#unfortunately as it turns out even the idea of their blood on my shoes makes my lip curl. 🤷🏽‍♀️ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

uyuuma · 29 days

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“ HIT ME WITH YOUR KILLSHOT, BABY ”

hitman!toji x fem!reader ღ MDNI.

❥ summary. he was just on another job, why did you have to go and make it more difficult? normally he isn't sloppy with his work but you were a witness and he had to deal with you somehow.

❥ warnings. nsfw, female anatomy, murder (toji's target dead as hell), gun mentioned, choking, reader being tied up, rough handling, degradation, biting, unprotected sex etc.

❥ a/n. sorry for inactivity recently... having a little bit of writers block fr. decided to just write anyways. (no but my requests are open y'all gimme some ideas!!!) but yeah as soon as i sit in front of my screen im like 'i could write but i think imma play some more valorant' lmaoo

❥ wc. 5.2k

You sighed as you walked down the narrow urban streets of the big city. Your heels clacked on the pavement and the cold air stung your exposed shoulders. Why did you decide to go out? It was just another shitty night at the club, where the loud music was overwhelming and creepy men hit on you constantly.

"Tonight was a bust." You said under your breath, hands clutching onto your elbows trying to conserve warmth. Your breath was warm and you could see it travel as if you blew smoke into the air.

You should've just stayed home and cuddled up next to your cat, watching YouTube or Netflix. Instead you found yourself walking alone on the quiet streets, not even cars were driving by. It was almost eerie how deserted the city was around you. Perhaps it was because it was 2 in the morning, but it still sent shivers down your spine thinking about how dangerous it was to walk alone.

All you have to do is get to the bus stop, there was a bus scheduled to come by at 2:30 am. You clutched onto the little pocket knife that was disguised as a hair comb in your purse. It wasn't much, but it was something at least.

Lost in thought, you didn't realize there was a scuffle happening in the upcoming alley way you were walking up to. Sounds of someone struggling and choked back cries. It took the sound of something cracking violently to make you look up in shock. You turned the corner carefully to a sight most horrifying for a girl alone on the streets.

A large man was standing over another one who was slumped over onto the dirty floor. Crimson pooling onto the cement below his head, traveling slowly over to the other man's shoe. Your jaw dropped at the sight, breath caught in your throat. What the hell did you just walk in on?

"Disgusting, it touched my shoe." a raspy voice scoffed. The voice was aimed away from you, since the man hadn't noticed your presence yet. He had a silenced pistol in his hand and as it dangled above the floor, you realized that's what made the cracking sound. Your eyes widened realizing this might be a real-life hitman. He was dressed in a suit and his gun had modifications that no normal criminal would have.

The man angrily slid his black dress shoe on the cement, trying to clean the blood off of it.

You gasped at the realization that you did not belong in this situation at all and turned around to run back towards the club. You'd rather take your chances at the club than continue walking past the alleyway to get to the bus stop. Unfortunately, your gasp had not only alerted the man, but also your clacking heels colliding with the pavement when you turned.

The man looked behind to see you turning tail and booking it, a disappointed groan escaping his throat. How could he have been caught? Who the hell is taking a leisurely stroll at this time of night? All he could do was chase after you, he had no choice. He couldn't leave any witnesses behind.

As he turned the corner to see you running, he noticed that you took your heels off to run barefoot. He smirked, thinking you to be clever for at least not being dumb enough to sprint in heels. Unfortunately for you, he was a professional and knew exactly how to catch up to you.

You could swear you put enough distance between you and that horrific murder scene, all you could hear was the pounding in your chest and your exasperated breath. You took just a fleeting second to stop running and catch your breath, resting your hands on your knees as you inhaled and exhaled carefully.

In a matter of moments someone roughly grabbed you from behind and wrapped strong arms around your neck. You let out a strained scream as your hands clawed at the bulging biceps that held a tight grip on your delicate throat. Your lungs burned with the sensation of being strangled from behind, you desperately kicked and clawed to the best of your ability. To no avail, you could feel your vision become blurry.

"Pretty thing like you shouldn't be out alone at this time of night." The man whispered into your ear as you lost consciousness.

His muscles began to relax as you became limp in his arms. It would take only another 10 seconds to kill you, but a part of him couldn't bring himself to. He decided he'd take you with him and figure out a plan later. First and foremost, he needed to clean up the body of his target. Once he finished his job, he could deal with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・✭・.

After some time, you slowly awoke to the feeling of a cold cement floor. You were laying on your side and your neck was still sore from prior events. You tried to open your eyes, but realized you were blindfolded by something. You went to swallow from the dry feeling in your mouth but felt that you were gagged as well. What a nightmare this whole situation is, at least you weren't dead right?

You started to squirm, trying to get yourself free from whatever was binding you. Nothing worked though, whoever tied you up knew exactly what they were doing. You started to panic as most of your senses were stripped from you, the only thing you had left was smell and sound.

Sound may have been your enemy in this moment though, as it made your mind race from the anticipation of hearing footsteps enter the room. The footsteps echoed loudly, ringing in your head as you froze in fear. From how the sounds reverberated in the room, you could tell you were in a large, empty space.

You laid on the floor, helplessly, mind wondering what the hell was going to happen to you. If this man didn't just kill you right away what other sadistic things did he have planned? Or perhaps he was going to hold you for ransom? Fuck, whatever it was it couldn't end well for you.

The footsteps came closer and closer until they stopped next to you. A gust of air that blew down on you indicated that he lowered himself onto one knee to get a closer look. You could smell cologne and a faint metallic aroma, what you assumed to be the blood on his shoes. You felt two strong fingers press against your neck. The feeling caused you to jolt in shock.

"Well, you're certainly not dead." The voice said with slight amusement. It was the same deep voice that you heard in the alleyway, there was no mistaking who this was. He slid his fingers off your neck, knowing he didn't have to check for a pulse if you were moving on your own.

His eyes scanned your form, how it was obvious you just came back from a night out. The way you wore a revealing dress and your hair was all done up, well until he roughed it up a bit.

"Someone came back from a night of fun, I see." He said mockingly as he ran his hand through your hair. "Precious thing like you shouldn't be out there alone, what're you stupid?" He asked yanking your hair slightly.

Your little muffled whimpers made him chuckle. "See what happens when you go out by yourself? You end up bound and gagged like this." He was thoroughly enjoying your panicked squirms and whines when he looked down at his watch. He saw that it was already getting close to sunrise. He needed to figure out what he was going to do with you.

"Alright, well I gotta figure a way for you to keep your mouth shut." The voice said as you heard him rustling through something. You heard items fall onto the floor next to you, terrified at what they might be. You then heard him let out an amused laugh.

"Did you think this tiny thing would stop someone? Oh sweetheart, you're too naive." He tossed something plastic on the floor as he continued to go through a bag of some kind.

It hit you that he was talking about the tiny blade you kept in your purse. He was going through your belongings in your purse!

"Cute name and you're still pretty young." He said as you assumed he was reading the info off your ID. "Be a real shame to cut that life of yours so short." You could tell he said that with a wide grin.

Your panic heightened at the implication that he might have to kill you after all, you were ready to plead for your life. Even if you couldn't talk at this very moment, your body flailed trying to protest the very idea.

"Chill, I'd never kill such a pretty little thing such as yourself." He said continuing to dig through your purse.

"But I don't know... if you keep resisting like that maybe I will." He taunted as he pulled something else from the purse, something that was lodged into the deep crevices of the bag.

"A condom huh?" He said as his voice piqued with interest. He admired the thin packaging between his two large fingers.

"Ah hah, I see what you were doing now." He pulled down your blindfold so that you could look at him.

Your vision adjusted as you squinted. You looked around briefly and saw that you were in what looked to be an abandoned warehouse. Your gaze then fixed on the man that held you captive.

Your eyes widened as you came to the realization that he was... really hot? His eyes had a piercing, dark gaze and he had a small scar on the corner of his lips. His black hair was shaggy and it covered his eyes almost. He seemed to take off his black jacket from earlier, which left him in just a white button up. His muscles and large shoulders could barely be contained by the shirt. The fabric clung onto his large frame and it was mesmerizing. You were lost in his features, not realizing you were practically gawking at him.

"Did you just fall in love?" He smirked down at you, pulling the blindfold off of you. His black gloves glistened as he gripped the fabric of the blindfold.

You looked away in embarrassment, how could you gawk at someone who had you tied up on the floor? Seriously, get a grip girl.

He eyed the condom and then looked down at you with a mischievous smirk. "Did you go out in hopes for some good dick?" He said playing with it between his fingers.

You stared at him in silence. Your mind went blank.

"Bitch, answer me when I ask you a question." He said as his expression changed to annoyance.

You quickly nodded, trying not to get on his nerves. So what if you went out in hopes of getting laid? You were going through a dry spell and wanted someone to blow your back out. Was that so hard to ask for?

"Hmm, this might work out then." The man said as he held his chin in thought. He looked back down at you and smiled.

"How about a deal then..." He leaned down closer to your face so that he could whisper.

"I fuck your pretty little brains out and you pretend like you saw nothing. Got it?" He said as he tilted his head to the side.

"I mean it's that or I shoot your pretty little brains out. I don't know, your choice." He added on with a shrug.

You writhed against the floor trying to plead with him for your life, but you were still gagged.

"Oh right, can't understand you." He pulled the saliva soaked gag out of your mouth and quickly clamped his own hand over your lips.

"Oh and just a little warning, it is not a good idea to scream." He said coldly, hand clutching at your jaw a little too hard.

You nodded in his grasp, face heating up from how close he was to you. He smiled and let go of your jaw.

"Good girl, now tell me what you'd like." He said adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"P-please don't kill me, sir." You mewled out as your eyes welled up with tears.

He groaned in dissatisfaction and rolled his eyes. "The name's Toji and I told you I won't have to kill you because you have another option." He picked up your chin with his hand and got close enough to your face to feel his breath hot on yours.

"Not many men in my position would even give you an option. Now, tell me what you want." He softly dragged his thumb across your soft lips. A smirk creeped onto his face as he enjoyed your terrified expression.

You hesitated to respond for a moment. "P-please fuck my pretty little brains out... I won't tell a soul about what happened today." You couldn't believe the words you were saying right now. I mean, you were only saying what you needed to, to live right?

"See, you're a smart girl after all." Toji said with a wide grin. He carefully undid the ropes that bound you. The ropes left small burns and a bruise, but other than that you were virtually unharmed. He helped you off of the floor and handed you back your purse.

You looked at him confusedly as you held your purse. Was he letting you go?

"What? Did you think I was some sort of monster who'd fuck you on the cold floor? Nah, a pretty girl like you deserves at least a plush hotel bed." He said moving some of your hair behind your ear.

Your face warmed up from his sudden chivalrous attitude. You found it almost suspicious how kind he was.

He then crushed the little plastic comb knife beneath his foot.

"Don't try anything fucking stupid though. I hope you're clever enough to know you shouldn't take my kindness for granted." He said as he twisted his shoe against the plastic remnants.

You could only nod as you swallowed the knot growing in your throat.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・✭・.

The car ride was silent, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. He was quiet and kept his eyes on the road. You looked at the time on the dashboard and saw that it was already 4 am.

He parked the car and came around to your door to let you out. You quietly stepped out and held onto your purse as he closed the door.

Without a word, he walked in front of you to the hotel and held the door open. He motioned you to walk in, a faint smile on his lips.

You could run, right now. You could run and scream and call for help. It would be over in an instant for him if you did.

Yet, his confident smile made you realize that he knew you wouldn't. He knew through digging in your bag that you needed this. You needed him badly.

You walked slowly through the door, hips swaying seductively as you walked by him.

He glanced at your ass and cleared his throat as he followed you in.

"Sorry sir, we have no vacant rooms at this time. Maybe you'd like to try-" The old man looked up from his computer and his eyes widened.

"My apologies Toji, we'll get a room for two ready right away." He said hurriedly, punching in a number into the phone on his desk.

You looked up at him shyly, wondering how his mere presence was enough to get him a room on a whim.

"Just the many perks of my job." He said, leaning down to softly speak into your ear.

"Here's your room key Toji, it is on the top floor for you and your missus." The old man said, placing the card into Toji's hand.

"Not my missus yet, maybe after tonight she'll be convinced." Toji chuckled. "Thanks ol' man." He said as he grabbed your hand.

He led you to the elevator where you two stood in silence on the ride up. Your breathing became harder to control as you felt the anticipation grow in your gut.

The elevator dinged as you reached the top floor. He walked out first, heavy footsteps could be heard on the carpeted floors of the hallway. When you guys reached the door he scanned the card and let you walk in first. You walked in carefully, observing the room around you. It was like a penthouse suite... clearly the stuff reserved for the wealthy.

Your mouth hung open as you looked out the massive window overlooking the rest of the city. This man must live a life of luxury with the money he makes off of killing people.

Toji walked behind you and grabbed your chin with his strong hand. He let out a low groan into your ear.

"Nice isn't it? Maybe if you blow my mind tonight, you could live like this everyday." He said, his voice sounding sultry. He slipped his thumb past your lips. He let out a satisfied huff feeling your warm tongue glide against his finger.

You sucked on his thumb and it drove him crazy already, he needed more and he needed it fast. He quickly lowered himself so that he could pick you up bridal style. You shakily gain balance in his arms before he throws you onto the big fancy bed.

You landed on your butt, your heels hanging off your foot from the fall. Toji stood in front of the foot of the bed and unbuttoned his shirt, letting it slide off his broad shoulders. It was dark in the room, but you could see the moonlight illuminate the scars that decorated his upper body. You looked at his figure not only in awe, but worry seeing how his job took a toll on his skin.

His giant chest heaved as he took your trembling body in. You looked delicious, like he could devour you in a matter of seconds. He crawled onto the bed, between your legs. He took your heels and threw them across the large room.

"Kinda glad you walked in on me during the job." He said tracing his hands along your body. Every curve of yours was tantalizing and he wanted to savor every little moment he had you.

Your breath hitched as you let out small whines from his touch.

"Toji..." You muttered out his name and it was like music to his ears.

"Yes, don't worry baby." He said sweetly as he moved his hands down to the hem of your dress. He lifted up your dress and observed the sheer tights that stood in his way. He frowned slightly and pushed his fingers against your clothed cunt.

You gave out a pathetic mewl as he slowly pushed his finger against the fabric.

He became impatient and lifted your right leg over, twisting your torso so that your lower body was on one side. He slid his hand along your thigh to your ass where he gripped onto your tights. You could hear him tear at your tights with a 'RIP' sound. You whimpered feeling his strong grip tear a big hole into the crotch of your leggings.

"That's much better." He said satisfied. He moved your leg back over so that you were spread out for him.

Your face grew hot as he moved your panties out of his way. He brought his gloved hand to his mouth and took it off using his teeth. He grabbed the glove with the same hand and tossed it away. He rubbed his bare finger against your slit, gathering your wetness so that he could enter you easily.

His hands were huge, fingers thick and rough from the callouses. Just a single finger entering you made you squeak from how he stretched you out.

"Fuck, you're really tight." He said almost in disbelief. He moved his middle finger deeper, down until he was buried to his knuckle in your warmth. He smiled, feeling how you clenched around his singular finger.

"Oh sweetheart, you're going to break so easily." He said as he slowly moved his finger inside of you. He reveled in how you squeezed your thighs together, as if you were trying to cut off circulation to his hand. He responded to your desperate moans and arching back by adding another thick finger into your hole.

"Toji!" You squealed out gripping onto the soft sheets.

He chuckled seeing how easily you crumbled beneath him. He slipped his left arm under the small of your back and swiftly scooted your body up the bed, as if you weighed nothing. He carefully laid your head onto the pillow, your head was just below the headboard now. He shuffled so that he could lay on his stomach, his head comfortably between your legs.

You gasped feeling his warm tongue begin to lap up your juices. His tongue found your sensitive clit, skillfully flicking against it while thrusting his fingers in and out of your soaking pussy.

Your moans became louder as you squeezed your thighs around Toji's head. Any lesser man wouldn't be able to handle how tightly you crushed him between your thighs. But this was Toji, he could handle your intense grip, in fact he loved it.

He groaned into your pussy, closing his mouth to suck onto your sensitive bud. The fingernails on his left hand began to sink into your soft thighs as his other hand continued to plunge deep into your cunt. He picked up the pace, the sounds of your moans and the wet squelches of your needy pussy filled the room.

You soon found yourself spasming uncontrollably, your eyes darting to the back of your head as you felt your climax approach. Your hands gripped onto Toji's hair as you arched your back, moaning loudly as you came on his fingers and tongue.

"F-fuck! Hnnn...Toji..." Your cunt clenched around his fingers as you rode your high. Your fluids started to leak onto the bed sheet.

He withdrew his fingers and gave them a good cleaning with his mouth. His two fingers parted from his mouth with a trail of spit. He watched as you lay there, out of breath.

"What are you so tired for? I did all the work." He asked jokingly. He smirked and spread your legs nice and wide for himself again.

He undid the button on his pants and took them off. He then moved to take off your dress, not wanting to rip the pretty thing off like he did with your tights. He tossed both pieces of clothing to join the rest that were on the floor.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." Toji admired your body. He took his right hand to cup your tit carefully, infatuated by how soft it was. His massive hands moved to play with both of your tits, massaging your chest roughly.

Your body trembled from the overwhelming sensations, you weren't sure how much more of this you could handle.

"Shit, I'm so hard right now it's not even funny." Toji said as he pulled at the waistband of his underwear.

You looked down to see how painfully constrained he was inside of his boxers. The imprint was massive and it caused your eyes to widen and your face became pale.

"Like what you see?" Toji let out a small laugh as he freed his erection from his boxers. His cock was heavy, even when it was hard it hung from the sheer weight of it.

You bit your lip, anticipating how something that thick could ever fit into your hole. Even though you were terrified, that warm feeling in your gut returned. You knew that regardless of how tight you were, he was going to make it fit.

"Alright, since you had one on you, I'll just use that." Toji said, grabbing the condom that you had in your purse. He used his teeth to tear open the wrapper and took the rubber out of the packaging. He went to put it on but laughed as he tried to unroll it.

"Baby, this is not big enough for me." He said holding up the half-rolled condom. He chucked it into the trashcan and sighed.

"Was worth a try, guess I'm going in raw." He said, pretending to be disappointed.

"W-Wait!" was all you could yell out before he lined himself up with your hole. His tip prodded at your entrance, trying desperately to push himself in. You gasped and clutched onto his shoulders as he slowly entered your little cunt.

"Goddamn, this is going to be a struggle huh?" He said, his voice strained as he tried to get just the tip in.

"Fuck." Toji cursed as he withdrew his cock. He spit onto your pussy and rubbed it in with his thumb, trying to get you nice and wet.

"You already came and I ate you out, how much prep does that tight little pussy need?" He complained as he stuck his tip back into your entrance.

You clenched your teeth as you felt him finally sink into your pussy. Whines escaping your mouth as he stretched you out, your hole being filled up like never before.

He grunted as his fat cock buried its way into your cunt, his hands holding the back of your knees as he pushed his entire weight against you.

Your vision became blurry from the tears that formed in your eyes. Your body was doing its best to adjust to his size, but it was just too much for you.

"s'too much Toji..." You slurred out as you could feel him bottoming out. You looked into his eyes with a fucked-out expression, mouth hanging open as drool slid down your chin.

"Too much? Already?" Toji asked mockingly. He pushed your leg against your chest, your tights tearing even more from this new angle.

"We've only just started." Toji smiled as he withdrew his cock only to slam it back into your cunt.

You squealed from his hips slamming into you and it caused him to chuckle. He only picked up the pace and continued to roughly thrust into you from your reactions.

"So. Fucking. Fragile." He grunted through gritted teeth while relentlessly pounding into your pussy. God, the way your cunt gripped onto his cock was euphoric. He swears he could cum right now if he wasn't taking his time.

He bucked his hips and folded you underneath him to get an even better position. With you bent in half beneath him, he could reach even deeper into your pussy, slamming that sweet spot that makes you scream.

Your screams were muffled however, since he hungrily pressed his lips against yours. His tongue explored your mouth, dominating your tongue in the process. His eyes were closed, enjoying the bliss of the moment. Your eyes were open, unfocused and rolling into the back of your head from the overstimulation.

Your stomach started to ache from the feeling of him stuffing you full to the hilt. But that giant knot in your core was still begging to be released. You could feel yourself getting closer to climax with every thrust. "Fucking slut... you're squeezing me so good." Toji groaned out of breath. Your bodies were becoming sticky from sweat. Toji hung his head down by the crook of your neck as he continued pounding your sore little pussy. You sunk your fingernails into his solid back, clawing at the flexed muscles.

He liked the feeling of you tearing up his back and decided it was only fitting to hurt you back. He bit down onto your neck with a growl as he bullied himself harder against your tender cervix. Your little cries of pain made him only bite harder. He sucked on the bitemark, leaving a nice little welt for you to remember him by.

"I wanna cum Toji... please..." you weakly asked as your legs shook from the intense pleasure mixed with pain.

"'Course baby, anything you wish for." He cooed as he grinded his pelvis against yours. His cock not only hit that sweet spot, but his pelvis stimulated your clit as well, driving you over the edge.

Your legs gave out, your jaw went slack and your nails dug into Toji's back so deep that it drew blood. "C-Cumming!" Was all you could mutter out as you climaxed, even harder than the first time. You felt ecstasy for the first time in forever, Toji delivering on his promise to fuck your brains out. Your mind was still foggy from the heavenly orgasm, even when Toji fucked you at an incredible speed, all you could feel was your muscles tensing.

"Holy shit, you're clamping onto me like crazy." Toji grunted out as he gripped onto the headboard, the bed creaking as he fucked you into the mattress. "Gonna cum so hard..." He mumbled under his breath. His thrusts became sloppier and less coordinated as he focused on finishing. He looked at your face and smiled seeing the cock-drunk expression on it.

Your whole body was spent, your hands no longer clawing at his back and your legs dangling above you. He could tell he wore you out well.

