Hang In There Hinata!

real or unreal? [pcy]

—summary: her newest romance novel needs a main male character, but no brainstorming is enough to give her the perfect role for the man that swoops the other protagonist off her feet.

finding inspiration in a man she hears of from an old colonel from the army, his existence bleeds onto every page she writes, and yet, she has to get to know him—to see the face behind such gorgeous memories.

lieutenant park, they call him, and he’ll never know he’s the muse behind the one book that will probably make her reach stardom.

—title: real or unreal? —pairing: park chanyeol x reader —genre: military!au ; writer!au ; muse!au  —type: fluff ; angst ; longing —word count: 8,000 —note: this is a kofi request. if you wanna support me, you can always ask me to write something over there!

Excellent liars make even better writers. They wrap words in the most gorgeous of ways, make the bad guy turn good in the middle of the plot just in the sake of love, and they make every reader eat it up. Chosen ones, real love, spaceships and more—writers have filled their banks with more than one hundred thousand words full of bullshit.

Head thumping, she lets the dinging line in the paragraph she must be writing in eat her alive. The point of writing is so paradoxical that she doesn’t understand it at times. She misses it like a madwoman when her fingers can’t lay on the keyboard, but once she needs to, every ounce of inspiration or will dissipates into the thin air. Not only that, but then there comes the perfectionist in her that reads over that first draft, that first chapter of another book that will probably get denied by agents and publishing houses alike and she hates it.

Because, how many times have people read about the bad boy with shredded abs, a crooked smile, pushed back hair and too much bite, with enough sex and alcohol to last him three lifetimes, and they still love it. She doesn’t, however.

She has fallen for the bad boy. Been with the bad boy. Kissed the bad boy to bits and pieces hoping that he saw her and only her, but then you realize much like love, eyes have peripherals and he can see much more. There is a world out there, why settle for her?

Keep reading

Finally a ghost recognises them for what they truly are

i've seen (un)loving miya atsumu getting all the love it deserves but can we please talk about enigmatic kalopsia tho(???) never have i ever imagined that i'd be able to find such a good story of hirugami sachirou before. it's one of the most beautifully written fics ever ( but equally underrated). the boy and the story need so much more attention fr ! hopefully when kamomedai arc is animated he'll gain the fame he deserves and so will this story. (╥へ╥)

oh my, thank you so much for your kind words!

i was really excited to write that fic because i was getting to explore and work on hirugami!!!!!!! and yes, HE DESERVES SO MUCH ATTENTION AND LOVE! I’M MAD HE’S NOT NATIONALLY RECOGNIZED FOR BEING ONE OF THE (IF NOT, AND I’M SORRY OG HAIKYUU HUSBAND, KUROO TETSUROU) BEST HIGH SCHOOL MIDDLE BLOCKERS! AND HE’S SO FUNNY, SARCASTIC, WITTY, HE HAS A DOG (WHY IS HIS NAME KOUTAROU)- I CAN GO ON, BECAUSE THAT’S HOW MUCH I LOVE HIM AND HOW MUCH HE’S BECOME MY TOP HAIKYUU MENS.

I MEAN-

LOOK AT THIS LITTLE GREMLIN!?

LOOK AT HIM!?

SO BEAUTIFUL!? AND HE’S A YEAR OLDER THAN ME IN REAL LIFE!?

Okay, I’ll end my ramble here. I...I just...love him so much and he deserves all the hype and attention he needs.

I swear, the moment the next season gets animated and people will FINALLY see him for the absolute menace of a dork that he is, we’ll be there to say “WE TOLD YOU SO” and I’ll be anxiously waiting for when his nendroids will go on sale. And, no rush! It will take time for people (especially anime-only) fans to come around and see Hirugami. As for my fic, I don’t mind the views it has now, I’m actually happy that there’s a population of Hirugami stans and I know it will grow later. If it happens that they read that fic first before his proper introduction in the anime, I’m scared of the expectations they have of him (and if my portrayal was correct huhu).

FUN FACT: 

it took me A WHILE to work on a title. i had to research some words, with philosophical meanings/deep meanings to them. i eventually happened upon the words of the title and decided to just put them together.

i struggled writing it a bit, because i had to relieve the horrible stories of my friends, who had difficult relationships with their parents. and because reader was a musician (very common in my fics lol), i had to rewatch some of my fave music animes or read fics.

