moved to lean against the back of the sectional, pillow in your arms and blanket draped over your lap. "C'mon, sit next to me."

At first, all three of them seemed to hesitate but, when Mel sat next to the arm of the sofa, Isamu and Leonard quickly followed.

Like in the kitchen, Leonard sat the closest to you, his shoulder bumping against yours. Isamu sat next to you too but he sat rather stiffly and, lastly, Mel sat on the other side of Isamu, his elbow resting on the arm of the sofa.

"What movie should we watch?"

#yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere #oc x reader #male oc #werewolf x reader #werewolf oc x reader #male werewolf x reader #melchior #isamu #leonard #chaptered #alcohol tw #male darling

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faroreskiss · 7 months

Text

Triforce of Mischief

Summary: Chain sees that you have a particular tattoo and chaos is the only reaction they have, since language barrier is definitely a thing. Time & Twilight freak out. Wind could have spoken sooner.

1.8k words

Read on Ao3

Since this can also be read as a stand alone story, I didn’t include Hylian, or the dialects of the Chain. If you are interested in that, feel free to visit the main story that can serve as a prequel to this short! (Not edited)

Following your departure from the Ordon Spring alongside the other boys, you journeyed toward the Ordon Village. Most of their conversation still didn’t make much sense to you, but at least you learnt a few words here and there on the way, especially from the Smith and the Sailor.

The midday weather was brisk, even though the sun shone at its peak. You had a similar attire with your travel companions, a relatively long sleeved tunic that sometimes revealed your wrists if you were to raise your arms. Yours had wider arm-cuts, but felt like they weren’t thick enough for this kind of weather. A slight shiver ran through you, which Link fortunately noticed. He paused and offered you his signature cloak, to which you politely refused multiple times (at least you motioned it somehow). His attempt to offer warmth made the fangirl within you scream in delight, but you kept declining. You blushed slightly and finally accepted even though you knew you weren’t that far from your destination, wrapping yourself in the warmth it provided.

You thanked the Golden Three that you had been on hikes with him on Mt. Lanayru regularly before your involvement with the other Links; otherwise, you did not think you could survive all this hiking. Thinking about having to climb the ladder to the Rancher’s treehouse already made your legs wobble.

Though you could swear that the Ordon Spring waters calmed your nerves and eased your inner storm for a little bit.

Luckily, you were almost there. The wooden arch that said… something in Hylian (probably ORDON?) took your attention. Oh you were so excited…

[And that’s me,] the Rancher spoke as he pointed towards his treehouse. This was really like the game, nestled in a secluded corner near the entrance of the village. You didn’t understand a word he said, but you could see near the tree there was a brown mare simply grazing around.

And what a sight she was. You couldn’t help yourself as you whispered “Epona…?” to yourself and walked towards her as if you were in a trance.

Of course, you didn’t notice the Old Man raising his eyebrow or the Rancher also hearing you. You stopped in your tracks, then watched the Rancher go towards the horse instead, petting it and saying something to it. He made eye contact with you as he was caressing her nose, and motioned you to come over, you guessed.

“May I?” you asked, and even though the language barrier was still present, the Rancher gave a warm, friendly nod. As you approached Epona, her deep, soulful eyes locked onto yours, and it felt as if she understood the reverence in your gaze. With a gentle, careful touch, you began to run your hand along her sleek, chestnut mane, marveling at the silky texture beneath your fingers.

[Epona] he said, as he gave an apple to her. You just smiled, pretending to hear it for the first time and repeated her name.

Epona seemed to appreciate the affection, and she leaned into your touch, her powerful frame radiating warmth and serenity.

As you continued to pet Epona, your sleeves slipped down to your wrists, revealing a set of three small triangles on your skin. The right one was filled in with black. The Rancher and the Old Man both noticed this mark, and although they didn't say anything, they exchanged knowing glances.

When everybody finally settled in Twilight’s cabin, he lit the fireplace. His cabin had an air of rustic charm, filled with a cozy warmth that welcomed all who entered. The walls were made of weathered wood, lending the space a natural, earthy ambiance. The cabin had lanterns that hung from sturdy wooden beams overhead, which you imagined would cast quite the gentle radiance, once lit.

The Chain kept talking between each other, though you didn’t understand much. Wind was all the way up, lost in his world. For some reason, really interested in Rancher's books.

You took off the cape Wild lent you and gave it back to him, since it started getting quite warm inside. You already had another layer under your long sleeved tunic, so you took the upper layer off as well, now sitting with the others (you secured yourself a chair at least) in a short sleeved shirt. Time and Twilight were still casting glances at you.

“What?” you stretched as you pointed the pointless question towards them. Not that it would change anything…You saw that Sky also managed to get a chair, and he was already kind of looking like he was about to doze off. Maybe you should have followed suit…

[Champion, you are sure Y/N does not have anything to do with the Hero’s Spirit or any sages?] Time asked Wild. He seemed quite perplexed by the question.

[Or is she part of the royal family perhaps?] Twilight continued.

[Uh, no? Why?] Wild replied.

You just closed your eyes as you listened to them speak. It felt like listening to an audiobook in a language you didn’t understand, as a sleeping aid. Though you had a strange feeling that they were talking about you.

Legend and Hyrule were definitely listening in, though the former pretended as if he couldn’t care less, even though his ears definitely perked up at the mention of the royal family.

[You mean the mark on her wrist?] Sky chimed in instead, to your surprise. The others seemed surprised that he was way more perceptive than he looked.

[What mark?] Four asked and then Time & Twilight explained the mark they have seen on your wrist.

The volume of the chatter was increasing, slightly annoying you. Wild gently poked your shoulder to see if you were awake, and you opened your eyes. There was no way you could sleep in this noisy environment.

He pointed at your left wrist, gently touching your arm after checking in with you, and motioning you to raise it. The whole room was staring at your Triforce of Courage ink now.

Oh, right…

“Guys, it’s just a tattoo,” you tried to explain to no avail.

It is hard to explain things when people literally don’t understand a word you say.