He thrusted into you a couple of times for good measure and then withdrew himself.

"F-Fuck, I'm cumming..." Toji groaned and pumped his cock with his hand before shooting his hot seed all over your tits. His load was thick and hot, some of it shooting far enough to coat your lips.

"Damn, turns out I also haven't had a good fuck in a while." He said out of breath, admiring how far you made his cumshot go.

You couldn't really respond with how tired you were. You just licked your lips, savoring his salty load. You maintained eye contact with him as he watched you seductively lick your lips.

"Haha, be careful now. I won't ever let you go if you look at me like that." Toji said parting your sweaty bangs out of your face.

Toji took some tissues from the bedside stand and cleaned you off, being careful not to make an even bigger mess. He threw the napkins into the trash and lazily fell next to you. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

"I mean as long as you don't snitch, you're free to go." Toji said in a bored tone. His hands resting behind his head.

"Don't wanna go." You said in a whiny voice. You shifted onto your side, facing him. Your soft hands traced his arm lovingly. Any man who could fuck you like that wasn't leaving your life that easily.

Toji smirked and looked down at you, hand resting on your hip.

"Was hoping you'd say that." He said before kissing you on the forehead.

The sunlight started to come in through the window. You blocked the light with your hand, your eyes assaulted by the sudden shine. Toji groaned and clicked on the remote to close the automatic curtains. Darkness once again enveloped your bodies. You smiled and rested your head against Toji's chest.

Guess the night wasn't a bust after all, you ended up with a hot, rich boyfriend by the end of it. I mean, sure he kills people for a living but, only you needed to know that.

#female reader #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro toji

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 7 months

Text

Mona with a reader that puts on an act around everyone except her

Characters: Mona x gn!reader

warnings: like 99% two idiots shooting playful insults at each other, with a little bit of hurt/comfort in the second half.

a/n: read a manga with a somewhat similar premise, got a funni idea and decided to write something for once. Also

WE'RE BACK ON THE SIMPING-FOR-MONA EXPRESS! LET'S FRICKING GOOOOOOOOOO

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Mona

If one were to ask the citizens of Mondstadt about you, one would be bombarded with tales of an enthusiastic, kind and outgoing youngster, helping whoever they could while quickly finding their way into people’s hearts. There weren’t many around that fit the role of the textbook definition of “optimism” better than you, and yet if one were to ask a certain Fontainese Astrologer the same question as before, the most one’d get would be a poorly hidden roll of her eyes followed by a short “what about them?”.

Mona wasn’t stupid and neither were you, she saw through your act, with or without her powers and you knew she did… After all, it were the first words she ever spoke to you.

“Don’t even try putting on that act around me, I know it’s fake.”

For most people, such an uncalled for call-out would have been enough to drive them away, leaving Mona to spend her beloved time alone studying everything stars related, only unfortunately for her, it seemed to have the exact opposite effect on you.

The moment Mona heard knocks on her door that matched the melody of a famous little childrens tune, she closed her eyes for a moment before letting out a sigh, taking one last glance at her astrology notes before standing up, walking over to the door and opening it.

“Hey Mona, I’m sorry for not asking if it’s okay to come over first, but I walked past your house and just couldn’t stop myself from paying you a little visit”, you explained with a bright smile, your voice sounding so sweet the Astrologer could feel her blood sugar soaring to unhealthy levels… how did the rest of Mondstadt stand you??

“May I come inside? I brought you food and this blue flower that I found, it reminded me of you so I couldn’t help but buy it”, you continued upon seeing her unchanging poker face, presenting her with a basket of food in one hand, and the previously mentioned flower in the other, slipping past her and into her home without waiting for an okay.

“Can you stop?” Mona asked, almost feeling a hint of embarrassment at your behavior, yet if it was because of the flowers or simply as a side effect of her cringing, she didn’t know.

“Stop with what-?", the door closed, immediately causing your voice to drop a few notes. "Ugh finally, took you long enough to close the door”, you stopped the act, your now empty hand moving to your throat, feeling it getting hoarse.

Without saying another word, you slipped out of your shoes before quickly walking over to her couch and letting yourself fall onto it, letting out a long and tired sigh once your back made contact with it, causing your host to gradually grow more annoyed.

“You’d better bring something good today if you don’t want me to lock the door on you next time”, Mona threatened before taking a look into the basket you brought with you.

“Only the best for the best Astrologer in town”, you responded in a joking manner only to whip your head around the moment you heard her groan.

“You say that, but didn’t I make my opinion about expensive food clear?”, she asked, instantly recognizing what you had bought… Sure, it wasn’t something only royals could afford, but definitely above the price tag of her usual salad.

“You say that, but didn’t you look as if you were in pure bliss the last time you ate this?”, you mocked her using her own words, causing Mona’s face to turn red, partly out of embarrassment and partly out of fury.

“Weren’t you supposed to be ‘nicest, most helpful and most likable person’ around?”, she shot back, causing your infuriating smile to grow bigger.

“Weren’t you supposed to-”, you were just about to counter, only to shut up when your behavior earned you a deadly glare, immediately moving your hand over your heart as you feigned sadness.

“And here I thought I could finally be liked for my true self.”

Truth be told, Mona didn’t mind you too much, sure you tended to barge into her home unannounced only to shoot one snarky comment after another, but hanging out with you was kinda fun… even if it was in a strange, somewhat unexplainable way. She wouldn’t leave the door unlocked around the time you usually came over if she didn’t and most definitely wouldn’t have any problems throwing you out if you did nothing but annoy her.

“Please, oh great Magicia- I mean Astrologist ‘Mona Megistus the Astrologist’, do your Astrology stuff to look into my future and tell me if I’ll ever be accepted for who I am”, you somehow managed to pull off your dramatic monologue without completely breaking out in laughter, the same mocking smile on your face as before… although it didn’t reach your eyes this time.

Usually, Mona would have hit you over the head for this one, and yet she remained silent, staring at you as if she saw right through you, only to finally open her mouth once again.

“I could do that, but I doubt it will change anything. So are you sure just dropping your act wouldn’t be a faster way?”, she asked, only for the complete lack of any hint of sarcasm to playfulness to cause a look of nervousness to wash over your face, although you quickly replaced it with your usual smile..

“At this point packing my things and moving to a different nation would be easier”, you let out a small laugh before looking away from her, your gaze firmly fixating on the ceiling… or at least it did for a few seconds.

“Then if you ever decide to do it, don’t go to Fontaine”, Mona’s voice brought you back to reality, causing you to stare at her once again, although with nothing but silent questions on your mind.

“There’s still that old hag there, so I wouldn't be able to follow you.”

If she had said this under any other circumstances, Mona would feel the urge to bash her face in rather than having to hear you jump at the opportunity to tease the ever loving crap out of her, this time however the silence between the two felt surprisingly calming both of you left to silently enjoy the moment. A moment of reassurance and understanding only like minded friends could enjoy toge-

“Are you absolutely sure you aren’t in love with me? That sounded so cheesy even I can’t help but slightly cringe.”

“You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?!”

#mona imagines #mona x reader #mona x you #mona megistus #mona megistus x reader #mona #mona genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader

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lufanahufflepuff · 7 months

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(English is not my first language, if you find any grammatical mistakes or something that doesn't make much sense, please let me know)

Name: Inês Ofélia Da Graça

Nickname: Ophelia, Ines

Date of Birth: June 16, 1875

Nationality: Portuguese

Blood Status: Muggle-born

House: Hufflepuff

Patronus: Goldfish

Physical Description: Inês Ofélia is a short girl with wavy blonde hair that extends to her ankles. Her green eyes stand out on a face adorned with freckles, and a mole is located beneath her lower lip. Her front teeth are distinctly separated.

Personality:

Inês is a remarkable child due to her vivid imagination, although her distractibility is equally remarkable. She struggles to stay focused on tasks that don't deeply engage her.

Her difficulty in understanding social norms and behaviors occasionally makes her awkward. Furthermore, she has trouble interpreting others' emotions, often failing to notice sarcasm or jokes, which makes her naive in some situations.

Despite that, Inês makes an effort to understand people by observing their behavioral patterns.

Family History:

Inês doesn't have much information about her own family beyond what her mother, Joana Da Graça, shared with her while she was alive. She never met her father or grandparents, although, she doesn't seem to care about this lack of information.

Her mother, Joana Da Graça, was a very young mother who immigrated to the United Kingdom when Inês was just a baby. Inês's story is marked by the early onset of her adult life, working from a young age while her mother struggled to build a better life for both of them. During these years, Inês took on the responsibility of taking care of the household and later her ailing mother.

Background Story:

At the age of nine, Inês faced a significant trial when her mother fell seriously ill. Although the nature of her mother's illness remains a mystery, Inês cared for her for many days with the hope that her effort and patience would heal her. Unfortunately, her mother passed away suddenly, leaving Inês alone.

After her mother's death, Inês was sent to a Catholic orphanage, where she finally learned the English language properly, although she still struggled with pronunciation, reading, and writing.

Inês spent much of her life in the orphanage, unaware that she was a witch or that magic even existed.

Inês's life took a turn when she met Professor Fig and began studying magic. It was at this moment that she discovered an intriguing fact: wizards possessed knowledge capable of healing ailments afflicting Muggles. This revelation struck her deeply, stirring a wave of frustration and regret. She began to wonder if, had she known her true nature as a witch earlier, she could have found a cure for her mother's illness.

This personal tragedy is one of the reasons why Inês is so determined to help Sebastian find a cure for Anne, so that no other family has to endure the suffering she and her mother went through.

Unconsciously, Inês sees Professor Fig as a father figure. She once caught herself calling him "Pai" and at that moment, she fervently hoped he didn't understand Portuguese.

Sebastian has a crush on Inês, and everyone except her has noticed. She doesn't realize when they're flirting with her.

Inês is bisexual, but she's in the "bisexual denial" stage. She think that everyone must feel that way, liking a bit of both men and women, right? But Inês, not everyone feels that way...

Inês has a crush on Anne, but she hasn't realized yet.

Inês refuses to cut her hair and has never done so in her life. Even though it's a lot of work to care for, she simply dislikes the idea of cutting it.

She also doesn't like wearing shoes and takes any opportunity to go barefoot.

Inês doesn't have much ambition regarding a career. She simply doesn't think too much about the future or what she'll do after Hogwarts. She has a more "if I make it out of here alive, it's good enough" mindset. Her "plan" is to live a peaceful life in contact with nature.

Her Patronus is a goldfish because I think it suits her kindness and short memory, which could reflect her gentle and distracted nature. (In my head, this makes a lot of sense.)

My friend said Inês is a Hippie, and I thought about it for a bit, and yes, she's basically a Hippie but in 1890.

#I finally did this shit #inês ofélia da graça #hufflepuff mc #hogwarts legacy fanart #my art #hogwarts legacy #hufflepuff #my oc #my mc #hogwarts oc #hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts legacy mc #hufflepuff girl #hufflepuff oc #oc bio #hpma mc

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gaytotaldrama · 8 months

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duncney week day 3: dress up

somehow, duncan convinces courtney to let him give her a makeover.

duncney song of the day: 'make me feel,' janelle monaé

also on my ao3!

Her answer was no. A flat, resounding no.

And then she thought a little more about it.

"Fine," she told him, plopping down on the bed they shared. "You know what, I'd like to see you try. Do your worst, Duncan."

"You're gonna regret saying that, Princess," he replied, grinning ear-to-ear like a shark. "You're not ready for how punk I can make you."

"Yeah, yeah, just get on with it."

In all actuality, he wasn't entirely sure what his game plan was here. It wasn't like he'd thought Court was going to agree to him giving her a serious style change. Brainstorming on the fly, he delved into his side of the closet, much messier and uncoordinated than Courtney's neatly folded and primly labeled drawers. Deciding he'd give her a little autonomy (and also make things easier for himself) Duncan asked, "Dress, skirt, or pants, babe?"

"Um, skirt. I guess. Just not that godawful kilt Owen gifted you, please."

He picked out a torn midnight blue piece that he was 110% positive belonged to Gwen - Duncan didn't go for skirts often, but when he did, they weren't so...pasty. Still, imagining Courtney wearing it got his blood roaring. He turned around and tossed it to her, along with a maroon leather belt Gwen's friend Crimson had left behind. Or was it Ennui's? And, more importantly, why was Duncan's closet full of everyone else's goddamn clothes but his own?

The rustle of fabric behind him told him she was changing. Any other day he'd smirk and watch, but right now, it was more important to find her a shirt.

"Does Gwen even know you have their stuff?" He could hear the whisper of leather being pulled swiftly through loops. "Good call on the belt, though. Last time I borrowed Gwen's pajama pants, they fell down and I accidentally showed Harold my undies."

"Doris saw your panties? Might have to beat him up for that," Duncan returned casually, fishing out a tie-dyed black-and-blue Metallica shirt. "Here you go, Princess, Ride the Lightning."

He did turn to watch as she pulled her sweater over her head. She was wearing that black lace bra that drove Duncan crazy; he was sad to see it disappear under the new shirt.

"You said punk," Courtney pointed out, looking down at her - unfortunately well-concealed, fuck Duncan's wide-ass torso - chest. "This is metal," she groused, like he didn't already know that.

He grinned. "You wanna swap it out for the Sex Pistols one?"

"...Fine." She sat on the edge of the bed again, crossing her arms. "Well? Shoes? Hair? Makeup?"

"Piercings?" Duncan joked, but at the answering withering glare, he quickly turned back to the closet. "Here, I've got these patchwork sneakers that should fit, and some fishnets. As for hair..."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked warily, before shrieking as he pounced on her with a can of hairspray, intent on giving her some spikes. "Duncan! This stuff smells terrible!"

Then he decided he didn't like the spike idea, so he opted for just mussing it all up and layering it with some spritzes of dry shampoo. It did kinda hurt, just a little bit, to ruin Court's beautiful hair, but it was only temporary. 'Sides, alt Courtney had been a fantasy of his since...the first time he'd ever laid eyes on her, maybe?

Grabbing some mascara and umber eyeshadow, he ultra-darkened her lashes and smeared around her eyes carelessly, black and powdered. She fidgeted throughout all of that, but when he laid a steady hand on her jaw to fill in her soft lips with color, she stayed completely still, just looking at him.

When he capped the lipstick she sighed, breath fluttering out against his face, and dipped forward like she wanted to kiss him. "Nuh-uh," he said, holding a hand up between their two mouths. "You'll smudge it."

"Oh, like it matters," she said, and stepped up to the full-length mirror on their wall.

"Well?" For one reason or another, Duncan found himself nervous, sinking down to sit on the mattress. "What do you think?"

"Hmm." She was studying herself, turning her body this way and that to catch all the different angles. To him, she was beautiful. Metal, and makeupped, and fishnetted, and beautiful.

But still nowhere near as incredible as the real Courtney Reyes.

"It's missing something," she decided, and she grabbed Duncan's skull hoodie from the back of the desk chair. She didn't zip it up; she let the sleeves fall loose so her shoulders were bare and the hood hung to the small of her back. Then she turned to him and echoed, "Well?"

Duncan smiled like a goof. "Looks amazing."

"You think so? I kinda like it." She cast another glance in the mirror before settling her hooded gaze on him. "Hey, when did Geoff say he and Bridgette were coming back home?"

"Not for another hour or so." Duncan reached out for her, pulled her to stand between his legs with her arms looped around his neck. "What did you have in mind?"

"I think," she said, slow and sultry. "That it's time for..."

"Yeah, Princess?"

"...Your turn."

He frowned. "What do you mean my - wait, NO. No no no no no no no I am not going to - "

"Oh, yes you are!!!" Courtney crowed with delight, and she leapt off of him and raced, cackling, to her side of the closet.

#duncney week 2023 #duncney #td fanfiction #my writing

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pink-tonic · 2 months

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Another Letter?📰

All Chapters

Warnings: None

As I'm walking over to the clubroom to eat my lunch, I see Taro coming over to me. He waves at me and stops in front of me.

"Can we talk, (L/N)?" He asks me, which makes me stop.

"What is it, Yamada?" I ask back.

"Well, when I went to the lockers, I saw someone putting something into your locker. I think it was a letter, I thought you might want to know," he explains to me.

"A letter?" I ask in confusion.

"Yeah. I thought it could be something urgent, so I just wanted you to know."

"I'll go see," I tell him as I walk away and start to head downstairs.

When I make it to the locker area, I go over to my locker and open it. On top of my outdoor shoes, I see a white envelope on top of it. I reach out, but I hesitate for a second. It doesn't last long since I reach deeper into my locker and get the envelope out.

I look at the white envelope and then turn it over. On the other side, I see a sticker of a red rose sealing the envelope up.

I gently start to open the envelope, but I unfortunately have to rip the sticker in order to see what's inside. The sound of the envelope opening is the only sound that can be heard throughout the locker area.

When the envelope is open, I see a light pink paper sticking out of it, and all I can remember is the previous note I received.

It's the same shade, and all the memories flood back.

The crimson blood, the shine of the sharp knife, the open wound, the countless lies and tears.

I grip my forearm. It still hurts. It happened weeks ago, but I don't think this pain will ever go away. Even when my wound heals and I graduate, will the pain still be a part of me? Will I ever be able to sleep comfortably again? Will I always be paranoid to walk alone? Will the slight touch from someone scare me off?

I let out a breath I didn't know that I was holding in, and I start to take out the letter. I unfold it and start to read it.

Dear my beloved (Y/N),

How I miss you already! I know it hasn't been long, but your absence from my side is leaving me depressed! I know that you were dismissive of me, but that wasn't the same for me! You captivated me! You showed me what I truly want in a lover!

I need you like how the sun needs the clouds or how the moon needs the stars!

That's why I need you to meet up with me. Meet me near the fountain at the front of the school near the maze.

If it isn't clear now, I hope it is once we meet.

With all the love in the world,

Your handsome admirer.

Who could this be? My mind starts to wonder, but no matter how much I want to repress the thought, all I can think about is him.

Is this Ayato?

It can't be, right? The handwriting is in cursive, which looks completely different from his. It can't be him. Why would he try to lure me in with the same method? Sure, it was successful the first time since I actually went, but why again?

Also, why would he want to meet up in such an open place? The front of the school is constantly being monitored, and people are always walking by. I doubt it would be a very good idea to kill me there, but the maze is there too, and it wouldn't be hard to hide a body in there.

Should I go? Or should I not?

I think it over and I come to the conclusion that I should go. I doubt that this is Ayato again since the handwriting is different, the location is in the open where anyone can see us, and it would be weird for him to try the same unsuccessful method now that I'm aware of his true intentions.

I walk out of the building and into the front of the school, and I start to head over to the fountain.

As I walk towards the fountain, I pass by a student council member and a few students, and I start to feel at ease. There are so many people here that I doubt that Ayato will be the one waiting for me.

When I make it to the fountain, I'm met with someone I wasn't expecting.

Kizano.

Even if I wasn't expecting him, the letter starts to make sense. The letter seemed eccentric, so it makes sense that he was the one who wrote it.

"Hey...Kizano," I greet with a bit of awkwardness.

"Hello, (Y/N)!" He greets me happily. He starts to walk over to me, and I can't help but feel uneasy. I'm not scared of him or anything. It's just as of recently I hate when people get close to me. The only one that I feel at ease with is Taeko since I know she won't hurt me.

"Here," Kizano tells me as he hands me something.

I look at his hands, and I see a red rose. How romantic. I take the rose and hold it.

"It's very pretty, Kizano," I tell him as I look down at the flower.

"I know! That's why I picked it. Roses are the most beautiful flower out there, just like you," he tells me while giving me a wink.

An awkward smile shows up on my face, and I let out a nervous laugh.

"Well, I appreciate it, thank you," I thank him, "But is this all?"

"I didn't know you were the type to rush things, darling! Let's take it slow and easy."

He's talking about me rushing things? I just met him yesterday, and he's already giving me flowers and drowning me with compliments! He is certainly one to talk.

"Hmmmm...," I see Kizano start to think, "How about we talk about what we like? I know that you like writing!"

I really want to act sarcastic with him. Of course I like writing! I'm the leader of the newspaper club! If I didn't like doing it, then why would I even join?

I see that Kizano notices my unamused expression. "How about...we talk about gardening?"

I can see that Kizano doesn't feel confident with what he just said, and it seems out of character for him. He is usually confident when he talks, but maybe he is scared of saying something that might make me mad.

"Well, I used to garden with my mom when I was younger," I answer him, "I don't do it anymore, but I did grow fond of it."

"Why did you stop?" He asks me with intrigue in his eyes.

"I just grew older and busier, so I just stopped one day," I can't help but start to feel sadness when I answer him. I miss gardening with my mom. Feeling the warm sun on my skin, following her every instruction, having my gloves and clothes covered in dirt by the end of it, and watching day by day how big the flowers I planted grew.

I miss that.

I wish things would go back to how they were before.

"What's wrong?" Kizano asks me as he notices the newfound sadness on my face.

"I just miss...gardening with my mom. I just wish things would go back to how they once were."

"I sometimes wish that too, but I like seeing every day as a new opportunity," Kizano answers, and I can hear all the honesty in his voice.

I look down at the rose and twirl it in between my fingers. I let out a sigh.

"Some other stuff happened, but I'd rather not talk about it."

"That's fine. Is there anything else that you do like?"

I can't help but to feel surprised at his question. I thought at this point that he would have moved on and started talking about himself or just ended the conversation. My first interaction with him wasn't that great, but maybe he isn't as bad as he seems.

I continue the conversation and talk about what I like, but he also wanted to talk about the things I don't like as well.

It was nice to talk a bit about myself since I usually don't say anything or I keep it vague.

As Kizano was talking, the bell rang.

"It's over already? You truly did captivate me, darling. Let's meet here again tomorrow at the same time. Sounds good?"

"Of course, I don't mind," I tell him as a wide smile graces my lips.

