#WHAT HE MADE FOR ME WAS INCREDIBLE THOUGH | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lorelune · 2 days

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O4O: part i

|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || omega for omega, soft smut || wc: 10.3k || ao3 ||

Jing Yuan has been content riding out his heats alone for centuries. You, despite being another omega, are happy to lend a hand if Jing Yuan will have you.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

💦🎀 this piece is apart of SPRING FEVER: an omegaverse collab! 🎀💦

part i (here) — part ii (coming soon!)

notes: hello omega jing yuan omega jing yuan save me... the way omega jy has haunted me for months. MONTHS. this fic is incredibly indulgent soft, needy smut with non-traditional a/b/o dynamics. THANK YOU to the lovely @owlespresso for beta reading!! please read the tags and enjoy!! <3

CW: a/b/o dynamics, omega jing yuan (with afab and amab anatomy), omega reader (afab anatomy), past yingxing/jing yuan/dan feng, bottom jing yuan flavors (though reader does not do any penetration), use of toys, worldbuilding around omegaverse, lots of biting, milfy jing yuan, mommy kink without the word mommy (at least not in this part 👀💗!!),

Jing Yuan has not shared his heat with anyone in a very, very long time. Centuries, most certainly. Jing Yuan doesn’t find it very useful to keep track of that length of time— he finds it cumbersome if anything. There’s no use holding onto a past that only forces him to redigest pain.

Jing Yuan rarely has heats. He keeps a diligent schedule of medication and only has to go through them once every decade or so. Occasionally less, if the Luofu is passing a particular star system or comet field. His heats are always cumbersome. He can conceal his omegan sensibilities often, but it is more difficult prior to a heat.

Preheat is a different beast.

When Jing Yuan sequesters himself in his estate for the better part of a week, anyone who knows he’s even there assumes it is to go through a rut. A week is a standard amount of time to take off for a rut and is expected. However, a heat has a standard time off of about two and a half weeks. Much longer to accommodate preheat and nesting needs.

Jing Yuan rarely indulges his own.

The Luofu, at large, assumes he is an alpha. This is manufactured, however only partially. Generally, the citizens of the Luofu assume, given that he is the General and he has a larger, broad-shouldered stature, that he is an Alpha through and through. He always wears scent patches in public, which is normal for both omegas and alphas. Betas, too, occasionally. Depending on the subtype. The Charioteers know that he is an omega, but they are committed to some amount of discretion and guard the information as a secret. Lady Fu, an alpha, will occasionally scold him for being so secretive. Like he harbors some sort of self-hatred that he is an omega.

It is simply more convenient for him to be seen as an alpha. Jing Yuan doesn’t wish to disturb this perception.

And therefore, it is much easier to wait as long as possible between heats and bear them alone. Whatever instincts he has can be satiated with toys and a half-decent nest. Jing Yuan has always considered this enough. ‘Enough’.

(It’s not sating. Jing Yuan cannot lie to himself about this. He remembers laying with Yingxing, and how the alpha made him feel more full and content than Jing Yuan had ever thought possible during a heat. Or ever, truthfully. He remembers how calming Dan Feng’s presence had been— grounding and reassuring, too. Jing Yuan was fucked, filled and protected. An omega’s dream.)

Jing Yuan... copes with what he has. A large, plush bed with a downy mattress, a few donated, alpha-scented garments, and a collection of inflatable, knotting toys. He always leaves his heat with lingering cramps, a brutalized hole, and a yearning that takes a few weeks to quiet itself.

It is natural that he craves his mates. Even if they are long dead (not dead. Not really. Not the same as they once were, anyway.)

And certainly, never to be his again. The mating mark on his neck has long faded.

Jing Yuan tracks his heat so such yearning can be anticipated and planned for. He knows when his heat is approaching, down to the specific day it will occur. He titrates off his suppressants carefully, and maps out a portion of time off for himself a year or so in advance.

Which is why it is very odd that he starts exhibiting preheat symptoms in the middle of the day, a random day, during a tactical meeting.

Even if he had been titrating down his dose in anticipation for a planned heat in a few months time, it is far, far too early to begin feeling symptoms. The familiar itchiness prickling under his skin is entirely unexpected. Jing Yuan has to put a particularly large amount of effort to get through this unnecessary meeting without letting a single symptom slip. He can only adjust in his seat so many times before it is improper, or juggle the cradle of his jaw from one hand to the other before it is clear something is wrong.