‘til then, thanks again for the support (and my long ass rant about my love for Hirugami Sachirou)

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff drabble no3. gojo as a cat dad

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ drabble summary. gojo tried to give you a little kitten as an apology, but you weren’t able to take it in, so he ends up becoming a cat dad. (note: for new readers, this is in continuation of my long fic gojo x reader series “kickoff”!! masterlist is linked below)

ᰔ main storyline summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. drabble #3

ᰔ words. 2.3k

a/n. hellooo!! this is such a silly little drabble lol, basically just gojo falling in love w a kitty. kickoff reader does make an appearance tho haha. this will be the last drabble before we move on to ch11 :) hope u enjoy!! <3

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

“Wait what? He’s gotta get his balls chopped off someday?”

Gojo holds the tuxedo kitten, which as of two seconds ago is now officially his and shall be named mr. grand theft auto (mr gta for short) up into the air as he examines him like he’s some novel beast.

“Yes,” Nanami affirms on the other line before releasing a deep exhale, “at around ten weeks old, you’ll have to get him neutered.”

“How do I know how old he is?” Gojo asks, twiddling his thumb back and forth to give mr gta something to chase with his paws in an attempt to distract.

“You’ll have to take the kitten to the vet,” Nanami tells him. “They’ll need to check for fleas, parasites, and give any relevant vaccinations.”

Gojo scratches the back of his head and sets mr gta down on his desk, which the Soot Sprite runs to the edge of and almost knocks over Gojo’s half-finished can of Red Bull. Gojo picks him up again, and he hears a tiny little mew squeak out.

“Did you check with Suguru or Hide or Sota if they would be fine with keeping a cat in the house?” Nanami asks.

“No.”

“That’s the first thing you should do.”

“Ehhh I’m sure they’d be fine with it,” Gojo replies before settling mr. gta into the nook of his elbow and then grabbing his keys. He pets his pocket for his wallet, and then heads out of his room, down the stairs, and outside to the driveway to get inside his car. He plops Fluff Ball onto his dashboard, and then realizes he’s still got Nanami on the line.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he brings his phone back up to his ear, “did you say something.”

A long pause. “I’ve been giving you instructions this entire time.”

Nanami apparently had three cats growing up, it was one of the first things Gojo learned about him during some Icebreakers for Rush. But his knowledge is wasted on Gojo, who’s more keen on winging most things in life.

“Where did you find this kitten?” Nanami asks.

“In the bushes,” Gojo says as he pulls out of the driveway, “over on Main street. Took the scenic route on my run this morning.”

“And why decide to keep it?”

Gojo pulls his phone from his ear to check the directions on his phone for a brief second, a little too lazy to connect BlueTooth to his car for a seven minute drive. “Uh. Well, I tried to give it to y/n, but she didn’t want it. Er, she couldn’t have it, so, I figured I’d keep it.” He glances between his rearview mirror and mr. gta as he turns onto the street. “The little thing’s homeless and cute, so why not. Also kinda ugly, though. His fur looks like he’s been struck by lightning.”

Nanami sighs, then catches his breath briefly. “You found a dirty flea-covered kitten in the bushes and then tried to abandon it with y/n when she can’t even have it, and then abruptly decided you’ll take care of it? I would encourage some self reflection.”

Gojo gets to the closest veterinarian office he could find, mr gta in hand when he walks through the door with the jingle of a bell at the top, which his kitten becomes instantly intrigued with as it tilts its head up to the noise.

“Hi,” Gojo says as he approaches the receptionist desk, where he sees a girl probably around his age wearing bright blue scrubs sitting there at a catastrophically messy desk cluttered with pens and clipboards and certainly not enough space for the gigantic keyboard underneath the computer.

She looks up from her computer at Gojo, and blinks a few times in surprise before addressing him. Gojo wonders if she’s new to the job. “Hello! Name for the appointment?”

“Oh, I don’t have an appointment,” Gojo says, setting mr gta up on the high raised counter, and he feels the fur of his tiny tail brush against his hand before a tiny rough tongue starts to lick at his knuckle. “I found this kitten in the bushes, so I just wanted someone to take a look at him. Or her? I’m, like, 90% sure it’s a boy, but you guys are the experts.”