#fanfic #yandere #yandere simulator #yansim #male reader #reader insert

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hopeamarsu · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 6: Proof of Life

Whumptober masterlist

Benny Miller x reader, Will Miller

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 1,6k

Warnings: Kidnapped, ransom video, wounds, blood, bruises, hacking, coldness, allusion to violence

Summary: You have no idea who sent you the video, or who is the original recipient. But none of that matters, your priority is finding out who the man is.

Ransom video | “I’ve got a pulse.” | Screams from Across the Hall

Fingers dance on the keyboard, the rhythmic clicking the only thing making sound in the room. The computer casts a harsh, blue light filling the space and your face. If this were a movie, one could see lines of code and 0’s and 1’s crawl on your skin as you tap away as fast as you can. Unfortunately for you, this is not a movie but real life and real life has real consequences.

Your head turns, looking again at the video paused on the other screen, grimacing at the paused frame. Your fingers don’t stop clicking even when your brain processes the image frozen and burning into your memory. It's a horrific image but you know you need to study it in painful detail in order to solve this mystery and possibly save a life.

“Who are you?” You mumble. “And what happened to you?”

The man in the freeze frame has a swollen eye, so deep and purple like it has received multiple blows in the same area. His lip, plump and pretty, is split and you can see the dried blood almost hidden under fresh one dripping down from his nose. There is a gash near his hairline though some of his dirty blonde hair falling down hides the length of it. It looks filthy and it’s matted with clumps of what you can only assume is more blood. The idea of bleeding so much makes you wince in sorrow.

He looks directly at you from the screen, his beautiful blue eyes full of defiance and anger. But there is fear in there too, hidden but there when you look closely enough and you know that look will haunt you forever. He will haunt you forever and there is a need inside you to save this man. You don’t know why it is, but you don’t question it, just follow your gut.

You pause your typing, pressing play again and watch as the camera pans out, showing the room he’s kept in and the chair he’s tied to. A man speaks off screen, rattling the same instructions you’ve heard before.

“You have 24 hours to return my money. 25 million in cash. Fail to deliver and he dies. Involve the police and he dies.”

There’s nothing further, the camera stops zooming out and the man is in full view; his bare muscled arms pulled to the sides and his training shorts the only thing on him. No shirt, no shoes and no socks. When you zoomed in earlier, trying to find identifying marks on his body, you noticed that he was cold and it freezes you up from the inside. The poor man is locked up somewhere, tied like a bowstring and naked and cold and bleeding. Your heart breaks for him.

You have no idea who sent you the video, or who is the original recipient. But none of that matters, your priority is finding out who the man is. That must lead you on, maybe to the person responsible for the kidnapping or maybe to someone who can help. At this point, you don’t care which it is, you just need to find the man in the film.

Shifting through the metadata tells you it’s been less than 6 hours since it was filmed and 5 hours since you received it. Knowing that gives you hope you have time left, hope that you now cling to. You press play again, watching the horrible ransom video play again. You’ve lost count of the times you’ve done this, but something inside you compels you to do it once again.

Your eyes shift through the video playing until something small catches your attention. Clicking pause, you rewind and play it again, this time with 50% the speed. Your heart in your throat, you realize his fingers are moving, barely caught on tape but caught nonetheless. You can’t see his thumb very well but the four other fingers are tightly pressed together before they shift and curl into a fist. Then you see the thumb poking out from between two fingers before moving and poking out from between two others. You run it four more times before you are relatively sure of what you are witnessing. He’s using ASL!

A quick Google search reveals the letters form a name, Ben M.

“Hi Ben,” you whisper, in awe of him. “Hang on a moment longer. I’m going to find you.”

Hacking into police databases earlier had been easy and now that you have a name, you can alter the algorithm you wrote to shift though missing persons. You already had a questimate of his age there, along with the physical features you got and now with the name, you are quite certain you can find him in no time.

It takes twenty minutes or so for the program to ping and you pull it up. “Benjamin Miller, aged 35, a professional MMA fighter. Went missing three days ago after a fight. Wow Ben, who got the jump on you? They must be fucking scary bunch,” you speak to the paused video and the frozen image of the man looking directly into your soul from the tape, a appreciation for his talents clear on your voice.

The next of kin to contact is one Will Miller and you pull up his number on your phone app. While it rings, you search for a few of Ben’s fights off of YouTube, watching in awe as he circles the cage like a tiger waiting on permission to tear into his prey. He’s gorgeous, all corded muscle and tension just waiting to be unleashed. Once you get him out, you can’t wait to stream one of his matches.

“Hello?”

A deep, masculine voice picks up and you jump on your seat. Had you really been that immersed in a taped fight? Holy moly the man has you under his spell.

“Hi, umm… is this Will Miller?”

“Yeah. Who is this?” You can hear the edge in his voice, the tightness that coats it. He must be very worried over Ben.

“I’m a friend. I think, I think I have a video that should be for you. It’s of…” you pause, unfamiliar in this territory you are about to enter. Because if this Will doesn’t track you down to kill you, you are about to let a man enter your domain willingly. One look into the deep blue eyes drilling into your soul from the screen seal over any hesitation you might have. “It’s of Ben.”

“WHAT?!”

“I think I got it by mistake. Or maybe not. I don’t know. All I know is that someone sent me an encrypted email that contained a link to a video. That video is of Ben, beaten and tied to a chair and some weird dude saying he’s owed 25 million of his own money and that there is a 24 hour limit after which Ben dies. Please, Will, what can we do to help Ben?” You ramble, sweat gathering at the back of your neck. You glance at the screen with Ben’s image frozen, hoping that Will believes you and is willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.

You can hear other men talk rapidly in the distance before a car rumbles and doors slam shut. Then Will is back, a menacing growl on his voice as he barks into the phone. “Fish has your location pinned and we are headed your way. If you fuck with me, I swear I will bury you under so deep no one will ever find you. What the fuck do you know about my brother?”

“Nothing! I got nothing but his name! Look, I got sent this video, that’s all I know. I just found out who he is, I swear! Wait… you have my location?”

He barks out a laugh, a short and cold sound. “I don’t think it was a coincidence you were sent the video, Wings.” You reel back from the computer, shocked he knows your hacker name. “Lorea has his fucking claws everywhere and I think he’s someone you’ve crossed paths with earlier. Not in the good way either.”

Mind spinning, you think back and almost fall out of your chair. You remember Lorea, the target from way back. You were hired to hack into his security network and you did, completing the job and moving on as usual. It wasn’t your business to know what your client did once you were in, but clearly this Lorea hadn’t liked the outcome. He must’ve found out who did the breaking and entering and made you part of his horrible mind game.

“I know him,” you whisper into the phone. “ I’m pulling up all I have of him now.”

“Good. Me, Fish and Pope will see you in ten. We better work together to find Ben and fast.” The call clicks shut and you let out a huge breath. Your eyes find Ben again, wishing suddenly you could swipe the messy hair away from his forehead and soothe out all his pain. How did one man, whom you’d never met, have this pull on you already? Memorizing the blue tone in his eyes and promising yourself you’ll gaze into them for real, you crack your knuckles.

It’s time to double down on finding where these bastards had him. And then make them pay.

#Mwhumptober #whumptober 2022 #whumptober2022 #nro.6 #ransom video #fic #benny miller #benny miller x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #whump #kidnapping #blood #cw: blood #hacking #hopeamarsu

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jimmycarterghostland · 11 months

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Good Girl Mari Needs To Happen

Mari from Yellowjackets is an interesting character. She's not considered one of the mains(Natalie, Misty, etc) She's more of a side character who isn't quite one of the big players.

Throughout season one she was a one-note mean girl. Season 2 added some depth to her, showing her crying, and even hugging Lottie in the finale of the season. In season one, Mari was actually mean to Lottie. Probably in all their one-on-one interactions.

I doubt Mari will ever respect Natalie as her leader. Mari adores Lottie, and it will be interesting to see how Mari interacts with Natalie in season three. Will Mari let her dislike for Natalie be known? The only two people Mari seems to sincerely like are Lottie and Akilah, so I am sure Mari doesn't like Natalie either.

Moving on.

Here's what I want to see for Mari's character in the future:

Good Girl Mari. That's what I want to see.

Season one had Lottie on a path to evil, but in between S1 and S2 that idea was clearly thrown out. Lottie in season 2 is more of a Jesus figure. The personality switch was jarring, and that evil wilderness queen build-up from S1 was all for nothing.

Mari, though. She's got noticeable character development going on. She's still a jerk, but becoming less of one. When she hugs Lottie in the S2 finale, Mari tells her she's glad she's okay. Sadly, Akilah being involved in the hug too lessened the impact. But still. That moment proved Mari can be good. And seeing these characters devolving into ruthless people who hunt their own friends, it would be nice to see a character who doesn't. Or no longer wants to.

I want that character to be Mari.

I saw a post on Reddit showing a girl post-rescue who might be Mari. I'm hoping it wasn't. Because it would be great if Mari turns out to be Pit Girl and that she refused to draw a card, which automatically made her into the ritual sacrifice. Perhaps could've refused because she no longer wanted to hunt and eat her friends anymore.

If the show does that with Mari, I would absolutely love it. Before Ben set the cabin on fire, he was the moral, compassionate member of the group. This show needs a new one. Badly. I want that person to be Mari. If the showrunners go that route, if they turn Mari into a person who wants the murderous cannibalism to stop, wants them all to stop being monsters, and wants everyone to make it home, that would be amazing.

It could be realistic character development too. Unlike the jarring personality switch we got with Lottie. How she was talking about spilling blood in season one, but is all goody-two shoes in season two.

A lot of people are betting that Mari is Pit Girl. Many are hoping that she is. If she is PG, I hope the show uses my "Good Mari refused to participate in the choose-a-sacrifice card game" idea.

I need to see this girl Mari go from cold-hearted bully to cannibalism-hating saint. I feel like this is the best way the showrunners could use her character. I don't want to see her character used any other way. Unfortunately, my idea is just an idea, and I'm not a Yellowjackets showrunner, so I highly doubt everything I detailed will happen. But it is what I want to see. And I do believe the YJ staff will miss out big time if they don't make Good Good Mari happen.

The potential is there. Mari went from hating Lottie to loving her. She became one of her most devoted follower's. Mari cried after Misty lashed out at her(a show of softness that might lead to benevolence). And Mari's possible hatred of Natalie being the leader might just make Mari eventually dislike the whole cannibalism thing and cult stuff. It might bring her on the path to benevolence, one where she finds a way to survive without killing and eating people. Ben might find a way to do that. Maybe Mari will join him and they will live together in that secret tree lair? Ben wanted that life with Natalie. Perhaps he will get it with Mari.

I'm aching to see Good Girl Mari team up with Ben.

Mari needs to become a main character in the teen timeline. We definitely don't see enough of her. And what I want to see is Good Girl Mari happen.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets mari #tv show #television #Good Girl Mari

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iruludavare · 4 months

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"I'm sure you're wondering what will become of you once I have what I want. Unfortunately, I can't exactly just let you walk out the door given everything you've seen. But, perhaps a compromise can be found. I do rather miss seeing you on the stage, after all."

Well. That certainly is surprising. When he paraded into her gilded cage, Serena had expected taunting of the variety she has grown used to. Hissed words of how her father thinks she is dead. How the world must not care about the beloved Hero of Kalos, if none have found her by now. Forced laughter spilling from a frozen, lopsided grin that, while genuine, she could never quite matching his eyes. So accustomed to routine, already had the heroine propped up both arms on the dresser and tented her hands-- all so a cheek, and most of her expression, could be obscured.

However, he instead came with a compromise. An exercise of power over her freedom to him, but an opportunity for herself.

With what energy Serena wishes could be spent on a scowl, her head turns, eyes focusing on his form. And once more, her mind begins ticking. Make him agree. Let him think it is all his own idea. Get out of this place. Play along, just long enough for him to become the slightest bit lax, and for observant eyes to have formed a plan. Then, free herself. If she can escape, even into the arms of the Elite Four, Xerneas will follow.

"...That would be a hefty compromise-- at least, on your end,"

If nothing else, she is her father's daughter. Cut from cloth unassuming at a first glance, but woven from threads a little too durable; with a little too much give. And perhaps strands of her mother's strength thrown into the mix.

"To be on stage, I need to be in rehearsals. Daily classes. Performances. Shoe fittings... Costume tests..."

And what, she ponders, could he do if she were to be caught? Kill her? Even if his blood were to boil, and every vein protrude from his leathery skin, he could not. Subject her to more horrors? He could not keep it up indefinitely. Indeed, while it is possible their quarrel will stretch for eternity, it is with that same amount of time she has to free herself. For Xerneas, in all their primordial glory, to grow tired and break their vow to not turn their power against a human, and end this game of cat and mouse themselves.

And she is a horrifically patient woman.

The tips of fingers flex in time with the lifting of brows-- in suggestion, as though ideas are simply popping into existence the longer her poor, deprived mind is given to think. Things, Serena wagers, he already is aware of.

"My company will also ask questions about my disappearance-- the league and press even more so, and I will not be able to avoid talking to them. Especially when the general consensus they've come to is that I was kidnapped."

For a moment, eyes flicker to the mirror before her. If only this were so much more simple. If only he did not have people who could materialise out of thin air and move faster than the eye could see. If only he did not have that infernal suit. If only her father's life were not at stake. Had the only one at risk been herself, Serena would have made her move months ago. Over and over, until she was free or frustration alone made her not worth the chase.

"You would be placing an awful lot of trust in me. But... I'm sure you've already thought of ways to navigate that. I don't think you would bring this up if you hadn't."

If it were to fall through, nothing is lost-- not for her. Yet more of his oh-so precious time will be wasted.

"--So, what are you considering?"

#long post #❀⊱⦃ ⏤ {ic.} ⦄⊰❀#❀⊱⦃ ⏤ {asks.} ⦄⊰❀#divimperator #{Ghetsis.}#❀⊱⦃ ⏤ {verse: divimperator+turnecoat.} ⦄⊰❀#{ :) }

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inklingofinspiration · 2 years

Text

a gradum ad lumen - part 1 .

decided to post the first chapter to the Maze Runner fanfic I discussed earlier, I thought it would be a good way to ease back into things after my prolonged absence. hope you all enjoy, please contact me if you have any specific requests for the series and let me know what you think! ending is also a bit rushed, because i was super excited to get this posted for you guys, but i already have the second chapter in the works.

___

Word count: 2.1k!

Warnings : general TMR TWS; blood, slight gore, disturbing ideas / images, and depicted injuries.

Pronouns used: they/them – gender-neutral.

Prompt(s) used: “Who knows. Maybe we’ve actually made it out of this hellhole after all.”

Pairing: TMR x GN!Reader.

A/N: just one; i imagined reader had a slight british accent when writing this, but feel free to think otherwise!! this is also open to any skin tones, body sizes, etc. i believe in inclusion to the fullest, and plan to make a few fanfics w/ a practising muslim reader in the future; lmk if you have any ideas!

___

Staying out in the Maze was likely a dumb idea, especially with the ever-present thought of the fact that the Doors were bound to close at any minute pounding at the back of your head.

Nevertheless, your eyes were fixated on the sight in front of you, hands on your hips as e/c irises took in the thick vines that were rooted into the cracks lining the stone floor and stretched as far as the eye could see up the surrounding walls. Your hand reached up to thread through h/c coloured tresses, thoughts bumbling about your head in an analytical manner.

E/c coloured eyes moved after the beetle-blade, the metal, bug-like machine chittering as its red-light flicked across the wall it was scampering along before pausing. Almost as though it sensed your presence, the thing’s head turned to you, camera staring right back at you as it focused on the stationary Glader. You took a challenging stride toward it, surprised by the fact that it didn’t even move, the step bearing an experimental trial as well as it encouraged them onward. You were quick to take advantage of the situation, leaping after the machine and closing the few metres of distance between you and the beetle blade in the process.

Unfortunately, the sudden movement on your end had sent the beetle-blade shooting further along the wall, bee-lining it straight for a crack in the stone that it would just barely manage to fit into. However, after months of trying to catch one of the blasted things, you’d come to learn a trick or two. You kicked off the ground, clearly determined to finally get your hands on one of the rutting machines even if it meant having to risk the slight detour from heading back to the Glade.

You swiftly scaled among the vines, arm shooting above head as your fingertips came to wrap around one of its legs just as the machine made to disappear. Triumph shot through you as you were about to yank the thing back and disarm it, focused solely on the task at hand when a swift shout that consisted purely of your name halted everything and sent them tumbling backwards when your single-handed grip on the vines jerked loose in surprise.

Your ankle, however, was more reluctant to follow, remaining entangled amongst the vines, a sharp jerk sending jolts of pain through your leg the minute your back slammed against the hard, unforgiving floor. The pain flared, your vision swaying as your eyes flicked to the shoes of the now approaching figure, clearly not pleased with the situation in the slightest as a frustrated and slightly pained groan drew past your lips. Your thoughts of irritated agony echoed the emotion vividly as you practically felt the bruises forming along your ankle, only to be interrupted by the same person who had caused you to lose your balance in the first place, a teasing lilt now lacing the newcomer’s voice, which you could easily pinpoint as Minho,

“Man, I knew you liked me, but I didn’t realise you’d be throwing yourself at my feet the minute you heard me. Not that I can blame you, I am pretty hot,” Came his playful words, causing you to set your jaw in an exasperated grimace before snapping a response.

“Slim it, before it’s your ankle getting broken, shank,” You growled, accent heavy and thick in their unpleasant predicament. You took note of the airy laugh their running partner allowed to bubble past him before crouching beside you and gently unwinding the shrubbery the held them captive, leaving you to wince as your leg dropped to the floor alongside your other leg with a harsh ‘thump’. “Bloody hell, that hurts like a fucking–,”

“Woah there, you think Newt’d approve of that kind of language?” Minho snickered from somewhere behind you, the volume of his laughter only rising as you tilted your head back to shoot him the best glare you could muster from the ground. After a few beats, he finally stifled the rest of his bemused sounds, eyes flicking from your haphazard position and back to your eyes that strained to keep pace with his own before he rolled his eyes and crouched down to offer you a hand up.

You were rolling onto your stomach in an instant, gingerly twisting your aching leg a moment later with great care as to not let it snag in the chipped concrete floor before you flung your hand into Minho’s outstretched one while huffing a begrudging sigh. His grip was cold and assuaging in contrast to your heated and unpleasant grasp from being pressed against the Maze’s floor, you noted in the fleeting moment in which your eyes met once more, only for you to bite back a bark of pain as you attempted to settle a sliver of weight onto your leg. Had it not been for the Keeper’s firm grasp on you, you would have stumbled right back to the ground and likely been left there had he not shown up in the first place, but he offered a teasing scoff instead and slung your hand that was already in his own gloved one across his shoulders. You obliged with his actions gratefully, almost gasping in relief as you felt the crushing weight alleviated from your injured leg, and began stumbling alongside Minho as he set a rather swift pace that you struggled to keep up with, considering you were only left with only one good leg.

“Keep up or we might as well roll out a picnic blanket and wait for the Grievers to come and enjoy the quick meal we’d make for them,” He managed after you stumbled for the nth time, his breathing clearly heavy, and the signs of strain obvious, but he didn’t so much as falter as he continued practically dragging you in the direction of the East Doors. You couldn’t help but cast a partially distressed glance in his direction, feeling nothing but sorrow at the unnecessary weight you were forcing him to bear, but you knew that he would only tighten his grip on you if you tried to manage without him, so it was a losing game either way. You cast a final glance his way, but he seemed to catch notice of your lingering stare in his peripheral vision, not even fully turning his head as his mahogany irises focused on the twisting corner wreathed with thickly woven vines just up ahead. “What’re you lookin’ at, shank?”

You pushed off the ground with your good leg, springing forward and stumbling a few steps as Minho matched strides with you, huffing your response between focused breaths and sighs, “Nothing. Uh –,” you panted softly, sweat beading on your forehead as you continued to manage single steps in the time Minho made three paced strides. “ – anything planned for tonight?”

The two of you rounded the corner and you could practically feel your running partner quaver in relief, his response breathless but audible as the two of you attempted to hurry through the homestretch.

“A big plate of whatever crap Frypan has cooked and a warm shower to rest my weary bones.”

You were about to scoff a laugh the moment you cleared the Doors, already shouldering him with an eye roll and a witty quip soon to follow, when someone called out to you and Minho. Both your heads turned in unison, your steady steps pausing as his arm fell to your waist to hold you steady, and a beaming smile instantly made way through your exasperated frown as you caught sight of Chuck ambling straight for you, Newt trotting not far behind.

“What happened? You guys were out for like, two hours longer than usual!” The younger boy exclaimed as he approached, finally taking in the sight of you leaning against Minho and his arm around your form before he gagged and darted away. “Get a room!”

You choked a surprised laugh at the suddenness of Chuck’s joke, watching his retreating figure stick out his tongue at Minho’s irritated expression, which made him look as though he was about to go after him had it not been for Newt’s prompt arrival. You greeted him with a soft “hey” and the same smile that had been present for the short period of time you had to talk to Chuck, which the blonde seemed to eagerly return, nodding at Minho and taking in the closeness between the two of you.

“You two had an eventful evening, huh?” There was no malice in his voice, merely just an amusingly intrigued tone to his words as he gestured to Minho’s gentle hold on your waist, which made you fumble over your words momentarily, rapidly moving to explain the situation as your hands flicked subconsciously along with your rushed train of thought.

“Oh, uh, Minho distracted me whilst I was trying to grab a beetle-blade, and I ended up falling. Blew my bloody ankle, it seems,” You gesticulated to the obviously sparse pressure you were putting on your leg with a slightly nervous laugh as Newt cracked into a brighter grin.

“It was your fault,” Came Minho’s facetious remark before he cursed under his breath suddenly and knocked your shoulder. “Since you’re too busy chattin’ up a storm, I’m gonna have to do the maps, aren’t I.”

It was the second in command’s turn to scoff lightly and wave a dismissive hand in the Asian’s direction.

“Consider it an order.”

“The things I do for you shanks.”