If any of the Charioteers and their advisers notice anything amiss with him, they say nothing. The only one who looks off-put is Fu Xuan. She’s a spitfire alpha herself, and perhaps she’s keen enough to notice that Jing Yuan is beginning to feel... unwell. Though he is masking his scent as he always does, he imagines that the flush in his cheeks is becoming increasingly obvious.

Fu Xuan gives Jing Yuan a wary look as the meeting is dismissed.

“General,” She says curtly. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” He gives her a rich laugh as he stands, muffling a groan as his stiff back and knees ache. He’d sat for too long. He feels light-headed as he rights himself and Fu Xuan glares at him.

“I doubt that,” Fu Xuan huffs. “I will not interrogate you in public, nor do I think you would give me an honest answer even if I did—”

“So little trust in me, Master Diviner—”

“ However, I will urge you to go home. ” She takes a step closer and sniffs the air. It’s just the two of them in the meeting room now, the rest of the parties in attendance having filtered out. Subtly and without fanfare, she takes his hand in her own, and presses her wrist to his. Jing Yuan keeps an easy grin on his face but can’t help the way he tenses his fingers, flexing them at the contact. “Do you need an escort?”

“Is Lady Fu worrying for me? How kind.”

“I’m— not, ” Fu Xuan huffs now and more roughly smears their wrists together. The scent gland she is almost abusing is swollen and hot to the touch. It takes all of his composure not to squirm with her treatment. “I’m no fool. If you have a heat starting, you should be comfortable at home, not in a war room.”

“Master Diviner, you think I’m an omega?” Jing Yuan says with a smile. He knows she is already privy to this, but he can’t resist teasing her a bit.

“You are insufferable. Even in this state. Go home. I will take you there myself.”

“I’m afraid I can’t return home just yet,” He hums. He imagines he has a few hours before proper pre-heat sets in. “I have a lunch date that I cannot miss.”

“You— a lunch date?”

“Yes, of course. It’s a scheduled event, dear Diviner.”

“Do not patronize me.”

Jing Yuan laughs as she fumes. He has the urge to ruffle her hair, but thinks better of it. The complicated updo would surely be ruffled, and Jing Yuan is already getting an earful as it is.

“I would never.”

Fu Xuan yanks her arm away with a growl. She wears some type of masking perfume, she always has, but with her frustration swirling, a bit of her actual scent peaks through. It’s light on the back of his tongue, floral almost. Nearly inedible, but the kind of scent Jing Yuan that makes him nostalgic—

(For a master with a scent like frost-covered roses, and a packmate with a scent filled with springtime lilac blossoms in fat clusters.)

“If this lunch is really so necessary, may I escort you there at least? Or will your alpha be meeting you here?”

“They’re not an alpha.” Jing Yuan hums. His stomach feels warm regardless. “And I’ll be just fine getting there myself.”

Fu Xuan looks at him, questioningly. Her lips open, then close once more. There are questions she clearly has. And for all her brashness and hot-blooded fervor, she understands decorum better than most. She pries out of care and her good intentions, and Jing Yuan can respect that if nothing else.

“I’ll concede,” Fu Xuan sighs. “ However, please let me know if there’s anything else you need. You have my number.”

“Noted.” Jing Yuan rises, and feels the heat clouding his head sink lower in his body. He’s being engulfed.

Fu Xuan deadpans, “General—”

“Have a good rest of your day, Master Diviner,” He calls with a light laugh, slipping away before Fu Xuan can give him any further grief.

...

As the Arbiter General of the Luofu, Jing Yuan knows its streets and secrets very well. There’s more than one way to arrive at his favored terrace garden without being seen or smelt by the public. It is helpful that this path is lined near an aqueduct stream, surrounded by lush greenery and clumps of fragrant azure asters. This path is tucked away, straddling an external tunnel of the Luofu’s inner tunnels. Really, only the Calibrators aboard the ship use it, and as there are only a few and they tend to keep to their delve, Jing Yuan has very little fear walking this way at his own leisure.

He is glad you tend to take your lunch dates in the privacy of this particular garden, under the gazebo and nestled atop its many silken blankets and pillows. A conventional restaurant in this state would be doable, but unideal.

Jing Yuan can smell you as he approaches. It makes him pause, just outside the gate. His hands hovers over his jade abacus as he opens his mouth to taste you in the back of his mouth.

(Warm, a familiar scent that he associates with the rare indulgence of relaxation. It’s not overly sweet or ripe, but balanced and full-bodied. Not quite floral or fruity, and not deep enough to be akin to an aged black tea. Perhaps like the roll of a hearth or the beeswax of a lit candle.)