You could see Time & Twilight & Legend & Warriors and Sky comparing their faded Triforce marks on their hands, and Wild & Four looking confused about the whole thing.

[I mean, I did say I sense some residual magic on her, but that’s definitely not what I was sensing,] Hyrule was saying as he glanced at your tattoo.

[Members of the royal family don’t randomly get the mark of Triforce on their wrists, not unless they are Zelda at least,] Legend scoffed. Wind seemed to be not paying attention, still busy with Twilight's books upstairs for some reason.

[Well this is certainly odd, I never thought much about the mark, though we had other matters to attend to… But… What is Triforce?] Wild kept questioning, though he seemed to have forgotten that he was still touching your shoulder from the side. You sighed. It was fun at first, but now it was getting quite boring that you didn’t understand anything. Though it wasn’t that hard to guess…

[Yeah I was about to ask the same thing… I just thought that’s the symbol of the royal family or something?] Four added, making the rest of the group look at them in disbelief. Sky seemed especially distraught.

The bickering continued for a while, and you kept thinking about how to explain this to them. Weren’t these people familiar with the concept of a tattoo? Of course, why you had something like that was another matter, but excuse you for wanting to get a Zelda-themed tattoo and considering the fact that you might end up in Hyrule?

Hmmm, what if I just show them something similar instead, to try to explain?

You sighed, stood up and walked towards Time and Twilight, while the group's curious glances still loomed over you. Right, these two already had some markings that were like tattoos, so you thought it would at least be a good parallel.

Right after you pointed at your tattoo, you pointed towards the Rancher's face first, specifically to his markings. He had a confused look on his face, which quickly became an expression of horror, which seemed to have spread to some others in the group.

Wait…

[Farore above…]

What in Hylia's name was going on? That sounded grim, along with some others.

Next, you moved to Time, who was already sitting next to him. You mumbled a quick "Sorry…" for invading his personal space as you blushed, hoping he didn't mind. He was as stoic as one could get, you hoped he wouldn't somehow grab your wrist or something.

You also pointed (almost touched, really) to his marks on his face, before you pulled back and pointed towards your tattoo again.

"It's just a tattoo, why do you all look so judgemental suddenly?" You almost screamed in protest. You tried to make the motion of drawing the shape by yourself. Even tried pretending as if you have a nail and a hammer, and as if you are drawing on a skin.

I don't think tattoo pens exist here…

Time's eyes widened. The atmosphere in the room was even worse.

[How…?!] he said in shock.

You realized a little bit too late that it wasn't the smartest decision to point at his Wolf markings and Time's Fierce Deity Mask markings and then to yourself.

Because Twilight and Time kept speaking with each other, with Legend and Hyrule chiming in, the others watching you suddenly with suspicion, with Wild going between you and the others almost in a defensive stance. It was getting heated. Oh Gods…

Meanwhile, the Sailor finally decided to come down with a huge grin on his face, earning even more scornful looks from the others.

Then he started laughing.

Little rascal.

He knew.

He knew yet he did not step in until the last minute, pretending to browse the books and maps up there instead.

You sighed almost in relief as you watched him try to explain things to others. At least, you assumed.

It was quite clear that these were the heroes who held the Triforce of Courage, and not Wisdom.

How could anybody not think of tattoos and just jump to the worst conclusions instead?!

But you were sure, the Sailor was especially deserving of the Triforce of Courage, since he dared to wait until the last moment instead of coming clean right away.

____________________________

It was only months later you found out what was said, and that there was an agreement to never ever mention the incident again.

"I knew what it was right away," Wind smirked at you, after he explained what happened on that day. "We have a few people in the crew with some sick ink!"

Sure, you understood that there was some residual magic they sensed on you.

But… Was it really your fault that they immediately thought you could both be associated with twilight magic and Fierce Deity at the same time? Come on, even for this universe, it sounded cuccos.

"Having that symbol tattooed is quite a choice though," Four gave you side eyes.

You just shrugged.

Wind could have interfered earlier.

Little shit. If it existed, he would have gotten the Triforce of Mischief instead.

Back to Masterlist / Back to the Power of Understanding

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 1 month

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I think Meghan’s frustrated because her level has some pretty popular people already. It’s crowded. To be honest I think the Gaines have a large % followed by a few other target brands. She’d rather be a target brand not a tjmaxx because tjmaxx buys left over inventory that doesn’t sell. Target is still affordable and I think those in her circle are far more willingly to say they go to target than Walmart to tjmaxx. That’s what bothers her.

I also don’t think she was prepared to launch when she did. It was a quick rash reaction that felt more like turning lover an “I’m open for business sign” than anything else. Her ego got the best of her .

Yep, that's the other pitfall of being so focused on immediate gratification: you have beer goggles on. You don't see your competitors for who they really are - you only see what they have that you don't or their flaws that you think you can do better.

If Meghan really cared about Roop, she'd have paid attention to the market research that her partners (and yes, she has partners, even if no one will admit it) and WME did. That market research would have told her exactly who her competitors are, that she has one shot to get this right, and precisely what shot to take and when to take it.

And let's be honest. Her competitors aren't Gwyneth Paltrow (Goop), Reese Witherspoon (Kohls), and Martha Stewart (Macys, Penneys, and Amazon). They aren't even the Gaines/Magnolia (Target), Pioneer Woman (Walmart), and Rae Dunn (TJ Maxx/HomeGoods).

Her competitors are all the other socialites out there launching their own wellness and lifestyle brands. Bravolebrities. Tiktokers. Instagram influencers. People who have such a niche fanbase from 5 minutes in the spotlight with print-on-demand merch. In effect, personality-driven brands that lack substance.

And those brands don't usually do well, because they always overshoot their market and target the wrong audience. There's nothing wrong with being a TJX brand or a department store brand or a "Middle America" brand. Plenty of people have made really good fortunes and livings from it, but only because they were realistic and clear about their expectations and knew it would take time to get the empire they wanted.