“Yeah, a bloody hard life you have, shank,” Newt mused, his smile never once faltering before his eyes finally strayed back to you. “I’ll get Jack or Clint over, see what they can do in the meanwhile. Probably just needs to keep off it for a while, take it easy.”

“Ay, ay,” He quipped, a lazy, two fingered salute his makeshift form of a farewell, quick to turn on his heel after his fingertips tapped your shoulder in a reassuring manner before he jogged off in the direction of the Map Room, leaving you and Newt to your devices.

The two of you immediately fell into a bout of comfortable silence as he slowly edged toward you, taking Minho’s place at your side and slipping an arm across your shoulders before looking to you for silent confirmation to begin guiding you to the Medjack hut. You nodded easily, instantly finding a compromised speed to limp alongside Newt, your own arm settled just under his shoulder blades as you both made your way across the Glade with the sun fully beginning to set behind you.

“So,” He began after a moment, doe eyes fixated wholly on you as you carefully navigated through the swishing grass. Gladers were bustling about the expansive courtyard, some carrying plates loaded with food while Builders wrapped up the day, Gally’s shouting fit heard even from the distance you and Newt were as he ordered the others around. “You ready for tomorrow?”

Your head perked up in curiosity, brow furrowing as you called upon even the slightest memory to recall what was supposed to be taking place the next day, finding rather quickly that you wouldn’t be able to. You offered te blonde a confused look as you continued to keep pace with him as best you could, only stumbling every few feet or so now that you were walking across the even terrain of the grass-laden field. “What’s going on tomorrow?”

The second in command chuckled, the sound more akin to the shard of a melody plucked out of a long-since-forgotten song, ancient and rich and beautiful as the golden rays of the dissipating light hit the panes of his face and sent the amber tones to his eyes sparking. It was truly a peaceful moment, one that you found yourself eager to meld into as you laughed alongside him.

“Greenie day. I’m surprised you didn’t remember though, you’re usually more on top of it than I am.”

You hummed. It was odd, how something so big followed by the most looked forward to night of the month followed right after slipped your mind, but you figured that in combination to the surge of new Runners and having to train them alongside Minho had proved to be a bigger distraction than you had originally though. So you shrugged, a content sigh tugging at your lips as you leaned into Newt with a nod.

“‘spose so. Let’s just hope they aren’t another nutjob like Gally.”

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eevvvaa · 2 years

Text

A Supernatural Journey - Part 22

A Supernatural Journey - Summary

Serie Summary : After an unplanned event in their road trip, Emily and Eva crossed paths with two brothers. One thing leading to another, the two best friends found themselves in what seems to be a supernatural journey…

Pairing : Dean Winchester x Eva (OC), Sam Winchester x Emily (OC)

Warnings : Angst, blood, mention of death, some comforting fluff, anxiety

Words : 10 608

Dividers by the amazing @firefly-graphics

Emily’s POV :

The week passed and when the weekend came, Eva and I decided to stay home, just the two of us, sharing some time together. And when on Sunday, Mrs. McCarthy invited us for tea time, we gladly accepted. It had been so long since we had spent a weekend just the two of us, having tea at 4:30 p.m. with our almost adopted grandma. It felt like forever since we had a weekend without monsters, without boys, a weekend like before, just me and my best friend, a show on TV and a hot chocolate.

The week after, work had been a living hell. There had been an explosion in a factory nearby and dozens of seriously injured employees had been brought to the ER. Almost everyone had been called back at the hospital and no one had a second to rest or breath. Owen had been shittier than usual, making me want to punch his annoying face more than once in an hour. He had spent his whole time yelling orders we already knew and followed. We knew our job but he was there to play the hero even though we were basically the ones actually saving lives.

Unfortunately we lost some patients. Even after spending days running in the hospital from one patient to another, taking only brief pauses and a few hours to sleep at home, we didn’t manage to save everyone. It was part of the job but it was never easy to live with.

On Thursday night, Martha broke down and she cried for twenty minutes in my arms, letting the pressure of the days and the guilt of losing patients out. I had never felt comfortable comforting people, never really knowing what to do or say and how to act, but I had learned that sometimes we just need a shoulder to cry on and let it all out. That was what Martha needed and that’s what I did.

Tonight, I was done for the week. My boss had let us go home on Friday morning and asked for us to come back on Tuesday, offering us a longer weekend than usual to let us rest. When I came back to the apartment, Eva was in front of the TV, the bonus of Die Hard playing on the screen. When I slammed the door shut, she flinched and turned towards me. I collapsed next to her, sending my shoes away and let out a long sigh. After complaining about my day at work, I asked about hers and she informed me that she wasn’t working on Saturday.

Thus, we learned we were both free until Tuesday.

Later that night, As we were both sitting on the couch, the end of our pasta on our laps and National Treasure playing, Eva spoke up.

“Oh, I’ve gotten a text from Dean earlier, saying that they were going to be back to the bunker this weekend. He’s not sure when exactly but he thinks it’s gonna be on Saturday. They think the case is almost over and they wanted to know if we were going to join them in Lebanon. They even allowed us to arrive before them, and said there was a key hidden somewhere. So, what do you say? You wanna sneak in their place before grumpy and smarty are there?” She asked, putting some pasta in her mouth.

I hesitated a little. It had been about two weeks or so since we had seen them, since that morning where I had destroyed everything. Two weeks since Sam had asked me if I was okay and that I had never replied to his text. And he didn’t push. So the hunter and I hadn’t talked at all about what had happened two weeks ago, nor about what I had told him. I didn’t know if it was a good idea for me to go there, I didn’t think it was actually. Eva could, she was friends with Sam and finally started to have more with Dean. She could and definitely should spend the weekend with them. The boys weren’t going to miss me anyway and maybe it could give the opportunity to Eva to talk about how she felt with the older brother.

But before I could give any kind of answer, she asked.

“Is it about Sam and the last time we went there?”

I let out a breath, standing up. I didn’t want to talk about this again, it was the same conversation over and over and I didn’t want to bring up this topic again.

“Eva…” I started but she quickly turned on the couch to face me.

“No, listen to me please. I know you don’t want to face Sam again, I know you don’t want to talk about it again too but he’s ready to listen to you. No matter what you wanna tell him. Maybe you two could find some time to talk about it face to face, clear things out?” She explained and I wasn’t very excited about this idea.

“How do you know he wants that? He hadn't tried to talk to me since that day and I sure don’t blame him. I didn’t exactly give him material to come and talk to me again.” I answered and she sighed.

“I know because he told me so. I’m sure talking would be the solution, it usually is.” She told me and I frowned.

When had she talked to Sam about all this? Was it the day it happened? When I was at work or asleep? Was it this week? I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of them talking about this, about me but at the same time it meant he had tried to reach me and could be concerned about what had happened that day. Maybe he was concerned about how it was going to be between us now that I had broken the hint of hope of something good happening.

“I don’t think he needs that after a hunt. If you wanna go and spend the weekend there you can but I’m not sure I would be welcomed.” I told her and she immediately shook her head.

“That’s bull. You’re as welcome as I am there. Dean mentioned the two of us and I know that Sam just wants to clear things between the two of you. Please, come with me.” She tried and I sighed again.

I was stubborn but I knew that refusing to go with her was: one, ridiculous and two, just a way to postpone this inevitable discussion. But I didn’t want to have this conversation with him, I didn’t want to face him after this. I just didn’t want to.

“I know you don’t want to.”

Did I say it out loud?

“And you know I’ll never force you to do anything but if you want my opinion, Sam is willing to listen to whatever you have to say and you can’t keep pretending nothing happened, deny everything or just act like he didn’t exist.” She said, raising her eyebrows to accompany her words.

“Well, I can.” I tried and she rolled her eyes at me before faking a laugh.

“Yeah, alright Smartass.” She said, shaking her head in disapproval.

“So, you won’t come with me on Saturday?” She tried again and I slumped back on the couch.

“I don’t know, Eva…” I started but she quickly cut me off.

“Do you want me to ask him if it’s fine with the two of us coming?”

My eyes widened and I immediately shook my head. It was one of the worst ideas she had ever had.

“What?! No, absolutely not. Don’t do that Eva.” I rapidly told her and she chuckled.

“Alright, alright, but if it can help you make a decision, I know the answer would be yes. And even if you guys don’t talk about it, you can’t deny his simple existence. It’s not right and you know it.” She said, meaning every one of her words and I rolled my eyes, knowing she was right.

Eva was still looking at me, probably waiting for any kind of answer. I knew that no matter what I’d choose she would accept it, even if she disagreed. Trying to ignore her I took my plate and stood up, walking to the sink and put the dish in it. Turning the water on, I grabbed the sponge and put some soap in it to clean the plate up when another one appeared in front of me. I frowned and heard a little voice behind me, whispering in my ear.

“Listen to your Jiminy Cricket, Pinocchio.”

Grunting, I slowly put some distance between us and turned my head towards her.

“You’re way too close to me.” I sternly told her and she laughed, taking a step back after murmuring.

“Listen to your conscience a little bit.” I growled and stared at her with annoyance.

“I’m gonna swat you with my shoe.” I told her. She chuckled and raised her arms in a surrendering gesture.

“Alright, alright. But think about it. I’m gonna go to bed, some people work tomorrow. Goodnight!” She quickly pecked my cheek and left the room to get in hers.

“Goodnight!” I yelled so she could hear me and continued to clean the dishes.

While the hot water was running on my hands, I couldn’t help but think about what Eva had said. She wasn’t wrong, ignoring Sam wasn’t right but it was easier. And if we were to see them again, I supposed it was better to clear things up with him. Even if he ended up not wanting to talk to me, at least it was clear. I had just spent my time ignoring, postponing and if I was honest myself a little I was also missing him.

I sighed loudly and put the wet dish on the drainer. I dried my hands on my jeans and turned around, spotting Joey and Chandler turning in their little fish bowl. I walked to them, grabbed the little box containing their food and put some into the water. As I lowered myself to look at them hurrying to the food, I let out a breath.

“Well… I suppose you guys will be alone this weekend.”

Eva’s POV :

This time Emily was the driver and I took this opportunity to lose myself on the apps of my phone or just look at the road which was becoming familiar now. In the middle of the drive, I texted Dean and told him we were on our way there, asking him where he had hidden the second key.

While waiting for his answer, I turned my head towards my best friend who was moving her head in rhythm with the music. I chuckled at the sight before looking out the window, watching the trees on my right, listening to Emily’s playlist and letting my mind drift away. But my thoughts were cut when my phone rang. I immediately unlocked it and saw a text from Dean.

‘Green car’

I frowned a little at the short and almost cold message but assumed he was busy with the case. At least I hoped it was the reason why and not because something was wrong. But maybe it was the case. I took a deep breath and decided to not let myself think about the worst without reasons. So even if I wanted to ask him if everything was okay, I let it go, deciding to wait for when he would be back.

“So, Dean said the key was in the green car.” I told Emily and she glanced at me before looking back at the road.

“In the car?” She asked and I shrugged.

“I suppose. He just said: green car.” I explained and she snorted, shaking her head.

“Do not give too much info, Dumbass.” She rolled her eyes and I chuckled.

It was a real love story between those two.

Once we arrived, Emily parked the car in a free spot of the garage, next to all the old cars and motorcycles resting in this place. We took our bags and got out of the car. I looked around and quickly walked to the only green car there and opened the driver door. Once inside, I sat behind the wheels and Emily joined me, taking place in the passenger seat.

“So. Where would he hide the key?” She wondered out loud and I pointed to the glove compartment. She quickly opened it but there was only a very old newspaper turning yellow, a box of matches and a pen.

No key.

We searched the doors but didn’t find anything either.

“Urgh. Why would he hide a key in a car anyway?” My best friend asked me and I narrowed my eyes, thinking.

If I was Dean Winchester and wanted to hide a key in a car, where would I put it? Leaning against the seat, my back resting on it, I raised my head and my eyes fell on the sun visor. I let a hum out and quickly moved my hand to open it. Immediately, a long key fell on my lap and I shook my head.

“He hid the key just like in the movies? In the sun visor?” Emily asked and I chuckled, taking the object in my hands.

“Yep.”

“Why am I not even surprised?” She continued, rolling her eyes.

I smiled widely at the thought of Dean proudly thinking it was a great place to hide something and grinned even more imagining his face while putting the key there. He must have loved to hide it like in an action movie and I couldn’t help but snort at the idea of Sam’s face when he realized it was a terrible hideout.

“Catch.” I told Emily before throwing the key at her.

She caught it in the air and got out of the car, heading to the huge metallic door.

Once inside the Bunker, Emily and I put our bags in our respective rooms and decided to cook a little something for the brothers even if cooking with Emily was like cooking with a kid. It could end up burned or missing an ingredient but it was always fun and pleasant. And it was the case while we were cooking what could look like some pasta bolognese. We had decided to cook something easy to warm up for when the boys would be here.

After some bickering and long sighs from me, it was finally ready and we let the whole thing cool down before putting it in the fridge and heading to the library to wait for them. Since Emily had a deck of cards in her bag, she took it and we started playing, sitting at one of the wooden tables. Even if in reality I was the only one sitting at the table, Emily was sitting on it.

After the tenth game, we just abandoned it and talked instead. We never really finished games. We always ended up thinking of something we had forgotten to mention and would completely abandon the game to talk about the many subjects coming through our minds. When I grabbed my phone to look at the time, I realized it had been two hours since we had arrived and I hadn’t received any texts from Dean or Sam about the hunt being over. Not a text since the one from Dean, the one I had felt cold. I mentally calculated how long it had been without any news from any of them.

Four hours and forty-seven minutes.

Suddenly an uneasy feeling woke up in my stomach and a little voice whispered in my head.

Something went wrong.

I hardly swallowed at the idea, trying to erase this thought and replacing it with something rational. Maybe his phone was dead, maybe the hunt wasn’t finished yet, maybe I was overthinking things again and he just hadn’t thought about texting me. Still, I needed to make sure. I needed to be reassured that this feeling in my gut, this sensation of pressure in my chest was only my mind playing tricks on me. Even if it felt terribly real. So I decided to send him a quick text.

‘Hey, are you guys on the way back?’

I thought it was simple and didn’t show how worried I started to be. How the fear started to grow in my stomach. How the air was starting to be harder to get into my lungs. I started to play with my nails, scratching them together and I felt my leg moving with my consent. I looked at the screen, waiting for an answer, hoping that it would come quickly so this whole overthinking circle would finally stop but unfortunately it didn’t.

“You’re okay?”

I heard Emily ask me and immediately raised my head to look at her. Her eyebrows were slightly knotted together, showing her worry and curiosity.

“What?” I asked her back. I hadn’t even realized she had stopped talking. She put down the cards she had taken to play with and came a bit closer to me.

“Your face dropped like when you don’t feel good, so I was wondering if you were okay.” She explained and I slightly shrugged, unsure if I was or not. Well, I was most likely not.

Bringing the chair closer to the table, I put my phone in plain view on it, hoping to see it lightened with a new text from the elder Winchester.

“It’s just… It’s been a while since we had news from Sam and Dean. And you know me, I’m starting to worry.” I told her, trying to explain what was going on in my mind without adding fuel to the fire up there.

“I’m sure they are fine. You told me Dean wasn’t always on his phone, maybe he just didn’t see your text.” Emily tried to reassure me and I loved her for that but unfortunately my head had plenty of ideas on why he wasn’t answering and him not seeing my text wasn’t the favored possibility.

“It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like something happened this time. His last text seemed so cold, maybe something was already happening when he texted me and I just let it go. I shouldn’t have. I should have followed my instinct and made sure everything was okay. What if one of them is hurt? What if-”

“Okay, okay, Eva stop. Calm down. How many times did you think something had happened to me or was going to happen when in reality it was your anxiety playing tricks on your mind? I’m not trying to minimize your feelings here, you know that but maybe let’s not worry about something we are not sure about, okay?” She tried to ease my worry but the feeling didn’t go away.

Even if I knew she was right, the weight in my throat and stomach didn’t disappear. Because she was right, plenty of times I had imagined the worst happening when we went out or just when someone wasn’t answering me. I had made hundreds of calls because she wasn’t answering a simple text when she had just decided to go to the park. I knew a part of me was just always worrying about everything and everyone and I had learned that it was more likely to be in my head than truly happening. But Sam and Dean, they always faced danger and so much could happen to them. Hell, so much had already happened.

“I know, I know but… what if it’s not just in my head this time?” I almost whispered, looking at my phone on the table.

Just answer, please.

“You could text Sam if it can reassure you. He’s with him and if Dean just doesn't have battery anymore or something, you’ll have an answer and it will stop you from worrying.” She proposed and I agreed, nodding.

I immediately took my phone and started to search for Sam’s number when the huge metallic door opened, the creaking sounds reverberating in the whole room.

“See, they’re here.” Emily said with a little smile and we waited for them to get down the stairs and enter the library. I let a huge sigh of relief out and closed my eyes for a second.

Then I slowly stood up, ready to walk to them, the feeling in my chest slowly disappearing with every sound of foot meeting the steps of the metallic stairs. My heart calmed down with every second and the thought of them finally being here eased my body. But when Dean arrived at the bottom of the stairs, I froze, my heart falling in my stomach and my breath getting stuck in my throat.

The hunter was covered in dirt, what looked like mud but most of all: blood. The worry and fear I had felt before came back twice stronger and now all of my feelings were valid. My heart squeezed at the sight of him, a shiver ran down my spine and it felt like someone had pushed me in the chest, my body tensing.

Something had definitely happened.

“Dean!” His name escaped my mouth on its own, my voice high with horror and concern of his state.

But before my jelly legs could make me walk to him he disappeared in the hallway, not even glancing towards me, like he hadn’t heard me or was ignoring me. My heart ached a bit at the action and all I wanted was to follow him down the corridor. But Sam got down the stairs too, holding both duffle bags. The tall man looked defeated, his head low causing his hair to fall around his face and slowly walked to us.

Emily quickly got off the table and joined me in front of it when Sam reached us.

“It’s not his blood.” Sam immediately said, looking at me and I allowed a small sigh of relief to pass my lips. My legs felt like they could support me again and I nodded. But now I needed to know whose blood it was.

“What happened?” Emily asked before I could say anything, my eyes daring towards the hallway, hoping to see Dean come back.

Sam dropped the bags to the ground and bypassed us to sit on one of the chairs. He looked so crushed, it was truly heartbreaking. I dared to look at my friend and she looked as concerned as I was. Letting one of his large hands pass through his hair, Sam sighed.

“It was a Rugaru.” He started, finally looking at us.

The boys had told us about those creatures. The cursed humans who turned into monsters once they tasted human flesh but who were almost incapable of never doing it. The story itself was horrible and I didn’t dare imagine what had happened on this case for the brothers to end up this way.

Sam continued.

“We were driving around the area he was living in, already suspecting him when we spotted him break into a house. We followed him when we heard a window getting smashed upstairs, so we hurried to the house and met it downstairs. That’s when we realized they were two. I took care of the first one while Dean ran upstairs, to the boy’s room. But… It was too late. It had already hurt the kid badly and after Dean killed it, the boy passed away in his arms. It’s his blood…” The hunter lowered his head again and tears reached my eyes at the horrible story.

After taking a deep breath and clenching his jaws, Sam finished his story.

“The parents weren’t home so we called the police, preventing them from finding the dead body of their 12 years old son. We know that they’ll never solve the murder but we couldn’t do anything else.” He confessed, passing a hand through his hair again.

My heart hurt for the boy and his family, the thought of something like this possible making me sick. But it also ached for the two hunters, failing to a hunt like this one was surely difficult and painful. Sam was looking at his hand, not wanting to add anything, so I turned to my best friend, meeting her sorry eyes. Both of us were clearly feeling the same about this whole situation. Helpless.

Then my eyes drifted towards the hallway Dean had disappeared to a few minutes ago. My whole being wanted to run to it and check on him but I couldn’t leave Sam like that either. I didn’t know what to do and it was almost painful.

When I looked back at the younger Winchester, he had raised his head and I met his sad eyes. But he must have seen me looking at the door or maybe he had just sensed my wish to follow his brother because he simply nodded. Without a word either, I walked to him and gave him a quick but firm comforting hug as much as I could. Then I offered him a compassionate smile and he gave me a quick one back. I gently squeezed his forearm and turned towards Emily, nodding at her too before heading towards the hallway.

Once I was out of sight, I hurried to Dean’s room, wanting to check on him as soon as possible and see how he was doing. But when I reached the eleventh room and knocked on the door, he didn’t answer so I decided to open it carefully. I was only welcomed by darkness, letting me know that he wasn’t there.

I froze for a second, wondering where he could be instead and my eyes drifted to the bathroom nearby. I walked to it and this time the door was slightly ajar, allowing me to see the turned on light inside. Slowly, I made my way to it and heard a sniffing inside. I stopped my movements wondering if I should leave him alone or not but my desire to comfort him was stronger. So I gently ran my knuckles on the door and I heard him take a sharp breath behind it.

Before opening the door, I spoke up.

“Dean? It’s me, can I come in?” I softly asked him but didn’t hear him reply anything.

So I decided to join him and cautiously pushed the door, revealing the older hunter sitting on the floor, his back against a wall, his knees close to his chest and his head in his hands. My heart squeezed at the sight. With the bright light of the bathroom, I could clearly see the blood on his clothes, hands, even hair. The blood and dirt, probably from hiding the rugarus’ bodies, darkened his skin and tainted every piece of fabric on him.

A breath got stuck in my throat for a moment but I rapidly tried as much as I could to control my own emotions. Dean didn’t need to comfort someone, he needed to be comforted. Or at least that’s what I thought.

I quietly closed the door and sat next to him on the cold floor, bringing my knees close to me too and looked at him in an attempt to find out if he wanted to talk or not. But the only thing Dean did was swallow with difficulty, his Adam’s apple going up and down as he gulped. He hadn’t said a thing yet, not even looked at me, and all I wanted was to wrap my arms around him and get him to talk to me. So after what felt like forever, I broke the silence between us.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” I simply said because it was the truth. I was sorry he and his brother had to go through this. I was sorry that a kid had died tonight. I was sorry it was their job to kill monsters. I was sorry it was the life they had been raised into.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I slowly tried, clenching my jaw in apprehension. Dean took a sharp breath and without moving his head towards me, spoke up.