He’s sighs. It calms him instantly.

Even if you aren’t an alpha, you are familiar, as is the current setting.

You’re sitting at a low table in the shade of the gazebo. There are several plates of cheeses, cut fruits, salted meats, and nuts laid out. You’re ladling sticky honey into a small dish as he enters, and look up at the sound of the gate closing.

You smile when you see him.

“General,” You smile. “I apologize, I started setting up lunch without you. Everything should still be chilled.”

“No need to be sorry,” he laughs gently, brushing a hand against your shoulder before rounding the table, and taking a seat across from you. “I could never complain about your diligence. You have chosen quite the spread today, haven’t you?”

You flush with a nod, and gesture down to the table, “The markets were lovely today, I had to splurge. You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

“Only if you do the same.”

“I-I can do that,” You smile at him softly.

Despite your familiarity, you still regard him with some amount of anxiety. Jing Yuan has long since placed this has less to do with his status as General, and more than likely due to a deepened amount of affection that Jing Yuan... entertains. Enjoys. Thrives off of, even. He perhaps returns it, though he hasn’t told you that explicitly.

Besides, you believe him to be an alpha. He’s sure that, if you did know his secondary gender, such affections would fade quickly. The allure of what he could provide as an alpha is quite different from what he can provide as an omega.

Jing Yuan takes a sip of sparkling juice, and as he lowers the thin-necked glass, you look at him strangely. A crease knits itself between your brows.

“Did I get some on my face?” Jing Yuan chuckles and wipes at the corners of his mouth with his thumb.

“No... you just,” You stumble with your words, hands flexing in your lap. “Are... are you alright? Your cheeks look quite warm, and you’re sweating around your hairline.”

You always have been keen to bodies other than your own. It’s not the most common trait.

“... Am I?” Jing Yuan could choose to lie at this moment. It would be easy to say he was using a new brand of suppressants, or blame it on a stressful day. However, he doesn't like lying to you, only twisting the truth when entirely necessary. “I do suppose I’m at that point in my cycle.”

“Oh!” You startle and sit up more straight. You push a plate at him. “Pre-rut? You should eat, then. You’ll need your strength. Do— do you have someone I can call? I don’t mind.”

Your worry is cute.

Jing Yuan can’t help thinking about it. You are an omega full of so much care and urge to help. Jing Yuan has seen it and experienced it many times, and has also seen how it has gotten you into unfortunate situations. You have a trusting mind and spirit, and more than once, it has been used against you.

Jing Yuan likes keeping you close, so he can look after you, even if it’s from a distance.

He stares down at the plate. There’s a pile of glistening orange grapes, a few roses of sliced, cured meats, a chunk of honeycomb, and buttery looking crackers. It does look delicious, however Jing Yuan has always struggled to eat in his pre-heat. When he looks up at you to decline, your expression looks even more worried, almost sour.

Before he can speak, you are. Petal-soft lips lips downturned. “Are you... not in pre-rut, General?”

He deflates, slightly. He is old— and. He does not wish to steer you away from what is a correct assumption. You are his most trusted companion.

“I am not,” He says softly, and picks up one of the grapes. He squeezes. The skin is taut and tight. “And, please call me Jing Yuan. Formalities can be dropped, yes?”

“I— yes, of course.” You look from his plate to him. “So, you’re... pre-heat?”

“I am, yes.”

“Oh!” You immediately heap his plate with several other kinds of fruit, and grab a clean glass and pour ice water from a pitcher into it. “I apologize— for. Making such an assumption.”

“No need to apologize.” He soothes and lays a hand over yours. “I’m aware of what the vast majority of the Luofu assumes my secondary gender to be. It does not bother me. If it did, I would have corrected the greater public long ago. I apologize for not telling you directly until now.”

“It’s— okay,” you reply. Perhaps a bit hurt. “I never asked. I just— I just thought. Wrong.”

(Please be kinder to yourself, he thinks. It hurts to see you saddened on my account.)

“Nonsense,” he laughs and gracefully takes the water you offer. He downs the glass down his parched throat. He— hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. “No harm done. If anything, I’m grateful that you now know.”

(Regardless of how it could change your feelings toward him.)

Jing Yuan has tempered heartbreak for millenia. Another one— is not nothing, but it is manageable. Perhaps not during preheat, but he still has time to mourn.

