Tumgik
#I know I talk about this chapter endlessly but it’s my favorite chapter in the whole series I think
silkscream · 11 days
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CHAPTER 9: GOD IS A CIRCLE
ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader
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Your angels do not react. They only look at you with concern, shielding you from the blazing sun with their wings. They stare as you laugh, doubling over, falling backwards into the green grass. You only remember that you’re alive when they trace the contours of your body with their fingertips.
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ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, high sex, threesome, oral sex, fingering, graphic depictions of violence and blood, recreational drug usage, biblical imagery, angst
ੈ✩ wc: 5.5k
ੈ✩ a/n: i was barely conscious when i wrote this. sorry bout it
playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist
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August, 2009
Bliss is never eternal. If it was, you’d think the world would stop turning with everyone busy with their greatest indulgences. It’s not like you were much of a hedonist anyway, not even with Satoru’s influence.
You feel intoxicated with him and Suguru, but it’s not enough to keep you from reality. Yaga-sensei proves this the moment the boys are ordained the task of protecting the star plasma vessel—a fourteen-year-old girl with more spirit than you ever had at that age. You admire her spunk, her unwillingness to take shit from either of the boys. It entertains you endlessly.
“How do you deal with them?” she mutters to you. You learn that her name is Riko Amanai. She loves the ocean and has a sweet tooth like Satoru. Her favorite flavor is anything blue.
“I keep them in check.”
“Are you my bodyguard too?”
“Not really,” you laugh. “But I’ll be around.”
Riko likes you. She clings to you more than you anticipate, considering this isn’t your mission, but you understand. She’s vulnerable despite her confidence in her fate as Tengen’s vessel. Talks a big game with blue eyes shining bright, similar to Satoru. 
She pouts at your absence. You think nothing of it, knowing that she’s in good hands between the boys and that caretaker of hers. The bounty on the girl’s head is daunting, but the boys are the strongest, and you watch them evade the enemies easily. 
It’s when they end up in Okinawa that something in your chest feels a bit empty. A bad omen, anxiety pooling in your gut. 
Satoru texts you pictures from the beach—sea creatures from the ocean and the aquarium, selfies with Suguru that are often blurry. He texts you how much he misses you, how much he craves the parts of you that you think may be too intimate to even talk about out loud, let alone through text. Suguru sends you pictures of Riko and Satoru on the beach with the creatures they pick up from the ocean, of sunsets he knows you would enjoy.
You ache for their return. 
satoru: gonna stay for another day jsyk
you: having fun?
satoru: yeaaaa
satoru: tired as fuck though
satoru: but riko likes the beach. thought we could give her one more day
you: you’re sweet
satoru: not as sweet as uuuuuuuuu
satoru: she says hi btw
satoru: shes mad ur not here
you: she likes me more than you
satoru: >:(
you: i’ll see you soon. get some sleep please
satoru: anything for u baby
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Something has gone terribly wrong. 
You have no reason to be worried—Satoru is more than capable of handling that assassin, no matter how swift his movements may be. It was whiplash to see a sword go through him, and it was whiplash to see Satoru react like it was a paper cut.
Now, in the Tombs of the Star, you feel a chill run up your spine as you escort Kuroi out. She’s still emotional, wiping tears after her goodbye to Amanai. Trepidation strikes you the same way it did in that forest all those months ago. The air has grown cold, but you can’t sense any other cursed energy but your own.
“Kuroi,” you breathe.
“Yes?” She sniffles, wiping her tears quickly.
“Go on without me,” you say cautiously. “I think I better guard the Tomb just in case. For Geto.”
“Alright. Thank you for being there for them.” Kuroi smiles at you with a warmth you aren’t sure that you deserve.
“I wasn’t the one protecting her.”
“I know, but she admired you a lot. We missed you in Okinawa.”
You pull her into a hug, one that you wish you’d given Riko moments prior. It’s a parting gift. 
When she departs, you’re left alone in a dark hallway. You expect a spirit to jump out — something monstrous, an amalgamation of your nightmares. But this is a sacred place, you suppose. One meant for sacrifices and blessings. You’ve never really believed in blessings. The world is built on too many curses for that.
Something in the air made you want to choke, swallow back bile. Nothing like your old anxiety spells. It’s something else, you’re sure of it. And yet, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. The rustle of fabric. 
He couldn’t go undetected, not completely. Not when your intuition was on overdrive, making you sick with it. Your senses acute. 
“Haven’t seen you before.”
His voice is raspy, the sound of skinned palms on pavement. Deep the way Japanese whiskey burns down and sits in your stomach a little too heavy. There’s a split on the corner of his mouth as if he’d been nicked by a thorn. He smiles at you with lazy, bovine eyes and a snake-like smirk. 
This man is not a figment of your imagination — he’s real as can be as he towers over yet, and there’s not a lick of cursed energy you can feel, even when you’re this close to him. A human.
You think about Satoru and the sword that went through his chest. You look at the sword that the stranger in front of you wields. Within a second, you rush to touch him, but your technique doesn’t activate as soon as you want it, too. He slashes you across the stomach, crimson permeating the torn fabric of your uniform.
“Weak little girl,” he chides. “You’re too pretty to kill, though.”
You gag, nearly vomiting on the ground. 
“You their girlfriend or what? Would’ve thought they were fucking each other, to be honest.”
You shake your head weakly, your vision blurring already. You hear a bark of a laugh. Not even your bared teeth can be taken seriously, not when you’re bleeding out on the ground. He tuts as if he’s scolding you.
“He’ll kill you,” you hiss. The man laughs again. You must be referring to one of your boys. He grins wider when he realizes. 
“Which one? The one with the bangs?” he scoffs. “Because I already killed the Gojo brat, sweetheart.”
You feel your heart drop, sinking like an anchor as the feeling drags your body down with it. You look at him with wide eyes, and the sadistic stare you get back tells you he wants to humiliate you. It would hurt less if he just killed you.
Satoru would never die by the hand of a non-sorcerer. Not a fucking chance. But the notion doesn’t stop the itch behind your nose, your eyes threatening tears. The man crouches, his face looking down at you in mock sympathy, and places a rough palm to your face, swipes your quivering bottom lip. You taste blood.
You clutch his wrist immediately and he raises his hand.
Something metal whips the side of your face, something heavy. Your sight of vision narrows into black.
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When you wake, you aren’t sure if you’ve arrived in a nightmare or had just left one.
For one, Satoru is saturated in blood. The scratches on his face are brutal. He looks half feral, half shell-shocked. It’s nothing you’ve seen before.
Despondency paints Suguru’s face into a shadow of himself. There’s something off about their cursed energy.
You don’t want to ask them how the rest of the mission went — you can already tell what the answer might be. If everything went according to plan, there wouldn’t be a blank stare in each of their eyes. If everything was fine, they would return to you like themselves — animated and flirty and teasing. If everything was the way it was meant to be, maybe you wouldn’t have the slight scar of a side wound aching at the side of your gut.
Instead, they’re all business. It’s like they look through you when they speak to you.
“Is Riko…” you trail off.
“She’s dead,” they say.
They deliver the news to you, expressionless. Mirroring each other.
There’s a blankness in Satoru’s eyes. Cold. No one exactly knows how to deal with being killed only to bring yourself back again. The thought of his mangled body surrounded by flyheads makes your stomach churn. 
He had always been god-like, prodigal. After being reborn, he really was a God. Untouchable. You’d think him to be cockier or more cruel, but on the surface, he’s devoid of anything, really. He’s stony-eyed, instead, a little empty behind the face. There’s a spark of something when he sees the large bruise on your cheekbone and the ghost of a slash on your rib.
He won’t say much about the man who killed him. Only that he had no cursed energy and a son. You remember a scar bending with the curve of a mouth and sharp green eyes.
It’s quiet at Jujutsu Tech afterward. Yaga continues classes like he always does, and all of you do your best. There are fewer missions that are being demanded of you. You think it’s because of the failed mission. Despite this, Satoru takes on whatever he can, even volunteering for the tougher ones just so he can let off some steam. Suguru often tags along with him, leaving you alone to sulk.
You don’t think you have any reason to sulk. It’s not like you were killed, anyway.
You feel them both pulling away. You don’t bother to pry — they at least seem to be occupied with each other. They were best friends before you ever got close to either of them. You knew your place. You’d give them space, knowing the gravity of the trauma they’d experienced on the mission, and yet your heart ached all the same. It was a familiar hurt, the same you’d felt in high school about Satoru. It was only peculiar now because those feelings applied to both of them.
But then there are times when Satoru sneaks into your room like he always does. He likes to nip at your shoulder with teeth that feel sharper, meaner. Hand around your throat, the calluses squeezing flesh. He likes to pin you down to the mattress, likes to hear the squeak of the bedframe as he fucks into you mercilessly.
Suguru takes you, too, but not so desperately, not so obviously. He lures you in, instead. You realize that he’s different than Satoru in the way that he has the patience for games. It explains the teasing, the touching. He’ll have you wrapped around his finger just from talking to you, and within the hour, he’ll be fucking into your soaked cunt in the locker rooms after sparring.
You suppose this is the way they both let out their frustrations, how they cope with the trauma of losing Riko. They were tightlipped about her. 
Both of them had changed in ways that were beyond your comprehension.
Satoru gets colder. Similar to the way he was in high school, when he barely acknowledged you. He doesn’t like to look at you for very long, as if the mere fact of his gaze on you would hurt him, hurt you. It was stupid. He didn’t care about your fragility before, so what point was there to care about it now?
Suguru is mostly the same, just quieter. Hell, he’d always been quiet, other than the times he’d fuck you or when you’d be alone with him. His sarcastic streak was weaker. He touched you less.
You can’t stand any of it.
Satoru isn’t meant to be someone so vulnerable. It’s out of character for him. 
You soothe his nightmares when he wakes you up in the middle of the night clutching your waist with nails digging into the skin underneath your shirt. He’s always shaking, always mumbling something nonsensical.
Selfishly, you find that it feels nice to be needed. To be his only form of salvation during these times.
In his waking moments, Satoru is himself again. Belligerently so, with his recklessness. It’s up to you and Suguru to tame him, often. Satoru is almost a different version of himself – familiar and still annoying — but he is much more adamant about his power, nowadays. A God complex in the making.
Satoru gets greedier. He likes to wake you up with his nose nudging your clit, tongue already making a mess of your hole. No amount of pushing his head away with your hand would make him stop, though you blame yourself for indulging.
He likes to tease you for the semblance of control. You suspect that beyond playing with you, he finds solace in Suguru, instead. They aren’t particularly shy about it—sometimes you walk into Satoru’s dorm and find them entangled with one another, clothes off and warm to the touch. They always welcome you into their arms, forcing you in between them. 
You feel like you’re at an arm’s length from them at all times despite this. 
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November, 2009
You settle on a routine. It’s less than pleasant, but you’re used to it. Convincing yourself that it’s normal, at least.
Yaga puts you on more solo missions — you’ve improved your technique. The precision of it is tough, always a wildcard given the unpredictability of destruction beneath your fingertips. Regardless, it’s gotten better. It doesn’t traumatize you so much to be a vehicle of decay anymore. You’re numb to it.
It’s odd — you’re carrying the burden of something you didn’t experience. Satoru finds that you are a mirror for Suguru, the same temperament and all. Always leaving the party to smoke cigarettes together. It doesn’t make him pissy necessarily, but it makes him pout. Clingy to the both of you.
“Stop being antisocial,” he whines.
You and Suguru look up at him in question. He had followed you out of the party when you saw Satoru’s hand on the waist of a girl you didn’t recognize. It was nothing, probably, but it wasn’t something you had ever had to deal with. It wasn’t like he could pry anything out of you, anyway.
“We’re not,” you defend, waving a cigarette around. “It’s too hot in there.”
It was true, to be fair. You were too warm in there and the outside air was nice. That, and you figured that Suguru would follow you, and he always wanted to steal you away for kisses.
Satoru had technically intruded on that, interrupting the moment Suguru had pulled away from your mouth. He eyes you wearing Suguru’s jacket and softens.
“You wanna go home, don’t you?” he asks.
“I can stay if you want,” you shrug.
He sighs. “Can you guys at least hang out with me?”
“Needy,” Suguru teases, stomping the butt of his cigarette on the ground and ushering you in between the sliding glass doors, hand on the small of your back. He nips at Satoru’s neck on the way in. 
As if in apology, you don’t leave Satoru’s lap for the rest of the night. You don’t really get to. He even follows you to the bathroom and considers taking you over the counter for the hell of it.
It’s been difficult to touch you, lately.
In late August, the Zen’in outcast had killed him. Satoru had never thought of death as an option that was even possible. It’s why his mind was frenzied in his last moments, panicked as the two of them were surrounded by fly heads. He had not anticipated death, hadn’t anticipated the impact of it, how Suguru would have to return his corpse to Jujutsu Tech. How you would be shedding overflowing tears.
He’d like to think that your face or Suguru’s was in his mind when he took his last breath, but truthfully, he doesn’t remember. His mind was blank.
And when he had risen from the dead and shot a lethal hole through Toji Fushiguro, his mind was blank then, as well. The euphoria had faded. He had fulfilled the ordained role of a boygod, his hands were bloody, and he killed a man who would leave behind a son. He thought of his supposed immortality, his transcendence beyond something human, and then he thought of you.
You were the most human thing about him.
Your warmth, the flush in your cheeks. The way he had taken you back when you were in school, none the wiser about the world of curses. Sometimes he thinks you are one. 
It wasn’t meant to go this far, but he had taken the leap and continued to wade in the pool of it all. He does not think of love when he thinks of his family, but he thinks of love when he sees you and Suguru. Something beating, something alive.
It was why he was constantly tipping the line between overflowing completely and being numb — Satoru was no stranger to his indulgences. You, on the other hand, were something else entirely. Fragile underneath his hands. Sometimes, he didn’t even think it was worth it to keep you in the bear trap he had set for you.
And then Suguru would kiss away your tears when Satoru was too rough, too cold, and he would succumb to his desires again. Instead of being something akin to a god, he often dreamt about being ordinary. 
Maybe if his birth didn’t throw the planet off its kilter, he could truly be good to you instead of wanting to cut you open and live inside of you. Satoru would always be safe in your skin, but he had started to doubt that you would ever be safe in his.
You were the first to know him, he thinks. You had met him as a child and didn’t assume his divinity, rather, you were oblivious to it. Even as a little servant, you refused to kiss his feet. It relieved him. Satoru knew you always meant more to him than a toy, but in his emerging adulthood, he had taken you as a form of escapism and couldn’t cut you off. You had fastened yourself to him like an extra limb unknowingly. 
“I don’t get how you can be so overbearing to her yet so distant at the same time,” Suguru remarks. 
Satoru makes a face, scrunching his nose.
“Don’t play dumb.”
“I genuinely don’t know what you’re referring to,” Satoru says blankly.
“The teasing goes too far. And you get insensitive because you’re a prick, and then you barely text her back when you’re on missions.”
Satoru scoffs, fiddling with the pencil he twirls in his hands. Suguru was right, he supposed. He noticed you were a little hollow, all blank stares. Sleeping in while Satoru did not sleep at all. 
“They’ve gotten harder lately. And it’s not like I’m–”
“Not what?” Suguru snorts. “Her boyfriend?”
Satoru says nothing to this. Instead, he tackles Suguru onto his bed, slides his palms underneath his shirt and up the smooth planes of his abdomen. He sighs, setting his head on Suguru’s chest.
“It’s not like she cares.”
“She does. She loves you.”
Satoru’s face reddens as if what Suguru says isn’t fact. On Satoru’s end, however – his feelings for you were an understatement. Calling it love seemed fruitless. He’d like to be fused with you, never letting you go. Stuck in the bliss of your skin kissing his in the early mornings forever.
“Think something got knocked loose when I died,” Satoru mumbles, his eyes blank.
Suguru looks at him in question, not following.
“I’ll make it up to her.”
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January, 2010
“What are you getting Suguru for his birthday?”
“I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs, a blue raspberry lollipop filling up the hollow of his cheek. Tongue matching the blinding saturation of his eyes. “A blowjob?”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Don’t be homophobic! You like watching.”
“I’m serious,” you roll your eyes.
“We’ll take him out,” he grins, shoving his hands in his pockets. Always stupidly attractive, his beauty borderline mythological.
You knew he was lying, knew that he would be away on that Wednesday, that his calendar was always filled a month prior with what the higher-ups needed from him. You thought it was unfair, given that he was still only a second year, though you still knew better. The glaring truth of his strength ever since the failed Star Plasma Vessel mission was conspicuous, a reminder that started to become egregious to you. 
Satoru takes some of your takoyaki in unspoken amusement with you rolling your eyes, passing the tray towards him. He pouts despite the gesture, reaching over to poke you in the cheek.
“That can’t taste good with all the sugar in your mouth.”
“You’d be surprised.”
You fixate on the television. Satoru had gotten lucky recently, convincing Yaga to convert one of the common rooms with the connected bathroom into a dorm for himself. He had the Gojo money to “donate”, and he’d been on his best behavior in the past few months, which was rare. It wasn’t like Yaga really gave a fuck about their boarding situation as long as the missions went smoothly. 