And since anon mentioned The Gaines, I have a feeling that's who Meghan intends to come after. They're in Texas (where the Sussexes have been spending time). Tall, leggy, thick-bouncy-dark brown/black hair-for-days, biracial homemaker guru wife with a doofus goofy ginger husband. Their brand (Magnolia Home) is a kind of rustic, vintage, comfort memory that ARO/Roop's video mimicked. They've got that kind of ordinary everyday Americanness that (kind of) competes with William and Kate's kind of ordinary everyday Britishness that Meghan couldn't break.

But here's the thing about Chip and Joanna. They didn't just pop up out of nowhere. I know it feels like they did, but they didn't. They put 10 years of blood and sweat equity into the Waco (Texas) home construction and design world before HGTV even knew that they existed. What has Meghan done that's even comparable? Sure, she got her own doofus ginger but that's it. That's where the comparisons end. And honestly there's no comparison between Chip and Harry either, because Chip comes out ahead by a million points by just being able to replace his own burnt-out lightbulb.

#ask #brf #sussexes #theories

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hometoursandotherstuff · 10 months

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Ginormous 1902 Victorian in Portland, Maine has 6bd, 3 full, 2 half baths, and is priced at $1.695M. It's in pristine condition and was remodeled in keeping with the period of the house.

This wood in the foyer is so perfect, it looks like they replaced it- the etched glass in the door looks new, too. But, they did it right, they replaced it to match the original.

It must've cost a fortune to redo this wood. Look at the bottom of the wood around the room. You can see that there's a dark border- it shows that the wood's been stripped and refinished. The bottom is where all the goop from the stripper settles and you wipe it off as best as you can.

They wallpapered, and that cost them big bucks. Look the wallpaper medallion and how it all matches the fixture.

Isn't this a magnificent room? You don't really see open great rooms like this, w/mezzanines, in Victorians. The Queen Annes and Italianates don't have them, but they're smaller homes than this one.

Look at the balcony. The whole family could appear there to give their holiday greetings to the world.

Check it out, an inglenook. At least I think it qualifies as one, a little over-sized, perhaps.

Now, this is a very successful powder room remodel.

I don't know why they went with a modern rustic cabinet style

This may be the dining room. They really went light on the wood in here. Love the flooring, though.

They've got a big office set up in here, but when they remove it all, there will be elegant wallpaper for the 2nd sitting room.

Elegant area at the 2nd level stairs. A little too "fussy" for me, though.

Look at the windows, crown molding and millwork.

Wow, look at the storage, and it's hidden.

This is beautiful, but there's a choice of main bds. b/c all the rooms are big.

Original brick fireplace. I like how they framed it.

Beautiful little cross hall.

See how large this other bd is? It could also be the main one.

Dramatic view of the mezzanine.

Wow, this is some nice looking spare bathroom.

Modern finished attic.

And, the back stairs have a bit of an elegant Eastern flair.

#victorian house #victorian architecture #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour

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eksvaized · 5 months

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Simon ’Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader render by: @661ave

part SIX

[ Previous 〡 Next ]

You wake up with a parched throat, throbbing headache and, if it’s possible, feeling worse than you did last night before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

You search for your phone in between the sheets and under the pillows. But then remember you don’t have it, and it’s most likely still with Ghost. You would prefer to avoid him after yesterday. The memory of him witnessing you crouch next to the truck, trying not to choke on your vomit, while he soothed you is etched deep in your mind, and you won’t be able to forget about it anytime soon.

Although you know he can’t snoop around because you have a password on your phone, you still feel uneasy knowing that in some impossible scenario, if it unlocks, he will find the video. You don’t want to explain how or why you have it, and you certainly don’t want to tell him about how somehow has been messing with you and harassing you daily through the texts, while hiding between an unknown number.

But.

Maybe you should confess to him?

After all, you aren’t the only one who may face consequences if the tape gets leaked.

After making up your mind, you roll out of bed and ignore your fuzzy mind. A quick shower wakes you up. You even find five minutes to brew yourself a cup of coffee and drink it while you get dressed and brush your hair.

You don’t have to work today, but you still drag yourself to the base because you’re a woman on a mission: you need to talk with Ghost and get your phone from him.

However, it soon becomes clear that no one knows where he is. You check all the possible locations where you think he may be. You ask every soldier who passes you if they have seen the lieutenant, and while some say that a few hours ago they have witnessed him leaving his office, and talking with Soap, they can’t pinpoint you to his exact location now.

Frustrated, annoyed and still hungover, you stroll down the hallways, hoping that eventually you will bump into Ghost. Somehow, you end up in the abandoned wing with all the vacant offices. You have no excuse to be here, but for some reason, your feet carry you towards the door behind which you and Ghost tore each other’s clothes off.

You tell yourself it’s just a curiosity; you haven’t been in there since that night, and you just want to relive your memory of that evening since you don’t have anything better to do right now.

The door creaks as you open it. You attempt to turn on the light, flicking the switch twice, but just like the last time, it still is broken. Fortunately, there’s a window and enough sunlight is creeping in through the broken white blinds for you to be able to see.

Your fingertips brush the dust off the desk and you recall Ghost bending you over it, ordering you to put your arms behind your back as his hand wrapped around your neck, and his fingers lightly squeezed your throat making you dizzy.

You were certain that the desk would snap beneath you, splitting in two, because he was forceful and relentless with his thrusts, stretching you out, making sure that each time his hips collided with yours, a desperate moan slipped past your lips. But somehow despite it all, the rustic wooden desk survived and proved to be quite sturdy when Ghost flipped you around, lifted you on it and got on top.

You shake your head, hoping it will clear your mind and maybe force you to focus your thoughts on something else.

However, lately, Ghost and your memories of him, as well as all your interactions, creep up on you when you least expect it. Sometimes you spend hours thinking about him and only realise that when you snap back to reality, and notice how much time has passed.

You should talk to him. If you want to move, you need some closure.

You add one more thing to your to-do list, which now includes not just showing Ghost the video once you get your phone back, but also talking about how you slept together and that since then you have difficulty forgetting about it.

Your feet continue to drag you around the room. It’s filthy and dusty, and it doesn’t appear half as appealing in daylight as it did in dim moonlight.