Crescents form under her eyes in amusement before she flutters her eyes back to the computer screen. “Sorry, we don’t take walk-ins,” she says as she busies herself with clicking sporadically across pixels that he can’t see.

“Can’t make an exception?” Gojo asks, setting his elbow up on the counter and mr gta instantly starts scratching at his skin. He watches her expression change from business to something else before pushing away from the desk, chair springing when she gets up from it.

“I can check with the doctor for you!” she chirps and disappears into the hallway. Gojo looks down at mr gta, who’s staring off in the direction she went before he starts licking his paw.

The vet makes an exception, but not without a twenty minute wait. Gojo briefly wonders what being a veterinarian would be like, getting to hold tiny cute kittens like mr gta—who, by the way, is indeed a mister—all day. But, he figures there’s probably downsides to it too, since not all their patients are probably as sweet as mr gta is when he gets his shots. Cute thing just winces a little from the needle then chirps a drawled meow before shaking his head and wobbling right back into Gojo’s hands at the edge of the metal table. God, Gojo was attached. It hasn’t even been three hours, and he’d already jump in front of an active shooter just to protect the little Black Ball with Mittens.

Well, some of the love diminishes when he realizes just how damn expensive the vet visit cost as the receptionist from earlier adds up services on her dated calculator with punches of her index finger on worn out buttons. Gojo pulls his wallet out of his pocket and hands her his credit card, and even though it’s just the plastic equivalent of cash, he still feels like it’s much lighter somehow when she hands it back to him. She prints out the receipt, licking her thumb to separate the customer copy from the office’s copy and hands the latter to him to sign. The puff ball tied at the end of the pen intrigues mr gta who swats his paw at it while Gojo makes quick work of his signature and hands it over the counter. He’s about to turn on his heel to head out the door in no need of the customer copy, when the receptionist squeaks out a wait and scribbles something onto it before handing it to him. He glances down at the ballpoint blue ink. The total that he paid in written out words, a large circle drawn around a free future check-up coupon, and beneath it, a phone number with a heart next to it. He finally clocks in on the flirting.

His now healthy kitten is captivated by the noise of the bell above the door again when Gojo makes his way through it, and then captivated by the sound of plastic paper crumpling in his hand when he tosses the receipt into a trash can outside of receptionist desk view. It’s not like he needed it, he can’t return vaccines.

“So you’re cool with it?’ Gojo asks, Suguru on the other line since he wasn’t home and he was the last one of his housemates he had to check with if keeping mr gta was alright or not. Not that Gojo would drop the little guy off at a shelter if one of the guys did say they didn’t want a cat in the house. He’d sooner drop one of his housemates off at the shelter than get rid of mr gta.

Suguru sighs through the receiver. “I guess it’s fine as long as you take care of it…but it’s weird, you’ve never cared much for cats?”

Gojo’s eyes flicker across the ceiling of his room as he lays on his bed, swinging his knee back and forth before adjusting his hand under his neck to get more comfortable. His gaze then flits down to mr gta, who is roaming the expanse of his chest and plucking at the fabric of Gojo’s shirt with every step he takes across it. Purring like a maniac where the sound is probably loud enough to interrupt Nanami’s wim hof breathing meditation exercises three houses down from here.

Gojo pulls the phone away from his ear and tucks his chin to look mr gta straight in the eye. “Dude. Could you keep it down? I’m on the phone.”

Electrocuted Puff Ball just stares at him and mews in defiance before using its hind leg to scratch behind its ear, then settles its head down on the center of Gojo’s chest, the rumble of purrs felt on his sternum.

Gojo brings the phone back to his ear. He considers how to answer Suguru, thinking can’t let the gang know I fw cute cats all of a sudden so instead he says— “I don’t know. It’s probably the cat parasite.”

“The what?” Suguru asks.

Gojo scratches the top of mr gta’s head as he puts Suguru on speaker then peruses a WikiHow article on his phone on how to care for babies. Apparently, skin to skin contact is very important, so he shoves mr gta underneath the fabric of his shirt. “Yeah, something about a parasite from cats that can infect humans and basically make us fall in love with them as some sort of survival strategy. I read about it on the mews—er, news. Mews? What the fuck. I just said mews instead of news. See?? It’s the fuckin’ cat parasite.”

He hears Suguru sigh. “Aight. Whatever floats your boat, dude.”