“I’m glad too,” you tell him, and squeeze back his hand. You only scent him sometimes, always so shy about it, but now you firmly rub the scent gland in your wrist against his. His aches, and the sensation and exchange of pheromones nearly makes him wheeze. He straightens his spine.

“Was that—?” You almost pull away.

“No, it’s very welcome.”

You stare at him, intent and soft, before settling. Tentatively, you rub at the gland in gentle circles.

“You should eat,” you say after a moment. “Do you have an alpha I can call? Or— um, anything you need me to pick up for you?”

“I am fine.” Jing Yuan will text Qingzu for the essentials, rather than troubling you. “I’ll finish lunch with you, and then see myself home.”

“... No alpha to pick you up?”

“None to speak of, no.” Jing Yuan manages a smile.

(It has been— centuries since Jing Yuan had an alpha to care for and stake a claim on him. The notion of finding another has been put out of his mind since he himself had to confine Dan Feng to the Shackling Prison and exile the man Yingxing became. Even after meeting them as they are today, Jing Yuan knows they are no longer his mates.)

“Oh.”

Every one of your emotions is so clearly on your face. You look so sad for him and you squeeze his hand. He has half a mind to pull away, and remind you that he does not need your worry. However, he is in pre-heat, and by Lan, he is craving worry.

“And... heatmates?” You ask. “I don’t want to pry, but it’s hard to spend a heat alone.”

“Once again, none.” Jing Yuan replies without hesitating. The silence that follows is poignant as you study him.

“I see.” You frown again, clearly thinking. Jing Yuan can see the thoughts turning around just behind your eyes. You pile on even more fruits to his plate. “Eat, eat. You need it.”

“This much fruit will give me a stomach ache, I fear.”

“Some of it, at least!” You huff at him. “For me, please?”

Jing Yuan meets your gaze, easy and soft. There’s no threat, only the heat that matches your scent and the feel that radiates in his chest.

(You are not his alpha. You are something entirely different— something that he wants so badly to hold.)

“For you.”

...

By the end of lunch (in which, Jing Yuan does manage to eat a decent amount of the fruit you’d put on his plate), Jing Yuan’s pre-heat has begun to simmer into a more uncomfortable territory. He desperately wants to shed his uniform and armor, and slip into a robe and no bottoms. He hasn’t begun to slick yet, but he will surely start to by sundown.

Jing Yuan stands after the meal, stretching. It’s proper afternoon now, and the birds of the garden chirp eveningsong.

“Jing Yuan?” You ask as he stretches his arms above his head. His name sounds lovely in your mouth.

He hums, “Yes?”

“Do you want a heatmate?” You ask quietly.

He looks at you.

You’re fiercely meeting his gaze, even though you’re clearly struggling to. Your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth, and you’re fighting a frown from the crinkles on your forehead. Regardless, you stand your ground and ask a question that is surely difficult to broach, especially so directly.

“I—I am offering.” You stammer. “To clarify.”

“To be my heatmate?”

“Yes— I hate to think of you suffering alone, Jing Yuan. If I can be by your side to ease it, if only a little, I would like to be.”

“That is very brave of you to ask.” He smiles with a tilt of his head. “And bold.”

“I— I’m being honest.” You almost whine. It’s so cute. “Is that a no?”

“No, not at all.” Jing Yuan replies. “However, I wouldn’t want you to help solely for my benefit. If you wish to enter my nest exclusively to be an aid, and not out of... personal wants, I would feel guilty.”

“It’s— it’s personal wants too.”

“... Is it now?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Even though I’m not an alpha, as you thought?”

“Yes.”

“You’re certain.”

“ Yes, Jing Yuan.”

“I cannot give you a knot—”

“I do not need one!” You break, much to Jing Yuan’s amusement. “I am happy to be by your side, regardless of that! If anything, I’m more than happy to share a nest with you without the assurance of a limp and a potential pup.”

Jing Yuan smiles, almost unrestrained, and your cheeks heat deliciously.

You stammer, and poke at his chest, “You’re teasing me—!”

“I apologize, you must forgive me—”

“ Rude—!”

Your bury your face in his chest and nuzzle there. It’s— clearly a self soothing action, one you realize a moment too late isn’t quite proper. You stiffen, beginning to draw away, before Jing Yuan catches you by your scruff and holds you there.

“You’re alright,” He holds a wide palm there. “I apologize for teasing you. I mean so warmly.”

“... Scoundrel.” The sound muffles into his chest.

“Am I?”

You peer up at him, so warm in the cheeks and eyes... almost watery. Something in his chest feels sticky and molten.