As you approach the bookshelf, you notice some old books, a few pencils, and an empty, hideous yellow vase with dead flowers in it. Your gaze then shifts and your heart sinks. As your chest tightens, the blood in your veins freezes.

A camera. Hidden in the corner. Pointing to the fucking desk.

You grab it and turn it on. The memory card is empty. You realise that whoever owns this camera, whoever placed it here, must be the same person who keeps harassing you.

But who could it be?

The world stops spinning and time stands still. A whirlwind of thoughts consumes you. But in an instant, as if hit by a speeding truck, everything becomes clear. The puzzle pieces click into their rightful spots, sending a surge of realization through you: the video, the texts, and the threats… all of it is Ghost doing.

As your jaw tightens, your pulse quickens and you grind your teeth. You are furious, and angry at him, but you also feel betrayed and are desperate to get to the bottom of all of this.

You march down the hallway, pushing oblivious people, who don’t see you, and dare to block your way. You look like a crazy woman, but you don’t care. You also don’t care that the door is locked when you finally reach Ghost's office. No matter how long it takes, you are not leaving and are determined to wait.

How could he possibly have done something like this? Not that it mattered. Now that you knew it was him messing with you, you weren’t afraid anymore — he would never leak the video because that would also put him in trouble; Ghost doesn’t seem like someone who would want to self-destruct.

Two hours pass, but finally, he appears in the hallway. As his gaze lands upon you, a whirlwind of confusion and curiosity dances within his eyes, like a kaleidoscope of emotions. He’s good at reading your body language and when he realises you’re about to lash out, not wanting you to cause a scene in front of everyone, he pulls you into his office and closes the door.

“How could you?!” You raise your voice and don’t care if you’re shouting. “Do you think it’s amusing to toy with me? Don’t you have something more important to do?!”

“Calm down.” He leans against his desk, arms folded over his chest. You despise how calm and unconcerned he appears to be about your outburst. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But you either lower your voice or leave and return when you’re ready to talk without yelling.”

You scoff. Your eyes are burning with rage, and you are on the verge of ripping your hair out because he doesn’t take you seriously.

“You can’t order me around anymore.” You step closer to him, pressing your index finger to his chest, driving your nail into his flesh as hard as you can. “I’m no longer afraid of you.”

The dismissive eye roll he gives provokes an overwhelming desire to punch him; you fold your hands into fists, but your arms remain firmly attached to your sides as if glued.

“Where’s my phone?”

Ghost stands up and gently pushes you out of his way, his shoulder brushing against yours before he walks to the bookcase, grabs your phone off the highest shelf and hands it to you.

“You can try to pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about—” You unlock your phone and scroll to the very first message and the video. Ghost is looking over your shoulder. As he exhales, his warm breath grazes your skin, making the hairs on your neck stand up. “—but how do you explain this?”

You press play and shove the phone into his hands. For a moment, you stay still. Your body is stiff, and your eyes are fixed on him. You fight the urge to rip his balaclava off since you hate not being able to see and read his face.

When he continues to watch the video instead of saying anything, you snatch the phone from his grip and push a camera in his hand.

“Don’t try to tell me that you didn’t film us. Because I discovered your little toy and it’s an awfully big coincidence, don’t you think?! Out of all the vacant offices you took me to the one with the camera hidden in it.”

Finally, he raises his head. As you look into his eyes, you can sense a storm brewing, a whirlwind of emotions waiting to be unleashed. However, he doesn’t lash out and remains calm. His voice is low as he speaks.

“This is not my camera, and as much as I loved watching the video, well, at least the first five minutes of it, I wasn’t the one who recorded us having sex.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod #writing #call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #blackmailghost

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sirenjose · 6 months

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Analysis of Norton's dish: Roast Beef with Pudding

The pudding is likely Yorkshire Pudding/Plum Pudding

Roast beef with Yorkshire Pudding are traditional dishes in Great Britain, especially in Northern England

Eaten by a variety of people, from the lower classes to the higher classes, and could even be found on the royal family's menu. Commonly served on Christmas day to workhouses/poorhouses.

“roast beef served with plum pudding is the most evocative of past traditions of hospitality. It was once Britain’s prime celebration dish and a potent symbol of the nation’s character and cohesiveness.”

Roast Beef

The history of roast beef dates back to King Henry VII in 1485. Henry’s bodyguards (Yeoman of the Guard) received part of their salary in chunks of beef. This practice took place up until the 1800s and allegedly they earned the title ‘beef-eaters’. The story goes that King Henry’s guards started the Sunday roast beef tradition by cooking the meat (usually fillet, sirloin or shoulder) in the morning before going to Mass. The practice became a habit during the 19th century. Women would leave the meat to cook in their village baker’s oven, which closed on Sunday, and pick it up when back from church, perfectly roasted.

Eating beef was reinforced by a tradition outlined in William Kitchiner’s 1871 volume “Apicius Redivivus: Or, The Cook’s Oracle”. In his book, the author recommends eating about 3 kilos of meat per week to stay healthy. This underlined the central role that meat played in the British diet and described the practice of cooking beef sirloin for at least four hours over a spit. Sunday was the one day of the week when people had four hours to spare to roast beef. Fortunately a massive lump of meat could feed the family. They would then use it again in stews, pies and as cold cuts for the rest of the week. As the cost of meat and coal began to plummet working people continued the habit of roasting beef every Sunday.

Yorkshire Pudding

Traditionally, the word “pudding” referred to homely and rustic desserts that were commonly eaten by the lower classes. These could be either sweet or salty. Pudding dishes are mainly made with flour and have a cake-like consistency. But originally, pudding was a meat based, sausage-like food in Britain (ex: black and white puddings). However by the late 1700s, the contemporary puddings were no longer meat based and this change incidentally coincided with the first published mention of the batter pudding.

The Yorkshire Pudding is a baked pudding made from a batter of eggs, flour and milk or water. It has become a common British side dish which is versatile and can be served in many different ways – although mainly recognized as an accompaniment to a roast dinner.