Gojo’s phone pings with a text notification, and when he sees your name flash across his screen, his eyes widen. “Uh, gotta go. See ya at home. Don’t forget the cat food.” And then he hangs up. Because he can’t talk to you and concentrate on anything else at the same time.

He sits up, catching mr gta when he falls towards his lap in the motion, and then he perches himself up on an elbow to read your texts.

|| 10:24am You: hi, sorry for kicking you out earlier today

|| 10:24am You: i was just a little sad about the kitty :(

He sees you typing, before the bubble disappears. He holds his breath. And then he sees you typing again.

|| 10:26am You: i’m on my period, so im’ a little emotional

Gojo blinks at his screen. Then his thumbs move to type.

|| 10:28am Gojo Satoru: Oh

He scans his brain for the right thing to say.

|| 10:29am Gojo Satoru: Are you doing okay? Do you need Ibuprofen

He feels mr gta’s warm little body press against his torso.

|| 10:30 Gojo Satoru: Or a heating pad?

Nailed it.

|| 10:32am You: aw no i’m ok!! thanks though :))

|| 10:32am You: did you keep the kitty?

His eyes flicker down to mr gta, who has fully fallen asleep in his lap. Dumb little thing. Doesn’t even know pythagoras’s theorum, or anything about the Roman Empire. Only knows warmth and whiskers. But if anything bad ever happened to mr gta, Gojo would probably end up in jail for the revenge he wreaks havoc on the perpetrators.

|| 10:24am Gojo Satoru: I did, yeah. Victim of the cat parasite

|| 10:26am You: cat parasite??

|| 10:26am You: what’s that

|| 10:28am Gojo Satoru: Some parasite that makes people like cats

|| 10:29am Gojo Satoru: [sent an article]

|| 10:29am Gojo Satoru: Saw it on the news

|| 10:31am You: don’t you mean

|| 10:31am You: the mews

|| 10:31am You: haha get it

|| 10:31am You: because of mew

He blinks at his phone screen, and then his lips purse. The cuteness aggression he has felt today is enough to kill a grown man, and he has to set his phone down to deal with the wide grin that spreads across his face from your messages. He rubs a hand across his mouth and over his jaw, to ease the sore to the cheeks of his muscles from the way he can’t help the stupid way he’s cheesing over you, and it’s almost embarrassing if it didn’t make his heart beat fast in his chest in the same flush way he feels at the end of a good run or an exciting soccer match.

And while he tries to contain his face despite the lack of any witnesses, except for the kitten curled up in his lap, he realizes it’s been minutes since he responded to you.

He falls back onto the bed, head hitting the pillow while he sets his hand holding his phone down on his chest to read your message. Mr gta crawls up from his lap to sit in front of his phone screen, and Gojo has to tilt his head to look past the obstructing view of his wispy floofy tail.

|| 10:35am you: sorry. was that lame :(

Mr gta meows incessantly at the phone as if in response to you. “Yeahhh I know. She’s really cute, isn’t she.” And then Gojo scratches behind his pointy little ear with his index finger. Mr gta entirely leans into the sensation, purring loudly almost on command before he’s meowing again in a tiny voice.

Mr gta reaches his paw out, pressing it against the bright screen of Gojo’s phone, typing nonsensical letters because he doesn’t know the English lexicon, or any lexicon for that matter other than purr and meow and hiss.

Gojo thinks nothing of it, until his paw accidentally presses the blue send button.

|| 10:37am Gojo Satoru: sjhdfhh

|| 10:38am You: huh?

|| 10:39am Gojo Satoru: Sorry

|| 10:39am Gojo Satoru: That was the cat

.

.

.

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyeeddd lol gojo as a cat dad was not in my plans for kickoff at all but this was fun to write alskdjdh i want a lil kitty so baaaaad </3 anywho, like i mentioned, this will be the last drabble from ch10 haha we shall move on to ch11 now 😼 but there will def be more mr gta appearances in kickoff bc that’s gojo’s lil baby now :”) thanks sm for reading!! love u guys

taglist: @megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

@erencvlt @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p

@phoenix-eclipses @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance @foulprincesscycle

@luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress @tsukikourito

@getitsatoru @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @btszn

@izayas-rings @semra4 @ethereally-lyann @bbyxxm @fvsm4x

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@nanasukii28 @spindyl @ri-sa20 @thexmistress @mwtsxri

@v4mpieres @teramisuyhin @ritsatoru @megumisthirdog @sakui1

@angelicscribe @bloopsstuff @tetsuski @oh-dude @pickuptruck01

note: please send me an ask if your taglist preferences change at any time!!

𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘪 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘮

summary: you see him a handful of times down by the river, washing off the bloodstains from his clothing and hands. you wonder to yourself how he could look so human in such a monstrous act. once he sees you he can’t get you rid of his mind.

paring: sukuna x f!reader

genre: angst, soft love, little bits of fluff, angst with no happy ending

warnings: blood, gruesome death, talks of sex and taking virginity, character death

word count: 7k+

jjk masterlist

—

—

“Do you intend on staring the entire time?”

The hair on your neck rose, your breath catching in your throat as you hear him call out.

Surely he couldn’t have seen you. You had tried to hide decently well into the background of the forest.

“Your act of concealment is rather pitiful, you know.” His voice disparaged you once more, and from the sliver of opening the bushes allowed you saw him look over his shoulder, staring directly at you as he raised an eyebrow.

“Come out, human.” You, for the first time, hear the real command in his voice, the one that terrified the men in your village, the ones who came back from battle and laid awake at night with it echoing in the solitude of their minds.

You gave it a couple seconds, and when you saw him vanish from the spot he had been near the river bank you panicked, looking around everywhere to see where he had gone.

You felt a rush of air wisp behind you, and you whipped your head around to see a large hand circle around your throat, long, claw-like nails digging into your skin as he effortlessly raised you from the ground.

You felt the voice in your head mock you for your stupidity, the idea alone of spying on the curse everybody feared an idiotic idea. But you were curious, too curious for your own good, and the first time you saw him you were fascinated.

Here he seemed like the monster everybody made him out to be. Blood from his previous victims splattered across his face, red eyes boring into yours as he assessed the person in front of him, large muscles flexing as he turned you around, gawking at you like an animal in a cage.

But the first time you saw him, he drew you in, and perhaps that would be the sole reason for your demise. The sun shone shined splendidly that day, reflecting off the water beneath him, his skin shining bright as he delicately cleaned his dirtied clothes in peace.

You hadn’t meant to run into him that day, but you couldn’t rest seeing him act so human, so normally, after every rumor, you had heard.

You now wish you had listened to them.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” He cocked his head to the side, eyebrow perched as you meekly grabbed at his hand, begging him to loosen his grip.

His eyes trailed down to your gaping mouth, eyes widening with the lack of air, and his grip loosed, dropping you roughly to the ground, giving you a couple of seconds to failingly come up on your arms, coughing as you rubbed weakly at your neck, trying to ease to soreness away.

He dropped down to his knees, crouching down at your side as he waited for you to recover, in no rush as you hacked away.

“I asked you a question.” He reminded you and you fearfully looked up, eyes filled with tears as you weakly nodded, your chapped lips trembling in dread.

“Is that a yes?” His lips upturned in a small and taunting smile, his sharpened teeth gleaming back at you as you gulped, clearing your throat as you tried your best to respond.

“Yes, yes,” You looked at the grass beneath you, anything but the figure of death in front of you, “I have been here before, my lord.“

He kept his eyes locked on yours, his look never shifting from one to the other, keeping natural as if to frighten you even more.

Would anybody care if you had been killed out in the woods today? Would anybody come looking if you went missing?

"Is it you who’s been watching me these past weeks?” He asked, and even on the ground sitting in front of you he shadowed your crumpled form, and you wiped some of the slobber from your lips before you spoke again.

“I apologize, my lord.” Your fingers shook far too much, could he tell? Could he see that your blood was freezing under your skin?

“May I ask what’s intrigued you so much to return?” You feel this breath on your cheeks, his nose close to yours as he leaned in, the air in your lungs seizing as you held it all to yourself.

Your fingers itched to grab the small bundle you had brought with you, the one you had failed to give these past weeks.

He watched the movement, his eyes quickly darting over to the small package concealed in a piece of dirtied cloth.

“Is this yours?” He reached over and grabbed it, examining its shabby shape as you meekly nodded once more, your mouth too dry to give him a proper response.