The room was big enough to fulfill that dream of pushing two beds together. A TV set and dingy couch to match. He needed the TV to fall asleep at night, especially if you weren’t there to stroke his hair. It was the only light source beyond a Hello Kitty lava lamp that Suguru had gotten him as a joke gift.
Satoru had recently started an obsession with Godzilla for some reason, forcing you to watch one every few days before bedtime. You were going in order since Christmas – tonight was the one versus Hedorah.
“You never look at me anymore,” he whines.
“What are you talking about?”
You’d rather say something biting, like how it was the other way around. How he’s been shoving your face into the mattress. How you’d come back to your dorm and see Satoru in between Suguru’s legs without much acknowledgment to you until he’d finish. 
“You look at me like I’m a mosquito bite or something. What’s wrong? You don’t think I’m pretty anymore?” he grins, settling his cheek into his palm.
“Not at all. You’re hideous,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. The remark earns you a light kick to your shin under the table.
“Wow. Rude. Personally, I think you’re God-sent.”
“I thought you wanted me to watch this movie,” you mutter, trying not to let him know how much his comment affected you. You always flushed when he said things like that still, and it would always be out of the blue.
“You know I like talking during movies.”
“Right. It’s one of your worst qualities,” you sigh.
The pillows around you are discarded when he suddenly pins you down to the carpet, your face right next to an old ash stain from one of Shoko’s cigarettes. He grins as he parts your mouth with the pad of his thumb, and you’re as obedient as you always are. There’s a ribbon of saliva from his mouth stretching as he takes the lollipop from his tongue to yours. 
It wasn’t difficult to get his dick hard, really. He’d known that ever since he’d seen you sprawled on the grass next to the track field when you were fourteen, the way your chest was heaving and your underwear was just slightly visible underneath your gym shorts when you parted your legs. 
Satoru thinks you’d laugh in his face if he’d told you about all the times he thought about you when you were teenagers despite the fact that he didn’t speak to you at all. He knows that he would deserve it.
It’s funny. He used to resent you then. He knew he could have you if he’d simply tried a bit harder, if he didn’t so abruptly toss you aside in middle school. Even so, you were everywhere for him—in his dreams, in his house against your will like a chained ghost. Back then, he hated that he loved you, hated that you were weak, hated that, at least besides Suguru, nobody knew him except you.
He wonders briefly if he was high on the taste of you or if the candy is laced with something— he wouldn’t be surprised, since Shoko and Suguru were enablers for the two of you even when you tried to be responsible. It didn’t matter anyway. Your body always made him this frenetic.
It’s when his fingers graze the heat of your cunt that Suguru barges in. He blinks at the two of you entangled on the floor and merely laughs.
“You guys just started?”
“Mmmf,” Satoru grunts. His hand’s wrapped around your neck, now, and your eyes are closed. 
Suguru’s musk fills the room. White pine and sugary maple — he’d used Satoru’s deodorant before the mission. There’s still a blood splatter under his cheekbone the color of ripe plums. This was the usual weekend routine. Mindless fucking with a movie in the background. At least one of you would be too exhausted to muster up the energy to go into the city. It was easier to indulge inside, especially when the temperature kept dipping.
Your eyes flutter as Satoru bites your neck down to your collarbone. When you look toward the couch, you see Suguru with a plastic baggie of something you don’t recognize.
“What’s that?”
“Shrooms.”
“How the hell did you manage that?” Satoru quips, his hand digging into your hip. 
“There are some freaks in Akihabara,” Suguru shrugs. He eats the mushrooms like they’re crumbs at the bottom of a chip bag. “Got this shit after my mission in a fucking vending machine outside a love hotel. Can you believe it?”
“What, did you get a room there or something?” Satoru snorts. “Whore.”
“Why would I, when I can home to this?” Suguru’s eyes are viper-like, serpentine as he smiles lazily. You’d eat from his palm if he asked you to. In sickness and health—it was stupid. You crawl to him and you do.
Satoru doesn’t take any. He knows full well that psychedelics fuck with his Infinity, that it would only make his insomnia worse. The last time he’d tried acid, he had nightmares for days, seeing green eyes of a hunter. Blood slashed from a blade to his neck. Flyheads swarming.
The drugs make you giddy. Another hour and the room spins in an orderly fashion, the ceiling dancing around in a kaleidoscopic pulse. Suguru had limited your dose, knew you’d freak the fuck out if your self started to disconnect. He’d been there enough times to despise it. Ego death was torture for the introspective kind.
He sucks a hickey into your neck while you’re mindless. It’s amusing how invested you are in this episode of Sailor Moon. Satoru lays his head on your thigh, playing with you lazily. You’re happy enough to take it, grinding against his hand as Suguru distracts you with a kiss. It’s tender and slow, not unusual for him, but with the two of them together, everything is usually frenzied.
He gets you in his lap, the sacrificial lamb you are. Always eager to walk into the predator’s gaping maw on your own accord because of his beautiful eyes. Suguru is no beast, but there’s something twisted about the way he plays with you sometimes.
He likes you to beg for it, but it’s not the taunting way that Satoru does. Suguru will inch his face close enough to yours to smell the artificial sweetness of your breath, then pull your hair when you lean in to kiss him. He’ll touch your thigh under the table, not unlike Satoru, but his fingers will dance around your core in a way that leaves you unable to speak to your fellow peers.
You wonder if they’ve learned their cruelty from each other. But this time, he’s sweet.
It’s the hallucinogen fogging his brain. It makes him like a teenager in love. Open-mouthed, pawing love handles. You’re wearing Satoru’s t-shirt, something monochromatic and stupidly expensive, and Suguru tears it off of you as his mouth waters.
Coughing, Satoru tilts his head, supports it with elbows on the carpet. His temperament is neutral, teasing even, but for some reason, looking at him makes you sober up to some degree of lucidity that’s sensitive to him. The part of you that wants to please him at all times.
You crawl to him and say his name. It’s child-like. The shrooms make your eyes wide, colors innocence onto your face from the bliss. It reminds him of when you were younger—bruised knees and twigs in your hair from tumbling in the forest with him. Something tugs at his chest.
“You tryin’ to seduce me?” Satoru jeers, tongue licking his teeth. His palm on your face is hot.
You smile and nod. His gaze lowers and he snaps the waistband of your sweats against your hip. Hand on your thigh again, taunting your synapses. You think he’ll take you with his usual ferocity, but he steals your breath with a kiss instead. 
The kiss never ends. Maybe they switch in between, but you don’t notice. Your eyes are shut, tight enough to see phosphenes like a galaxy. Blue and purple bleeding into your irises. You feel them pulling you apart, cock filling you up, hands everywhere.
“Fuck,” someone gasps. Something like groveling, desperate hair pulling.
“Inside,” you beg. “Please.”
Satoru watches, mesmerized. The heat of your body, sweat pooling into the divot above your clavicle—it all makes his mouth water, but he stays still on the couch as Suguru pins you to the floor. It’s the most the Six Eyes has felt in months, for some reason, and he hadn’t even taken anything. He half-wishes he could get his hands on something other than you to inject into his veins—maybe then he could learn to be calm or fall asleep at regular times. Anything to stop the odd ache in his chest whenever he looked at you.
He’s never been a man of God. He was God himself. And then he sees you moan out, bliss-wrecked and flooded with light, burning like seraphim. He’d come back to life a thousand times just to see your face. It made him sick.
Satoru kisses you before you knock out on his bed, eyes half-open and dazed. You’re refusing to go to bed, citing euphoria for your desire to run a few laps. Meanwhile, Suguru is asleep on the couch, fucked out and satisfied. 
You’re coaxed into sleep. It’s not hard once you start rambling, shut up only by the feeling of Satoru’s fingers running across your scalp. He lays awake like he often does, talking to the moon. He sighs as you nuzzle into him, your whole body curling towards him to ward off goosebumps. You’re nearly bare considering you didn’t bother to put on clothes after you and Suguru had finished. 
Satoru pulls the blanket over you, sighing. He’d had the leftover beers in the mini-fridge just to feel a buzz, even the taste of German ales made his nose wrinkle. It still wasn’t enough to put his mind at ease. He stares at the stained carpet, then Suguru’s sleeping shadow, then your face. He shuts his eyes.
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It’s been months, yet the memories still cage you. It’s like something wraps its hand around your throat in your subconscious. In each dream, you are aching for their return, and they come to you like newly-bloomed flowers.
It feels like you’ve been waiting for them for centuries, your body stuck in the grass with a bruise over your left eye that doesn’t stop aching. You don’t even know how much you’re bleeding until they return to you again, caressing your sides and pulling away at the sight of a wound. 
Your angels are not dead. It’s enough relief for you to keep going, but they still look at you with furrowed brows. Blood spills from your mouth.
“I missed you. I missed you. I missed you.”
Your angels do not react. They only look at you with concern, shielding you from the blazing sun with their wings. They stare as you laugh, doubling over, falling backwards into the green grass. You only remember that you’re alive when they trace the contours of your body with their fingertips.
Despite the pain, the vision is familiar. You’re too distracted by their beauty, how their mere presence is arcadian in itself. You don’t need anything else. You could die here.
Here, between them and their celestial bodies, in the green, green grass. Spider lilies bloom around you like kisses in blessing as the golden evening swallows you up. There’s a sinking feeling—a literal one, of you descending into the ground in a way that feels like a loose feather falling.
Your angels reach for you until they grasp the whole of you and turn you inside out. They pull apart the mess of you, reshaping you, undoing tangles and knots and bending the stem of your being so you can be reborn in their image. They love you enough to do so.
And when you look back at them with love in your eyes, you flinch. They’re eclipsed by something terrible, too far away for you to reach. It’s bloody. It has a voice like skin scraping pavement, full-bodied whiskey.
You stretch your hand out only meet a sweaty palm. When you open your eyes, a pair of blue ones stare back at you.
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Wally, Darling ♥
Censored
Wally Darling x F! Architect! Reader
In which MC tries to curse but unfortunately Wally has a hold of the things that can be said in Home
Just a silly chapter. Also I'm more experimenting on what Wally's abilities could be and stuff. TW/ Cursing/ poor attempts at censoring curses, also unedited
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It was a beautiful day out in Home, with the sun shining brightly down on them. It was a calming day, which is why she and Wally were out in the first place, sitting on the base of his favorite apple tree as he sketched and she simply tugged and scribbled endlessly on her own notebook, thinking of different color schemes that would be best suited for the new office she was going to be designing in her home.
“Hey Wally?”
The puppet beside her let out a small hum, briefly taking his eyes off the page he was currently sketching on to look up at her.
He looks adorable, she thought, not being able to help the smile on her lips as she eyed the soft smile on his lips, and the usual half-lidded look he had in his eyes that were currently adorned with a blue eyeshadow, courtesy of her and the makeup she found earlier this morning that Wally was more than glad to let her use on him.
And if he was being honest, he just liked having her lean close to him. It was nice.
“Do you have your own art room in Home?”
“Of course I do, silly!” He replies, taking a moment off sketching to boop at her nose. “How else would I be able to paint inside?”
She snickered. “I suppose,” she turned back to the small sketch of what she wanted the small office to look like, complete with a drafting table, a desk and some drawers to store the rest of the floorplans she has on her person. “I’m just hitting a roadblock on what I want with my own office. I have the furniture arranged but I don’t know what color scheme I should go with.”
“Well,” Wally hums, eyes looking upward in the sky in thought, “What about your favorite color? I find doing a lot of things easier when I’m around the things I love!”
The insinuation made the warmth immediately spread through her cheeks, a light laugh escaping her as she brushes the back of her neck. Silly (Y/n). She reprimanded herself. He’s not talking about you.
About to give a small ‘thanks’ in reply, only to be cut off as a hard object falls on top of her head, a cry leaving her lips and even startling the poor puppet beside her.
“Oh, fork!”
Her hands were clutching her head, the pain still evident as she even dared to try and hover a finger over the spot, only to freeze as she realized the words that escaped her mouth.
Did she hear that right?
“Fork!” She tried to scream again, confusion etching on her face as she looked down at the grass. “Fork! Fork! Fork!”
“Neighbor…” Wally’s voice catches her attention, and she looks at him with the most confused look he’s ever seen her in, his worried smile slowly tugging back upwards in that amused tilt. “I’m afraid we don’t use that kind of language in Home.”
“Wha—” she paused, processing his words and then squinting her eyes in realization. “— are you censoring me?”
She didn’t even know he could do that! I mean, she knows most of the things that he was capable of already, but apparently, there were still some things that were left to be told.
“Of course, we don’t want the kids out there to mimic bad behavior now, do we?”
“The show’s not on!” She groaned, running her hands down her face. “Come on, just one.”
“No,” Wally looks back down on his sketchpad, stubbornly ignoring her as she continued to plead. “You might get used to it, and I don’t want something bad to happen if you were to slip up.”
“I don’t ‘slip up’,” She scoffed, crossing her arms and albeit the slightest bit offended at his insinuation.
Wally looked at her with the most sarcastic look he’s ever given, and she wondered if he’s been studying Frank’s facial expressions more, because she was sure that the way he lidded his eyes was the exact same way Frank looked at her when she had blurted out a stupid joke about butterflies.
“I don’t know Frank, it still feels like I got butterflies in my stomach… I guess that would be the last time I eat a cocoon!”
Yeah, looking back on it now, it’s not as funny as she thought it was.
“Fine,” she sighed, “Does that mean you’ve censored everything?”
He waves a hand for her to try, and she sighs.
“Carp!” Right. She can’t say crap, either.
“Beach!” No?
“Shirt!” Ugh.
“Motherforker!”
“Mustard!"
Before she could continue, a hand places itself atop her lips, and Wally lets out a sigh. She didn’t miss the small pink dusting his cheeks, though, a light laugh escaping her.
“If you didn’t like cursing you could’ve just said so,” She grinned, taking his wrist in her hand and gently prying it off her. “I would’ve stopped.’
Instead of replying, he sighs, leaning his head against her shoulder and making her tense as he simply continues sketching there.
“Hey neighbor?” Wally spoke after a minute of silence.
“Ye—”
Another apple falls on her head.
“Ow! Fuck!”
She gasps, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as a light blush dusts her cheeks.
It took another moment of silence before Wally burst out laughing, and she couldn’t help but follow shortly after that, their laughs echoing over the unnoticeable silence that Wally had sent the entire neighborhood in.
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iguana-eyanna · 5 months
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Now That I See You
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Pairing: Damien Haas x Reader
Summary: Damien knew he wanted to be with you since you two first met, and now he wants to start writing the next chapter for your happy ending
A/n: so I recently saw a TikTok of Damien singing "I See The Light" and I KNEW I had to write something
You and Damien decided to take a trip to Disneyland, treating yourselves to a well-deserved trip.
Now as you two were very busy in your careers, you haven't been hanging out as much as you like to. So why not enjoy a day Disney bounding like one of your favorite characters: Rapunzel and Flynn Rider?
"I can't believe we haven't done this together." You said, taking a bite of a sweet treat you bought at a food stand.
"We really picked a good day to go out too. Perfect weather, not too crowded, and I get to spend it with my princess." Damien said, squeezing your hand gently.
You started to blush a shade of pink and you kissed Damien's cheek, making him match the same rosy cheeks as you.
"Excuse me?" a young voice said.
You both turn around and see a young girl, probably around the age of 6, dressed head to toe like the Tangled princess herself next to her parents.
"Are you Rapunzel?" She asks, her eyes beginning to widen with anticipation.
"I'm sorry, the Rapunzel meet and greet closed when we got here. She's been wanting to meet her so bad." The mom whispered for you two to hear.
You mouthed an 'Oh' quickly before you knelt down, smiling.
"Why, yes I am! And may I say you have a lovely dress, Princess..."
"Malia! Princess Malia." She said, courtesying.
"Why it's very lovely to meet you, Princess Malia. Eugene, isn't she just stunning?" You ask, staring up at Damien.
He brightens as he gets in character.
"Why she is, Blondie. It's very nice to meet you, too." Damien said, bowing down to her.
"Why's your hair purple?" She asks, pointing up at Damien.
"Oh! Um, I ate a plum, not knowing it's cursed. It made my hair purple! We're trying to find a magic item to break the spell." he replied quickly, making the young girl scrunch her nose and then laugh.
"Silly prince," she said, making you almost chuckle.
She turns around and jumps up and down.
"Mommy, can I take a picture with Rapunzel and Eugene?" she asks.
"I'm not sure baby, they have to go break the spell, remember?" she said, not wanting to impose on your time.
"Oh, we don't mind! I'd love to capture this moment too if that's alright." You said, making Malia squeal with joy.
The mom mouthed a quick thank you as you and Damien posed with the young girl. Damien stepped out of the picture so it could just be you two.
"Thank you again for doing this, Malia is going to remember this for the rest of her life." the dad said to Damien.
"Of course! I'm glad we got to make her wish come true." Damien said, seeing how Malia was still talking to you and you looked like your heart was about to burst with cuteness.
"You guys are great with kids, are you two married or...?"
Damien looks back at the dad, a bit startled.
"Oh uh, no. We've been together for 2 years now."