It has been suggested the pudding was given the name “Yorkshire” due to the region’s association with coal and the high temperatures this produced that helped to make crispy batter.

The 1st recorded Yorkshire Pudding recipe appeared in a 1737 book titled "The Whole Duty of a Woman"and was listed as "Dripping Pudding". Wheat flour had come into common use for making cakes and puddings, and cooks in the north of England had begun baking batter puddings while their meat roasted to make use of the fat that dropped in the dripping pan. Batter was placed in a hot pan over the fire with a bit of butter, then placed under a shoulder of mutton in the oven in place of a dripping pan to collect the fat.

The next recorded recipe launched the pudding from a local delicacy to Britain's favorite dish. It appeared in "The Art of Cookery, Made Plain and Easy" by Hannah Glasse in 1747. Glasse was one of the most famous food writers of the time, and the popularity of her book spread the word of the Yorkshire pudding. This distinguished the light and crispy nature of the batter puddings made in this region from batter puddings created in other parts of England. Back then, the puddings were flatter than they are served today and would be served as a first course filled with thick gravy to help to suppress the diner’s appetite for expensive meat with cheap, plentiful ingredients. The main course of meat and vegetables would traditionally be served with a white sauce, as the gravy used up for the pudding. Poorer households couldn’t afford meat, and would use dripping, flour, eggs and milk to make puddings which would be served with gravy as the only course. Then there was another recipe by Mrs. Beeton, another of Britain's famous food writers of the 19th century, but her 1866 recipe omitted one of the fundamental rules for making Yorkshire pudding: the need for the hottest oven possible. The recipe was also erroneous in instructing the cook to bake the pudding for an hour before placing it under the meat. Yorkshire folk supposedly blamed her error on her southern origins.

The point of traditional Yorkshire pudding was identified in its previous name, dripping pudding. The batter was placed in a large pan into which had been allowed to drip the fat and juices of meat roasting on a spit over the fire. Once the pan had been heated in the fire and the fat was bubbling, the batter was poured into it and placed under the roasting meat as it continued to turn on the spit, thus catching all the remaining drippings. Meat was very expensive through much of the eighteenth century, and none of it was wasted, even the drippings produced when it was roasted. The fat from the meat drippings provided crucially needed calories, particularly for men doing heavy manual labor. The drippings also imparted a rich flavor to the Yorkshire pudding, and the high heat needed to roast meat was necessary to ensure the pudding would rise and had a light and crispy texture.

Traditional Yorkshire pudding was not served with the roasted meat, it was served before, as an appetizer or starter course. The pudding was cut into smaller pieces which were served drenched with the gravy made from the roasted meat. It is generally believed that this was done to take the edge off the diners’ appetites so that they would be satisfied with the small portions of the much more expensive meat which would be served during the second course. In poorer households, the children would receive only Yorkshire pudding and gravy, while the adults were served both the pudding with gravy and the roasted meat. Since the gravy was usually all consumed with the first course on the Yorkshire pudding, the meat and vegetables which typically comprised the second course were served with parsley or a cream sauce. Though Yorkshire pudding could be made with any roasting meat, the eighteenth-century Englishman was very fond of his roast beef. Thus, by the turn of the nineteenth century, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding had become a quintessential traditional meal throughout England. Even before the Regency, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding were a favorite Sunday dinner, especially among the middle and upper classes. There were even many among the aristocracy who enjoyed such a meal.

Going back to the mention roast beef with yorkshire pudding as common in workhouses on Christmas Day, a ballad was written by George Robert Sims for the Christmas of 1877. It served as a criticism of the harsh conditions in English and Welsh workhouses under the 1834 Poor Law

Regarding the in-game dish, from the looks of it, the roast beef is being served in a large Yorkshire pudding, which isn't too abnormal either (ex: places in Yorkshire sometimes might serve your dinner in a large pudding)

#idv #identity v #norton campbell #prospector #idv norton #identity v norton #idv prospector #identity v prospector #sirenjose analyses and theories

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 5 months

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Doctor Who, but Chronologically: 47

Fortunately there is no time jump, so we return to World Enough and Time's final part, The Doctor Falls. This is good for answers, because sometimes two-parters jump around - we're still waiting to find out how Matt Smith got out of that cube and whether River blew up. But not this time! Here we are on a Cyberman infested ship again.

Also, here is something I genuinely enjoy about Steven Moffat's writing: he does very good and fun and engaging pre-credit cliffhanger resolutions to his two-parters, and this one is no exception. We are treated to an idyllic farm house with adorable innocent children and salt-of-the-earth rustic folk in a green countryside a few floors up in the ship, with Cybermen crucified as scarecrows all around them; a child feels an earthquake, and suddenly a space shuttle bursts up through the floor and crashes. And out of the wreckage walks Cyber-Bill, carrying the Doctor in her arms.

VERY FUN (the Doctor gets Cyber-shot like eight times in this episode, he does need carrying)

Anyway, this is a fairly straightforward episode plot-wise. After Missy and Master attack the Doctor, he changes the parameters the Cybermen are following to identify humans - now they will target 1 or 2 hearts, so suddenly the Gallifreyans are also at risk (I will admit this is one of those "Seems clever but is actually dumb as hell" twists that Moffat is so good at. "I only had time to make one small change!" says the Doctor. "I added a 2! Now they will also chase people with two hearts!" Okay but that is not how coding works. Either you change the number 1 to a 2 - in which case they would now EXCLUSIVELY track Gallifreyans and leave humans alone, problem solved - or you added an operator like AND or OR or what have you, in which case you used up extra precious seconds to deliberately ensure that these Cybermen would still track humans.)

(And actually, they don't track the blue man. And the Doctor takes pains in this episode to point out that the Cybermen still have easily fooled monkey brains. So like. At any point, everyone could have painted themselves blue and been fine. Hmm.)

ANYWAY

The change means Missy and the Master escape upwards with the Doctor, Nardole and Cyber-Bill, so we exchange Cardiff University and Bute Street the grime of the Cyber conversion level for the pastoral wilds of Abergavenny floor 507, a solar farm that therefore has a holographic sky and simulated weather. And then it's basically a village under siege story - the Cybermen are coming, and are upgrading as they go, a process that is happening in what appears to be days to our hero but is in fact years at the bottom of the ship. This also means they can't all go up in the lifts to escape more than a few floors now - the Cybermen will upgrade to stop them too fast.