“He was just a kid.” He said, hurt in his voice, the topic clearly painful.

“I know… Sam told us… Dean, it wasn't your fault.” I explained and he took a shaky breath before straightening, looking right in front of him.

“You should go.” He sternly replied, staring at the wall in front of him.

I mimicked his movements but turned a bit to look at him. I didn’t want to go, that was for sure but it felt like he didn’t really want me to either. Like he was forcing himself to tell me this, like he wanted to push me away. But I could be wrong and maybe he needed time for himself to go through this. Maybe me staying would only make it worse. But I knew one thing for sure: I didn’t want to leave him all alone, especially if it wasn’t what he truly needed. Even less if it was because he was telling himself he didn’t deserve someone to stay with him.

“Do you truly want me to go because you need to be alone? Or do you say that because you don’t want me to tell you those things? Because you think that you shouldn’t be told those things.” I told him and he finally looked at me.

Dean was good at hiding emotions, I knew that, but the look in his reddened eyes at this moment was the complete opposite. I could see in his green orbs the pain and guilt he was feeling. I felt my face softening at the sight and my heart made me feel his own pain.

“No matter what you’re gonna say, it was still my fault.” He declared, his tone cold and I let a small sigh escape me. Gently, I put a hand on his arm, giving him the comfort he deserved but he moved away, refusing my touch.

“Dean…” I complained but he quickly cut me off.

“Don’t you get it? Tonight a kid is dead because of me, Eva. A kid! And you want to comfort me? When it was my job to save his life and I miserably failed up at it? I don’t deserve to be consoled, I shouldn’t be. That’s why you should go.” He raised his voice and in any other situation I would have flinched or felt jittery by this but all this anger wasn’t towards me. And hidden under this hatred, I could only perceive sadness and profound guilt.

“That’s not true…” I tried but he didn’t let me add anything else.

“It is! What did Sam tell you? That they were two and we hadn’t expected it? But guess what, we never expect it! The truth is I was too late. If I had been faster, if I hadn't taken such a long time to enter the goddamn room, I could have saved him. That’s on me.” Dean told me and I understood what he meant but he was still not the one responsible for this kid’s death. I understood it was hard to believe, especially coming from someone whose job it is not, but I couldn’t let him beat himself up for this.

“Dean, you didn’t kill this kid. You didn’t. A monster did and you did everything in your power to save him. It wasn’t your fault, you did everything you could.” I said, putting my hand on him again and this time he let me, tensing under my touch.

“I didn’t…” He admitted, lowering his head and clenching his jaws. His eyes landed on his bloody hands in front of him and he squeezed them together. My heart stopped for a second but I didn’t move away.

“What do you mean?” I tried and Dean glanced at me an instant but quickly avoided my gaze again, searching for his next words.

“I wasn’t fast enough because I was watching out for myself, because I didn’t just rush in, because for once in my freaking life I was being careful.” He coldly said, his eyes meeting mine again and this time held my gaze.

His words felt like a punch in my heart, his words resonating in my mind. I had annoyed Dean so many times about being careful on hunts and now that he had listened, this had happened. I knew that I shouldn’t but a huge part of me definitely felt guilt, even if deep down I knew there couldn’t be any connection between those two facts. I knew being careful and watching out for himself was the right thing to do and I needed to realize that a case like this one wasn't going to be the consequences of it. That it wasn’t selfish either. And I needed to make Dean understand this too.

“Dean, this is not the reason why he died, okay? Please don’t think that. Don’t think that, because it’s not true. There is no link between those two things, this is not the consequence of being careful, please.” I told him, hoping that if I quickly put the idea in his head that there was no correlation, he would believe it. But unfortunately, it was too late.

“If I hadn’t thought about myself, if I hadn’t taken so much time while searching the story, a boy would be alive tonight. This shouldn’t have happened. Ever. If anything, it should have been m-”

Before he could finish this sentence, I cut him off, turning completely towards him. Now both of my hands were on his arm and squeezing it.

“Don’t you say that. Please, don’t say that. Your life doesn’t matter less than his, okay?” I started but once again, Dean didn’t let me finish.

“But tonight some parents will learn that their son died but they’ll never find out why or how. He was not more than twelve and he’s dead. He’s dead, Eva. And I could have saved him but I was too busy thinking about my own safety, because I selfishly wanted to come home tonight. But you can be sure that this won’t ever happen again.” He solemnly said, his eyes looking back at the wall when he finished.

I stayed speechless for a second, thinking about what he had just said, from the horrible death of tonight to the fact that Dean had wanted to come home. But what really stayed in my mind was that he was swearing he wasn’t going to do it again and this couldn’t happen.

“You’re right.” I started and Dean quickly turned his head towards me, his eyebrows raised as if he was surprised I agreed with him. Or maybe he was disappointed I did. But I wasn’t going to stop there.

“You’re right, a kid is dead tonight. It’s a fact and it truly, deeply breaks my heart. But you also saved thousands of people, Dean. Those are facts too. You saved moms, husbands, sisters, children. You saved families, strangers. Hell, you saved me.” I continued, my eyes as sympathetic as possible through the tears slowly forming.

I could see in his eyes that he was listening carefully but that he was also ready to cut me off to contradict me if he ever had the chance.

“But, as much as it costs me to say it, sometimes we can’t do anything to prevent terrible events… Sometimes Life is unfair. Children have cancer and killers are never caught. Now some heal from it. And some are found and go to jail. But sometimes it’s all random. We can’t control everything Dean, even if we try. I try to accept that and I think you should do the same. Trust me, I hate it as much as you do, it even keeps me awake at night sometimes but unfortunately this is life and some things are out of our reach, even if we try really hard to avoid or control them.” I softly told him and the more I talked the more his eyes softened, some tears reaching the gorgeous green orbs. I also discerned a bit of surprise at my confession and I continued before he could say anything.

“And I want you to listen to me here. Tonight wasn’t your fault. And you being careful isn’t the reason why this kid died. It isn’t. You can’t just rush in without a plan or checking where the danger is. You can’t be that reckless Dean.” I said, gently caressing his bicep.

At those words Dean clenched his jaw, probably wanting to say that it was what he had always done.

“Do you think that firefighters rush in without analyzing the situation? No, they spot the danger, they make a plan, take the right material and the equipment that protects them. But mainly, they watch out for each other and themselves. Otherwise they wouldn’t save a lot of people, because they wouldn’t be here to anymore. But even then, they can’t save everyone. But they try, very hard, they are brave and do their best. You’re brave too, Dean. And I admire this so much about you. But don’t mistake being brave and being reckless.” I explained and saw him gulp with difficulty.

His face twisted from anger to pain and defeat in a few seconds, his eyebrows turned in a slightly raised knot and some wrinkles of sadness appeared on his forehead. It was fascinating how emotions were clear on his face when he allowed himself to show them. His eyes went back and forth to mine, his emotions slowly reaching me. I wanted to kiss his pain away but prevented myself from doing so. When I felt like he wasn’t going to argue anymore, I simply came closer to him and gently put my head on his right shoulder, my arms hugging his right one tightly.

We stayed like this for a moment, listening to each other’s breathing until Dean broke the silence.

“He was just a kid…” He whispered, his voice breaking with emotions. I closed my eyes for a second, trying to keep my own feelings at bay then replied, squeezing his arm in a comforting gesture.

“I know…”

“He looked so much like Sam at his age. I can’t even imagine what his parents are feeling right now. I don’t want to imagine, actually.” He confessed, the tears in his eyes resonating in his voice.

Not knowing what to say, I only shut my eyelids tightly and hugged as hard as I could the only part of him I was holding. I hoped that it could make him understand how much I felt for him about this whole situation and that I was there for him. I hoped it could convince him it wasn’t his fault and that he didn’t deserve all that guilt. I hoped my touch could help him get better.

“His blood… his blood will never come off…” He murmured and I opened my eyes again.

The hunter’s hands were opened, palms towards us. I could see the crimson color of the dried blood on his white skin, covering his freckles, encrusted between the line of his palms and probably under his fingernails too. I shivered at the sight. I had never liked blood and had always felt sick looking at some but I couldn’t let Dean face that alone.

So, slowly, I straightened and took one of his hands between mine, intertwining our fingers together. Then I turned my head to properly look at him.

“It will.” I gently said and he raised his eyes from his hands, allowing me to see how crushed he was.

Even though there were marks of blood on his face and that his features showed the things he had gone through, at that right moment he looked like a lost little boy. And my heart ached at the sight. Slowly, I let go of his hand and stood up, facing him. Sitting on the cold floor, his eyes followed me, waiting for my next move or words, wondering what I was up to. So I held out my hand to him. He looked at it for a second, confusion written all over his face.

“Come on.” I told him, gesturing to my hand and he took it, both of us knowing he didn’t need it but still allowing me to help him rise.

Emily’s POV :

Standing quietly in front of the tall hunter, I watched him play with his hands, then his nails, biting them before running his palms through his soft hair.

After Eva had left to join Dean, Sam had fallen silent and I didn’t dare add anything, remembering our last exchange. Awkwardly standing in front of the table, I looked at the corridor, waiting to see if my best friend was going to come back or not. But the more I waited the more I knew she wasn’t going to. Looking back at Sam, I watched him rub his face, his body tensing. It was obvious that he was feeling bad and if I truly looked at him I could perceive his worry and guilt. And the truth was that I hated seeing him like this.

Carefully, I took a step forward and broke the silence between us.

“Sam, do you wanna talk about it?” I tried.

The hunter stopped his movements and scoffed, making me frown. I had expected a long sigh, even a shake of head but certainly not a scoff. He straightened and rested his back on the chair, his hazel eyes finding me.

“No, thank you. I don’t have anything else to add, I told you the story.” He replied but something in his voice didn’t seem right.

Sam was usually a calm, kind man, his voice always soft and polite but this sentence and tone used was cold, almost harsh. It didn’t look right, natural, and the need to pierce through this wall he seemed to create around him took control of my body. So I walked closer to him and tried to keep a calm and friendly voice when I spoke up.

“You know, you can talk to me. About how you feel or just if you need to let it out.”

He was still siting but the way he was holding his body made him look even taller. Even though I was the one hovering over him this time. He leaned forward a bit, his eyes still locked on mine.

“Can I?” He asked, his voice still cold. My eyebrows raised in surprise and I stared at him. I didn’t like the tone he was using on me and I was going to let him know.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, my voice not as friendly as it was before.

Sam shook his head a little, his hair moving around his face. Then he placed a hand on the wooden table and stood up from the chair. I surprisingly didn’t take a step back when he came closer to me. Sam’s posture was very different from the one he had the last time we saw each other. It looked like he had run out of patience. His eyes were darker than I had ever saw them, his jaw tight.

“It means that I’m not sure I can. Because, see, I tried. I tried to talk and get you to talk to me but it seems like it’s one-sided.” He declared and I started to understand what it was truly about.

“So no, I won’t talk about it with you, not tonight.” He declared and turned his back to me, rapidly walking to the corridor.

I scoffed when I saw him leave and I was starting to get angry too. Angry at the way he was talking to me, angry that he wouldn’t tell me what was on his mind and let me help him, angry that he was getting to me acting this way, angry that I was attracted to him even though the only thing I did was pushing him away. Without even thinking about it I followed him, heading to the training room.

“Hey! Don’t you run away from me like that. You wanna talk? Let’s talk.” I yelled at him and he froze in front of the door, a hand on the knob.

He slowly turned around, his eyebrows raised and I straightened, showing him I wasn’t afraid or intimidated in any way. He quickly walked to me, glaring at me and I didn’t move.

“Oh, I’m the one running away? I think you don’t remember the past events correctly. I’m not the one who ran away after spending a night in your arms. I’m not the one who didn’t answer for a week, making the other wonder if I was dead or alive or if I just didn’t want to talk to them anymore. I’m not the one who don’t accept your affection. I’m not the one trying to avoid you every time we get close. I’m not the one who doesn't want to open up, the one who never reveals anything about myself. I’m not the one who lets the other think they are not interested in them at all.” Sam angrily said, his voice raising with every sentences passing his lips. It was a new look on him, being angry, but unfortunately for him I was an angry woman and wasn’t going to back down. So I stared at him and felt my blood boiling in the veins of my neck.

“That’s right, you’re not running away. Because you’re just so damn perfect it’s exasperating! You’re the one who always chooses the right words. Who uses the right tone. The one willing to listen. The one who doesn’t push to know. The one who knows what would be perfect for a first date. Who always tries to do the right thing it’s annoying. You’re the one making other people feel guilty for their flaws!” I yelled at him, mocking him and panting once I was done. Sam scoffed, his breathing getting heavier than before, his chest raising with each breath he took.

“Are you really reproaching me to be a good person?!” He asked, irritated by my accusations.

I turned my hands into fists but nothing could calm me down anymore. I was sick of this feeling in my chest, sick of his beautiful face haunting my dreams. I was mad at myself for feeling what I felt when I thought of him, when I was with him. I was angry with the undeniable desire to confess everything to him. I hated how much I liked him and now that he was getting on my nerves it was too hard to suppress or control it.

And before I had the chance to stop myself, I let it slip.

“Yeah, exactly! You’re such a good person it makes it hard to not like you!” I screamed at him and completely froze once the words escaped my mouth.

I immediately hated myself for saying such a thing. I had tried so hard to bury it deep inside, denying to everyone and myself what the younger Winchester was making me feel. And now, just because he had pushed me and had gotten on my nerves, I had revealed everything? How could I have been so stupid? I had done such a good job at repressing everything and with just a raise of his voice I blur out everything?

Emily !

Of course, Sam wasn’t going to ignore this, wasn’t going to act like he hadn’t heard anything. He had made it clear he was tired of not knowing what I wanted and now I had just exposed myself, giving him every reason to not back down.

And he didn’t.

“So you like me after all?! You’ve got to stop playing hot and cold with me and finally say the truth. Do you like me or not? Do you want to have nothing to do with me or not? For once just tell me.” He asked, his voice deeper than usual, probably because of how upset he currently was.

If he wanted an answer about how I felt and what I wanted, then I was going to give him an answer. But it wasn’t going to be the one he was waiting for. I crossed my arms, hiding my heart so it wouldn’t interfere and mess with my words again.

“No, I don’t want to have to do anything with you because I don’t like you, Sam, and never will.” I lied and he growled, raising his arms in annoyance.

Good, if he hated me it would be easier to move on.

He cursed under his breath and turned around, walking to the door. He violently swung it open, making it slam against the wall on the other side. The banging resonated in the empty room. He scoffed, running his hands through his soft hair and I tried to keep my composure and don’t show that I indeed liked him. Him, his pretty hair, his perfect nose, his brain, his gentleness and his sarcasm. And this new behavior.

His back still to me, I saw him rub his huge hands against his face. His back was raising with every deep, sharp breath he was taking, showing the muscle rolling under his tight flannel. I clenched my jaws at the sight, repressing any thoughts or sounds. When he let go of his head and let his hands fall on his side, he let a long breath out before suddenly turning to me.

“Urgh, every time I believe I understand you, you manage to make me think the opposite. You’re unbelievably frustrating!” He declared, obviously upset of not being able to completely see right through me.

“Good.” I simply said, a smile on the corner of my lips, satisfied by the effect I was having on him this time.

But my happy face must have upset him even more because his eyes widened at the sight. His eyebrows in a frown, his lips pinched in a thin line and torso stuck out. He clearly didn’t like this tone I had used, which satisfied me even more. So I extended my smile and he clenched his jaw.

“I swear, you drive me crazy! You’re unbelievable.” He shouted and I took some steps towards him. I wasn’t going to be the only one shouted at.

“Well, if you didn’t get the message yet, the feeling is mutu-” I started but was immediately cut off by something covering my mouth, keeping me from finishing my sentence.

Lips…

Lips were crashing against mine. Sam’s lips were crashing against mine. Sam’s lips were preventing me from saying another word. And the whole world stopped.

His hands were on each side of my face, bringing me as close as possible into this kiss. His palms were so warm against my cheeks and his lips so soft. But the kiss wasn’t. From the way he was grabbing my face, his fingers tangling in my hair and the strength he was using to push his lips against mine; there was nothing delicate about this kiss. Our first one had been so soft, so gentle and almost clumsy. But this one was harsh, it was fierce, almost urgent. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy it for a moment before Sam started to take some rapid steps, making me move back until I felt the nearest wall pressing against my back.

I let a small sound escape and the tall man took advantage of this to open his mouth and kiss me harder, deeper. His lips were wet and against my will I opened my mouth too, letting the tip of his tongue meet mine. When I allowed this access, Sam brought his body closer to mine, caging me between his chest and the cold wall behind me. His hot breath got mix with mine, our breath and scent completing each others. Our lips kneaded each other and our tongues danced on a dominance song.

I wanted to stop this, I wanted to push him away, I wanted to hate it but the truth was I couldn’t get enough of it. I couldn’t get enough of him. His hands traveled from my face to the back of my neck and head, to put even more pressure on my lips and deepening this surprising new kiss. I let a moan out and when I heard the sounds I was making, something woke up in me, tearing me from this all too real dream.

My hands found his hard chest and I pressed against it, pushing him away as hard as I could. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to push this strong man by myself so he obviously let me. I lost the connection with his lips when he moved his head back. And his hands left my face to press against the wall behind me. His palm flat against it, he was still caging me with his body, his arms turning into gates, preventing me from escaping.

Both of us were out of breath, the hot air landing on my hungry lips, somehow cooling them down. Mine was slow and short in a desperate attempt to calm my crazy heartbeat. My eyes opened and I hadn’t even realized I had closed them in the first place.

The first thing I saw was his firm chest covered by the blue flannel he was wearing. His torso was rising with every breath he took and I swallowed with difficulty at the sight of my hands on it. I fought the urge to run my hands all over it and caress his pecks. To scratch the fabric and the skin with my nails. I took a deep breath to keep my composure and slowly raised my head.

And what a mistake it was.

Seeing Sam’s face overlooking me, his thin hair framing his angelic face warmed up my inside without my consent. I had never used such words to describe him but now that his face was inches away from mine, I couldn’t hold my thoughts back anymore. And if I listened to my desire, I would caress his face with the tips of my fingers, tracing every line of the soft skin, from his cupid’s bow to the line of soft skin behind his ears. I wanted to run my hands in his hair, losing my fingers in the soft locks. But my will to stay cold-heart and unreadable was stronger.

“I don’t like you…” I let out, my voice not louder than a whisper.

Hearing my own voice, I noticed the fake confidence had left it and I cursed myself for it. Sam must have known it was a complete lie because he smiled, the kind of smile which made his sweet dimples appear.

“You don’t?” He asked but this time all animosity was gone, as if he knew he had pierced through my walls and was getting to me.

I both hated and loved this confident side of him. And the way he asked this was my breaking point. My body and desire took over my mind like if they were themselves tired of me denying any attraction towards this man. Without even realizing it, my hands lifted themselves in the direction of his face and cupped his cheeks. They caressed the sides of his face before my fingers found themselves trapped in the maze of his hair.

Sam waited patiently for a second and I dared looking into his eyes. His indeterminate eyes. From the brief times I succeeded looking into his eyes, they were never really the same color. Sometimes they had some blue and green, other times they were hazel. It was never precise nor definite and at this right moment, when my eyes met his, they were brown with a touch of gold, shining with something I couldn’t put my finger on. But the look he was giving me, both impatient and stimulated, gave me the courage I needed to cross the line I had put to myself.

Pushing on my tiptoes, I used my hands to bring his beautiful face closer to mine and initiated a kiss for the first time. Sam seemed to appreciate it because he quickly leaned towards me and removed his hands from the wall to wrap his impressive strong arms around my body. I felt a certain discomfort when I felt his body pressed against mine but it quickly disappeared when I felt his tongue brushing mine.

Everything felt so slow, yet our breaths were quick, landing on each others cheeks, our lips finding each other with every movement of our heads. Sam’s hands slid down my sides and I tensed. I wanted to let myself be so much, but I still had difficulties letting him touch me in such a sensual way. Because with every meeting of our lips, every touch of our hands on each other, I felt it.

The undeniable attraction between us.

Sam moved away a second to take his breath back and let my head fall on his firm chest, my forehead pressing against it. He let out a chuckle at my action and I caught my breath too. His hands were still on my waist and I closed my eyes at the feeling, concentrating on his chest filling with every puff of air he took. Slowly, a little bubble of comfort was developing itself around us and in the well-being of it I let it slip.

“I don’t deserve someone like you.”

It was so low I didn’t even think I had said it or that he had heard it but when I felt his chest stop for a second, I knew it wasn’t the case. I clenched my jaws, regretting letting those words out of my mouth. But before I could add or do anything, Sam moved his hands to my face and cupped it like I had done with him seconds earlier.

Forcing me to look at him, I reluctantly raised my head and found his eyes staring at me. The softness of them made me melt. Once he was sure he had my full attention, the hunter caressed my cheekbones with his thumbs and intensely looked at me. For the first time, I held his gaze for more than two seconds.

“Don’t you ever say that again.” He firmly stated and without my consent tears filled my eyes.

I didn’t know that such a simple sentence could mean so much. Because behind those simple words was hidden the conversation we had in his bed. And under his tone were concealed emotions I had a hard time interpreting. So I did the only thing I could do and nodded. I nodded to tell him I understood him nevertheless. I nodded to explain that I wanted to never say or think that again, ever. I nodded to tell him I wanted to listen to him even if I wasn’t believing him yet. I nodded to let him know I was ready to open up to him.

As if he had read my mind, Sam let a small smile spread his thin lips and, in sync, we made our lips meet again.

With every movement of our heads, deepening our kiss, I let myself run my hands from his hair to his firm shoulders. Every time our lips separated so we could take a breath, I smelled him before his lips crashed on mine again. His scent and taste were intoxicating and I gladly let him poison me. In this moment, in the passion of this kiss, I could confess everything to him. I could reveal all my secrets, all of my sins and my darkest thoughts to him without any fear. But also my most hidden fantasies, all my dreams and hopes. Sometimes the ones that included him.