"Well, you two look very much in love. I look at my wife every day and I'm thankful I got to ask her to marry me." The dad concluded, walking over to his little family.
That night when Damien came back to his apartment, he was on his phone, endlessly scrolling for the perfect ring to propose you with.
+
"You look beautiful," Damien said, leaning by the door frame as he came to pick you up.
"Why thank you, you look quite dashing yourself." You said, putting the finishing touches on your makeup.
It's been four months since that day in Disneyland, and today you two were going to shoot a music cover together, singing "I See The Light" from the Tangled soundtrack.
It was Damien's idea, and you guys have been rehearsing for about a month. He asked Courtney to help out with recording and Shayne to set up some decorations by a park.
You and Damien walked over since it was close to your apartment and saw your friends brighten up.
"Aw, it looks so good guys! This has to be the most beautiful set I've recorded at." You said, noticing the decorative lanterns and the purple and pink flowers.
"Yeah, once it hits 6:00 pm we should capture the golden hour..." Courtney said, showing you how her camera can capture the scene, making you preoccupied.
Shayne goes up to Damien who falls silent, walking back and forth on a stone path.
"Hey, it's going to be alright." Shayne reassured his friend.
"I know, it's just - jitters I guess."
"Trust me, she's going to say yes, I think it's better than me practicing with you."
Damien laughs, remembering how he and Shayne would use the weekend when Shayne would take your place and pretend how you'd react once Damien popped the question.
"Thank you, for everything you and Court have been doing. I couldn't ask for better friends."
Shayne proudly smiles as he quickly hugs his friend, trying not to cry.
"You're doing great man. Let's get you ready." Shayne concluded, patting Damien's shoulder as the two walk over to you and Courtney.
She helped direct your positions as you began to perform.
All those days watching from the windows All those years outside looking in All that time never even knowing Just how blind I've been Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight Now I'm here, suddenly I see Standing here, it's all so clear I'm where I'm meant to be And at last I see the light And it's like the fog has lifted And at last I see the light And it's like the sky is new And it's warm and real and bright And the world has somehow shifted All at once everything looks different Now that I see you
You turn at Damien, smiling and he felt a flutter in his chest. Then, he too began to sing.
All those days chasing down a daydream All those years living in a blur All that time, never truly seeing Things the way they were Now she's here, shining in the starlight Now she's here, suddenly I know If she's here, it's crystal clear I'm where I'm meant to go
You and Damien held each other's hands as you looked lovingly in each other's eyes.
And at last I see the light And it's like the fog has lifted And at last I see the light And it's like the sky is new And it's warm and real and bright And the world has somehow shifted All at once, everything is different Now that I see you Now that I see you
And that's when Damien knew in this moment, that this was it. Time slowed down when he began to kneel on one knee. You looked confused as Damien was still looking up at you. It wasn't until he tries to reach for something in his pocket
"Dami?" You whisper in a small voice, now chocked up.
"When we went to Disney Land together, you made this little kid's dreams come true. And then suddenly, the world somehow shifted. I wanted to have a new dream with you. So..."
He says your full name as his smile becomes brighter.
"... will you marry me?"
You start nodding right away as you lower yourself where he is, beginning to cry.
"Yes! Yes, I will marry you." You said.
Both of you begin to cry as you hold onto each other. Damien slides the ring on your finger as he looks at you with so much love. You two stand up and you look back at your friends who caught the whole thing.
Shayne was slightly crying as Court was comforting him.
"You don't know how long we've been waiting for this." Court replied, making you all chuckle.
"What do you mean? I've been dying to do this for two years!" Damien added.
You playfully roll your eyes as you allow yourself in Damien's embrace, feeling like this is where you belong, right here in this moment.
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bless-my-demons · 6 months
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Redamancy: Chapter Seventeen
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Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?
Warnings: Angst and cuss words
Notes: The impatient part of me just wants Jasper back, but I have to power through for the plot. I also have that scene written and it taunts me every time I open my Docs🥲
Word Count: 2010
Series Masterlist
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Reader
They say grief is just left over love.
Well I have plenty of grief then, because I never got to pour it into the person it was meant for. It's rotting away inside my chest and leaking from the cracks. It spills from my eyes and scratches my throat, flooding everything and it doesn't seem to end.
Is there an end?
I don't think there is, because I don't just miss him - I miss something that'll never happen. A life I'll never live, one where it's just me and him and eternity stretches out before us endlessly.
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• January 16th, 2005 • Home •
Reader
My phone buzzes in my pocket letting me know I'm getting an incoming call. Fishing it out, Bella Swan flashes across the screen and I'm stunned.
"Hello?" I answer hesitantly.
"Hey Y/n, I um - well I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie? With Jessica and I, tonight?"
"Oh uh-"
"You don't have to-" She interrupts me, clearly sensing my hesitation, but I stop her before she could back out.
"No! I'd love to, let me call my mom and tell her I'll be gone when she gets home from work."
"Okay, cool. I'll be there in like, twenty minutes." Ending the call, I stare at my phone in wonder.
Bella has been catatonic the last 3 months and now she's down for movies like nothing has happened? Shaking my head, I call my mom while slipping my shoes on in the hallway, she picks up on the second ring.
"Hey sweetie, I was just about to call you and see what you wanted for dinner!" Her cheerie voice tugs on my heart strings, I think she's trying to over-compensate in the hopes that'll it'll bring my own mood up.
"About that, Bella Swan just called and asked if I could go with her to the movies-"
"Absolutely! Do you need money? There's some in-" The excitement in her voice is almost comical.
"Mom, I have money. I just didn't want you to worry if I wasn't home when you got off." The line is silent for a few beats before she answers.
"Honey, go have fun with your friends and don't worry about me! I love you, sweat pea."
"Love you too." Tears begin to prick at the corners of my eyes suddenly.
"Call me if you need me?" Her question is soft, not wanting to spook me into canceling.
"Always." I smile sadly to no one in the empty house before hanging up.
Bella's tires on her old truck crackle on our gravel driveway and I snag a jacket before bolting out of the front door.
I can do this, I can be normal and enjoy my friends for a few hours.
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• January 16th, 2006 • Port Angeles, WA •
Reader
Not only did Bella manage to get me out of the house for a few hours, but she also talked me into watching a scary movie about zombies - one of my least favorite monster movie types. I don't do the jump scares, the suspense, the chasing - nope, none of that is for me.
The worst part was wishing I had him to just hold my hand, because with him I'm invincible. Well, was invincible. With every one of my lurches and under-my-breath curses, I know he'd be chuckling at my expense. Somehow that made the hole in my chest wider, darker.
At some point, going out and doing everyday things has to get back to normal. This piece of me that's rotting away inside can't keep continuing to fester and grow, its so fucking tiring.
Relief floods my chest and limbs as the credits begin scrolling. Looking to my right I can tell Bella is unamused and Jessica on her other side didn't enjoy it.
"Okay, next girl's movie night, I'm picking the movie." I tell them, exasperation leaking into my tone.
Both girls glance at me and raise eyebrows as we stand and exit the theater.
"Don't give me that look, zombies freak me out!"
"They're not real-" Bella teases me with a smile, but realization stops her comment and I try to hide my falling face from Jessica as she walks ahead of us in the lobby.
Vampires weren't real, until we met them. Fuck, everything brings us right back to them-
"-If it's supposed to draw a parallel about leprosy, my cousin had leprosy, it's not funny 'ya know." Jessica Stanley takes the cake when it comes to filling silence with conversation, even if it's one-sided.
Walking back to Bella's truck, I'm only half-paying attention to Jess as she rattles on. If I've learned anything from her since my first day at Forks, it's that I need to take everything she says with a grain of salt.
"I was surprised you even called at all." I lift my head in surprise at Jessica's statement, not quite rude but... "Like, your guys' depression thing - I get it-" Glancing between Bella and I, the train wreck falling from her mouth continues, "I'm totally, totally worried. But after a while... you're still not over them, but I'm going through stuff too 'ya know."
I almost want to laugh, not at her, but... it's almost funny how one person has basically derailed my life and Jessica Stanley thinks it's just seasonal depression.
Turning to Bella, I notice she's watching a group of bikers at the next street corner over.
"How 'bout a ride, girls?" One of them calls, watching the three of us.
As Bella gets a far-off look in her eye, Jessica moves to stand in front of her to get her attention.
"Dude, c'mon." Inclining her shoulder to continue moving down the street, she gives Bella a weird look, waiting.
"I think I know those guys." I reach out to put a hand on Bella's arm, but she's already stepping towards the group of men.
"Well they seem great, can we go?" Jessica pleads.
"I just need to see something." Bella sounds like she's in a daze and I start to worry as she begins walking to their street corner.
I have an instinct to follow my friend at the same time a tingle spreads across the back of my scalp, danger. The sensation almost draws a gasp from my lips, finally something other than just emptiness holed up in my chest.
I start after Bella, half to make sure my friend is alright and half to... chase this different feeling.
"Alright, alright! We've got takers." One of them says smugly.
These aren't safe men, turn around.
I stutter and almost trip on the uneven pavement. It's almost like he whispered the words in my ear, if the January air didn't have such a chill to it - I'd swear it was his breath on my neck.
A piece of me that had been dormant since Bella's birthday springs to life, I need to chase this. Just the instant craving to hear more of his imaginary voice drives me to stand beside my friend in front of a group of sketchy-looking bikers on a dark street late at night.
"Sorry, I thought you were someone else." I whip my head towards her, trying to figure out what she's got planned.
"That's cool, I'll be whoever you want me to be." Swinging a leg over his motorcycle, he gives her an expectant look. "So, what do ya say?"
After a few tense beats, she decided to hop on the back of the closest bike and they immediately take off into the night. I hesitate a few more beats, looking at the other bikers, waiting-
Don't get on another man's bike darlin', you’re mine.
Tears spring to the corner of my eyes and I turn around, not wanting to start crying out of the blue in front of a bunch of random strangers. I'm not his anymore, but I also can't bring myself to cling to the back of anyone else.
Jessica meets me halfway up the street, throwing up her hands in a 'what the fuck' motion.
"Um, care to explain?" She asks impatiently.
"I think she just wanted to see what it's like-" but I'm cut off as Jessica stomps past me, Bella rounding the corner of the building.
"Hey! What the hell is wrong with you? Just curious."
"I thought I saw something." Bella tried to explain, I try to meet eyes to see what's actually going on, but her eyes are glued to the ground.
"You-oh, You're insane actually. Or suicidal. That homeboy? Could've been a psycho. I was about to end up in an FBI interview room like some lame TV show." Jessica rants as we walk away.
"Ugh, that was such a rush."
"Awesome, so you're an adrenaline junkie now? That's cool, you can go bungee jumping. You don't get on the back of some loser's motorcycle! Crazy." Stomping off towards her own car, I hang back with Bella. She's not wrong, but she also doesn't get it.
"Let's go home?" I ask my friend, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the beat up old red truck.
Is danger how I see-or rather hear him again? My heart picks up speed at the thought - I'm not one for dangerous situations, but I also can't get the idea out of my head. It's like my heart is at war with my brain, one with a crushing addiction and the other with the instinct for self-preservation.
A new war has kicked off inside of me and I have no idea which side will win.
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• January 16th, 2006 • Ithaca, New York •
Jasper
Reading a book I found in Carlisle's study to pass the time, an unfamiliar uneasy feeling settles in my gut. Closing the book, I check everyone that's home to make sure it isn't one of them and I come up normal. Alice, sitting across the room raises an eyebrow while reading her own magazine at my sudden shift in demeanor.
"Alice-"
"I won't check her every time you get a feeling, Jasper. You're the one who wanted to cut her out." The sting of her words find their target, but I can't ignore this.
"Please, I need to know if she's... alright." I plead, not ready to drop it.
"She hasn't been fucking alright this entire time-" but her snap-back halts immediately as her eyes adopt the familiar far-out gaze of her power.
Immediately I'm kneeling in front of her, worry begins to slither across my skin. Alice cranks down on her feelings, refusing to give any hints away to what she's seeing.
"Alice, please." I'm not usually one to beg, but for Y/n? I've noticed over time things like that have changed.
"She's fine." Drifting back to reality, she stands and shoves me off with a look, voice monotone in anger directed at me.
"What did you see?" I hound her, following her down the hall to her room.
"Nothing - it doesn't matter, she chose differently." She answers cryptically and it almost sends me into a spiral of the worst ideas.
I want to question her more, but she slams her door in my face effectively ending the conversation. Anger and frustration with a tinge of despair floats through the air mingled with my sister's scent. I know it's directed at me, I know it's my fault and I can't find the strength anywhere to wipe her feelings away. Almost as if my gift has resorted to the cruel and unusual punishment of feeling without the capacity to manipulate anymore.
My forehead thumps against the white wood in defeat.
At what point does this sore heal? Does this ache ever go away? How much time has to pass before she isn't occupying every single thought of every single second of the day? I've read that grief is supposed to ebb and flow, but this - this is more of a steady current, a nonstop hotwire through my chest that's painfully constricting the long-dead heart within.
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[nano_owl] and [gregg_thecat] for some reason Tumblr won’t look you up with the underscores and searching before the underscore doesn’t pull up your blogs as available for tag🥺
The rest of you, tumblr says there’s no blogs that are available for tag! Please please please don’t hesitate to message me so I can fix!
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damedechance · 3 months
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seek&destroy
read pt1 on ao3 || listen to the playlist
You're telling me I got to talk with @foundress0fnothing for the past few weeks (my favorite person) and write about Gwynriel (my two favorite idiots)? I have seriously enjoyed getting to know my precious giftee a little bit more during this event and I am so so so excited to finally share part of what I've been working on!!! Em, I hope you know how cherished you are in this little fandom community, and I hope this fic can bring you even just the littlest spark of joy! Love you endlessly, Santa 🌟
Pairing: Gwynriel
Parts: 1 of 5
Rating: Explicit (for eventual smut)
Summary: Those with a link to a realm long gone now live in secret, and Gwyneth Berdara is one of them. After a horrific tragedy rends her life apart, Gwyn finds herself in good company with her fellow Valkyries, a group of vigilantes who work to restore the forgotten relics of a land called 'Prythian.' When Gwyn's work brings her to an illustrious museum, her own world collides with that of the mysterious Shadowsinger--an encounter that leads to her vowing to bring him to his untimely end. [[FOR @acotargiftexchange]]
Read below for all of Chapter One:
CHAPTER ONE
Too. Many. Legs.
There were just too many legs, Gwyn thought, as she stared in open-mouthed horror at the projector screen. Just as she swallowed down a gag at the sight of the ghastly images before her, the presenter gestured passionately towards the slides, his tall frame and abhorrent posture giving the illusion of the rounded shell of a beetle. So uncanny was his resemblance to the subject of his own presentation, the species he’d apparently devoted his entire career to–the cerambycid beetle. Gwyn fought back a shiver. Or a scream of terror.
Not that she wasn’t sympathetic to his cause. A glance at the pamphlet in front of her revealed that he held a PhD in entomology–a degree she knew from personal experience was all but impossible if you didn’t feel truly dedicated to your work. He was probably a sweet old man, she struggled to convince herself. Someone like her, a person so entirely enamored with their subject of study that the less attractive facets of the field were of no consequence. In fact, she admired that sort of devotion. 
Still, the clearly impassioned man wasn’t exactly persuading her to actually take up an interest in the study of insects. Gwyn suspected that the sight of those beetles was the primary driving force in that decision. Especially since she still couldn’t keep her eyes open for more than five minutes at a time, and was currently squeezing them shut as she counted out her deep, steadying breaths. Just a few moments of relief from the images on the screen was all she needed.
When she opened her eyes again, the presenter had switched to the next slide, which revealed a close-up view of the beetle’s segmented underbelly. Heaving, Gwyn bit down on her tongue as she felt the blood drain from her face. To distract herself from the urge to evacuate the contents of her  stomach, Gwyn allowed her eyes to drift aimlessly about the room.
For not the first time, she was grateful that she’d been able to secure a seat for herself in the back of the auditorium. The badge hanging from the bright red lanyard across her neck proclaimed her a professor of entomology at the Dunmere College of Arts and Sciences, but she imagined that if any of the other conference attendees saw how green her face was, that title would prove itself somewhat implausible.
If nothing else, Gwyn needed to be sure that her act was flawless tonight. By the end of the Annual Entomology Society Conference, she wanted to have every single person in this room reasonably convinced that she was an ardent scholar of…bugs. Or, at the very least, she needed to not raise anyone’s suspicions to the contrary.
Perhaps if she simply kept sitting in the back, then.
Sighing quietly, Gwyn shifted down in her seat and allowed her legs to spread out in front of her. If she were to be stuck here, listening to the keynote speaker for the next–she checked the clock hanging above the door–five minutes, she should at least get comfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest, fingers tapping impatiently across her biceps, and stared unseeingly at the screen.
The minutes passed excruciatingly slowly. More legs, more antennae, more larvae, and by the end of the time Gwyn was biting on the insides of her cheeks to prevent herself from screaming in abject horror at each new, impossibly grotesque image. Until finally, the presenter reached the end of his slides, and only a blank screen appeared above his head.