(Except. There's about 50 things wrong with that as a concept. I can think of one previously noted plot point that proves that wrong and about five possible workarounds right off the top of my head - as I say, "seems clever but is actually dumb as hell." But this is an era finale and so the focus is not on the plot - a mere skeleton to prop up the actual star of the show - but the story. What matters here is the characters, and what they think and feel and say, and what choices they make.)

Ultimately, it turns out that Missy genuinely does want to change, and become a good person. This is genuinely poignant, because the Master therefore kills her to stop her. I'm not wild about that as a twist, actually - long franchises with recurring villains never like to allow true growth, but I think "villain trying to atone" is actually a super valuable narrative, and I always feel sad for characters who aren't allowed to do it. But I will admit that it's played relatively nicely, as a tragedy.

Fortunately, it's juxtaposed with one of the best monologues any character in anything has ever given; namely, Peter Motherfucking Capaldi turning his Acting skills up to over 9000 to explain why we should choose to do the right thing. It's beautiful and moving and timeless and true and I love it, wholeheartedly and unironically. I mean it's also bullshit from this particular Doctor, given that we have in the past watched Clara have to force him to even try to save people if they don't do what he likes (Christ she deserved a better Doctor T_T), but regardless, it's a fantastic speech delivered by one of the greatest actors of his generation.

So what does happen?

Well! Bill is Cyber-Bill now, and the process is written off as permanent. She retains her memories through force of will, but will slowly succumb. "I can feel the programming," she sobs at one point, and fuck me Pearl Mackie is also a phenomenal actor. "It's like a hurricane in my head, and I'm hanging on, but I can only hang on for so long."

This episode literally started with the Doctor altering the programming of the Cybermen.

"Alas," he tells her. "There's nothing I can do to fix this."

Well then.

The Doctor and Bill ultimately decide to stay and fight Cybermen off while Nardole is given the task of leading the humans up five floors to the next solar farm in the lifts; the Doctor then blows up the floor they're on with the Cybermen on it, and go out in a blaze of glory. This is... certainly a choice, isn't it? Every story with Nardole so far has shown him to be the plucky comic relief, and I include in that THIS EXACT STORY WHERE MISSY CALLED HIM COMIC RELIEF TO HIS FACE. We even got more Weird Nrdole Stuff this episode - apparently he's some sort of reformed con-man and a computer whizz. And yet!!! And yet he gets the Proper Companion Ending!!! This is such a tonally strange choice. The Doctor even convinces him to do it by telling him he's stronger than the Doctor, a claim for which we have seen zero evidence, and is actually the sort of thing that gets said to Proper Companions after they have been through two series' worth of character development. By rights, this should surely have been Bill's job? Lead the survivors in a post-apocalyptic world?

Instead, Bill dies as a Cyberman, and then suddenly, from our perspective, THINGS GET REAL WEIRD, because an unnamed water faerie with a star in her eye who apparently once cried on Bill turns up and goes "You're like me now," and they magic the Doctor back into the TARDIS that two minutes ago he said he couldn't reach, abandon Nardole in a Cyber-infested ship, and then fuck off to explore the cosmos together and have hot lesbian sex, I assume.

What the fuck.

And then to round off, the Doctor wakes up, cries that he doesn't want to regenerate, and staggers out of the TARDIS into snow and also the arms of David Bradley's First Doctor. Which brings us nicely to that story we've already seen! We've seen Capaldi's regeneration. That was a good one.

So! Let's update the board.

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (Suspects: River, Missy, Me, Clara)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest. The Thijarian planet was destroyed by some sort of impact). Is this the Flux?

Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)

The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)

River is possibly blown up (Nope: she is definitely not blown up)

The TARDIS has blown up (It’s fine now. Except it’s sort of melting now because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again. NOPE, back to not working.)

The universe appears to have ended (the universe is back again)

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole

(And Nardole was “reassembled???” Nardole had glass nipples and invisible hair?? He used to be blue, and could apparently go back to it??? NEW INFO: he's some sort of helplessly criminal con-artist??? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE)

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window? (She’s with the Silents, but we don’t know why Amy saw her)

Why is Amy’s pregnancy inconclusive? (Maybe because the baby had Time Lord DNA?) She’s deffo pregnant and the baby becomes River, but why inconclusive?

Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?

How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?

What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???

What happened with the Other Cyber War?

What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?

Why does Rose seem particularly important?

What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi, Whittaker)

Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?

Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri (Not anymore, somehow)

There is a Lupari shield around Earth.

What’s a Time War?

What’s the Rift?

What’s Bad Wolf?

In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?

Why has Amy forgotten Rory? How did she forget a Dalek invasion?

Is Rory plastic or not? Yeah, must be, he couldn’t possibly remember being plastic otherwise

Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?

How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?

What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?

Which friend killed Strax?

Which friend brought Strax back?

Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?

What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?

How does Clara actually join?

Why so many Claras? A psychic midwife says she’s just normal human

Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven? NEW INFO: Is this because she's now dead?

Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?

What is Trensilor and what happened there?

Who is Handles?

The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man

The universe is being crushed by the Flux

Will the Doctor open the fobwatch?

Sontarans are invading Earth again

Who is Kate?

Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?

The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent

Does Martha get to go to an ice cream planet with 12-fingered massage aliens?

How did the Doctor forget Clara?

Who is Bill’s puddle girlfriend Heather? NEW INFO: This is presumably the star-eyed water faerie

How did Nardole die?

When does the Doctor shrink and enter a Dalek called Rusty?

Whittaker is falling to her death rn

Was that ring relevant?

Does anyone know the Doctor’s name? NEW INFO: Missy says it's "Who"

When did Yaz talk to Dan about fancying the Doctor?

When did Dan talk to the Doctor about fancying Yaz?

What’s happening with the bees?