Sam’s hands slid down my body, landing on my hips and it felt like he wanted to grab my thighs and make me wrap them around his waist. And all I wanted was to let him do that, let him kiss me senseless and make me forget about the whole world, about myself. But when I didn’t jump like he was suggesting me to, Sam wrapped his arms around my body, encircling me with them, trapping me against him. Without realizing I let my head fall back, hitting the wall behind me, and the hunter used this opportunity to attack my neck with his lips.

A moan of pleasure immediately escaped me at the feeling of his mouth caressing my skin. My hands took a life on their own and hid in the tall man’s hair. I closed my eyes when his kiss became a bit wet, his teeth slowly grazing my skin. A shiver ran down my spine and echoed in my whole body, warming my inside and I let a loud sigh escape.

In the high of him, of the feeling of his lips against my sensitive skin, my mind shut down and my heart opened.

“I don’t want you to hurt me like he did.” I whispered, not fully aware of the words that had just escaped me. But reality hit me when I felt the hunter moving away from my neck and his breath landing on my lips.

“Who are you talking about?” He asked, a bit out of breath.

I immediately clenched my jaws, wanting to bite my cheeks and my tongue to prevent me from continuing. But my will to hold back all this part of my life disappeared when his fingers grabbed my chin and brought my head back to him. I finally opened my eyes and I hadn’t even realized I was panting. I gulped, preparing myself to reveal a name I never wanted to say again.

“Cameron.” I finally declared.

Sam frowned at me, his eyebrows getting closer to one another and his eyes darkened when he understood it was the name of a man. A feeling of shame and regret made my body freeze for a second, and the hunter took a deep, tensed breath, his chest filling with air. Clenching his jaw for a short moment and gulping, he finally loosen up, his shoulders lowering.

“Who is that?” He asked, but not out of curiosity more dislike.

Sam stared at me, trying to read my thoughts as I stayed silent. I tried to look away, avoiding his gaze and this topic but I knew it was useless as the hunter moved in front of me to keep my eyes locked with him. My brain screamed at me to stay quiet, to ignore his question and even kiss him all night if it meant we could avoid this conversation. But my heart – this damn heart – pounded faster in my chest and it felt like it wanted to come out and reveal everything to Sam. A little voice reassured me, telling me I could trust him but another one tried to gag it so it would stay silent.

“Don’t close up now…” He pleaded, shutting both voices up and my eyes locked with his.

There, in the spark of gold of his pupils, I knew I could finally confess everything to him. I had denied him and avoided him for months now but tonight, I was ready to share with him how a boy had stabbed me through the heart.

I hope you liked it ! Let me know if you did !

Tags : @emilielbls @roonyxx @awkward-and-indecisive @thoughts-and-funnies @siospins2 @avanatural @waynes-multiverse @akshi8278 @snowlovespie

#a supernatural journey #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #dean x oc #sam x oc #dean winchester x oc #sam winchester x oc #dean winchester fanfic #sam winchester fanfic #supernatural series #dean winchester series #sam winchester series

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obeymefu · 1 year

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If the Obey Me characters found out Mc beat the shit out of a lower rank demon.

I got this idea from Belphegorspillow and asked for permission.

Lucifer

3rd Person Pov:

You never thought this day would come but here you are bloody in the HOL hallway. Unfortunately for you Lucifer was on his way to Lord Diavolo castle briefcase in hand. Hearing his footsteps you internally panic and try to gracefully look like you didn't just have (another) near death experience.

Lucifer s Pov:

'Lord Diavolo asked me to attend a business dinner at 5:30 it's 5:00 if I leave now I'll arrive at 5:20 that gives me ten extra minutes'. I think as I turn the corner. then all my thoughts disappear when I see them ,my Mc, covered in blood in the hall trying to look decent. A flurry of emotions come at me most of them being worry, panic, anger and sadness.

Mc`s. Pov:

'Omd he's coming around the corner. Lucifer's gonna get upset at me.' I see him stop in front of me staring but I can't meet his eyes all I can do I stare at the floor bloody close sticking to me . The metallic smell flooding my nose. I can hear him walking hurriedly toward me and see his shoes stop when in front of me. "Mc are you ok, what happened, are you hurt if so where, who did this." he asked me. I can hear the panic in is house as all of questions come flooding toward me. I feel overwhelmed and anxious,anxious that if I tell him he'll be angry, frustrated, sad appalled, or even worse disappointed. I tense up as I see his shadow reach out to touch me. He sees and takes his gloved hand back

We stand there for a moment still in the silence not being able to look him in the eyes,let alone make conversation. "Come" he gingerly grabs my hand after discerning I didn't need to see Simeon right away I presume. Leading me down the halls . Mind rushing , panicking till sudden confusion when we make a the and instead of the wood flooring in the halls I'm suddenly met with tile, white to be specific. I glace up to see we are in the bathroom. I can see his gloved hand motion to the toilet as if asking me to sit. Sitting down on the seat I feel my cloths stick to it, and a brief moment of confusion when I suddenly hear rushing water.

Lucifers Pov:

After leading Mc to the bathroom, mind racing flooding with unanswered questions and unease. I turn the nobs in the shower to their preferred temperature. ' I suppose the conversation we had last week about everyone's bathing temperature wasn't as useless as I thought. I mussed to my self' then quickly asked them to hop in and fetched a towel,paired with their most comfortable pajamas lay them outside the door and sit in my office till they get out. 'So many things today that I usually find to be a nuisance like how I can hear the water from the shower( abd usually mammon s singing) is turning out to be in my favor,' I chuckled. There I sat waiting to hear the water turn of and the door open, in the meanwhile I explained what I saw and did and excused myself from my dinner with Diavolo. Thankfully he understood. By 6:00 dinner was complete thanks to satan so I went to save us a plate. My brothers where confused as to why Mc wasn't eating with them and I told them we where eating in my office. Thankfully Mammon stoped pestering when I said that it's take goofy away if another peek came from him. After delivering the plates to my office and sitting down I heard the bathroom door open. realising I didn't hear the sound of water when I came in.

Mc's Pov: I feel much better now briefly glancing at my DDD for the time I see it's 6:48,'Wow' ' its almost seven, Lucifer s study is across from the bathroom he probably already has figured out I'm done showering. I really don't want I confess though so I'm going to head for my room as quick and quiet as possible. ' as I creek open the door I grab my belongings and make my way to my room. just as I think I'm safe I hear Lucifer saying " Mc come to my study" 'Damn it' I walk to his room and Nick before entering. "Hey Lucifer what's up?" raising a brown I can tell he sees through my act.

" Mc" " Yes Luci?" "What happened ealier." " What do you mean?" "...." there he sat with sat with a serious look on his face. ".... I got into an argument with a demon." he sat there silently and gave me a look that said go on. " ... I lost my cool and beat the shit out of him." "Mc-" " Dont I know what your going to say it was a stupid decision that could have gotten me hurt, I just couldn't control my temper after he tried backing me in a corner and intimidating me when he was losing the argument." " Please be better about your temper..... if I lost you I'd be ... lost you so important to me I couldn't dream of losing you in my darkest nightmare and I want to be by your side for all of eternity. Come to me if you ever need help I'll take care of in the morning." "Please allow me to be selfish and take care of you for tonight." Lucifer said while wrapping his arms around me and kissing my forehead. " Alright for tonight Luci <3."

#obey me shall we date #obey me brothers #obey me lucifer #obey me x mc

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aramoredanil · 2 years

Text

Before the break:

There she was again. Standing before The Mire's portal. Most would simply see trees settle between large rocks. Not her, no. She knew what laid beneath. With the use of her left eye that saw more than physical things. It wasn't a cliffside over a rolling rockside of ocean and rage. Nor was it the end of a bottle. Or a knife, that pulled at her soul more than anything did.

She knew what she wanted to do. What the Mire could take from her if she asked it nicely enough. Strip away a piece of her mortality that hurt. Ached so deeply in her chest that she swore she could taste the blood and bruising on the back of her palm.

It was late, and Eleyn wasn't wearing any shoes. Long since lost to the void on the wall between Aramore'danil and Ironforge. At least the tram had helped with some of the travel. Perhaps that's where they had gone.

Squeezing her right eye shut to watch the swirling magic beneath the bark of the large tree. Trying to track where the shimmering went. Into the roots? Into the sky? Off to somewhere, she didn't know about? A lean towards the tree was hand, with her hand risen to touch it. Preparing entirely to seal away whatever swirling thoughts were working their way through her mind. She didn't want to feel anymore, she didn't. It hurt too much. She wasn't strong enough-

A clearing of a throat behind her brought her attention over her shoulder.

"Thori'dal..." His name left her lips with a relieved sigh she wished wasn't so audible. Kicking herself internally at how obvious it always was that she wanted to be found. Saved. Her hand dropped from where it had been about to touch the bark of the tree.

"Duchess," His voice rattled her to her very core, almost. It was deep. Deeper than most. Soothing, more soothing than most. Holding a gentleness that brought the tension from her shoulders. Eyelids falling half-lidded at simply her title being spoken of. Unfortunately for Eleyn, he carried on. "What are you doing out here?"

Her tongue rolled itself around in her mouth. Mulling over the idea of lying to a creature of fae blessings. Would he know? Would he get it out of her eventually? Be hurt that she even tried to keep the truth away from him, to begin with? His steady pale eyes didn't move their attention from her. He seemed so at ease. With his hands behind his back, shoulders relaxed. No wonder he had such an ability to get the creatures here to do as they should.

"...I was hoping to make a deal," Eleyn answered honestly. Turning to face the man fully and direct. Mismatched expression meeting their pristine white orbs within the man's skull. They were like mirrors, almost. Glass.

"A deal?" He asked, with a perk of his brow.

Eleyn sighed and went to slump herself down beneath the base of the tree. Legs lost all strength as they crumbled beneath themselves. It had been a day. A good day, or a long one, depending on how you consider such. Evident within the dark circles of exhaustion beneath her eyes.

"I wish to trade my emotions for something else entirely."

Spoken right to the point. Matter-of-fact. As though they were simply discussing the weather.

That brought Throi'dal's other brow up. A mildly shocked expression plastered over his features.

"You wish to speak to the powers that be to...? Exchange your emotions? Why?" His questions came quickly in a way she thought they would. A few steps brought himself before the seated woman, then lower still, as he went to crouch in front of her.

Eleyn simply nodded at his question. Which made him nudge her leg with the back of his palm. Knuckles brushing against the part of flesh that was seen beneath the fabric of her skirt.

"I'm so tired of feeling. It aches, and I'm tired."

"Feeling is what makes us mortal. Without it? We're nothing but shells of spite and emptiness. You can see it in the Ebon Knights. How difficult it is for them to feel anything but bloodshed. How much they have to fight for it."

"Perhaps I want that."

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juicegremlin · 2 years

Text

Hugs (5+1)

~ 1 ~

TW: concussion, injury, angst.

Andrew goes down hard. His arms smack the court floor, and all the air steals from his lungs. A whistle shrills.

“Andrew!”

Pain flares in the back of his skull. He clipped it on the goalpost on his way down, hard enough to reverberate through his helmet. He tugs it off now, trying his hardest not to gasp.

He’s distantly aware of shouting on the court—blurs of green and orange rushing back and forth or standing idly by. He can hear the crowd murmur and gasp.

A voice pipes to Andrew’s right. “Oh my god—Minyard?”

A growl parts Andrew’s lips. He pushes up onto his hands and knees—pretends he can’t taste copper on his tongue.

“Fuck off,” he spits.

He looks to where Nicky gapes on in horror. Renee rushes for Abby, colored hair just barely peeking out from below her helmet. Aaron stands off to the side with his knuckles white around the stick of his racquet.

The Terrapin that rushed Andrew—Number Six—crouches to his right. She reaches out, as if to help Andrew to his feet.

“Here, let me—”

“Don’t fucking touch him.”

Neil practically bites the line as he rushes to Andrew’s side. Number Six hesitates, hands hovering in the air between herself and Andrew. Andrew thinks seriously about removing several of her fingers.

Before he can, a Terrapin backliner moves forward and takes Six by the shoulders. He pulls her up and away.

“Are you crazy?” He mutters, moving her back to the relative safety of the game. “They’ll fucking kill you—”

Neil drops to his knees before Andrew. He’s still angry, but it’s dominated by the fierce concern in his eyes. His lips are pressed into a thin line.

“Yes or no?” He asks quietly.

Andrew grits his teeth. He hates that Neil knows to ask, even when Andrew is vulnerable. Especially when Andrew is vulnerable.

“Yes,” Andrew bites out.

Neil reaches forward—slowly, so that Andrew can see what he’s doing—and places a light hand on Andrew’s chin. He turns his head this way and that, making it throb. Andrew purses his lips.

“Where does it hurt?” Neil asks.

Everywhere. “Back.”

Neil places a hand at the base of Andrew’s neck. Andrew hisses when his fingers brush the point of impact, and when Neil pulls his hand away, it’s smeared with blood.

“Shit,” Neil murmurs. “Can I help you up?”

Alarm spikes in Andrew’s chest. Weak, his brain supplies. Fragile. Breakable. He knows everyone else can see it, too.

But when he tries to get up on his own, he stumbles. Neil’s hands shoot out to catch him, and it’s all Andrew can take not to bat them away. Helpless.

“Drew,” Neil levels big blue eyes at him. “Will you let me?”

Exposed—Andrew feels exposed.

But Neil wouldn’t exploit that. Bone-deep, Andrew knows this—so he forces himself to let Neil slide an arm around his waist and help him off the court.

***

It’s a minor concussion. Abby tells Andrew he’s lucky—a blow like that could have knocked him unconscious. This one just barely split the skin.

Andrew does not feel lucky.

Neil finds him after the game. He sits with him as he changes out, not reaching or pushing. Just there if Andrew needs him. He wards off the other Foxes when they ask if Andrew is okay (an unfortunate side-effect of the bandages) and stays until everyone else leaves. He twiddles his thumbs on the bench as Andrew finishes tying his shoes.

“I’m driving,” Neil says.

Andrew doesn’t argue, just hands him the keys. He’s still a bit dizzy.

When he shuts his locker, the sound spikes through his temples. He winces, just barely, but Neil doesn’t miss it. He moves to stand beside Andrew and wordlessly takes his bag for him.

“How are you feeling?” He asks.

Andrew rolls his eyes. He hates the way his stomach twists at the question, not unpleasantly. He hates the idea of Neil’s concern.

“I’ve had worse,” he replies, stoic as he can manage.

“Yeah, but that was…” Neil swallows. “Can I say something?”

Andrew turns to look at him. Neil pushes his brows together, jaw set in a hard line. His russet hair is still dripping from the showers. He’s close enough for Andrew to feel his breath on his nose.

And Andrew knows he’s about to say something horrible, but he’s coming to realize just how bad he is at denying Neil—which is, to say, astronomically. He shrugs, but Neil waits until he nods.

“That sucked to watch,” Neil says. “I thought… I don’t know. I thought you broke something, for a second.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “What, like my skull?”

“Yeah, Drew. Like your skull.”

Andrew pauses at that. Neil’s expression is hard and earnest, and Andrew feels like swaying again.

Had Neil been… afraid for him?

“It’s not my job to dodge,” Andrew replies, a bit gruffly.

“Yeah, but—” Neil huffs, running a hand back through his wet hair. “I just—” He looks at Andrew again, and his eyes have softened into something almost… sad.

He bites his lip. “Yes or no?”

Andrew frowns—considers.

Then, “Yes.”

And he expects a kiss. A quick press of the lips—maybe a hand through his hair.

But when Neil moves forward, he doesn’t dip his head. Instead, he slowly loops his arms around Andrew’s shoulders, pulling him close. He leaves a few inches between their bodies—not quite a proper embrace—but remains close enough to bury his nose in Andrew’s hair. He presses a kiss there.

Andrew can’t remember the last time he was hugged. It’s different, feeling all of Neil like this, but somehow, it isn’t… bad. Neil hasn’t strayed from Andrew’s approved points of contact. He’s warm, and whole. He doesn’t squeeze or restrict, just lets his arms drape loosely around Andrew’s biceps.

And Andrew could escape, if he wanted to—

He’s just not sure that he does.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | +1

I’ve had this in the drafts for a year, maybe? Wild. Part 2 tomorrow!

#aftg #aftg fic #all for the game #the foxhole court #tfc #andreil #aftg hc #andrew minyard #neil josten #let me know if i missed any TW's!#aftg fanfic #JuiceGremlin

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formula1andbeyond · 2 years

Text

Right? - P. G.

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x Reader

Summary: Right before a race, Y/n, long time girlfriend of F1 driver Pierre Gasly, gets seriously ill, and is sent to the hospital. Pierre has to focus on the race, so it's totally okay not to tell him. Right?

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warning: Mentions illness, fainting and hospitals

Notes: First of all, I am so sorry for this delay. I know this request came a few months ago, but unfortunately, life has gotten in the way. Between getting covid and dealing with that, trying to finish school and just the stress that comes with attending boarding school and never having a moment to myself, my motivation to write has been below zero. But hopefully I’m back now, and can try to post more regularly (emphasis on try). I really enjoyed writing this at least, so that’s a good sign. Hope you enjoy!

ALSO! My french is 100% google translate. Please feel free to correct me if something is horribly wrong.

Ever since you woke up this morning, there has been this weak throbbing behind your eyes. It sort of feels like your brain is pulsating. But you tell yourself it’s nothing. You’ve had migraines before. They’ve never gotten much worse than this, and they wear off once you eat. So instead of going to bed and rest, you put on a light summer dress, your favourite pair of shoes, and grab your boyfriend's hand.

Your headache doesn't let go throughout the morning. In the car to the track, it worsens. From only being a weak throbbing behind your eyes, it now feels like your brain is trying to burst out of your skull. But it’s manageable. You have to be supportive. Pierre is so excited. Of course he is. It is France, his home grandprix. This is the most important race for him. His whole family is here to watch. He’s almost bouncing behind the wheel. Still he notices how unnaturally quiet you are.

Normally on the way to races, you’ll talk, laugh and help Pierre keep his nerves in check. But not today. You can’t do much but focus your eyes on the road in front of the car. Moving too much makes your head spin.

“Amore, est-ce que tu vas bien?” He asks. Are you okay? You shake your head, flicking some hair from your face. The world spins. But there is no need to worry him unnecessarily. You smile widely in his direction.

“Yeah, of course. Just tired. I slept badly.”

Pierre sends you a quick glance, but keeps his eyes on the road as you pull into the parking lot. You can sense that he’s sceptical. As he parks the car, he grabs your hand, and squeezes it.

“You can sleep in my room,” he says, and kisses you hand. He doesn't press for more information. He knows you too well, you think, and force a smile onto your face. God, your head is swimming. Holding down the feeling of wanting to vomit, you get out of the car. Together with Pierre, you head into the Alpha Tauri hospitality, being greeted by many people you know along the way.

Pierre kisses your head, and helps you lay down on the sofa in his driver room. You sigh softly, your eyes fluttering shut almost immediately. In the background, you can hear Pierre speaking to someone.

“She’s not feeling too well,” he says. You want to protest. Pierre isn’t supposed to be worried. But you can’t even open your mouth, balancing in the area between awake and sleeping.

“I’ll keep an eye out for her.” You recognize the voice of Pyry Salmela, Pierre’s good friend and performance coach. You like Pyry. He’s nice. Then your head spins, and sleep overtakes you, knocking you out.

—----------

You have no idea where you are when you open your eyes at first. The room is completely dark. You blink a few times. Colourful stars dance through the space, but still you can't make out the shapes in the room. You feel sick, and force yourself to swallow the vomit that is making its way up your throat.

You feel around yourself as you sit up. Pierre’s drivers room. You recognize the feel of the awful coach. The light switch is by the door. Pierre must have turned the light off when he left. Blood is flowing behind your ears, sounding like screams through your head. God, you feel shit. As you walk, you have to keep a hand on the wall. It is so dark, and it’s like the floor is swinging back and forth, like the deck of a ship.

In the dark, the track to the door is abnormally long, but you reach it in the end. Pressing the light switch, you wait. And nothing. You press it again. Nothing. You flick it on and off a few times. Nothing. A lumb settles in your throat. You can feel fear creeping up your back.

Getting more and more stressed by the second, you fumble for the handle, and pull the door open. More darkness. You can feel your chest tightening. Head pounding. It’s like your body is trying to explode in on itself.

“Hello?” You whisper, tears running down your cheeks. In the distance you hear the familiar sound of a car starting up. You can’t focus beyond that. You call again. Your voice sounds weak, and you need to concentrate all your effort on not vomiting. A few steps forward, holding on to the wall. You need to find someone.

The floor still feels uneven under your feet. You're fully crying at this point, moving your head from side to side as you walk. The colourful spots are still dancing around your head.

“Y/n?” a voice says behind you. Still holding on to the wall, you turn around slowly, in the direction of the sound. Someone is standing close to you.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” the person asks again. You recognize the voice. Thank God.

“Pyry?” You whisper. A hand grasps your elbow softly.

“Hey, yeah. What’s wrong, y/n?” He asks. You feel your legs start shaking. You can barely keep yourself up anymore. You let out a sob.

“I- I can’t see anything,” you tell him, hoping you're looking even close to his face. Then your legs give out. The large man is lucky to grab you before you hit the floor.

“Shit” you hear him mutter. Your eyes feel so heavy. The vomit is coming back to you. Not able to hold it anymore, you roll away from Pyry, and just manage to stand up on all four, as the meagre breakfast you had earlier comes back up.

“Shit,” Pyry mutters again. You hear him call out, as you heave for your breath. “Hey! You! Call an ambulance! And get me some help.”

You feel numb, empty and tired. Pyry manages to sit you up against the wall, and forces some water down your throat. You nearly cough it up again, but once it goes down, it feels good. Your head still throbs.