“Right,” the bug doctor said. He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose, and began shuffling his papers over the podium. “Thank you all for such a thrilling discussion of cerambycid communities and their impact as an invasive species.”
Thrilling. Gwyn snorted to herself, and when more than a few heads turned in her direction, she quickly masked it as a sneeze.
“I will be available for a Q&A session later this afternoon,” the presenter continued, his finger prodding one of the papers on the top of his stack, as if pointing to a time. “Until then, I suggest perusing the rest of the museum for the insect nursery, where I am told some cerambycid beetle larvae are on display. Do take note of the well-progressed sclerotisation of the mouth parts, and if you find yourself peckish, I hear the cafe has an excellent gelato stand.”
That the presenter could possibly utter the words sclerotisation and gelato in the same sentence only served to confirm for Gwyn that she needed to get out of that room as soon as possible. Eagerly standing up, she shoved her notebook full of fake notes into her bag, and began to walk down the auditorium steps with the rest of the meager audience. Entomology was not a popular field apparently, and Gwyn could hazard a guess as to why.
As she approached the stage where the bug doctor still stood at the podium, politely accepting words of praise from some of the other attendees, Gwyn thought she hear the words antennal sockets and low tubercles, and immediately quickened her pace, slipping past others to ensure that she was towards the middle of the pack, instead of at the very end.
Sighing in relief as soon as she stepped out of the auditorium and into one of the connecting halls outside of the exhibits, Gwyn followed the flow of the crowd. She slipped her phone out of her pocket, pretending to be texting so that none of the bug enthusiasts would attempt to engage her in some conversation about pupation. Only looking up occasionally from her notes app where she just repeatedly typed the words ew ew ew, Gwyn nearly yelped when she heard a voice in her ear. 
“You missed your turn,” Emerie said, her voice slightly crackling through the earpiece hidden behind Gwyn’s hair.
She cleared her notes app, quickly typing the words, I know. And Sorry.
A tinny sigh in her ear. “That’s okay, just don’t attract attention. Pretend to look interested in the exhibit.”
Gwyn locked her phone, slipping it back into her bag as she lifted her head. Immediately regretting the action, once she came face to face with hundred of wiggling, nasty looking larvae.
This time, Gwyn couldn’t hold back her yelp, though she did manage to close her mouth in time to capture the sound, so that it didn’t disrupt the group of people that had gathered to marvel at the nasty little things. Pointing out some fascinating detail of another, as they crowded around the glass window into the bug nursery. In hindsight, Gwyn really should have expected that following the crowd of conference attendees would have led her here.
Carefully controlling her breathing rate so that she wouldn’t alert the others, Gwyn took several steps backwards from the case before turning and walking in the direction of the entrance to the next exhibit. One glance around the room revealed to her that the rest of the entomologists were already deeply engrossed with the contents of the many cases around them, and so Gwyn was able to easily slip out of the room without attracting notice.
The adjoining exhibit, a hall of various bones and skeletons, was relatively less crowded, and Gwyn was just as easily able to weave her way in and out of the gathered bodies. She allowed her head to swivel around, if only to appear as any other mildly interested patron, but stayed resolute in her path towards the exhibit that she’d originally missed.
“Slow down,” Emerie hissed in her ear. “Or at least pretend to be looking for the bathroom.”
Gwyn huffed, shoulders sagging as she forced herself to slow down somewhere in the middle of the ocean exhibit. Above her, the lights illuminated the room in slowly shifting shades of blue, casting the impression of walking along the ocean floor. She ran a hand over her face, and continued walking at a much more deliberate pace.
Admittedly, the museum was rather impressive and on any other day, Gwyn would have been among all of the other patrons, staring wide-eyed at the displays and devotedly reading each and every plaque. 
But she wasn’t here to admire the museum. The entomology conference had only been an excuse for Gwyn to come to the Helion Museum of Natural History. If she had simply attended as a regular patron, without a purpose for ambling through the halls other than pure entertainment, she wouldn’t have been granted a keycard that allowed her access to some of the more restricted sections of the museum.
She’d already taken advantage of that privilege the previous day, when she and the other conference attendees took a tour of the research wings, where the archivists and conservationists worked. Their guide had taken them through room upon room of lovingly organized samples stacked in neat rows upon the shelves or spread across tables as researchers gently worked to clean and preserve them. The ultimate purpose of the tour had been to view the yet unveiling showing of moths as the archivists carefully pinned and labeled them, but Gwyn had conveniently slipped out under the guise of a bathroom break before that ever happened. That night, she returned home to Nesta and Emerie with a neatly drawn map of nearly the entire research wing.
Now, as Gwyn ambled through the ocean exhibit, the brilliant displays of coral and skeletons of various sea creatures rose up around her. She walked slowly, arms crossed over her badge so that anyone passing her wouldn’t note that she’d wandered off from the rest of the entomologists. Emerie gently murmured her approval in Gwyn’s ear, just as she crossed the threshold into the next exhibit, a sign above it advertising the Space and Astronomy hall.
The entrance was a long, dark tunnel with white swirling lights on the rounded ceilings and walls. Not resembling stars, but instead pulsing from one end to another like a portal. Gwyn was the only one walking through it, and belatedly she realized that this was a relatively slow day and hour for the museum. She hadn’t seen many other patrons, except for the rest of the bug crew, and as she walked out of the tunnel and into the dimly lit chamber that was the space exhibit, she realized that she was the only one there, save for the security guard currently leaning against a wall and staring at the toe of his boot.
Gwyn adjusted her glasses, slowly winding around case after case of space memorabilia. Some artifacts collected from the surface of the moon, and hundreds of chunks of rock from meteorites that had crashed to earth. She paused at a few signs for good measure, but her gaze was drawn to the ceiling above, which was a careful recreation of the constellations in the night sky.
As she made her way to the end of the hall, Gwyn nearly tripped over a small pedestal that appeared to rise up out of nowhere. She stumbled back, staring dumbfounded at the small, square case that shone more brightly than any of the others in the entire museum thus far. 
Just a small, glass box atop a narrow pedestal at the center of the corridor, right before the entrance to the next exhibit. And she was so close, Emerie was murmuring in her ear a list of reminders of what to take note of as soon as she entered the next room–but Gwyn couldn’t resist. That one lone box, that felt like it had been waiting for her.
Slowly, she approached, carefully leaning over the glass case to observe the contents, only to see that it was a single glass tube, stoppered at the end with a metal cap.
Gwyn sucked in a sharp breath, holding it as if letting it out would disturb the little granules safely behind several layers of glass. She admired it, this fine powdery substance within the tube that almost looked like glitter, it was so reflective. She didn’t know what it was, only that it was beautiful, catching the light in this oddly mesmerizing way, and there was so little of it. A pinch, really.
Her eyes flashed to the small sign below the display, and read the label: Presolar Grains.
Lips parted in awe, Gwyn looked back to the small tube, and recognized the particles inside as actual stardust. The dust from stars formed billions of years ago, before the sun even existed. She reached out, her five fingers spread across the glass as she crouched to get on eye level with it.
How something so outstanding could be kept in a place as unassuming  as this–just perched on a small pedestal in a vacant section of the museum–was a wonder to her. There should have been hundreds of people crowding around this very case, craning their necks for a chance to see it, this evidence that something had existed before the sun.
“What is it?”
Gwyn jumped as soon as the voice sounded behind her, whirling around with her arm out in front of her with the impulse to shove the person away. With Emerie berating her in her ear, Gwyn managed to suppress her instincts just in time, her eyes widening as they trailed up a man’s chest to his face.
She was met with easily the most gorgeous eyes she’d ever seen. Like molten bronze, these fluent pools of amber and hints of green, and she staggered back, catching herself with a hand atop the case behind her.
“Careful,” the man said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he took half a step forward. Either to catch her, or peel her hand off the case, she couldn’t tell. “The guards might think you’re trying to steal something.”
Gwyn tore her hand off the case as if she’d been burned, hastily stepping aside to put as much distance between herself and the display as she could. She had the strangest feeling, that his eyes had tunneled straight through her, and could somehow see her true intentions as if they’d been written out just as plainly as any other sign in the museum–there was no other reason. He knew why she was there.
But as her heart hammered in her chest at the prospect of her cover being blown, the man only gave her a small smile, really just a fleeting jump at the corner of his mouth, before stepping forward and leaning over the case.
“What are you doing?” Emerie was screeching in her ear. “Leave, geology is in the next room.”
But so perplexed was Gwyn by the man in front of her, that she felt rooted to the spot. Her head cocked slightly to the side as she studied him. How he silently mouthed the words as he read them on the sign, how the slight hook of his nose caught the light emanating from the case, sending an elongated shadow across his face, carving out his cheekbone. Those eyes that were framed by long arching eyelashes and hair that was so dark it seemed to absorb and devour all of the light.
Something about him bothered her.
Suddenly, his head turned, an amused smile already melting over his face as he looked at her. Gwyn jumped, eyes going wide as she pretended like she’d been doing anything other than assessing him. But the man straightened, stepping away from the case to stand slightly in front of her.
“What’s your name?” he asked, his eyes slowly traveling down to the badge around her neck before she could answer.
Gwyn hurried to cover it with a hand, some deeply ingrained instinct of self preservation telling her that she couldn’t trust him despite his friendly smile or Emerie’s pleas for her to just act normal. 
He lifted a brow at her, his gaze snapping back to her face.
“Is it a secret?” he said.
“Diana,” she blurted, forcing her hand to lift away from the badge. “Diana Bishop.”
He simply stared at her for a moment, before letting out a short, caustic laugh.
“Okay.”
Gwyn narrowed her eyes, her hands turning into fists as she studied him. Gorgeous face aside, he looked absolutely normal. Black shirt tucked into immaculately pressed and tailored trousers. Stylish, attractive even–but decidedly normal.
Why, then, couldn’t she smother the feeling that he knew all of her deepest and darkest secrets?
“What was that?” she asked, flinching slightly when her voice came out slightly more accusatory than she supposed it should have. She could at least keep up the appearance that she didn’t suspect him of anything.
“Just let it go,” Emerie hissed in her ear. “Apologize and walk away.”
Apologize. For being her best friend, Emerie apparently didn’t know her at all, because instead of walking out, Gwyn took a step forward, invading the man’s space, crossing her arms over her chest so that they bumped against him. And when she looked up to his face, where she expected to see reproach, instead she saw eagerness.
“Nothing,” he practically purred. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Diana.”
Gwyn frowned, her eyes roving over his face for any sort of tell. Reason told her that he couldn’t have been like her. He was tall, and built like a damn soldier with those broad shoulders and muscles pulling the fabric of his shirt taut over his chest, but there was no way he was dangerous. He had to be normal.
And then there was that gut feeling. Like electricity arcing over her skin, sirens blaring in her ears. He had come out of nowhere.
“And what’s your name?” Gwyn said derisively.
“Fine,” Emerie sighed, resigned, into her ear. “If you won’t listen to me, fine, but when Nesta comes back–”
Irritated, Gwyn jerkily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, hooking her finger into the clear cord of her earpiece and tucking the entire thing into her palm in one movement so that he couldn’t see.
“Azriel,” he said, reaching his hand out. She noticed scars running up the lengths of his fingers towards his wrist, and she stared at the nearly mesmerizing patterns for far too long before she realized that she was meant to shake it, and she still had the earpiece in her palm.
“I have to go,” Gwyn said slowly, backing away and angling her body towards the entrance to the next exhibit.
She put Azriel at her back as she paced towards the short corridor leading to the gems and minerals exhibit, her steps quickening as she passed by the security guard she’d spotted earlier.
Azriel wouldn’t follow her, she assured herself as she crossed into the gems and minerals exhibit, where there were countless glittering gems winking at her beneath the lights. He wouldn’t follow her, because she had been so off putting and strange, he wouldn’t deem her worthy of the effort.
Placated for now, Gwyn adjusted her glasses over her nose, and swiveled her head about the room so that the camera hidden in the frames could capture the overall layout of the exhibit. It was a rushed job, not nearly as meticulous as it would have been if she wasn’t so paranoid that Azriel would jump out of nowhere with twenty armed guards ready to escort her to some secret dungeon in an underground government bunker.
Been there, done that.
She considered popping her earpiece back in, but just as she rounded the first display case at the center of the hall, a mother and child came bounding down the aisle, stopping right next to her to admire a row of amethyst.
She backed up, allowing the little boy some space, and was about to continue her walk around the rest of the room, when she ran into something hard, all of the air whooshing out of her lungs.
“Ugh,” Gwyn grunted, as hands wrapped around her upper arms and steadied her.
“Sorry,” the same voice from before said, helping her to turn around. Of course he’d followed her. She’d been off putting and strange, and he was definitely not normal.
Gwyn glared up at him, all pretenses of being some bookish bug enthusiast easily forgotten. He had found her out, she was sure of it, and she now dedicated all of her efforts towards thinking of a way to get rid of him. Collecting footage of the display cases so Emerie could catalog the contents for later was secondary, because clearly he was a threat to the mission.
Belatedly, she wished she hadn’t taken out the earpiece.
“What do you want?” Gwyn said, a hushed whisper so that the family behind her wouldn’t pick up on the thinly veiled hostility.
Azriel furrowed his brows. So he was going to pretend to be confused, then.
“You left in a hurry,” he explained. “I thought you might be in some sort of trouble, so I came to ask if you needed help. I didn’t mean to run into you.”
Gwyn scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Look, I really should be getting back.”
He hummed thoughtfully, his eyes drifting down to her badge again.
“To the… bugs?”
“Screw you,” Gwyn blurted.
She whirled away, stalking down the aisle as the mother gasped and clapped her hands over her son’s ears. Gwyn didn’t even bother with trying to capture more footage. Her cover was blown, and all she needed to do now was lose her tail without attracting anymore attention.
Unfortunately, that also meant it was rather easy for her pursuer to catch up to her. 
She supposed she could kill him, if it came down to it.
“Did I insult your profession somehow?” He asked, jogging up beside her. “Was I not supposed to call them bugs?”
He came in front of her, trying to capture her gaze, which forced her to halt right beside a large tower of some type of quartz. She knew, not because she bothered to look at it, but because the reflection of it glimmered in his eyes.
“Get out of the way,” Gwyn said through her teeth as she rolled the earpiece within her palm. She glanced around him, eyes noting the camera wedged up against the ceiling. Murder was out, then.
He only smirked down at her, and just the sight of that gentle arch of his mouth was enough to convince her that he was privy to her homicidal intent, somehow. Any normal person would have walked away by now. He was staring her down like an adversary.
“Sure,” he said easily, stepping out of her way, and then waiting. Like he expected her to walk with him. “Maybe you could show me around? I had a bug phase as a kid, you know.”
Gwyn pushed ahead for the exit, struggling to ignore him as he easily matched her pace. If she could just lead him into an empty stairwell, she would be able to lose him. Knock him unconscious, and then leave him there for some poor museum employee to find. She could do it.
She tried to ignore him, and failed because then he started rambling about egg sacs, and Gwyn couldn’t take it anymore.
“Shut up,” she said. On an impulse, she grabbed his arm and pulled him with her towards a door marked Staff Only in a secluded vestibule off of the gem and mineral exhibit.
As the door clicked shut behind them, Gwyn immediately regretted her decision. Chest heaving, she looked around to see that she’d brought them into a storage room. Small, but not as tight as a closet, even with the towering stacks of clearly labeled bins around them. There were no windows, and the only lights were the strips of LEDs along the floor marking the narrow aisles.
“Diana,” Azriel said slowly, letting out a low breath as he glanced around the room. “This is all very flattering, but are you sure you want to do this here?”
“What?” Gwyn shrieked, her hands balling into fists. She backed up towards the door, where she thought she saw a broom, and considered using it to knock him out.
He was crowding her, slowly walking into her until her shoulders pressed against the door. She had been so sure, before bringing him in here, that he wanted to capture her, and with each vanishing inch between them, her mind was thrown into further disarray.
She had to get rid of him.
“I’ll admit,” he said, “There’s clearly something between us.”
Gwyn shook her head, trying to order her thoughts before she looked back up at him. “What are you talking about?”
“But don’t you think it’s a bit too soon for clandestine meetings in dark rooms?” he said.
His hands came up on either side of her head to cage her in. He leaned down, leveling her stare with one of his own, and she watched as his gaze drifted to her mouth.  
“What were you thinking we would do?” he murmured. “When you led me in here?”
“Don’t play with me,” Gwyn said, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She reached out a hand, groping for the door handle.
“No?” he said, face angling to the side. Like he might try to kiss her, and the thought of it was no more terrifying than her realization that she wouldn’t have minded it.
And again, like he could hear every one of his thoughts, his mouth curved into a smile.
“Then what should I do with you?” he asked.
“Look,” Gwyn said, her fingers finally landing on the handle. She pressed herself flush against the door as he stepped closer, so that his chest wouldn’t brush against hers. “Just let me go, and I promise–”
“Let you go?” Azriel murmured, smirking at her.
“Yes,” Gwyn said flatly. She stared resolutely back at him, unwilling to allow him to see even a shred of nervousness. She could do this. She could knock him down right now, if she wanted.
So why wasn’t she?