What happened with Donna’s ex and a giant spider?

What war wiped out the Daleks, and is it one of the ones already mentioned?

What did the Doctor mean when he said “The (Daleks) always live, while I lose everything?”

If Dalek Caan is the last Dalek left why are there more now?

How did the rest of the Time Lords die?

How and why did Amy melt?

What’s the question that will make silence fall?

Why do the Silents… want silence to fall?

How and why are Silents at war with the Doctor when he… hasn’t even heard of them?

How does Hitler get out of the cupboard?

What’s the significance of fish fingers and custard?

Why does the Doctor feel guilt about Rose, Martha and Donna?

What happened with the space whale?

When does Rory defend Amy for 2000 years? Since Roman times, it seems

How does the Doctor survive River? He doesn’t, apparently

How does he erase himself from history

Did Captain Jack lose his memories to the same people as the Doctor? What did he lose?

When did the Doctor send the Daleks into a void to save the universe?

What’s with the weird crack in the wall and is it affecting memories?

Why do Amy and Rory think the Doctor is dead? Is it because of River as an astronaut?

Is Matt Smith’s Doctor a tree racist?

Why is the beautiful geode woman stealing people into a Passenger form?

River says she’ll die one day when the Doctor doesn’t remember her, let’s hope she doesn’t mean it

Why doesn’t the TARDIS like Clara?

When was the Master Prime Minister?

When will the Doctor go and rescue Nardole and the colonists?

#doctor whom #and yet we are continuing

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tarotbycecelia · 3 months

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Card of the Day - Death - Sunday, February 4, 2024

Pluto, the planet of death, rebirth, and transformation, will be hanging out at the 0° of Aquarius all the way through the 21st of this month. Tomorrow it will be making the first of three major aspects, as it conjuncts all three personal planets, Mercury, Mars, and Venus, on the 5th, 14th, and 17th. New beginnings, fresh starts, and all manner of transformation are afoot now, and the Aquarian…

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#Artist #Astrology #Card of the Day #Death #Guidance #Path #Reading #Roxana Paul #Rustic Fortune #Tarot

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amillieaway · 1 year

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prompt: meet me at midnight

“If I were a character in one of your books, who do you suppose I would be?”

Draco roamed the fire-lit room, running his fingers over burgundy and sage spines with silver and golden letters that reflected the flick of the flames.

Hermione lowered her novel to her blanket-covered thighs, chewing her lower lip. “Hm… The cruel prince, perhaps, cursed for his wickedness. Given a year and a day to find the love of his life to undo the spell.”

“Rather drab, isn’t it? Expecting a man to fall in love to repent his sins. What if he were to donate a fair amount of his fortune to charity? Or devote his time to brewing potions that cure deadly diseases?”

She shot him an affectionate look, though he was facing away from her and couldn’t see it. “Who do you think you’d be, then?”

He made a soft deliberating noise. “A romantic hero.”

She burst into laughter.

Draco tossed an irritated look over his shoulder, lips quirking. “I’m rather romantic, thank you very much.”

“Rather,” she confirmed, sitting taller and wrapping her arms around her knees. “Please go on, my romantic hero.”

“Yours then?” He lifted a brow, though they both knew he’d never truly belong to anyone else. “I’d be the sort who’s unliked by most. Underestimated always. I would lurk in the shadows and commit petty crimes for the fun of it. But also slip notes to the healer’s daughter, asking her to meet me at midnight so we can run away together.”

“And pray tell, where would you take her?”

He sat at the end of the spacious sofa, tugging her calf until she stretched her legs over his lap. His hand slipped beneath the blanket, thumb tracing a halfmoon over her bare kneecap.

“Anywhere she wanted to go,” he decided in a velvety voice. “I’m a romantic hero, remember? I care only for my runaway girl.”

“But she loves his ambition the best. The last thing she wants is a quiet life in the countryside. Or else she would have married her childhood sweetheart and had ten children on a duck farm.”

Draco wrinkled his nose.

“I’d make a fine prince, I suppose. Though not a cruel one.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “A rebel prince, but not the heir. A devilish spare. So I could marry the bookish maiden who rescues kittens from rainstorms and hands out loaves of bread to hungry children.”

“Not very rebellious of you. She sounds like a saint.”

“There’s a twist.”

“Isn’t there always?” Hermione was grinning widely now.

“She’s cursed, you see.”

“Oh dear.”

“She becomes a monster at night. Grows ravenous and eats his favourite pudding and demands he shag her until he can’t feel his bones.” He shot a pointed look at the lux cauldron cakes spread out on the rustic coffee table, more than half devoured alongside a pint of sparkling lemon cordial.

“Our poor prince.” She tutted, kicking his thigh with a mock-derisive look. “Perhaps she leaves him then. When he’s boneless and his pantry empty.”

“One would think…” He released her leg, encircling her wrist instead and coaxing her onto his lap. “But she loves him terribly.” His eyes grew soft, shining nearly as bright as the gilded storybooks encompassing them. “And he’s an ambitious bloke, remember?”

“Ambitious and romantic.”

He hummed in agreement, gaze dropping to her mouth. “He would do anything, give anything for her.”

“Anything?” she breathed, curling a lock of blond hair around her finger dotingly.

“He’d be anything for her,” he resumed, leaning into her touch. “The hero in every novel, or the villain if she wishes. The prince, the rebel, the romantic.”

The distinct, melodious chime of the antique grandfather clock resounded around them.

Twelve bold strikes as her prince, rebel, romantic spilled kisses over her like adventures on a page, one for every possibility, and one for the simple truth.

#amillieaway #dramione drabble #draco x hermione #dramione

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senkusphone · 1 year

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Obsessive Dr. Stone fans (such as yours truly) may find that a kingdom of science stencil is a very powerful thing to have, as I will demonstrate. Fortunately for all of you, I have come up with a reliable way to draw this emblem.