“Should we tell Pierre? They just started the formation lap,” a voice you don’t recognize says some place above you.

“No,” you whisper. “No, don’t tell him.”

You have no idea what is happening around you, but before anyone can answer you, you can hear the sound of several feet coming closer.

“She’s here,” someone says, and suddenly you're surrounded by strangers, asking you questions in rapid french, moving you around.

“They want you to come with them to the hospital,” Pyry says, rubbing your hand. You agree quietly, and allow the large man to help you onto the stretcher. Once they start rolling you away, you fumble blindly for Pyry’s hand. He allows you to take it, but strokes a hand over your hair.

“I can’t go with you. But I'm going to get Pierre’s mother. She can come with you.”

You smile weakly. Pascale will join you. Pascale is nice. The best actually. She’ll take care of you. The stretcher starts rolling again, and you can feel yourself drifting out of consciousness. Just as you’re about to accept sleep, there is something in front of you. A light, something red in your side view. Your sight is coming back, right as you let sleep take you. No one stops you.

—----------

P4! Pierre is grinning so wide he’s surprised his head is still fitting inside the helmet! P4 is great! Exactly what he needed!

“Great job, Pierre! Really amazing!” his engineer shouts in his ear, as Pierre pulls into the pitlane. All around him, all he sees is the sea of french flags. His flag. His home. It’s a feeling like none other. He stops the car, and waits as his team removes the steering wheel, before jumping out of his car. For a few seconds, he pose for some photos by the car, before turning to the garage.

His eyes scan everyone. People are clapping his back, pulling him in for hugs and congratulating him left and right. But something is off. No one seems to quite want to meet his eyes.

“Pyry!” Pierre shouts, and greets his trainer, the two embracing.

“Great job, mate,” Pyry says, but his voice doesn’t sound quite right. Pierre tries to meet his friend's eyes, but no luck. The Frenchman spots his dad a few metres away. But not his mother. A cold lump settles in his stomach.

“Pyry, where is mama?” Pierre asks slowly. His eyes scan the area again. He feels dread creeping down his back. “And y/n? Pyry?”

The large man takes a deep breath. Pierre frowns. Finally, Pyry meets his eyes.

“Y/n got really sick. Like, really really sick. We sent her to the hospital. Your mom went with her.”

Pierre doesn’t need to hear more. At first he feels frozen to the floor. Then he’s moving, running through the garage, as he tries to pull off his race suit at the same time.

“Pierre,” his dad calls after him. Pierre is already in his room, pulling a clean t-shirt over his head, but freezes at the sound of his dad's voice.

“Papa-” the young man says, his voice breaking. Jean Jaques grabs his son’s shoulder.

“Je vais te conduire.” I’ll drive you. Pierre can only nod his thanks.

—---------

It feels like breaking the water, after having dived too deep down. It’s the only way to describe the relief in your body as you feel yourself awakening. The headache is gone. Left behind is only a slight numbness. Slowly, as if you’re afraid, you open your eyes. Millimetre after millimetre. Light floods your senses.

You let out a sigh of relief, as Pascale’s kind face comes into focus beside you. You can barely dare to blink. Afraid she’ll disappear. But she doesn’t. You’re about to say something, when the door is pulled open. And there he is. Your man. The only man for you. The love of your life.

Pierre lets out a visible sigh of relief when your eyes meet his. With determined steps, he walks closer until he’s right by your side. Suddenly he seems nervous. Pascale excuses herself, and exits the room. You barely register it.

“ ‘ello,” Pierre says, smiling a little. A tear rolls down your cheek.

“Hi,” you answer. Pierre gently strokes the tear away. Softly, as if scared he’s going to hurt you, Pierre leans down and barely touches his lips to yours. You chuckle, and whisper: “I can take a bit more than that.”

Pierre laughs loudly, and grins, but still presses his lips firmly to yours. It feels like heaven. Like coming back home after being away. You really love this man.

“I got really scared when papa told me-” Pierre begins. You shake your head. The worry and fear is written on his face.

“I’m sorry I didn't say anything.” You admit to him. He brushes some hair from your face. He’s leaning on the side of the bed, his face inches from yours.

“Why wouldn’t they tell me immediately? What if it had been something worse than a migraine. You could have been dying and I wouldn’t know it. I was just driving some stupid car around. It’s ridiculous. I’m stupid. Should have seen the signs this morning-”

You silence his rambling with a kiss.

“I’m not dying, my love.” You say, grasping his hand in yours. “None of this is your fault. I told them not to tell you. It’s your home grand prix. I wasn’t about to ruin that for you!”

Pierre shakes his head, and leans his forehead against yours. His hand squeezes yours hard, as if he’s worried you’ll disappear. You sigh in contentment, and close your eyes. Sitting here with PIerre, you’ve never felt safer. His warmth engulfs you, and his smell floods your senses.

It’s these moments, when he’s close to you, that you really remember how much you love him. Not that you don’t love him all the time, of course you do. But it’s easier to remember the feeling when he’s next to you, and not racing around on the other side of the planet. Your eyes shoot open in shock. You completely forgot!

“Your race! How did it go?” You ask hurriedly, wide eyes searching his. Pierre looks confused for a second. Then he grins. A wide, shit eating grin that makes your insides melt.

“P4.” He says, slowly, just for you. A shout escapes you. Not caring much that you’re weak and sick, you throw your arms around him, pulling him down on the bed.

“P4 Pierre! That is amazing! Why didn't you say that?” Pierre just laughs and kisses you hard on the lips.

“We heard shouting-” Pascale enters the room, Jean Jaques and two nurses right behind her. Pierre pulls away from you, blushing.

“He got P4!” You say, a big grin on your face. Pascale gasps, and runs forward to hug her son. You can’t help but feel a few tears trickle down your cheeks. It’s been a long day. But this news, this ending, it’s so worth it. Despite you currently being in the hospital, you’re just happy you're here with Pierre. It could have been a dusty attic for all you care. As Pierre grabs your hand again, you know you are home.

#f1 #Formula 1 #Pierre Gasly #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #Pierre Gasly x You #alpha tauri f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1blr #alpha tauri

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Little Red’s Shadow Part 1

Pairing: Werewolf Pero Tovar x Female!Reader

Word Count: 8000+

Summary: I posted an idea about werewolf Pero and this fic grew from there. Hope you like it 💖

Warnings: no beta all mistakes are my own, language, werewolf/shapeshifter AU with little red riding hood elements, pining, angst, Reader has a crush and is oblivious to the obvious, Pero’s got a secret so he’s a bit grumpy, injury description with blood, death of a rabbit, setting and time period? who knows lol it is what it is

Author Note: First time writing Pero and there’s been a lot of interest in this fic so I’m nervous posting cuz this is super self-indulgent. Originally I wanted to post the fic from start to end, but this week hasn’t been a good one and posting fics always makes me feel better so yeah. Here’s Part 1 and Part 2 is a few scenes away from being done.

Part 2

“The gaze of the wolf reaches into our soul.” – Barry Lopez

Twilight is fast approaching as you walk along the forest trail between your village and the neighboring one to the north, glimpses of a dark purple and red sky visible overhead through the branches of pine trees bracketing either side of you. There is a chill in the air, the last lingering side effect of the winter season, and you adjust your scarlet-colored cloak tighter around your body, fighting back a shiver.

Being in the woods this late isn’t a wise choice and you’re sure to receive a lecture from your father when you get home about time management, but in your defense once Mrs. Tate starts talking, it is virtually impossible to make the widow stop until she talks herself into a state of unconsciousness. You were held hostage in her living room for hours listening to her prattle on about a variety of topics ranging from a drought that occurred forty years ago to a new recipe of cake she’s eager to try baking.

Fortunately you’d had the forethought of completing your other deliveries before taking Mrs. Tate her new sewing kit, otherwise you would be making the walk home completely in the dark.

Although twilight isn’t much better, you think to yourself after tripping over a stick obscured in shadow, accidentally untying one of your shoelaces in the process. You bite back a curse, knowing that walking through the woods with untied shoes is a guarantee you’ll wind up with a sprained ankle. A lesson you’ve unfortunately learned the hard, painful way more than once over the years.

Sighing, you bend down to retie the knot only to freeze when it occurs to you just how quiet the woods have become. The air has frozen still, not even the faintest of breezes ruffling the tree branches. You strain your ears to hear anything over the anxious thumping of your heartbeat, but it is as if the whole world has been turned on mute.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle, and you become very uncomfortably aware of someone’s gaze watching you. You swallow thickly, dread forming a heavy stone in your stomach, regretting dismissing your father’s advice of carrying a knife with you for protection.

“There’s nothing dangerous out there,” you had told him, pulling the hood of your cloak over your head while concealing an eye roll. “Just rabbits and squirrels and deer.”

What is that saying about hindsight?

The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to take off running, to try and put as much distance between yourself and the threat as possible. But you’ve always been a slave to your own curiosity, that insistent pull in your chest telling you to investigate, and right now it wants you to turn around and find out who or what is about to potentially kill you.

Mentally counting to three, you slowly twist your shoulders to look behind you, trembling like a leaf about to be blown away from its branch, and scan the foliage for unfamiliar shapes or shifting shadows.

Nothing immediately stands out as dangerous or suspicious looking. You start to think your imagination is playing tricks on you, only to gasp when a twig snaps, echoing like a gunshot. A bolt of fear strikes your chest, adrenaline surging through your veins, and every instinct you possess is on high alert.

The wind picks up again, nearly knocking you over with a strong gust, and as you struggle to maintain balance you think you hear a quiet huffing sound right before a clump of bushes shake in front of you. Like something brushed past them.

You wait a few more seconds before finishing tying your shoelace, no longer feeling eyes upon you. Whatever it was watching you had left, apparently deciding you weren’t worth killing.

There is barely enough sunlight left to guide you home, but your curiosity has not been sated yet, pulling you in the direction of the bush. You crouch and push away the branches, squinting to make out the shape of pawprints in the dirt, a bit messy and overlapping like the animal had backed up quickly.

“Oh my God,” you murmur, stunned to realize a wolf had been spying on you. No way a regular dog could leave behind tracks larger than the width of your hand.

But what is a wolf doing so close to the village? You can’t remember hearing about sightings of one in the area anytime recently. It’s probably just a rogue passing through, you think as you start walking again, but the sensation of its intense gaze upon you continues to linger the entire journey back, replaying on loop within your mind.

When she was still living, your mother taught you not to believe in coincidences. There are some encounters too strange and remarkable to have occurred by random chance. They are instead controlled by the strings of fate, as inevitable as the changing of seasons each year.

When you reach your village at the end of the trail, you pause for a moment to look over your shoulder into the dark depths of the forest. Your heart weighs heavily in your chest, burdened by a sense of certainty you can’t ignore.

The wolf was intended to cross your path.

And you can’t shake the feeling it will happen again.

“Wolves in shells are crueler than stray ones.” ― Gaston Bachelard

When you’re not out delivering orders, you can usually be found behind the counter as the cashier of your father’s trading depot. Years spent helping your father has made you a master at recognizing faces. Whether the person is a frequent visitor or they only swing around every few months, you take pride in recognizing each customer and trader that comes through the door, greeting them by name with a smile.

You’re in the middle of reading a field guide on woodland animals you’d plucked from the shelf of mishmash genres in the corner when the bell over the door jingles, signaling a new arrival. You look up, a welcoming remark ready on your tongue, only to be caught off guard by the haggard appearance of a stranger.

The man is a couple of inches taller than you, broad-shouldered and thick with the sort of muscle mass that comes only from harsh work conditions. His dark brown hair is long and in desperate need of a thorough washing, and the bottom half of his face is concealed by a thick, bushy beard of the same coloring.

He carries a bundle of pelts with him, slamming them down upon the counter in front of you with a heavy thud, confirming his employment as a hunter. Up close you notice a nasty looking scar dissecting his left eye, the mark slightly raised and pinkish red. A couple months old, maybe. You wonder what caused the injury, if it was an animal or another human.

“I didn’t come to be stared at,” he says bluntly, accented voice rough and scratchy with disuse, almost like a growl.

Embarrassed, you avert your eyes to the pile of furry pelts. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean any offense.”

The stranger walks away wordlessly, perusing the stocked shelves with a scowling face like he’s dissatisfied with everything he sees. You keep a subtle eye on him as you start sorting through the pelts, identifying all the creatures in the collection. The majority are rabbits and squirrels, but your father will be happy when you show him the few badgers and foxes that have been skinned in perfect condition.

“I’ll need your name to complete the transaction,” you tell the bearded man when he returns to the counter and sets down a handful of items, including a new knife and pair of leather boots.

“What are you reading?”

You blink at the non-sequitur, then follow his gaze down to the open book in front of you. “A field guide,” you say, moving to push it aside only for him to snatch it away with unexpected swiftness.

Impossibly, his scowl seems to intensify with every line of text he reads, lips twisting into what you can only label as a snarl. Coupled with his shaggy hair, he resembles more of a beast than a man at the moment.

“Careful,” you tell him mildly, the corners of your lips curling into a teasing smile. “You might get stuck with that face.”

The stranger’s eyebrows shoot up with surprise, dropping the book as if it burned him, before he lets out a dry, humorless chuckle. “If only you knew,” he mutters cryptically. Then he gathers up his selected goods and heads for the door, only pausing long enough in the entryway to say, “It’s Pero,” before he leaves as mysteriously as he came.

It takes you an embarrassingly long moment after he’s gone to realize he’s given you his name.

“Nice meeting you Pero,” you say to the empty room, scribbling down the name. It’s as unique as the man himself, easy to commit to memory.

You reach to shut the field guide and then change course, instead pulling it back across the counter to look at the page Pero had been reading. The way he’d scowled and glowered made you think he wanted to set the whole thing on fire if he’d possessed the power.

The eyes of a gray wolf stare back at you, sending a shudder down your spine. You trace your finger along the outline of the triangular shape of its ears, its sleek and furry torso, all the way down to its bushy tail.

How strange and remarkable, you think, closing the guidebook and putting it away. A thorn of disappointment digs into your chest when you wonder if this was the second encounter with the wolf you’d been anticipating.

A paper wolf crumples in comparison to a real one.

Literally.

“Some girls are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running away from them.” ― Nikita Gill

The ground beneath your boots is muddy and slick from the overnight rain. Every step threatens to send you tumbling to the earth, making you exceedingly cautious even though the consequence is your delivery trip is taking twice as long. A thin layer of fog has settled over the forest this morning, giving your surroundings an almost mystical appearance. Everything is a bit blurry, like looking through your father’s spectacles, forcing you to rely on the mental map of the trails etched into your brain to keep you from getting lost.

A low, rumbling growl has you stopping dead, heart lodging in your throat.

There is no mistaking the wolf’s presence even if you can’t see it. No other living thing inhabiting the woods could produce such a fierce and throaty sound. Clutching the parcel tighter against your chest, you peer into the dense undergrowth, searching for signs of movement.

Another growl weaves through the trees, but this time there is an audible note of pain laced within it. The wolf is hurt, you realize, a wave of worry crashing into you.

After a beat of hesitation, you set the parcel on the ground and step off the path, ignoring the warning bells in the back of your head, angry with you for disobeying your father’s strict instruction about never veering away from the trail. The trail meant safety and certainty, the quickest route from Point A to Point B. By entering the woods, especially with the present fog, you risk never being found again.

But it is not in your nature to abandon someone in need of help. Even if that someone is a wolf of all creatures.

You push through a tangle of thorny bushes, muttering a curse when they snag on the fabric of your cloak, and stumble into a small grassy clearing with all the clumsiness of the village drunk.

Then you see the wolf.

Describing it as big would be offensive. It’s colossal, hackles raised and ears drawn back against its skull, all its teeth bared in a threatening snarl. The color of its fur is a shade of brown so dark it could pass for black, except for around its right hind leg which is coated in a sickening amount of crimson blood.

The metal spikes of a hunting trap embedded in its flesh keep it from lunging at you, slicing through muscle and sinew right into the bone. Blood seeps out of the wound, staining the blades of grass beneath the wolf’s leg, and it takes all your self-control not to gag at the disturbing sight.

“Damn it,” you breathe, unsure what to do, fingers clenching and unclenching restlessly. You have no medical expertise, especially not for helping massive predators who can tear off your hand with one bite of its sharp fangs.

You inch closer a step, only to immediately tense when the beast’s low growl intensifies in volume and it snaps at the air in your direction. Raising your hands in a pacifying gesture, you slowly crouch down low, trying to appear as non-threatening as physically possible. It isn’t a challenging feat considering you’re about as dangerous a threat to the wolf as a baby deer has the potential to be.

The wolf’s growling ceases, amber-gold eyes glinting with suspiciousness. You never knew animals could express human emotions so clearly, almost as if there is a human soul trapped beneath all that fur. You toss the ludicrous idea out of your mind instantly, shaking your head at your own foolishness.

“So you stepped in a trap, huh,” you say, biting your lip as you study the ugly piece of metal, convinced whoever invented it is a sadistic monster. “That’s not good.”

The wolf huffs through its nose and tilts its head, looking at you like you’re the biggest idiot it has ever encountered.

You stare back at it incredulously. “Wait. Do you...understand me?”

For a long moment, the wolf just stares at you, nose faintly twitching as it scents the air, then eventually dips its muzzle in a nod.

Honestly, you don’t know whether to be amazed or frightened by the confirmation. Or perhaps even a mixture of both. You’ve read wolves are intelligent creatures, capable of learning new skills to help them survive, but learning human speech beyond simple commands is a talent you never could have guessed was possible.

“Well, alright then,” you say, wetting your lips and trying to find the right words. “If you really can understand everything I’m saying, then…” You look at it straight in the eye. “I want to help you get out of here. But to help you, I’ve got to move closer, okay?”

The wolf remains wary, hackles still raised with alarm, but it doesn’t try to lunge at you again when you creep forward and you think a tentative bridge of trust is starting to form.

There is an iron chain attached to the trap wrapped around a nearby tree trunk acting as an anchor, keeping the wolf from escaping with the hunter’s equipment. The wolf silently watches you unwind the chain, loosening the tension of the trap, then looks between its still-ensnared leg and you as if to ask, What’s next?

“My father used to take me hunting when I was a kid,” you explain, moving in close enough you feel the heat emanating from the wolf’s body. The stench of blood floods your nostrils and your stomach clenches with nausea. “I know how to get you out, but it’s going to hurt. Please don’t rip my face off.”

One of the wolf’s ears twitches in acknowledgement, but the gesture doesn’t inspire much confidence. What the hell do you know about wolf communication though? Maybe an ear twitch is a promise of good behavior.

Mentally bracing yourself, you drop onto your knees next to the trap, the pool of blood seeping into the fabric of your pants. You swallow a noise of disgust, closing your eyes briefly to focus and bring to mind the details of your father’s explanations about the mechanics of a foothold trap. There are two coiled springs exerting force onto two levers which hold the trap’s serrated jaws closed. To free the wolf you’ll need to depress the levers and release the pressure on its leg.

Simple.

The metal is slick and warm with the wolf’s blood, and your fingers struggle to keep a tight grip. You curse under your breath when you accidentally jostle its leg, a stream of scarlet oozing out of the shredded wound. The wolf’s breath hitches, muscles shuddering along its flank, but it doesn’t snap at you.

You try again, carefully grasping the levers on each side of the trap, and pull with all your strength, arms burning with strain. Slowly, groaning with reluctance, the jaws open little by little until there is enough space for the wolf to slip its leg free. You turn away, not wanting to see the mess of torn flesh, and toss the trap aside with a grimace.

A wet nose touches the side of your neck, just under your ear, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You stare straight ahead, lips pursed to hold back the whimper in your throat, as it scents you, snuffling softly. And then that nose becomes a warm, rough tongue licking a long line from the base of your neck up to your jawline.

You’re unable to keep from gasping. “You—you’re welcome,” you stammer, all the thoughts in your head dissolving into static. What do you do? Should you turn around and face the wolf? Or push away its snout first? You don’t think it will hurt you, but the risk of losing a finger or two makes you hesitant.

Before you can make up your mind, the wolf moves away and goosebumps rise on your arms as it takes its warmth away with it. You tilt your head towards your shoulder, wiping away the spit with your cloak.

“Look,” you start to say, turning around, “I—”

The wolf is gone. No sign it was ever there except for a trail of blood drops disappearing into the foliage.

“The wolf changes his coat, but not his disposition.” — Proverb

The blacksmith’s workshop is distanced from the other buildings in the village due to the risk of causing a fire from its blazing forge. Its owner, William, is the type of friendly man who has never met a stranger in his life, eager to help anyone who asks him to create weapons or horseshoes or even cooking utensils. And as long as he’s lived here—almost five years now—he’s always worked alone.

Which is why, when you arrive at the shop early in the morning to pick up supplies for the depot and come face to face with a different dark-headed man wearing a leather apron and gloves while hammering away at a horseshoe, you raise an eyebrow of suspicion and confusion.

For all your pride when it comes to your talent for recognizing faces, it’s not until the man’s lips twist into a scowl at being stared at that you realize he’s not a stranger at all.

“Pero,” you say blankly. He’s cut his overgrown hair since the last time you saw him a few days prior, and also sports a neatly trimmed mustache and a faint dusting of scruff along his chin instead of an unkempt beard.

Oh, good Lord, you think, taking in the sight of his sharp jawline and the flexing of his biceps as he adjusts his grip on the hammer. He’s gorgeous.

Did the temperature suddenly rise a thousand degrees?

His brown eyes glow golden, reflecting the firelight. “You remembered,” he says, mocking your bland tone. His brow furrows when he looks at your cloak, a flicker of an emotion you can’t identify crossing his face. “What are you wearing? You look like the stupid little girl in the fairytale.”

“Does that make you the big bad wolf?” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest and simultaneously fighting back a wince when you realize how sweaty your underarms have become in the mere minutes since your arrival.

Pero smirks then, mean and teasing, making you feel like prey about to be consumed. When he speaks, the rough edges of his voice send a chill down your spine despite the intense heat pressing down on you from all sides. “It just might.”