“Let you go,” he repeated, humming as if he was turning the idea over in his mind. Considering it. His face dipped to the side, his lips somewhere near her ear when he whispered, “Why? Have you done something you shouldn’t have?”
Gwyn’s mouth fell open, her eyes roving restlessly up and down the side of his face as she tried to reconcile the part of her that desperately wanted to see him lying across the floor as she smacked him repeatedly with the broom handle–with the part of her that wanted to see him lying across the floor as she crawled over him and pressed her tongue to his neck.
Her fingers slipped off of the door handle, and were reaching for his shirt collar to do something, when the door suddenly opened behind her, knocking her into his arms. She scrambled for a moment, her hands peeling his off of her waist as he tried to steady her.
Above them, the overhead light flashed on, and she squinted against the harsh light as she turned to face the person who had walked in.
“What are you doing in here?” one of the security guards frowned at them.
Gwyn’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to come up with a reasonable excuse as Azriel scrubbed his hand over his mouth beside her, trying to hide a grin. She had just landed on I got lost, when the security guard groaned, stepping to the side to let them pass.
“They don’t pay me enough to deal with this,” he muttered to himself. He looked up at the ceiling, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’d think adults would behave with some decency.”
Gwyn glared at the security guard, brushing past him and out the door. She expected Azriel to be right behind her, but once she’d gotten over her indignation at having someone assume she’d been doing indecent things with him in public, she turned to look behind her.
Only to see the back of his head.
He was going in the opposite direction.
Stunned, Gwyn tore the lanyard off over her head and chucked it into the nearest trash can. She headed straight for the main staircase at the end of the vestibule, where she knew she could reach the museum atrium and eventually the exit. She needed to get out of there, needed to get lost in a crowd so she could rid herself of the feeling of being watched.
He had let her go.
It didn’t make sense, Gwyn thought as she hurried down the steps. He’d clearly been onto her, had clearly recognized that she was up to something. Any reasonable person wouldn’t have let her go, especially not if she had been his target in the first place. Gwyn wouldn’t have let him go, if the roles were reversed, and if she wasn’t so concerned with getting out of the damn building, she would have been right on his heels.
There was something wrong, Gwyn knew. And she would have to head back to Emerie and Nesta and tell them.
Tell them they needed to call this mission off.
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fastcardotmp3 · 8 months
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watcha reading?
here we go! I went a long stretch where I wasn't reading much fic at all but I've been catching up lately (the past week fjdkslj) (I've been tagged in this a couple times I think but I can't recall by who I've just had this draft in progress for a while I'm SORRY :/ )
Anyway, It's About Old Friends by @fragilecapric0rnn - endlessly complex and such a feast of character dynamics and the way they shift and change and grow over time, I cannot recommend this one enough, it's the post-UD When Harry Met Sally AU that you NEED in your life
god has never loved a woman the way I do by @judasofsuburbia - the second part in a wild west au series that is so full and real and unbelievably tender that I simply don't know what to do with myself about it. For both parts (Steddie pt. 1 and Ronance pt. 2) there is so much beautiful rumination on the nature of choice for these people and the simultaneous risk and worthiness of choosing each other like. help me???
and they were roommates by @yournowheregirl - I've only read the first part in this series but I can't wait to dive further into it. Ronance finding that no matter how nervous they were to actually go after each other there is actually so much natural simplicity to touching and feeling and kissing and!!!! joyful PWP for the girls it's what they deserve
never made it to graceland by @cheatghost - beautifully, gorgeously, perpetually ominous first chapter with such perfect Eddie-isms and Munson Family Moments and prose, just the first chapter alone has me feeling deeply fulfilled while still so ready for more. I am a lover of "the world ended but we're still here" and this is already giving me that in DROVES please join me in scratching at the walls about it
I Look to You to See the Truth by @sharpbutsoft the Erica Sinclair coming of age in her freshman year of college-slash- lesbian self discovery story of my DREAMS featuring your favorite idiot4idiot steddie and dearest robin and overall what a delight from start to finish
P.S. if you read and enjoy any of these, spread the love by letting the authors know! the community of fandom thrives when we talk to each other 💜
open tag for anyone who wants to join in on this! say I tagged you and share your newest faves with us, I wanna see 'em!
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rwrbficrecs · 7 months
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August Faves
Monthly Faves are back! Sorry I missed July, it became too much work for me alone 😅 So we've decided to gather recs from the volunteers as well ❤️ Here's what we all read & loved in August, hope you enjoy 🥰
we've been here forever (here's the frozen proof) by @onward--upward (book-verse)
@read-and-write-: This is an AU, where Henry is an author and Alex, after reading Henry's books, starts exchanging emails with him by asking him about his own sexual identity crisis. This fic is cute, it's emotional, it's funny. It has everything you need and more.
@inexplicablymine: Have you ever feen so emotionally fulfilled by a story you want to spoon feed it to all your friends? That is this fic right here, filled to the brim with comfort and care it’s a masterclass in strangers to lovers.
@thesleepyskipper: A fic I couldn’t put down no matter how hard I tried
@indomitable-love: I want to climb inside this fic and live in it.
Going Platinum by @cricketnationrise (book-verse)
@gwiazdziarka: Henry falls in love with a stranger on the Internet and it's camboy!Alex. This slightly ridiculous concept makes interesting things happen and it's hot. NSFW.
Who'd have known by HiguT (book-verse)
@gwiazdziarka: Alex and Henry are friends since Rio and Alex turns to Henry when he has sexuality crisis. Henry helps. It's short, sweet, a little awkward and I absolutely love it when Firstprince become friends in Rio.
The Edge of Glory by @historicallysam (book-verse)
@myheartalivewrites: This is a really sweet post canon fic, posing the question: what happens when Alex gets tapped to run for office, after he and Henry and their family have been settled in Austin for many years. It really had me by the heartstrings, I love seeing the boys grown up, talking to each other and sorting their stuff out, and this did not disappoint!
muscle memory by @stutteringpeach (book-verse)
@myheartalivewrites: Is one of those fics where the tension is unbearable between them and you just want to shake them and make them talk, but then the sexy stuff is also excellent
Body Count Baby! by @orestespdf (book-verse)
@myheartalivewrites: this is a fun look into the boys sexual history, and honestly I’m desperate to know more about Henry’s slut phase, I would read about it endlessly
Things I Cannot Accept by @sprigsofviolets (book-verse)
@suseagull04: An interesting AU where Ellen never became President during the 2016 election and how that affects our favorite prince and would-be FSOTUS and how they get together. If you love slow burn, you'll love this fic!
@read-and-write-: It's a new take on canon, one that doesn't shy away from talking about politics, about Ellen's relationship with her children and Catherine's relationship with hers. It's emotional and it's beautiful, every word is worth it
@inexplicablymine: What if it all happened a little later, a little more realistic, and filled with just as much heart. For those who love Angst+Fluff you will get both in droves. There is a chapter in here that made me cry like a baby it was such a good representation of the tenderness of opening yourself up to another.
Every nation ought to have a right to provide for its own happiness. by @beautifulhigh (book-verse)
@daisymae-12: I love how sweet Alex and Henry’s relationship is in this fic, and the exploration of Henry deciding to exit the line of succession is handled beautifully too!
show me all your seasons by @villiageidiot (book-verse)
@daisymae-12: I don’t know how I managed to miss this fic the past two years – it’s such a lovely gem that deserves all the love. Really loved the way we journey through the seasons with Alex and see him figure out how he feels about Henry.
With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) by @kiwiana-writes (book-verse)
@rmd-writes: From the minute I started reading this Shakespearean actor au I’ve been obsessed with it. It’s not just the inclusion of so many epistolary which makes for a fic that looks pretty. It’s an incredible fic all round - impeccable characterisation, clever use of canon elements, a well-written, perfectly paced plot underscored by so much love and joy (even amongst the angst) that just leaps off the page. It had me laughing and squealing and crying and I can’t wait to read it again!!!
@inexplicablymine: One of my favorite retellings with chapters that made me cry tears of joy. This is the kind of work you pin your hopes and dreams to because it fills you with something you didn’t know you were missing. I can not get enough of it and it leaped to the top of my all time favorites very early on.
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thefallennightmare · 1 year
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Moment of Weakness-twenty eight
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*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/Pinterest *
Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader
Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence.
Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?
Author's Note: Get ready, everyone. We've reached the big part of this story. Also, ONLY THREE CHAPTERS LEFT!
Tags(closed): @splendidreads @sebsgirl71479 @mdpplgtz03 @pattiemac1 @unaxv @alana4610 @broadwaybabe18 @themayzittcha @playboystark @raajali3 @ozwriterchick @ragamuffin285 @screamingdying @themorningsunshine @kenziekugler22 @calwitch @sebastianstansqueen @stanaddict @stucky-simp03 @sleyeveryday @loustan90 @lyra-black13 @valsworldofcreativity @cjand10 @tesseract69 @batprincess1013 @subwaysurf45 @arsonfrogger @yoruse @5moremin @lipstickandtanqueray @mandijo17 @joannaromanoff @justsebstan @winters1917 @elizacusi-blog @football1921 @elxvrr
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The rays of the sun broke through the small opening of the curtains, blanketing warmness over Bucky and I as we laid in bed. I had been awake for a while now, simply staring at him, heart swelling in adoration and love. We’d been sharing a bed the last couple of nights, both needing the sense of security from one another. All we would do was lay in each other's arms, that’s it. Even though we were getting close again, I didn’t want to jump right back into everything until I felt I was ready too. 
Bucky’s hair was falling into his eyes so I gently brushed it away, the urge to kiss his plump lips was unbearable. I leaned on my elbow to stare down at him, a soft snore sounding from his mouth. 
As if he felt me staring, Bucky’s eyes slowly opened with a very large smile appearing on his face when we noticed me staring. 
He snuggled closer to his pillow. “Hm, good morning, doll.” 
“Morning,” I smiled back. 
His vibranium arm wrapped around me, pulling me closer into him. I rested my head against his chest and hooked my leg around his waist, locking him into place. This is what our mornings had been spent the last couple of days before Bucky locked himself in his office at home for the day, trying to find more leads on Clint or Natasha. 
Absolutely nothing. It was as if they dusted away, their lives almost forgotten. 
“Are you busy tonight?” Bucky asked while rubbing my back. 
I couldn't help but snicker at his question. He knew that with the hit on me, I refused to leave the house alone. To be honest, I rarely left his house this past week, not wanting to risk anything. There was no way Bucky would let me leave by myself anyway.
“I think my schedule is open,” I joked with a smile while looking up at him. “Why?” 
“Would you like to go out to dinner with me?” 
My breath caught in my throat. “Like a date?” 
Bucky could feel the way my body tensed in his embrace so he gave my hip a soft squeeze. “Whatever you want to call it; a date or two friends getting dinner.” 
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, debating the offer around in my mind for a few minutes. 
“How about we start it off as friends and see where it goes?” I suggested. 
He smiled, brushing his lips across the top of my head. “As long as you're comfortable, Y/N.” 
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My laughter bounced off the small confines of Bucky’s car as he drove us back home, our dinner replaying in my mind over and over. It had been so long since I had someone do everything Bucky did tonight and my heart was swimming. 
It started with him renting a small section of the restaurant for us, him pulling out my chair for me, and the table had a very large bouquet of black roses, my favorite. He already had a set menu for tonight, knowing what I liked, and when we talked he let me talk endlessly as I told him about me; things he didn't know. Not once did he interrupt, only kept his bright eyes on me the entire time. 
Bucky then divulged into his own life growing up and I learned so many things about him that surprised me. Our hands were linked on his lap under the table the entire time, his vibranium thumb pressing light circles on my skin. 
He pulled the car to a stop at a red light then looked over at me. “Have I told you how breathtaking you look tonight?” 
I smiled, my hand resting behind his neck, fingers playing with the end of his hair. 
“Once or twice.”
The car started to move again but I could tell that Bucky was still upset with what happened tonight so I placed my other hand on his knee. 
“You know you could have asked Steve or Sam to hang around. That way you wouldn't be so on edge at some points, "I said. 
“I didn’t like the way the waiter kept staring at you. I couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t try something,” Bucky said while gripping the wheel a bit too hard. “I can take care of you, Y/N.” 
I bit back a laugh. “It could be the fact that the dress I chose was a bit too short.” 
His eyes were laced with darkness as they quickly grazed over my form, slowly licking his lips. I felt my body ignite under his gaze so I shifted in my seat, the air shifted around us and I suddenly wanted to feel him all over me again.  
We arrived back at his house before I knew it and neither of us made an effort to leave the car, only staring deeply at each other. Our breathing synced as Bucky lifted my chin up towards him. 
“So was this a date?” Bucky’s voice was gentle, quiet. 
I nodded without hesitation. “This was the best date I had been on in a very long time. Thank you, Bucky.” 
“Anything for you, doll,” he breathed over my lips. 
The Bucky that I had been around the last few days was different from the one from months ago. He was more attentive towards me, sweet, and willing to take everything slow. All the anger I felt for him had vanished long ago, my love for him outweighing all the bad. 
I was done taking it slow. 
“Bucky?” My voice husked. 
His shoulders shivered. “Yea?” 
My tongue rolled over my bottom lip, it got caught between my teeth. 
“Did you want-.” 
I was cut off by his phone ringing but Bucky ignored it. “Not important.” 
“Are you sure?” I asked. 
“Doll,” he leaned closer to me. “You’re the only thing that matters to me right now.” 
Without a second thought, I crashed my lips to his and he wasted no time either by lifting me into his lap, the steering wheel digging into my back. I scratched and pulled at his hair, doing whatever I could to deepen the kiss. His tongue tangled with mine and I moaned into his mouth when his vibranium hand squeezed my ass to bring our hips closer together. 
I leaned my head back when Bucky began biting and sucking at the sweet spot of my neck, our movements becoming familiar with each other all over again. He remembered exactly where to touch or kiss that would set me off, in the most euphoric way. 
My name fell from Bucky’s lip when I started to rut my hips into his, trying to scratch that itch I felt almost everyday since we came back into each other's lives. 
“Should we take this inside?” I asked breathlessly from our kiss. 
Bucky didn't answer, only kicked open the car door and carried me inside the house. We were so engrossed with each other that the text message from Baron Zemo, that interrupted us before, went unread. 
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“Oh, Bucky,” I moaned, nails scratching and pulling at his hair. 
His moans were swallowed by the lips between my legs, his tongue pressing circles on my sweetest spot. I hooked both of my legs around his neck, almost smothering him. Bucky didn’t complain once, only kept his actions up, moving even faster. 
I lifted my hips up from the bed as my orgasm washed over me without warning and cried out his name over and over again in praise. 
Bucky didn’t bother waiting for the white haze to pass from my eyes before he hooked my leg over his hip and buried his dick between my folds. I clenched around him and he let out the most guttural moan which made my eyes flutter shut. 
“I missed this so,” he slid his dick out but left the tip in.
“Fucking much.” 
With a hard snap of his hips, he began to move them erratically, his pace unforgiving and unruly. It was what exactly I needed, my nails grasping at anything I could reach. The sheets of the bed, the skin of his back. Anything. 
“Bucky,” I breathed. 
He buried his face in my neck. “I miss the way you say my name. The way you touch.” 
I whined at the sudden emptiness as Bucky dragged his soaked cock from me to roll me onto my knees. My ass was raised up towards him, ready for whatever he was about to do. 
A hard smack of skin against skin bounced off the walls in tangent my screams when Bucky smacked my ass. 
He leaned behind me, his warm beath cascading over my ear. “I miss the way you fuck. The way you taste.” 
I pressed back into dick, the precum and my own sweet juices dragging all over the back of my thigh. 
“Please,” I begged. “I need you, Bucky. I need to feel you again.” 
“Doll, you never have to beg me for it. Never again.” 
We shared a moan as he slipped between my folds again. 
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Snores filled the room as our sweaty bodies were tangled together, not bothering to cover ourselves with any covers. We had come down from our high a while ago, both of us collapsing to the bed short of breath. Bucky had me locked against his chest, vibranium arm over my stomach. 
Tonight had felt like we never missed a beat, everything between us becoming second nature. The only difference was that Bucky didn’t have to leave; we could stay as long as we wanted together. There wasn’t the lingering regret or shame that we would feel after a night spent together. We didn’t get the chance to talk about us, exhaustion taking over us almost immediately. But there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that things would be different between us. 
For the better. 
That was until the sudden thirst woke me and I let out a small yawn while doing my best to untangle myself from him. 
Bucky whined while gripping me tighter.  “Where are you going?” 
“I’m thirsty,” I giggled. 
He left a kiss on my bare shoulder. “Hurry back. I’ll miss you.” 
I laughed at the tone of his voice and gave him a quick kiss before slipping on one of his shirts and a pair of shorts. 
Not bothering to turn on any lights in the kitchen, I rummaged through the fridge in search of something to drink. That was until I felt a strong arm around my throat, yanking me away and tossing me onto the hard, cold ground. My head smacked against the floor as I let out a strangled scream, feeling hands around my throat now. Fear filled my eyes as I looked up and saw a vicious smile looking down at me. 
“Cl-clint?” I choked out. 
“Miss me?” 
Before I could fight against him, he knocked me unconscious with a swift punch to the side of my head.