You can draw it on a sheet of math paper and cut it out, or trace it to a sheet of plastic and have it last a long time. You can stencil it on the copper sulfate! (or your preserve jars)

The simplest objects can take on a new meaning, such as a small cardboard box

How about a battery for your phone? (this one's great at running vacuum tube filaments)

It goes great on a rustic notebook or journal

Got any form of measuring or scientific instrument lacking a touch of pride? now they can belong to the kingdom of science, such as this old analog multimeter.

You can stencil it on the age meter !

Maybe you are an ethusiast who got a telescope to your name, even if it's made from stuff you found in the dump

I would love to know that somewhere out there, someone's made this. If you do, please let me know by any means, and I promise I will at least share it here in my blog.

As dumb as it may be (and I do feel kinda dumb feeling this way about horny science veggietales), deep down I want to believe that at least some of us are not just fans and we do share a vision, and despite the distance or perhaps not even knowing each other at all, we can still come together in unity under this symbol.

I'd like to believe that we can have that small connection, which feels so rare and so yearned for these days. The world is too chaotic and brutal to feel like you don't belong anywhere.

#dr. stone #dr stone #dcst #drstone #kingdom of science #art #suika #dr.stone #dr stone suika #suika dr stone #dcst suika

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siderealscribblings · 2 months

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"À ta santé!" Glasses and mugs clinked together over the worn, scratched up table in the corner of The Bell and Buckler. The local band was enjoying their complimentary mugs of Mondstadtian wine a little too much and as the warm buzz of alcohol tinged the back of Eponine's throat, she could hear them start to warble out of key.

Gardes from all over the city favored The Bell and Buckler, not only because servicepeople coming off shift got one round on the house. It was a rustic, cozy tavern run by Loretta, a former musketeer that hung up her spurs after a vishap gnawed her leg off below the knee. Even now, she could be heard thunking behind the bar with her hardwood peg-leg, her old service musket hanging above the bar next to the skull of the vishap that ended her career.

"A toast!" Marius wobbled to his feet, tugging his garde uniform down and raising his glass somewhat theatrically. "To Miss Eponine who somehow managed to survive her first week on patrol as a member of the esteemed Maison Gardiennage!"

"Hear hear!" A ruddy-faced musketeer named Fantine giggled, thumping her mug on the table.

"Enough!" Eponine laughed, hiding her eyes behind her hand as Marius made the unsteady climb up on top of one of the barstools. Fortunately The Bell and Buckle was the sort of establishment where inebriated gardes climbing on furniture was nothing out of the ordinary. Barely anyone looked up from their cards or dart games as Marius launched into a speech that could barely be heard over the din of conversation.

"Our beloved Lady Furina is safe from all manner of capitol terrors!" Marius proclaimed, spilling some foam into his bowl of stew as he raised his tankard. "Including runaway poodles, misguided tourists, and clingy little aristocrats!"

"Off the chair!" Loretta shouted, turning a nozzle of cold tap water on Marius and knocking him flat on the floor. "Or I'll call the garde on you!"

"The garde's already here!" A patron called, drawing a roar of laughter from the half-dressed Maison Gardiennage agents packed into booths and crowded around billiards tables.

"I'll call the Iudex then!" Loretta countered, grinning as a dreaded ooh wafted through the crowd. "Miss, I hope you've an iron liver if you plan on drinking with these two."

"I think my liver will be fine," Eponine chuckled, unable to be too embarrassed. Here she was, barely twenty-five and already appointed to the Maison Gardiennage. Poor girls from Possion could scarcely dream of more and with the money she was making, she would be able to send for her sisters before the year was out. She had plenty to celebrate and if her new co-workers got a little rowdy celebrating, who was she to stop them?

"So," Fantine said, leaning on her palm as she turned her attention to Eponine. "How do you find the Court so far?"

"Oh, it's…big," Eponine said, causing Fantine to snort into her cider. The collection of well-worn wooden cottages that comprised her hometown was nothing compared to the towering spires of the Court of Fontaine. It was one of the last Great Cities that hadn't been obliterated in the Calamity or the ensuing chaos and history hung in the air like mist. She had never felt like more of a bumpkin in her entire life; surely she must've looked like an idiot gaping at everything.

"You will get lost, but one of the little anklebiters will set you right if you ask them," Fantine said. "The melusine know their way around better than almost anyone these days."

"A little too well," Marius muttered. "If you ask me-"

"Oh here we go," Fantine sighed.

"All I'm saying is that our little fuzzy 'friends' know a lot about a lot of things," Marius said, holding his hands up. "Enough to do damage if they wanted to."

"The melusine?" Eponine asked. "What damage could they do?"

"I dunno," Marius said, wrinkling his nose. "They're creepy though."

"Marius also finds stuffed seahorses and teddy bears creepy ," Fantine sighed, flicking a wadded up napkin at Marius.

"Th-they've got weird eyes!" Marius hissed defensively. "And I swear sometimes I catch one just talking to someone I can't see. Who knows what information they could be carrying out of the-mmph ?"

"Enough ," Fantine said, stuffing a bread-roll in Marius' mouth. "We didn't bring our new recruit out here to listen to your melusine conspiracy theories; we need to hear her ruling."

"My ruling ?" Eponine said, watching Fantine and Marius exchange conspiratorial looks.

"You've been patrolling the Palais and the Opera for a week now," Marius said through a mouth of crumbs. "And in that time, you've seen Lady Furina and the Iudex come and go. Have you had the opportunity to see them…together?"

Together? Eponine shrugged. "Lady Furina and the Iudex had lunch together yesterday; I can't say I spent too much time with them, but I guess I saw them chatting a little bit."

Eponine had nearly fainted as she looked up one day to find her nation's god passing by her on the way into the Iudex's office to take her mid-day meal on the terrace overlooking the lake outside his office. She had spent the rest of the day wide eyed and almost vibrating with excitement, so close to divinity that she could still remember the smell of Lady Furina’s perfume.

"They're always chatting," Marius said with a meaningful nod.

"Always," Fantine nodded.

"...yyyyyyyes, I would think the head of our country and her number two would stay in close touch," Eponine said, nodding a little uncertainly.

"Verrrrrry close touch," Marius said, leaning in and dropping his voice. "So…do you think they're lovers?"