He glanced back over to you, truly studying you. Your clothes were dirty, mud and dirt clinging to your skin, holes littering the soles of your shoes. Your hair was clumped together and nails were outgrown from their beds.

He had been familiarized with the nearby village, having ransacked it multiple times. He knew the women well, their appearances were far more important than anything else. If you were from there it was obvious you were one of their outcasts, if the skin clinging to your bones would say anything.

He kept an eye on you as you coughed again, blood specking the palm of your hand as you wiped it on your pants, embarrassed and more honestly terrified to look at him, opting to gape at the ground.

He turned the lump of fabric around in his hand, weighing it and sniffing it as if to sense what was inside. A foul smell flew under his nose, and he winced as he quickly went to open it, his inquisitiveness taking over.

The fabric was flimsy and wasn’t tied hard enough, falling away as he peeled it back.

Small tomatoes and pieces of lettuce tumbled out, some parts of them molded as they fell to his feet.

“I apologize, my lord, they are not of the best quality.” You explained and he scoffed, taking the small vegetables and squishing it between his fingers, turning back to you as he took you by the collar, lifting it up so that you would be face to face with him.

“Were those for me?” His head tilted again, a small pout overtaking his smile as he watched you struggle to come up with words to say.

“Have you been watching me these past few weeks just to give me rotten vegetables?”

He watched in clear amusement as you sniffled, your eyes squeezed shut as you nodded, hands quivering as you kept them balled by your side.

“Did that really sound like a good idea to you?” His grip on your collar tightened, and you gasp as he lifted you once more, your feet dangling as you tried to get back down.

Sukuna looked at you, the tears welling in your eyes, the tomatoes, and lettuce as his feet looking back up at him as he strangled you, your fingers weakling attempting to grab at his clenching fists.

“I’m s-sorry,” You choked out, “It’s all I h-had.” Some bloodied spit landed on his face and he grimaced, dropping you immediately to wipe it off.

You couldn’t muster up a groan as you felt your ankle crack from the pressure, only having enough strength to try to crawl away.

This isn’t how you wanted to die, not alone and at the hands of the curse of death himself. Not when you wanted to see the countryside, to sail in those things they called ships. Not on the ground of a forest, you stumbled upon one day, your kind heart killing you eventually.

And all Sukuna did was watch the pitiful scene, eyebrows drawing together as he saw your crumpled form sit at the stump of a tree, your ankle bent the wrong way, your eyes barely open as you went in and out of consciences.

Who were you? Surely not a girl of any importance. He would have already bedded you had you been one. You were poor, perhaps worse than that, yet you managed to bring him portions of your food.

Even in the coldest of winters, he had watched the village chief struggle to give up a third of his meals to honor him, yet an insignificant girl like you who obviously needed the wasted vegetables more than anything was offering it to him.

Should he kill you here? Make it painless? It seemed that your health was already declining, your bloody coughs enough proof for him. He’d be putting you out of your misery if he did it now.

But walking towards you, his nails turned into the claws he was so used to, kneeling down once more to your slumped form, he couldn’t seem to do it.

You couldn’t even lift your head to beg for your life, but you tried to bring up your fist that paled in size to his, curling it around one of his fingers as you tried to push him away.

And his nails were right there, right at the base of your throat, ready to slit, but he felt the little bit of heat as you sickly gripped him, the little tear droplets wetting his skin as he retracted his hand.

He stared at the top of your head, watching as your hand fell to your side, your body too weak to keep it up anymore.

And he grumbled to himself, saying things such that he wasn’t fucking enough people and his mind was going crazy, cupping your knees as he lifted you gently up, supporting your head with the palm of his hand as he brought you back to the village.

He could have killed you even then as he was entering the gates, but you had held onto his shirt so tightly that he could barely lift his finger to do such a thing.

—

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Are you an atheist?

When I see a delicious cake on the kitchen table, it's only natural for me to believe that the Baker exists. It seems unimaginable that all the ingredients would come together in the exact quantities needed, then somehow bake themselves at the precise temperature for the exact amount of time.

“Aww, so pretty~ Are you sure you’re a doberman? It’s not that you’re a chihuahua who just got big?” — Bell & Jongin, a real love story ♡ ‘The Devil wears Jungnam’, S2 E3.

“you know you’re a setter when no one understands how hard your job is.”