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cho-aaacho · 3 months
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Hello! Thank you for reading my William fanfics! William is such an interesting character, and his friendship with Wesker is something I love about him. I've got an idea about this, and I hope you like it. Sorry for the wait!
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𝑳𝑼𝑽𝑶𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑹𝑹𝑹𝒀!
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Tags : Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Crushes, Secret Crush, Admiration, Caretaking, Soft William, LUVORATORRRRRY! Reference.
Summary : It's not easy to unravel his feelings. Grasping the hues of his reds and blues, at least you try to feel them. But... did he feel that too?
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"Why don't you tell him yourself? I know William would be so happy if it came from your mouth." 
"What—you can't because—oh, okay. I understand. I'll tell William. After that, make sure to take your medicine, or William will go crazy when he finds out you aren't in the lab for too long."
"You don't want him to know you have a fever? Weird. But... you can't order me around! I'm the one in charge here."
Never thought in your wildest mind you'd call Albert Wesker in the morning.
You know very well what he was thinking. Strict demeanor, cold glare, and disinterested voice, criticizing not only your teamwork but also your choice of outfit.
He is the most hated scientist in the entire facility. The monster. A living Frankenstein. Though his face is extremely attractive to a scientist, he is still an asshole in the laboratory.
You always hope that Spencer transfers him to another facility so you can spend your lab days with William or Alex. He is so different from William Birkin.
In almost everything, they're so different. It feels like the two are like the moon and Venus.
William's supportive presence, soft-spoken voice, and eyes that always gleam when he talks to you give you a warm feeling in your heart. It seems like he is pouring something sweet yet intoxicating into your heart. It's cute, isn't it?
You only need two days to become close to him. To know his red and blue, to learn his cold and warm sides, to touch his divinity and comedy.
Ever since that day when he helped with your project and defended you from Albert, something has blossomed inside your heart. It's a cute feeling—too much warmth—and Alex says it might be love weaving through your heart.
You tried to get closer to him. You did. Like checking his mental health. Always. Reminding him to take his vitamins and driving when he's too tired to walk.
Sometimes you ate lunch with him, chose the same menu as he did. Eating his favorite food. Eating the same candy. Despite how terrible the taste was, you tried to be like him. Everything about him seemed to write endlessly in your mind.
Oh, he's so nice, warm, friendly, brilliant, and young. All of these make you insecure; they make you think that you're not worth it for him. Why is he so nice to you?
Is it necessary to be that nice? To someone like you? What was he thinking about you?
Are you curious about that?
Thinking about that makes you hurt sometimes.
Now you're resting in bed with a fever and an eerie sense in your throat. You feel so useless right now.
This happens after being overworked and forcing yourself to stay with him. Standing behind his back and lending your hand to share your warmth with him, you add another chapter of your love to his heart.
William, on the other hand, hasn't slept in three days. But, strangely, he appears normal and healthy. Meanwhile, your own body is screaming and needs rest; as a result, you have a fever.
You fantasize about him caring for you, coming to your apartment, taking care of you, and supporting you as you supported him.
But when you think about it again, it won't happen so easily. After all, that man was consumed by his science project, and he had no time to cherish his coworker. You.
If only he had thrown his ego away for a day. If only he had noticed your condition right now. If only he had the same feelings as you.
Maybe...
The door buzzer rings, breaking your thoughts back to reality. You turned your head at the door, still feeling dizzy from your fever and lacking the energy to walk and check.
You felt compelled to glance up at the door and yell at the person behind it, or just ignore them and go back to sleep.
But... something was off when a familiar voice yelled at your name and called your name relentlessly.
Could it be?
You walked to the door, hoping it was William and not just a fever-induced illusion.
As the door swings open, there stands William with a huge plastic bag in hand. His body is covered with a lab coat. You assume that he might be sneaking from the lab just to meet you. To see your face.
His blue eyes fixate on you, scanning your face carefully as if he is trying to study you.
A hint of confusion draws across his face as he gazes at your presence, adding unexpected feelings to your heart.
"Hey," he uttered softly, gazing at you softly as he bit his lips. He was trying to find the right words to describe his feelings.
"Albert says you have a fever. He was mad, you know. Why do you keep it secret and only tell Albert about your health?"
"Oh, because I..."
"No, we're partners, aren't we?" He added, locking his blue eyes to yours, though his mind struggled to find the right words. He was trying so hard to understand the situation.
Then he continued. "...and you can't do this to me. I know you are always concerned about me. Why are you not telling me if you need me?"
You held back. That dizziness and heavy feeling in your head hurt you, and William's remarks only made it worse.
Honestly, you thanked Albert because William was led to believe in Albert's cold-hearted nature. However, why is William here? Was he coerced by Albert to meet you?
"Why are you here, William?"
He released a heavy sigh. Frustrating danced in his mind. "Of course, I'll look after you. I'll take care of you till you're well!"
"But, what about your science project?"
"Listen. I can work on another project with my team. I don't care if I lose it because I can make another masterpiece with my team. However, you. All I have is you. I won't be able to have you back if I lose you."
"So please take this medicine in this plastic bag and allow me to be your doctor. Of course, I'll treat you gently."
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The reference comes from this song. I've loved this song since I was in high school. 
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poisonivy206 · 1 year
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a boy who touches like the sun
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The first thought he has when Regulus pushes forward, pressing their mouthes together, half crawling into James’s lap, is that he’s so warm. His mouth. His hands. For a boy who walks around like he’s made of stone Regulus touches like the sun.
After that his brain sort of—short circuits.
He can’t think.
He can’t move.
He knows he should have seen this coming. But he didn’t. He didn’t. And for some reason that keeps him frozen. Everything overpowered by it.
I didn’t know.
I didn’t know this was what we were doing.
I didn’t know this was who I was.
Anyone who knows me also knows by now that Choices by @little-shit-soph is one of my most favorite stories ever. I’m never not thinking about it. I’m never not carrying parts of it tucked somewhere safe. I’m positive that I’ll read many things that will impress me over the course of my life, but that very few will make me feel the way I feel about this. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you find something that reaches inside your chest and touches you in ways you haven’t really felt before. Choices was it for me.
So, imagine my excitement, my pure delight (my tears, lol), when the lovely @chaoswalkingsblog​ commissioned @moonyandtoasts​ to create this based on Chapter 4. Beck and I have talked endlessly about this scene, and still, we find more to love. I wanna like, say words that do it justice, and I can’t. Chapter 4 and everything about James and Regulus’s first kiss means so much to me - the joy, the beauty, the realisation. EVERYTHING. 
Thank you so much to both of you, and thank you to Soph for putting this out into the world. I’m just filled to the brim with gratefulness.
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abeautylives · 1 year
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Imperfect Moments - Chapter Ten
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Series Masterlist
pairing: Jakexfemale!reader
word count: 5.1k this chapter
series summary: You’re in love with your best friend. His twin brother hates you. Or does he?
chapter summary: The seasons change and so does your… relationship?
warnings: 18+ minors stay far away, language, angst, explicit sexual content, oral (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, light choking and biting
Autumn brought change.
The colors of the leaves changed, green to yellow, to orange and fiery red before they turned a dull brown. Brittle and dry until they lost hold and drifted to the earth.
The days changed, seemingly shorter as each one passed and in turn, the nights changed with them. Endlessly long and dark, they grew colder and lonelier.
The world, as you’d come to know it, changed so rapidly that you were still suffering the effects.
One month. You’d had one solid, blissful whirlwind month to find the balance between your friendship with Josh and your situation with his brother. Days and nights spent with Jake left you feeling like there was something real there. In a month, things had gone from less-than-casual hooking up to something resembling an actual relationship, though neither of you had offered the words to make it official. There was an unspoken devotion behind every shared meal, every soft touch. It was almost perfect, until it changed.
When they left, time seemed to crawl by and when they were home they were working constantly. For the first time since you’d known him, you talked to Josh on the phone more than you did in person, but he always called.
“I’m so proud of you guys. The videos are amazing, I’ve been finding stuff from every show.”
“What do you think of our outfits? We look fantastic, don’t we darling?”
“Oh, absolutely beautiful. Especially Sammy, but the fans eat it up when he loses the jacket. Very hot.” You know Josh is fishing for compliments, because he always is, but you don’t need to fuel his ego.
“I see how it is, when did my brothers become your favorites? I’m truly hurt, devastated.”
“Please, you’ll always be my favorite.” And you think that might be true.
You abandoned the habit of asking when they would be home. During a very late night phone call with Jake, you had asked him and his response had only been a heavy sigh that you couldn’t place the emotion behind. Conversations with him had become tense, almost melancholy but you missed him and couldn’t stop yourself from telling him often. He would brush it off, the way Josh used to. You’d even tried to entice him into phone sex a couple of times but he would claim exhaustion or a lack of privacy and bring the call to an end shortly after.
When they were in town, you didn’t bother asking when they’d be free to see you. Jake would find the time to make an appearance and wind up in your bed panting in your ear about how much he’d missed you, how perfect and good you are, which only left you more confused. They would leave again and it was like none of it had happened, none of it mattered. He'd go back to being short with you… if he managed to call at all.
It seemed like Jake had changed.
“What’s going on with you and Y/N? I thought something was happening there.” Josh is laying in the bed he’d claimed in their hotel room, pretending to read a book and mind his own business until he can’t anymore.
Facing away from him, perched on the edge of his own bed and softly strumming an acoustic guitar, Jake doesn’t look up when he responds. “What are you talking about?”
“It just seemed like you were invested in whatever you were doing with her. And now… not so much?”
Jake stops strumming but doesn’t turn to face his brother. “Did she tell you that? That I’m not invested?” Josh stays quiet until Jake finally looks over his shoulder. “Josh. Did she say that?”
“Not in so many words. When is the last time you talked to her?”
“She texted me earlier today.”
“And did you answer?”
Jake sighs. “Yes.”
“Did you actually have a conversation with her?”
“I guess not, not really.”
“So what’s going on? You’ve spent a lot of time together. You went through all that trouble to make her like you.”
“I didn’t make her like me. I was just… there for her.”
“Hm, yes. If you need reminding, I’m familiar with making the mistake of pushing her away. I practically pushed her into your bed. Is that all it is? You just wanted to sleep with her and you’re over it?”
“No, what? Why are you asking? What did she say?” He turns his body to face Josh fully after leaning forward to prop the guitar against the wall.
“She seems sad, Jake.” Josh watches as his brother's mouth turns down at the corners. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I think I love her. “Nothing. We’re just busy, I can’t spend all my time on the phone with her.”
“That is bullshit and I believe you know it. I saw you with her, shit I overheard a lot of things I hope that you didn’t intend for me to hear. Scarring, life-altering stuff really. It’s not that hard to call her once a day. I’ve managed it…”
Laying back onto the pillows, Jake runs his hands over his face a few times before dropping them to the bed in defeat. “I care about her. A lot.”
“Then what’s the problem?” He’s trying to read his twin’s mind, he’s been able to do it before. Never one to beat around the bush for too long, Josh asks exactly what he’s been wondering for weeks.
“Have you fallen in love with her?”
“I… don’t know.” Lie. “It’s been hard being away from her, when things were getting good.” In truth, none of it has been perfect but it had felt like it was within reach. He knows that he’s the one fucking it up.
“Can I offer you some advice?” When Jake turns his head to look at him, Josh puts on a smug grin. “I think you’re being an idiot. Superbly stupid. Get your shit together, Jacob.”
He texted you the morning they were meant to fly in to let you know when they were getting to the airport, when they were boarding, and how long the flight should be. The amount of detail was surprising, you’d hardly been able to pull any information out of him for the last ten days so you counted on Josh to fill you in.
Me: Sounds good, have a safe flight
Me: Let me know if you have some time this week to hang out
Jake K: The airport is about 16 minutes from your place
Okay?
Jake K: I’ll be there as soon as I can
Jake K: I miss you so fucking much
Okay…
Me: I miss you too Jake
Me: Is everything ok?
Jake K: Not yet, but I think it will be
He stood in the hallway outside your door for just over three minutes, taking deep breaths and questioning most of his recent decisions, before he knocked. None of it mattered because when you answered, everything became undeniably clear.
Standing in the doorway for a long moment before letting him in, you let your eyes bounce around his face before dropping to the bouquet of flowers he’s holding in front of him. Cocking an eyebrow and pursing your lips, your head falls slightly to the side as you meet his eyes.
“What’s all this, Jacob?” He looks sort of nervous, and tired, his hair is pulled into a haphazard low bun and he still looks beautiful.
“Let me in and I might tell you.”
You step aside to let him by and as soon as the door closes behind you, you’re pulled in by one arm and his lips are on yours. Regardless of how things have changed, it feels good to kiss him so you make no moves to break away. As your arms loop around his neck he drops the bouquet to the floor to wrap his around your body and pull you in tighter.
“Jake… the flowers…” He’s already left you breathless, he’s so good at that.
“Fuck the flowers, I’ll buy you a million flowers,” he’s speaking between kisses that are running over your jaw and down your neck, where the evidence of your last meeting has faded. “You can have flowers everyday for the rest of your life.”
Pulling back enough to separate his lips from your skin and look him in the eyes, you search them for an inkling into whatever has caused his sudden affection. You’ve spent weeks aching for even a whisper of it.
“What’s going on with you?”
“I just missed you…” He’s not being completely truthful and you know him well enough now to see it.
“You could’ve said that, at any point in the last, oh I dunno, two weeks? I’ve missed you too ya know. It’s been… hard.” Shaking out of his hold, you scoop the bouquet off the floor and walk past him toward the kitchen while you look them over. They didn’t suffer any damage on the floor and you’re pulling your only vase out of a cabinet when his hands find your hips and his chest is pressed against your back and pushing you into the counter.
“How can I show you how sorry I am?”
Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you release a sigh through your nose. “Jake, I don’t wanna do this.” You feel his body go rigid, but he doesn’t separate from you. “I can’t deal with two different versions of you, this one and the person you’ve turned into when you’re gone. I want to be with you, support you but-“
He uses his hands still on your hips to turn your body and cut you off. “Say it again.”
“I don’t-“
“Say you want this. With me. Because I do, and I know I haven’t done a good job proving that to you lately but I have wanted you for so long, I-“ His breath hitches but you’re listening with rapt attention, begging with your eyes for him to keep talking, to just finally say it. “Just be with me, for real.”
It’s close, you can work with it. “You wanna be my boyfriend, Jake?”
It takes a second but the worry in his eyes is replaced with hope before a small grin appears. He doesn’t answer right away but a hand comes up to cup your face, thumb swiping softly over your bottom lip before he moves in and kisses it softly. “I know you don’t want to hear it but just let me say it.” He waits for you to nod your head for him to continue. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s been hard, and I didn’t mean to shut you out. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I… care about you so much. More than you know, really.”
Finally putting your hands on him, you reach up to push the tendrils of hair falling from his bun away from his face. “Is that a ‘yes’?”
His grin stretches into a full smile. “Let me call you mine, sweetheart. I promise you, I’m all in.”
There’s still a chance this could go sideways, you know that. The next time they leave it’ll only be for a few days, not long enough for him to prove to you otherwise. Just like the first time you’d invited him to your place, you take the risk.
“I’m all in too.” It’s barely a whisper but he reacts as if you’ve yelled it from the roof of your building. In a flurry of motion he’s all over you, lips crashed into yours and hands roaming from their soft hold on your face to tangled in the hair at the base of your neck before they’re sliding down your body and landing on your ass. He grips it and pulls your hips into his, slipping his tongue past your lips when they open on a soft moan. It feels needy, desperate, the way he’s licking into your mouth and grinding his growing erection against you, and you’re not surprised by his words when he breaks away.
“Let’s go to bed.”
“No.” He tries to mask the disappointment that flashes across his face, there’s never been any pressure to have sex but right now he thinks he might die if he can’t show you the way he feels. “Right here, bed later. Fuck me like you missed me.”
His hands are already unfastening your jeans and pushing them down over your hips before he drops to the floor and lifts each foot to tug them off of you completely. He shrugs your hands off when you try to pull him back up to you, smooths his own up your legs and sinks his fingertips into the backs of your thighs as he leans in to trail kisses over the fronts. It tickles when he runs his nose over the edge of your panties, but he grips you tighter when your body jumps. When he buries his face between your legs and runs his nose over your covered slit, breathes you in, your knees almost buckle.
Slowly, he’s pulling the cotton and lace past your hips and down your thighs, watching as he uncovers you. Once it’s bared to him, his eyes don’t leave your core and he blindly slips your panties to your ankles. As you kick them away he pulls one of your legs to rest over his shoulder but he doesn’t move in. Instead he turns his face to your thigh and presses a kiss to the plush skin.
“I love these.” His voice is low, deep and quiet and it shoots through your bloodstream. High on it, you need more and when you tell him so, he delivers. Still running his lips over your skin, he murmurs into it. “I love how soft they are, love how they feel wrapped around me.”
“Jake…”
His head shakes softly and he turns it from your leg, you think he’s going to move in and put his mouth on you where you need him, but he breezes over your core and his lips land on your stomach before he looks up at you.
“Call me the other thing.” Always, call me that always.