You roll your eyes, unamused. “What are you doing here anyways?”

“Mr. Tovar needed a place to stay and I needed a second pair of hands. It’s funny how life is sometimes, isn’t it?” William shuffles in from the doorway connecting to his house at the back of the shop. He slaps Pero companionably on the shoulder as he passes by, eliciting a grunt from the Spaniard.

“Hilarious,” you agree, looking between the two men, different as night and day from each other. You estimate the arrangement lasting three days. A week, at most.

“His skills are almost better than mine,” William admits. He pinches his index finger and thumb together. “Almost.”

Pero shakes his head, mock reproachful. “Careful pissing someone off who's holding a hammer, amigo.”

“I thought you were just a hunter,” you say, an accusation laced within your tone.

He turns back to you, a shadow of that same teasing smirk making a reappearance. “Can’t a man be two things at once, little red?”

You tell yourself the sudden burst of warmth inside your stomach is a side effect of possible heat stroke and not because of how the nickname rolls velvety smooth off his tongue. “Anything’s possible, I suppose.”

He grunts, as if he expected that response, and returns to his abandoned task without another word.

You’re starting to think the man actually likes coming across as odd and mysterious.

William attempts to reclaim your attention by gesturing towards the corner of the room. “I have your father’s order ready, if you’d like to take a look?”

You nod, but instead of listening to the blacksmith’s excited rambling about the tools he had crafted, your gaze keeps being pulled over your shoulder to look at Pero as he moves to grab tongs to handle the horseshoe.

He’s limping, you realize, immediately noticing the odd way his right foot drags along the ground and how he barely leans any weight upon it. His injury reminds you uncomfortably of your wolf, alone and hurt, somewhere out there beyond the pine trees. You hope it's alright.

Against your own better judgement, you find yourself mouthing a quiet prayer of healing for both of them.

And then immediately wonder when the hell did you start thinking of the wolf as yours?

“The wolves in the woods have sharp teeth and long claws, but it’s the wolf inside who will tear you apart.” — Jennifer Donnelly

A month passes and you do not see your wolf again—it’s officially your wolf now, if only to properly distinguish it from any other wolf in existence—but not for lack of looking though. With every delivery that takes you through the forest, you keep your eyes peeled for the slightest of movements and examine every animal track you come across. Except you’re only met with consistent disappointment when every rustling bush is caused by the wind and the marks in the dirt belong to the local creature inhabitants. The hunters passing by the depot haven’t reported any news or rumors of a wolf in the area either, living or dead.

In a way, you’re glad your wolf has seemingly vanished. It probably means the beast has moved on to find somewhere devoid of cruel hunting traps. You try to keep a positive attitude, although you’d be lying if you said you didn’t stay up late worrying. Is it eating enough? Is its leg bothering it? Is it safe?

The only thing interesting enough to distract you from these questions swirling round and round in your head is Pero.

You catch glimpses of him throughout the village, buying groceries and delivering orders for William and handling other day-to-day tasks. He’s quiet and more than a little intimidating, but he’s also polite to the village elders and doesn’t bother anyone by causing unnecessary trouble. His injured foot seems to no longer be an issue, but when you try asking him about how he hurt it he brushes off your concern, says he wasn’t watching where he was going and he won’t make the same mistake again.

Whenever you stop by the blacksmith workshop to pick up orders and supplies, you’re continuously surprised to find William actually seems to enjoy Pero’s sarcastic quips and gruff countenance. Listening to their banter quickly becomes something to look forward to and sometimes you even find the courage to toss in a witty remark of your own, enraptured by the dimpled smile appearing on Pero’s face as a result.

There is something magnetic about Pero that makes you want to be near him. You’re curious about Pero in a way you’ve never felt about anyone else before—certainly not the other village boys. And you hope, more than anything, this crush you’re developing isn’t totally one-sided.

William isn’t at his shop today when you arrive to collect a box of hardware pieces needed to make some repairs around the trading depot. Without his presence, there is fortunately nobody around to witness your horrible attempt at flirting.

“So,” you drawl, rubbing your palms on your pants. “You’re not from around here.”

Oh God. You grimace, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you.

“Was it the accent that gave me away?” Pero asks sardonically from across the room, back facing you as he double-checks the contents of your package are all packed. “Or my roguish looks?”

“You know, when we first met I pegged you as the silent and brooding type,” you say, aiming for coyness while looking him over from head to toe as he approaches the counter. “But surprise, surprise you’ve got quite the sharp tongue too. What else is there to learn about you, Pero? You seem like a man who conceals many secrets.”

You mean to peer at him seductively through your eyelashes, only instead you’re caught off guard by the way Pero suddenly appears...young. Expression raw and open, lips slightly parted. A tuft of his dark hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Then he blinks and shakes his head hard enough you fear his neck snapping.

When he finally looks back at you, his searing gaze burns through your clothes, setting your skin ablaze, and you nearly choke on your spit as he says, “If you want to see me naked you’ll have to do better than that, little red.”

Did he...really just say that?

“I…You...” Your mouth opens, then falls shut with an audible noise, incredibly flustered.

And then he lets out a low, raspy breath of laughter, shoulders shaking and crow’s feet appearing at the corners of his eyes, amused by your naivety. Hurt slices through your body as if he’s stabbed you with one of the weapons lying about. You can’t believe you thought for even one second that maybe he could be different from the rest of the village assholes. God, you feel like such an idiot.

“Fuck you, Pero,” you spit at him, grabbing your package and spinning on heel towards the exit.

You don’t look back. Not when he pleads for you to wait, not when he calls your name, and not even when you hear an angry curse followed by the deafening clang of metal striking metal.

“Even a wolf knows how to be polite when animalistic humans have no clue about politeness.” — Munia Khan

You hum quietly a few notes of a song your mother used to sing, weaving together wildflowers you’d collected on your walk into a crown. The forest is quiet around you, leaving you to work peacefully in the same grassy clearing you’d encountered the wolf over a month ago.

Still angry with Pero, you’ve started spending longer hours within the sanctitude of the woods, the only place you feel you can hide from him. Not that he’s even tried to seek you out at the depot or your home to apologize which is just further salt in the imaginary wound leftover from the incident.

Sunlight filters through the overhead branches and your red cloak lays discarded at your side, too hot to wear the extra layer. If Pero were with you and saw it, he’d say some stupid line like About time you used what little common sense you possess because he always scolded you for risking heatstroke by wearing it in the forge.

But Pero isn’t here with you.

“And ain’t that a good fucking thing,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring the tightness in your chest.

A twig snapping to the right of you has you freezing as you’re reaching for another flower. Out of the corner of your eye you catch a shadow of movement and you slowly turn your head to look just as a familiar, gigantic wolf steps into the clearing just a few feet away from where you’re sitting.

Your breath stills in your lungs. That’s your wolf.

It stares back at you, silent and unmoving with its head slightly ducked, almost like...it’s nervous? Your gaze roams over its body, noticing the wound on its hind leg has mostly healed since your last encounter, just the faintest bit of scarring the only evidence there was ever an injury at all.

“You’re back,” you say, needlessly pointing out the obvious. Its ears twitch at the sound of your voice. “It’s good to see you’ve been staying out of trouble. I’ve been worried about you.”

Your wolf perks up, tongue lolling out of its mouth and tail wagging as if it’s a puppy and not a two-hundred pound behemoth.

You are unable to resist cooing at it, finding the attempt at smiling adorable despite the sharpness of its teeth. And then that coo shifts into a gasp when the wolf closes the distance, a few feet becoming a few inches until it’s close enough to nuzzle the side of your face, cold nose rubbing against your cheek.

You hesitate to move or breathe, thinking of all the violent stories you’d heard growing up from hunters and trappers who said wild animals couldn’t be trusted. It’s a dog eat dog world and predators will always choose to go down fighting to the bloody end.

But then, almost like an unseen force is controlling your limbs, you lift a shaky hand to brush against the thick, dense fur of its neck. Your wolf practically melts at your touch, a pleased growl rumbling from deep within its chest, and all but collapses across your lap, burying its face against your middle.

Laughing, you start scratching along its shoulder and flank, and the smile on your face grows wider when your wolf tilts its head to lick at your chin, as eager to return affection as it is to receive some. “You’re pretty adorable for a ferocious beast,” you say, awe and wonder slipping into your tone. “How did I get picked to be so lucky to meet you?”

Your wolf lets out a low half-whine, half-grunt in response and licks at the veins along your wrist.

An hour passes with your wolf lying pressed against your leg, massive head resting atop your thigh, watching you craft a few more flower crowns you hope to sell at the next Market Day for some extra pocket money. For your own entertainment, you gently set one of the crowns upon your wolf’s head. Its ears swivel a bit, grazing the petals, and a heavy sigh passes through its nose like it’s exasperated with you, but otherwise the animal doesn’t seem to mind the accessory.

If you could, you'd spend another five hours in the woods with your furry companion, but the sun is starting to descend in the sky and your father will be expecting you soon.

“I’ve got to start heading back home.” You stand up and stretch your legs to get blood flowing again after such a long time spent sitting. Your wolf’s golden eyes follow your every movement as you pack away the flower crowns and slip your arm through the basket’s handle to rest it in the crook of your elbow. You pet its head one last time. “Hopefully we meet again soon.”

Not even twenty steps away from the clearing, you spin around when you hear movement behind you and find your wolf sitting in the middle of the trail, obviously following you.

“Are you going to be my shadow all the way home?” you ask incredulously.

A nod.

“Do I have a choice in the matter?”

A grunt.

You shake your head at its antics, but a smile tugs at your lips, betraying your inner amusement. You could never really be upset with someone so adorable. “Well, come on then, Shadow. Let’s at least walk side by side as equals, okay?”

Your wolf trots forward, snout grazing against your elbow as softly as a kiss, and doesn’t leave your side until the trail’s end.

A new routine develops over the next two weeks between you and your wolf. Shadow becomes your new delivery escort, greeting you when you enter the forest with a toothy grin and then spends the next few minutes nuzzling and rubbing against every inch of your body. You realize after the third time that he is scent marking you, claiming you as his own by making sure you smell like him. You don’t mind the aggressive cuddling session, thinking it is a much better experience than being peed on everyday.

The more time you spend with Shadow, the more you start opening up and sharing your thoughts and secrets with him. You’ve always been a lonely soul, feeling like nobody truly understood you, especially after your mother passed away, but with your wolf at your side you don’t feel quite so alone. He listens to everything you have to say, responding in his own quirky way with growls and whines, so eerily humanlike with his expressions.

You want to know more about him, where he came from before entering your life and how long he’s been on his own. According to your books, there isn’t a single good reason or explanation for a wolf to be traveling without a pack. But whenever you try to ask him about his past he gives you the silent treatment, pointedly turning his gaze away from you until you change the topic.

Whatever happened, clearly the pain is still fresh for him.

“I don’t like to talk about the past either,” you tell him, your mother’s face flashing through your mind.

Shadow makes no noise, but licks at your hand in acknowledgement, coating your fingers with saliva.

“Aw, wolf spit!” You wipe your hand on your pants, face scrunched up in exaggerated disgust. “Gross!”

He circles around you, quicker than your eyes can follow, and catches hold of the hem of your shirt.

Your eyes widen. “Hey, no, Shadow don’t you dare—”

One strong tug and your balance is lost, falling backwards onto your rear at the same time the fabric rips. Shadow wastes no time pushing his face against yours, noses briefly smooshing against each other, wagging his tail when you start giggling. His lips pull back into a grin, tongue lolling out, and it’s your only forewarning before he starts licking you in earnest. Unthinkingly, you bare your throat when he dips his head to lap at the tender patch of skin right above your collarbone.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, you sensitive and giant furball,” you say in-between bouts of laughter, shoving at his chest to push him away. The effort is pointless, like trying to physically push against a brick house, but Shadow takes pity on you, rumbling a noise not unlike a raspy chuckle.

A sense of familiarity pricks the back of your mind, but the feeling doesn’t linger long, dismissed as easily as a thrown away splinter.

You look down at your torn shirt with a sigh. This will be the fifth piece of clothing you’ll have to mend with your sewing kit. Your father’s been suspicious lately of your extra spending on thread and your list of plausible excuses is dwindling alarmingly quick.

“I could probably blame Pero somehow,” you mutter to yourself, but there is no real heat in your tone. Instead there is just a faint pang of hollowness beneath your ribcage. “Can you believe I actually miss talking to that asshole? I thought maybe he liked me, but I found out the hard way I was wrong.”

Shadow whines, sensing your change in mood.

“Love is easy for wolves. You find your perfect match and then you’re bonded for life,” you say quietly, running a hand over his head. “But it’s different for humans. It can be so beautiful and sweet, but it’s also messy and difficult and confusing...” Your voice trails off as a connection is made, two puzzle pieces clicking together in the back of your mind.

“Maybe humans are meant to experience both. The dark and the light. Love isn’t skin deep, after all. If you fall in love with someone, you’ve got to be willing to love their inner monster too.”

"Have you seen what wolves do to their prey? But they do mate for life." — Donna Lynn Hope

Spring always seems to bring out the best in nature and people. Flowers start to blossom, as if eager to greet the humans who have been tucked away within their warm homes for so long, and your neighbors in the village wear friendly smiles upon their faces, reveling in the sunshine.

During Market Day, the village square becomes a hive of activity with people coming from dozens of nearby towns to check out the rows of vendor stalls. You’ve been shopping less than an hour and already your basket is full to the brim of a plethora of unique goods.

The crowds are always thick once the last stubborn traces of winter have finally disappeared and you’re having to nudge people aside with your elbows in your quest to reach a seller known for their honey buns. Your goal is within sight, closer with every step, and you can practically taste the sweetness on your tongue only to instead collide face first into a broad chest appearing out of nowhere.

You let out a quiet oof of surprise, stumbling backwards on your heels. Large hands reach out and hold onto your upper arms to steady you.

“Careful, little red.”

You straighten up in an instant, eyes wide, and choke out a hoarse, “Pero.”

It’s been weeks since you last spoke to him in the blacksmith workshop, but he’s still just as unfairly attractive as you remember. He wears a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, baring his toned forearms to the world, and dark trousers. On his feet are the leather boots he traded his collection of pelts for when he first arrived.

He looks nervous, you think, watching the way his tongue swipes at his bottom lip and how he seems reluctant to maintain steady eye contact.

“I haven’t seen you in awhile,” he says at last. “You stopped coming by the forge.”

“I’ve been busy making deliveries elsewhere,” you reply stiffly, clasping your basket in front of you with both hands. Pero’s expression spasms, as if he restrained himself from wincing.

You don’t like it—this whole kicked puppy look he’s conveying. Pero’s the one who hurt you by behaving so mean before, laughing at you like you were the last person on earth to have a chance with him, and yet you can’t help feeling guilty for being cold towards him.

He clears his throat. “You’re mad at me.”

“Yes.”

“Because I was an insensitive ass.”

“Two for two, do you want a gold star?”

Pero’s eyes flash, either with anger or hurt, you can’t tell. He crosses his arms, glancing around the square like he’s wary of anyone overhearing your conversation. You keep staring at him, knowing everyone is too caught up in their own shopping to pay either of you any attention longer than a passing glance.

He clears his throat and says with all the bluntness as a punch to the sternum, “You’re too good for someone like me.”

You blink once, twice, then arch an eyebrow at him. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” he says slowly, like he can’t believe you’re dumb enough to ask him, “I’m not someone you should waste your time on. You deserve better.”

Realization clicks in your brain, followed shortly by a burst of anger, red hot and boiling.

“I’m a grown woman, Pero,” you say despite fighting the childish urge to stomp your foot. “I can handle rejection. If you don’t have feelings for me then just tell me so.”

Pero runs a hand through his hair, mouth twisting with frustration. He probably had hoped you’d just take his excuse and carry on with your life, but you refuse to let him get off easy. He’s not wrong: you do deserve better.

“I didn’t say that.”

Your whole body goes still, because if that means what you think it means then—

Pero won’t meet your eyes, his discomfort clear. “I just...can’t be with you, little red.”

So it hasn’t been a one-sided attraction all this time. He has feelings for you, but he made the preemptive choice to crush them rather than let them keep growing and evolving into something potentially serious.

And he also made that choice for you.

“Hell no,” you blurt out, startling him. “I’m not letting you give up on future us with that piss poor reason. I deserve better than you can’t.”

“Future us?” Pero echoes, head tilting. “You really think…?”

You wait a beat for him to finish the trailed off sentence, but he seems incapable, staring at you like he’s having trouble believing you truly exist.

“Yes.” You take pity on him, nodding your head. “Yes, I think you’re different from anybody else I’ve ever met. Yes, I think you are grumpy and sarcastic to prevent people from getting to know you. And yes, Pero, I think you and I could have a future if you’d quit making bad decisions trying to push me away.”

Pero’s lips purse into a thin, angry line. His brown eyes have turned hard, frigid cold. “You think I’m different from everyone else? That’s because you don’t know shit about me. I’m a liar and a thief. There is blood on my hands, little red. More than you could possibly fathom. I have become something no one—not even my own mamá—could ever love.”

He’s looming over you now, breathing hotly against your face, and you can only stare straight ahead over his shoulder, unable to think of something to say.

“You don’t belong in my world. Is that a fucking good enough reason for you?”

You swallow, carefully arranging your thoughts before answering. “It’s better,” you admit, because it’s true. For the first time you’re aware of the possibility he could be dangerous. That he’s someone you should run away from instead of chase after.

Unwittingly, Shadow comes to mind. You think about how he’d snarled at you when you first approached him, when he’d been trapped and cornered, lashing out instead of accepting the help he needed. You think about how you’ve developed a bond with him now, the way he smiles instead of growls, protecting you against nonexistent threats on your walks. You’d never have that bond if you’d chosen to run away from him.

“My choice hasn’t changed though.” You tilt your head up and he’s close enough your noses lightly graze each other. It takes all your self-control not to smirk at his sharp inhale of air. “I still want to take the risk, even if it’s true I’m not fit for your world. Just, tell me one thing, Pero. Are you going to break my heart on purpose?”

Pero’s already shaking his head before you finish, looking lost and pained. “What? I—That’s not—” He cuts himself off, looking away to gather his composure. When he looks at you again, he’s not quite as panicked, but the pain persists in the lines of his expression, “No, never purposefully. But—”

You press a finger over his lips, silencing him. “I’ll see you tonight at the tavern. You better not keep me waiting for our first date or I’ll tie you to a tree and let the wild beasts eat you.”

Pero stares at you, expressionless and frozen still, and just when your anxiety is about to consume you, he smiles, a soft, precious little curl of his lips. He takes your hand and presses a featherlight kiss upon each of your knuckles, maintaining steady eye contact the whole time. Your heart starts beating so fast you feel it in your throat, the sweetness of the gesture sending a pulse of warmth throughout your whole body.

“I’d prefer your company over any wild beast’s, little red.”

"There is no greater love than the love the wolf feels for the lamb-it-doesn’t-eat." — Hélène Cixous

You’re grinning like an idiot as you enter the forest, eagerly looking forward to your date with Pero later that evening. You can’t remember ever feeling so giddy before, like your blood has become electric, and you swear there are literal sparks shooting off your bare arms.

You expect to see Shadow waiting for you at your usual meetup spot by the grassy clearing, but there is no sight of him as you approach. Your steps slow to a stop, telling yourself not to worry just yet about his absence. He’s a wild animal, not a pet, and there are dozens of justifiable reasons for him to be missing.

But still...This change in routine is more than a little unsettling. Shadow has always been the one patiently waiting for you to arrive.

You hesitate for a moment, torn between waiting a few minutes longer for Shadow or carrying on with your task, when you hear a noise behind you. Thinking it’s your wolf, you spin around with his name on your tongue, except your heart nearly leaps out of your chest instead.

Shadow lopes up to you with a bloodstained muzzle and a dead rabbit hanging from his mouth. He looks as smug as a wolf can be as he drops the prey at your feet and puffs his chest out, clearly expecting praise.

Gross, you think, biting your lip to refrain from grimacing. The kill is fresh, blood still oozing out of the gaping wound on the rabbit’s neck where Shadow’s teeth tore into it.

“Is that your lunch? It looks, um, tasty,” you say before the silence stretches too long. “My mother used to make rabbit stew, but when I try to copy her recipe it never tastes the same, you know?”

Shadow tips his head with a low whine, like he does understand your nostalgia for the past, and then nudges the carcass closer towards your feet with his nose.

You look from Shadow to the rabbit, then back again. “Are you...giving this to me?”

His happy bark of confirmation has your stomach feeling queasy. Not just because the offering is disgusting, but also because of what it represents.

This is step one of a wolf’s courting ritual. You’ve read about it in field guides where a male wolf will present a fresh kill to a female in order to prove himself as a strong and suitable mate.

But a male wolf presenting a courting gift to a human girl? You doubt there’s any book out there that will guide you through this scenario.

“Shadow,” you begin, nervously holding the package in your arms tighter against your chest.

Your wolf’s happiness fades, tail drooping and going still. His eyes narrow with wariness as he senses the impending bad news. Your heart crumples at the sight.

“I know what this gesture means. And it’s sweet, really.” You reach out your hand slowly, threading your fingers through the soft fur on top of his head. To your relief, he leans into your touch rather than ducks to avoid it. “I can’t accept it though.”

He whines, a heartbreaking sound that cuts right through you, and his ears fall flat against his head, as if to quit listening to the rejection.

“I love you,” you say, your voice shaking, the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “But what you want, it won’t work.”

Shadow’s entire body seizes up as a ripple of some unseen force washes over him from nose to tail, and his eyes close shut. He pulls away from your hand, shaking his head hard enough you worry about him hurting himself.

“Shadow?”

With his head hung low, he peeks up at you, eyes flickering in the sunlight from amber to a soft shade of brown. What the hell, you think, wondering if you’re imagining the change.

Then he’s gone, sprinting off into the trees, leaving behind the dead rabbit and you feeling far more lost and confused than you’ve ever felt before.

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