Looking down at him, on his knees for you with pleading eyes, you know what he’s asking for has nothing to do with this moment. You make a mental note to remember to give it to him when he least expects it.
Right now though, you’d give him anything to get him to keep going. “More, baby. Need more.”
He smiles against you and reaches up to lift the hem of your shirt so he can see more, but you lift it and pull it over your head, giving him access to everything. “So needy, I’d like to take my time with you ya know, this is kind of a big deal.” Confusion on your face, you tilt your head in question. You’ve been in this position before, fucked him countless times all over your apartment. “I’d like the first time I fuck my girlfriend to be memorable.”
Oh, he’s good.
You know that already, he’s always good, always does and says exactly the right thing when he’s with you… but that was really good.
Running a hand through his hair, your fingers meet the elastic securing it at the base of his neck. You use it to pull his head back further, to really look at his face. There’s nothing but pure adoration in his eyes and you hope he can see the same in yours.
“Let’s make it memorable then.” He grins up at you as you tug gently at the hair tie, unraveling the loose knot until it pulls free and his hair falls around his shoulders. Slipping the band around your own wrist, you run your fingers through the strands, fluffing it up. “You look so pretty like this, are you gonna make me feel good, pretty boy?”
He hums at the praise, “Every chance I get.” You feel a fingertip slide up the inside of the thigh that’s not laid over his shoulder. “You’re dripping for me, you know that?”
“Yeah, I feel it. What’s it taste like?” You’re trying to coax him into putting his mouth on you but he surprises you.
“I can confidently tell you that it tastes like heaven.” With that, he slides that finger up and through your wetness, making you whine for more at the contact, but he pulls it away and lifts it to your face. “Try it.”
He’s looking at you expectantly, and though you’ve tasted yourself on his lips and tongue before, you’ve never just… not straight from the source. Your lips open and you lean forward to accept the offer, sucking his finger in and wrapping your tongue around it. When your eyes flutter closed, he pumps it over your tongue a few times before sliding it out, tugging your bottom lip down and dragging it over your chin.
“What do you think?” It’s sort of salty and sweet, you definitely understand the appeal considering the way you feel about the taste of him. You hum your approval and use your hands in his hair to pull him into you, he understands that you’re done waiting. He instantly opens his mouth over you, sucking you in and running the tip of his tongue through you before pulling back with a graphic slurping pop. “So fucking good.”
He’s diving back in before you can respond, a hand firmly gripping the outside of the thigh next to his head. You keep one of yours tangled in his hair and use the other to support yourself on the edge of the counter, moving your hips against his mouth as his tongue dips inside you and his nose is rubbing against your clit. When he focuses his attention there and his lips close over it, you moan for more. Nodding, he swipes two fingers through the slick wetness still seeping from your cunt before burying them inside it.
“Fuck! Just like that babe, just how I like it. Do it…”
He likes babe, simple and effective, the sound of it makes his dick throb. Pumping his fingers into you slowly, he sucks at your clit, rolling it around on his tongue as you grind yourself into it. He does know exactly how you like it, knows which way is your favorite and while he switches things up often, this is what you’ve asked for. You like to maintain a little bit of control over it, and when you cum for him it feels like you’ve reached that goal together. When your hips buck away from the counter, he knows you just need a little more before you’re coming undone for him.
Speeding up the pace of his fingers, he pulls his mouth away to look up at your face but he finds your head thrown back and chest heaving. “Does it feel good, sweetheart?”
“So good, so good, keep going.”
Curling his fingers forward, he feels when your knee threatens to give out. Your grip on the counter is tight and the one in his hair is tighter, you use it to pull him back in. He laps over your clit a couple of times before placing his teeth over it. It’s not a bite, more of a nip, barely grazing over the skin but it draws a low string of curses from deep in your throat. Lapping over it again before switching to flicks of the tip of his tongue, he groans into you as you fuck yourself onto his fingers.
“Ja- Jake, baby I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna- oh!”
You’re pulling his hair at the roots, all of your muscles tensed as your orgasm grips you. He licks at you softly, keeps his fingers moving slowly inside you as your walls clench around them, soaking them. When he feels your hold in his hair loosen, he gently lowers your leg from his shoulder and places a final kiss to your center before pulling his hand away and lifting his lips back to kiss over your stomach. Resting his forehead there for a minute, he takes a grounding breath before speaking.
“I could do that every day until I die. Seriously.”
Still coming down, you let out a breathy laugh. “You’re so dramatic. I think it runs in your family.”
Rising to his feet, he cages you in against the counter with his arms and presses his still fully clothed body into you. “That feel dramatic to you?” His breath skates over the shell of your ear and you feel the shiver ripple down your spine as he rocks his hips against you. “How do you want it?”
“I already told you…” His mouth is moving down your neck, to your shoulder while he brings his hands behind you to unclasp your bra. His fingertips brush over your skin as he slips the straps down your arms and pulls it away to toss it over his shoulder.
“You’re a fool if you can’t feel how badly I missed you. No matter what, I’m gonna fuck you like I missed you.” You’ve undone those pesky two buttons at the bottom of his shirt while he talks, running your hands over the smooth skin of his chest before pushing it off of him and moving to his belt. He lets you work until his jeans are pooled at his ankles and you're palming his dick over his underwear. Placing a hand over yours, he asks again, “How do you want it, love? Tell me.”
Leaning in close, you nibble at his earlobe and run the tip of your tongue over it. “Inside me, now. The rest is dealer's choice.” Leaning back to look at him, you find a devilish glint in his eyes and a smirk to match. “You game?”
He answers by spinning your body around and sliding a hand up between your breasts until it’s wrapped loosely around your throat, shoving his briefs down to his thighs with the other hand. A knee finds its way between your legs and he uses it to spread them, his hold on you keeping you upright when you’re thrown off-balance. When his entire palm cups your pussy, a whine creeps through the hold on your throat and your own palms meet the counter top. Without delicacy, he runs three fingers through your arousal, collecting it and rubbing over the head of his cock. Before you can rush him, tell him to hurry up, he’s between your legs, sliding against your cunt and then buried inside it.
You sigh in unison at the connection. His free hand slides down your spine and his eyes follow it as it reaches your hip and his fingertips dig into the flesh there. He doesn’t pull out to thrust into you right away, a little lost in his own thoughts in the moment. Rocking into your ass, he leans forward to whisper into your ear.
“This pussy is mine, tell me it’s mine.”
The words ignite a flame deep inside you. “You know it is…”
“I said tell me.” He punctuates it with a sharp thrust, knocking your hip bones into the edge of the counter.
“Shit. It’s yours! I’m yours, baby, all yours.” You feel his fingers press into the sides of your neck, heat rushing through you and up to your cheeks. You didn’t know you’d be into it but it’s possessive and perfectly suited to his need to know that you’re his. And it feels so fucking good.
Ready for more, you push your ass back and he takes the hint.
Pumping his hips slowly at first, he keeps speaking directly into your ear between kisses and light bites into your neck. “God damn right you’re mine. No one could fuck you like me, I give my girl exactly what she needs, don’t I?” He’s talking himself into a quicker rhythm, but each stroke lands hard, deep inside you. He’s also talking you into a frenzy, because he’s right, no one has ever been as good as him, no one has ever come close. When you tell him so, a low growl rumbles in his throat and his teeth close over your shoulder. You inhale a gasp at the pain and he releases your skin from his bite and soothes the marks left behind with his lips.
He always leaves evidence of where he’s been, pink and purple reminders that you have to cover with makeup to face the public. You’ve come to savor the moments when they reappear as you wipe the cosmetic disguise away at the end of the day. He’s been marking you as his since day one, and you suppose you really have been all this time.
When his hand leaves your throat, you mourn the loss of it briefly before it’s placed between your shoulder blades and pushing you down, bending you over the counter. The edge of it is digging into your hips and your knees are hitting the cabinets below you but it doesn’t matter because Jake is behind you, running that hand back up past your shoulders and wrapping it in your hair. The change in angle has him sinking even deeper with every thrust and he’s cursing under his breath.
You wish you could see him right now, but you can picture his flushed cheeks and the sweat that’s likely running down his chest by now. You know he’s watching, fixated on where he’s sliding in and out of you, and you’re sure of it when his hand leaves your hip to grip your ass.
“Fuck, so pretty like this…” He can’t see your face either but he’s not looking at it, not talking about it right now. The praise still warms you, his words add fuel to the fire burning low in your belly. No one’s ever been as attentive to every part of you the way he has and you know you wouldn’t be able to live without that kind of desire now that you’ve felt it from him.
“More, tell me more.” He has to be close, the pace he’s set has been relentless and you know his words alone could pull you over the edge with him.
Pulling by your hair, he maneuvers your head until you can look at him over your shoulder from the corner of your eye. “Yeah? My girl needs to know how gorgeous she looks bent over for me?” You nod your head fiercely against his hold in your hair. “I’ve been all over the world, I’ve never seen anything as pretty as you when you’re taking my cock, sweetheart.”
“Jake, fuck, just a little more, I’m almost there.” His fingers release their hold on your ass and his hand is coming back down on you with a sharp crack. Your body jerks away from it but there’s nowhere to go, you know you’ll have bruises across your hips to admire tomorrow.
“Try that again and I’ll give you what you want. Talk sweet to you until you cum and then I’ll fill you up.”
“Baby, please. Please please please.”
Still moving inside you, he bends to drape himself over your back and you feel his skin slip against yours. Both of his hands leave you to find your own pressed flat into the counter, and he laces his fingers through yours until you have a white-knuckled grip on them. A firm placement of his lips to your shoulder, he leaves a kiss there before murmuring into your ear.
“There’s no one on earth as good as you are, I’d do anything to feel you wrapped around me like this every day for the rest of my life.” He can feel it affecting you, your body tightening around him. “Will you let me keep you, love?”
Your answer escapes on sobbing breaths as the flames rip through you.
YES, yes yes yes…
He burns with you, spilling into you as he bites back the words on the tip of his tongue, terrified to ruin the moment but feeling it in every cell. He tells you silently, presses it into your skin with his lips, squeezes it into your grasp with his fingers as your body relaxes beneath his.
Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you up from the counter and into them, slipping out of you as you stand and turning you to face him. When your eyes meet his, they’re glistening in the light from overhead and he feels his expression fall.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Before he can swipe his thumb over your cheek, your arms are thrown over his shoulders and you’re hugging him tight, your face tucked into the crook of his neck. He doesn’t press you for an answer, just pets his hands over your hair and holds you close until you’re ready. Worry has settled in his chest but he feels it lighten when your lips touch his skin and you sniffle before leaning back to look at him again. The worry melts away completely when he sees the soft smile inching its way across your face. “You okay?”
“So good.” You nod softly as you wipe a stray tear from under your eye. “Jake, that was- I don’t know what the right words are.” Truthfully it was a little dirty, kind of raw and messy, but it was perfect. “Did you feel it?”
He did, he’s felt it every time he’s been inside you, every time he’s stood in this exact spot in your kitchen, every moment of every day for almost three months. He smiles and kisses your forehead.
“Yeah, sweetheart. I felt it.”
“So… what now?” Your eyes are wide with wonder, where do you go from here? What else is going to be said in this moment?
“Now we clean up, order something to eat and watch a movie- my turn to choose.” He laughs at the stunned look on your face before kissing your forehead again. Against it he whispers, “Don’t overthink it.”
Later in the night, sleepy and still full from dinner, he carried you to bed. He left you there to turn off your lights and make sure your door was locked, but he found the flowers he’d brought still laying on the counter. Taking a minute to trim the stems, he hoped they’d be salvaged as he arranged them in the vase you’d pulled out. When he returned, you pulled him in and climbed into his lap. It was slow and gentle, he let you set the pace and he did it perfectly.
When you stretched out next to him and rolled to his chest, he pressed kisses into your hair. When you wished him goodnight, you called him baby.
Just when he least expected it.
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gogogodzilla · 1 year
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Chapter 13
Summary: You deal with Connor's absence and learn not to trust so easily. TW → spiking of a drink ✧ masterlist ✧ ao3 ✧ wattpad ✧ ✧ previous chapter ✧ next chapter ✧
If there's one thing you didn't like doing, it was waiting.
It'd been nearly six hours since Connor left the precinct, and you were starting to get nervous.
You'd barely taken your shoes off when Gavin was texting you and telling you to turn on the TV. Turns out, Hank's distraction did little to throw Perkins off the scent of Jericho, and they found it almost at the same time as Connor.
You were basically glued to the TV as you waited for any update from Connor. You scanned the screen, searching for anything that could indicate he was alive.
Hank made sure to check up on you, and you made him promise to tell you if heard anything from your favorite android detective. You watched the multitudes of androids being escorted out of the burning freighter. You could barely make anything out through the smoky haze.
By three in the morning, your eyes began to droop and nervousness morphed into alarm.
You hadn't even realized you dozed off until you woke with a start, wiping the drool off your cheek and quickly flipping on the morning news. A national curfew had been set and all androids had to be turned in to be sent to death camps. It made you sick.  
You spent the rest of the day going from watching the news, to dozing off, and then hastily checking your phone. Rinse and repeat.
That night, you attempt to get some semblance of a normal amount of sleep instead of the power naps you'd taken throughout the day. Sitting in front of the TV won't do anything but make you more anxious, you scold yourself as you try to convince yourself to sleep. You resist the urge to grab your phone and endlessly refresh your news feed. Eventually, sleep overtakes your restless mind.
The day passed with you going through the same motions: check your phone, watch the news, pace the apartment, repeat.
The clock struck eight, and you're on your seventh round of watching the news go over the various restrictions that had been placed. Your eyes were beginning to glaze over, and your hope for the situation had started to dwindle. You still hadn't heard from Connor, and your fear was starting to get the best of you.
A knock rang out from your front door, and you stiffen, remote clutched tightly in one hand. It only takes you a second before you're scrambling to reach the door, thankful you found the energy to get dressed today.
You whipped open the front door, and there he was.
Connor was wearing a beanie covering his LED and a brown leather jacket over a gray sweatshirt. Casual clothes were a good look on him.
"You're okay," you breathed, taking in his new look and reaching for his shoulders. You pulled him into a hug, and he eagerly enveloped you in his arms. You just needed to touch him, make sure he was actually here with you.
"Let's talk inside," he gently urged into the crook of your neck. You obliged, letting him push you back into your apartment, and kick the door closed behind him.
You released your hold on him and took a step back. Connor hovered near the entrance, and you began talking rapidly about everything that'd happened since he left the precinct. You emphasized how worried you'd been, and demanded to know everything that'd happened.
He cut off your rambling by moving to rest his hands on your hips, and bring you closer to him, "Doctor, I- I need to tell you something."
His tone was worrying, and you furrowed your brows slightly.
He avoided your graze, fingers tapping an unknown melody on your hip bone. "I'm," he paused, only for a moment, "I'm a deviant."
A sigh of relief escaped your lips, "God, Connor, don't scare me like that. I know, it's okay." You move your hands up to cup his face, gently rubbing your thumb over his cheek.
He furrows his brows, "You know?"
"I had my suspicions, but after Kamski's I was certain," you said softly. You loved being this close to him, especially after not seeing or hearing from him for the past two days.
You didn't even realize you were crying until he wiped a few stray tears off your cheek. Both of you were just holding each other's faces, and he touched his forehead to yours.
"Let me make you something to drink," he offered, and you chuckled. Now wasn't really the time for liquor, but you nodded anyway.  
You watched as he got you a mug and tea bag down from the cabinet.  
Oh.  
Your attention shifted to the TV showing the various android camps that had been set up across the city, and you drifted over to the living room and sat on the couch. You wrinkled your nose, It wasn't fair.
Connor padded over and handed you a steaming mug, and you eyed him warily. "How did you know how I like my tea?"
"I took an educated guess based on your coffee preferences," he grinned as he sat next to you.
You hummed before taking a sip; it was almost perfect. It was slightly too bitter for your taste, but you brushed it off. "What's the plan now? Did you meet with Markus?" You asked before taking another sip.
"Yes, I met Markus, and he shed some light on certain aspects of myself that I didn't know existed," he commented, leaning closer to you.
You raised an eyebrow and set your mug down, "Oh yeah?"
"Yes," he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your eye, "he made me realize just how deeply I care for you... Suddenly, my mission doesn't matter as much as you do."
You leaned in so your faces were inches apart, and your heart felt like it might pound out of your chest. His gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips and back up again.
"May I kiss yo-"
Connor's lips pressed firmly to yours cut you off. It was clumsy, but he quickly got the hang of it as your lips moved in tandem. He's a quick learner. Noted.  
You ran one hand through his hair, eliciting a deep groan from him. His hair was softer than you imagined.
You reluctantly pulled away when the need for oxygen became too great. You'd never had a kiss that made your lips feel so numb.
Now that you thought about it, your whole face was beginning to feel numb, as well.
You pulled away from him, and he gave you a blank stare as he watched you put the puzzle pieces together. This was wrong.
You clenched your hands as you attempted to get some feeling back in them. You pushed yourself off the couch, needing to get away from Connor. Now.
The numbness has started to spread to your legs, and you fell in a heap next to the coffee table. A dull pain shot through the side you fell on, but it barely registered in your muddled mind. Your vision was going blurry, and you blinked rapidly in an attempt to focus on something. Anything.
Your gaze landed on your mug, and you cursed yourself.
"Did you fuckin roofie me?" Your words were beginning to slur, and your limbs felt heavy.
"I'm sorry, Doctor," Connor replied, kneeling next to you, "but I can't let him ruin my mission, and you're the only way he'll listen."
Connor.
It looked like him, but it wasn't him. He wouldn't do this to you.
You furrowed your brows in response. His voice sounded muffled almost like you had cotton in your ears.
He rolled you onto your back, and you started up at the ceiling, wondering how you could be so foolish. He was gone for a few moments, before returning with something in his hands. You distantly felt him lift one leg and shove something on your foot before doing the same to the other leg. He was putting on your shoes. Where was he taking you?
"You'll be groggy for the next few hours," he said as he wrapped your arm around his shoulder and brought you to your feet, "but other than that you're uninjured." It felt like coming back from the Stratford Tower all over again as Connor half-dragged you toward the front door of your apartment. Although, this time you couldn't push him away.
You grumbled out a response, which was mostly just you groaning, and your eyelids started to droop. They were just so fucking heavy.
All you could do was watch as he grabbed your keys off the hook and dragged you out the front door.
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geometricalien · 5 months
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Between Akashi & Furihata, if one of them died, who do you think is more likely to heal from the pain of loss sooner & moves on with his life?
When has Akashi Seijuurou gotten over anything in his fucking life? This rhetorical jest is an oversimplification of one of Akashi's character flaws which is his need for control. This is all to say, simply based on that, Furihata is the more emotionally intelligent of the two, the one more open and accepting to change. I think they both would require years to fully heal but I think Furihata would be the one to move on sooner.
I've tried to keep it short and direct above for those without brainrot but I AM going to go apeshit below the cut
Oh my god oh my god oh my GOD I'm so glad someone wants to hear me talk about THIS, THIS EXACT CONCEPT- ACCEPTING THE LOVE OF THEIR LIVES DEATH FASCINATES ME ENDLESSLY FUCK
Okay for reference there has been 2 fanfics involving this concept that I read when I first got into akafuri and they have HEAVILY influenced my perception of this question:
- The Truth About Reality; which is literally about Furihata not accepting Akashi's death and through mysticism goes to 4/5 different parallel realities to get him back. It's a favorite of mine and I read it once a year. It has themes of sacrifice and second chances which make it so crucial to the thematic elements of akafuri. Read it please
- Through the Air by Maiokoe; I love the first chapter, literally Kuroko Kagami Takao and Midorima come to Akashi while he is at work and inform him that Furihata's flight just crashed. It is so so so good. The way it plays out, Akashi's mounting fear, his resistance, the way his fear turns to anger then to despair- sometimes I cry when I reread it. And the last lines of the chapter---
What was a world without his lover? What was this life without his easy nature and smiles? What was this life without his affection? What was this world without Furihata Kouki? What did this world mean to him? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. What was Akashi Seijuuro without him? He didn’t want to find out.
Those lines have colored my opinion of what Akashi would be like if his husband died so fucking much that it really was eventual that I started my Greek fic where Akashi is Achilles and Furihata is Patroclus. So if you know the Iliad then you know how my fic will play out and exactly where I take a stance on Akashi’s terrible all consuming love.
To talk about the dissolution of happily in love akafuri by the cruel hands of death is to examine how their relationship evolved them and what being torn from their other half would do to them. To be haunted by their after image, to look at their favorite mug, to wear their favorite sweater- who would wear grief better. Who would welcome it, accept its presence. Who would repress it.
Please do not mistake what I'm saying to mean Furihata would move on quickly. Where Furihata is Akashi's light, Akashi is his gravity. He would be adrift and untethered without Akashi. The world would turn upside down. He would feel the expanse of their house, the emptiness of their bed. Furihata would be lost. It would take years to come down back to earth by himself.
Furihata would eventually move out of that house/apartment too full of memories, at the prodding of well meaning friends he would download dating apps, eventually he would go on dates and try his best to not compare them to his late husband because how could a man compare to a god. And then years and years down the line, when his heart only half aches when he sees a hair of red, when he only wears that old ratty sweater on the occasion bad day, he can look up into the sky and smile, thankful for the memories. I think he could even fall in love again, begin a new chapter.
A large chunk of Furihata is lost the day Akashi dies but he grows around the pain and walks on. Accepting the scars, accepting the love and pain, accepting it all.
As I said though, Furihata is Akashi's light. His metric on good and bad. The saving grace that redeemed him and inspired him to become worthy of such love.
Imagine if the sun was stolen from the sky and we were pitched into utter darkness. Until our eyes adjust and we can make out some shapes, you are surrounded in black black. Complete emptiness. Alone more than ever before and for a moment you think it will consume you. That is how Akashi feels for the first year until his eyes adjust to the darkness. He would continue in this shadow life indefinitely, watching everyone else patch themselves together and move on, while he.is.stuck. And he won't admit it and only those brave enough would say it to his face, but he is absolutely wallowing, sulking, in this darkness as self-punishment. that in some twisted sense, this is what he deserves. he digs his feet in, refusing to move. And if out of the corner of his eye a flicker of light dances, he would refuse to follow it. The dark is where he belongs.
He would bury himself in work. He would refuse to move out of their house. Refusing to touch any of the things that Kouki last left them, his toothbrush bone dry in the holder, the book he was reading on his bedside table.
And when his friends compare him to his father- he becomes furious, alight with indignation. He is not cold and cruel like his father had been. "No... you're empty."
It would take him so so long to accept that Furihata would want him to be happy even if its not with him. That he deserves to be happy. Only then would he take tiny half steps out of the cave he buried himself in, the cave that he would have made his grave.
As a side note, I mentioned Furihata falling in love with someone else afterwards... my personal interpretation is that Akashi could not. He would try if only just because he knows Furihata wants him to be happy and knew that Akashi is the most happy when he is in love- but The Akashi heart is a fearsome terrible all consuming thing.
Akashi Seijuurou, is a man who celebrated the anniversary of each milestone of their relationship. Akashi Seijuurou, is a man who is head over heels in love and worships the ground his beloved walks on. Akashi Seijuurou, is a man who calls their partner love- because they are the manifestation of their love. Akashi Seijuurou, is a man who would go to the far corners of the world to see if there was some way to still communicate with their partner if said partner was turned into a worm and would build a terrarium of utmost luxury for said partner and talk to the worm as if it was them, take the worm to see the sun meet the ocean, because they have to hope that their partner still has some consciousness. And if not, then he needs to do that for himself. To fool himself. And once that worm passes, he would be extra compassionate to earthworms because they remind him of them.
The Akashi heart is a blessing to the receiver for there is nothing stronger or purer. The Akashi heart is a curse to the creator if only because they have that one single heart and they are physically unable to take it back.
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vaal3nt1na · 9 months
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IFHY | kim sunoo x reader
chapter 10 - but he doesn’t like me either
warnings ‼️‼️
alcohol, making out, cursing, that’s all afaik plz lmk if i missed any!!
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you didn’t understand why you were crying about this, he wasn’t your boyfriend and you don’t even know if he likes you. so why the hell were you so upset?
you stared at the text from heejin for a while, tears flowed endlessly down your cheeks. soon enough you heard light knocks on your door. “come in” you said weakly
the three girls came in, their moods dropping just from seeing you cry in front of them. they piled onto your bed, snuggling into you.
“yn” hina said, looking at you. she was clinging to your arm, “hm” you hummed as you turned to look at her. “i know your scared of losing sunoo but you’ll never know if you don’t try. im not trying to force you into telling him today or anytime soon but you’ll never know how he feels if you don’t tell him how you feel” she moved to rest her hand on top of yours. “what if i’ve waited to long i mean he could’ve liked me in high school and i was too scared and didn’t say anything and now i lost my chance?” you said as heejin wiped the tears off of your cheeks with a tissue.
“if he rejects you he’s stupid,” chaewon said from beside you, her head resting on your shoulder. “you’re an amazing girlfriend yn, i still remember when you dated that one guy in high school to try and get over sunoo and your the one who asked him to home coming with a poster, flowers, and his favorite candies” she said, giggling at the memory. you smiled remembering it, “so he’s missing out if he rejects you. not only that he’s stupid and should rethink his whole life and every decision that led up to rejecting you” you laughed as she went on, sometimes chaewon didn’t know when to stop. it always made you laugh though
“okay listen, i’ll stay sober all night so you can get drunk as fuck and forget all about him and the skank” heejin said with a grin. you know she would stay true to it, “maybe you can even find a new guy there, or two.” hina pauses, “or three” you look at her as if she has two heads, “i think i’ll settle for drinking” you had stopped crying at this point.
hina smiled as she stood from your bed, “let’s get ready then!” she said before pulling you up.
after an hour or two (hina takes forever to get ready) you were finally ready. you being the only one with a car you drove there and gave your keys to heejin.
hina and chaewon dragged you to kitchen, immediately heading for the shot glasses and alcohol
soon enough the three of you were giggling non stop with red faces as you shit talked about half of your school, “chae, take a pic of me and yn!” hina slurred out as she shoved her phone into chaewon’s hands. you and her held shot glasses filled with alcohol, linking your arms and drinking it all in one go as chae snapped a picture.
“looks like yn is having fun” heeseung said, leaning against the door frame leading into the kitchen. “sunoo too, he’s in the basement drinking god knows how much” jake said, a half drunken bottle in his hand.
the night continued on, eventually you, hina and chae got seperated from each other. hina with some guy in one of her lessons and chae making out with sunghoon in the corner of the living room. you were outside on the balcony, sitting on one of the chairs jake has out there. you were out of it, scrolling thru your twitter time line too drunk to process any of the tweets that crossed your eyes.
“yn?” a familiar voice called out. you raised your head to be met with a slightly less drunk sunoo leaning against the railing, gazing at you with those gorgeous eyes of his. “oh, hi” you mumbled, you wanted to stand with him so bad but decided against it. unfortunately for you, your legs work faster than your head
by the time you had decided against standing next to him your legs had already taken you to the railing. leaning against it on your forearms, “why are you up here?” you asked as you turn your head to look at him. “my friends are all off making out with somebody or getting drunker than they already are” he looks at you, noticing your wearing the shoes he said matched best. it’s small but he felt his stomach swarm with butterflies, “what about you?”
“same as you, i would be drinking right now but i might get alcohol poisoning if i drink more” he laughed at your response, his laugh ringing in your ears even after he stopped. it was probably the best sound you’ve ever heard. you sighed as you stared at him, he still looked insanely gorgeous despite drinking as much as he did and before you knew it your lips connected with his.
his hand resting on your hip as yours were on his shoulders, soon your arms moved to wrap around his neck, hands interlaced behind his head. you never thought you’d be here, making out with your high school crush and “rival” on his friends balcony. you could taste the alcohol on his lips and you were sure he could too but you didn’t care.
you eventually parted for air and what just happened finally settled in. “fuck” you muttered, you had come here to forget about him and now you were just making out with him. you pulled your arms away and quickly rushed away, running out of the house and into your car. you sat in the back and suddenly the tears started falling, your hands fumbled around for your phone. finally finding it and texting the group chat.
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chidoroki · 10 months
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182 Days of TPN - Day 38
Chapter 38: “Forest of Vows”
Letting y’all know right now, if these become rather short, you can blame TotK. I purposefully had a good week of chapters written out in advance this whole time because I knew I’d become too attached to the game (& I’m loving it so far of course, though I don’t feel like I’ve gotten very far atm). So it’s been a few days for me personally to write more, but here we are and oh boy, what a way to start by saying farewell to this absolute queen. Don’t worry, honey, I’ll fangirl about you more once September hits.
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That’s because all the books the house had were transported over from the human side of the world, sweetie. I was gonna question whether or not demons even use books, but then I remember Ayshe’s father taught her how to read, so yeah, they do. Anyways, I know demons are generally larger than any human but I wonder if these huge trees make them feel small at all? Or it’s probably all so normal to them they don’t even think twice about it.
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This little fantasy of Emma’s is too cute. I love that she thought of the other kids like Phil who were left behind at the house, but it hurts not seeing Norman there. Is it safe to assume Ray made all that food? Funny how Emma sorta predicted him becoming our team chef later on.
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My boy, for once in your life, can you please pat her head nicely? Especially when she’s injured! Pfftt I don’t mind it really, but I liked how the anime switched it up and just had him scare her with the jar instead. Her yell was equally as good. & I know for sure I was reading an unofficial translation the first time I picked up this series because I distinctly remember Ray going “Heyoooo” instead. I dunno why it stuck with me but to this day I greet people with that a lot.
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Him watching out for her once again and more importantly, HIS APOLOGY!!! Anime made his voice SO SOFT it brings me close to tears. And she just smiles and accept it all! 
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He is so darn grateful, look at this smile!! I know the second season messed up a whole lot, but I gotta thank them for nailing this whole scene. All voice actresses did a splendid job with these two.
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HIS PROMISE!!! One of my favorite moments of whole series and no doubt one of his best, probably the pivotal moment of his character development actually.
“Ray once believed his life was cursed and that he deserved to die after spending years thinking his family were nothing but a huge burden. So for him to come around after his attempted suicide and vow to live and protect the siblings he was so close to abandoning is the perfect example of character development. Needless to say he does stay true to this promise by being completely loyal to Emma and supportive of their family throughout the entire rest of the series and I’m so proud.” - a lazy chidoroki
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Ray spent most of his life sorta isolated from the others because he knew the house’s secret and didn’t want to drag anyone else down with him, so for him to come around and tell Emma that it’s better to work together with everyone to reach their goal.. it just hits so hard.
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My random pen question from ch23 about whether the WM pen actually had ink or not has been answered (though Snickers pointed this out too in the tags that day so thank you for not letting my mind wonder endlessly about it).
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Could you imagine just walking around with your best buddy, having the time of your lives admiring this grand forest, when suddenly they fall through the ground with no explanation. Talk about scary.
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It hasn’t even been five minutes and Ray’s already proving how serious he’s keeping his promise. I love this boy and all that rage on his face. Also, Chris being totally lost about what’s happening and just having Emma drag him everywhere.
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Favorite panel/moment:
Yet another head pat with Chris and his adorable trotting.
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lavenderjewels · 4 months
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JJK season 2 episode 20 thoughts! Only three episodes to go
(Manga spoilers too)
I’ve said this a few times, but this is one of the best episodes in the series. It has the best combination of hope, despair, fighting, dialogue, voice acting, etc. that really shows the best of jjk and why I love it!
(Spoilers for the next episode preview below + a screenshot with ID in alt) I just hope that next episode is just as good because the preview looks like it’s covering the rabbit and wolves scene! This content onwards until the end of Higuruma’s trial is my favorite stretch of chapters, so I’m beyond excited. Fingers crossed for a Kenjaku cliffhanger (although I just remembered that Mei Mei scene with Ui Ui in the bed 🥴)
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I MISS todo. Before Gojo was unsealed, I remember posting something about how Nobara and him were characters that made it seem like things could be okay and generally give some lighthearted levity. Todo is similar for me, in that his appearance brings a lot of hope and confidence. That said, that’s exactly why I’m not too surprised none of these characters are involved in the story, but I still think we’re way overdue for an actual update on Nobara and Todo. I don’t want their status to be an afterthought at the end of the series or never even touched upon. There’s even Nita’s brother in the recent chapters, but no Todo!
Todo is a fantastic mentor for Yuuji. I’ve already talked about this, but Yuki’s influence shows a lot once you know more about her character. In that way, it’s beautiful seeing him pass that along to Yuuji with his own interpretations and will.
Kinda continuing that, but with Yuki being his mentor, it did remind me of episode 5 of this season, both with Todo and Yuki’s ‘advice’ to Yuuji and Geto, and seeing Geto and Yuuji’s ideals and beliefs be challenged to a breaking point. I love how the anime portrays this—Geto makes his decision, whereas Yuuji’s shadows are still flickering when Todo talks about how they should approach the deaths of their comrades and that Yuuji doesn’t have to fully form a choice right now.
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The VOICE ACTING!! Mahito’s VA outdid himself. He’s such an incredible villain and that came across in his voice cracking while berating Yuuji, then his quiet, serious moments. Mahito’s always been a perfect contrast to Yuuji and I love how explosive he gets around him. The VA does great in making Mahito so evil, intelligent, and childish at the same time.
I am obsessed once again with the animators making the line art sketchier to show Yuuji’s emotions!! The range of art from scenes like this to Miwa’s scene was amazing. While there’s been a few times where I preferred the manga in how the show was adapted, I endlessly love how experimental the animators get, since it creates beautiful moments like this entire episode.
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Also I love the incorporation of the city shot from the first Jujustu Kaisen opening with the title card. That, and adding in the physical location of the ending for this arc at the end of the episode with the music over it. Such a fun adaption tbh. I wasn’t a big fan of the OST in the Nanami episode, since it was abrupt and didn’t hit as hard as the manga for me, but this episode’s music and lack of it was everything
I could go on about this episode, but I’ll stop myself. Just needed to do my weekly ramble because I can’t get JJK out of my mind
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