“ Yes—” You dare to meet his eyes again. “But, one I’m very fond of.”

Jing Yuan steels himself.

You are an omega. It is not your pheromones addling his mind. There is clarity in the attraction and affection he has for you, one not influenced by the urge to be knotted and bred. Though, Jing Yuan wants that, maybe part of him needs it. There is a trunk full of toys and implements he has tucked away that will sate the urge. The feelings that he carries for you will not so easily be placated.

“I would like it very much if you were to share my heat with me,” He speaks softly, just for the two of you to hear. Not even the garden birds will know his words. “If you are still offering.”

“Yes,” You say quickly, tentatively wrapping your arms around his waist. “Yes.”

He chuckles, easy and low, and presses his nose into your hair. Perhaps it’s pre-heat, making him sentimental and mushy. He usually hides out and bears it alone in his comfiest nest so these feelings typically do not get expressed in any other way other than delirious, anguished cries while a knotting toy takes the edge off.

Jing Yuan finds these are nice to indulge, as your scent envelopes him.

...

“I lied earlier,” Jing Yuan says as you enter the threshold of his estate. “I apologize sincerely.”

“Oh?” You ask with a tilt of your head, accepting a pair of house slippers eagerly. “... What about?”

“I am in pre-heat unexpectedly. Though I have been tapering suppressants for an anticipated heat, it has come far earlier than planned . Things are... not as I would like them. You’ll need to excuse me for a few moments.”

Jing Yuan, like any omega, is particular about his home and nest, especially around his heat. He knows his home and inner chambers are not to his liking and he’ll need to prepare them. Even if you aren’t an alpha entering his nest, you are a guest and companion he is very fond of. You deserve only the best.

“Of course, whatever you need,” you assure him. “Do you need me to grab anything while you do so? I don’t mind running to the market—”

Jing Yuan turns on his heel, grabbing your arm firmly, “You’re not leaving.”

“O-Oh.”

Your eyes widen, and heat rises in your cheeks. Your throat bobs as you swallow and nod. Jing Yuan— were he not in pre-heat, would perhaps be a bit embarrassed by his brazeness. However, now? The idea of you leaving his home sends him reeling. You cannot leave— not until you smell like him and his nest. Not until— not until this is over.

“I sent a request to Qingzu to fetch us a few things during the walk over. She’ll be here shortly. I do, however, have a bowl of fruit that could be cut up while I get myself sorted. How does that sound?”

You nod eagerly, happy to follow instruction. Jing Yuan knows this about you and enjoys it thoroughly.

He sets you up in the kitchen with a bowl of sunsiettas, a box of meldberries, and a few bunches of perfectly ripe, round kaishen grapes. Jing Yuan leaves you to the task, which he can already tell you will do dutifully. You thrive off of praise and direction. It’s a dangerous trait of an omega to carry, even more terrifying to hold openly as you do. Jing Yuan knows it has burned you before.

However, he intends to indulge you well and kindly, as it pleases him very much.

His mind, far-too warm and itchy, yearns to spin fantasies as he locks himself in his room with a shake of his head.

He must keep it together. Just for awhile longer. His bed is— not a nest. Not the nest he wants (needs) it to be. His duvet, thick and luxurious as it is, needs a fluffing and a fresh scenting. His pillows are not arranged to his liking, and he needs to poke through his linen closet and add some extra layers as well. He needs to make sure there’s lube nearby with clean toys. Water out. His phone charged and volume on— (though, he already sent a message to Qingzu stating his heat has hit and he’ll be out for at least a week. ‘Defer to Diviner Fu :3’ , which is Jing Yuan’s payment to Lady Fu for the list of errands he had sent her.)

Jing Yuan shakes his head with a laugh. The little alpha will certainly be pleased when she hear she’ll get to play General for a while.

Pre-heat drives him forward. He sheds his many layers (without aid, which is objectively a headache and he regrets not asking you for assistance initially. However, Jing Yuan is fairly certain that if he were to be fully bare around you, regardless of his pre- heat or not, he may jump you and drag you into his nest—)

Pre-heat is also making him somewhat irrational.

He throws on his favored robe, a silken, cream-colored garment with delicate gold and red embroidery around the hems. The sleeves drape at his wrists and a sash ties it snugly around his waist. The itch that’s been rolling around just under his skin feels duller, with the less restrictive garment. The fabric crosses over his chest in a way that is... revealing. Probably too revealing, under any other circumstance, especially given that you have never seen him in anything less than his daily regalia.

The thought of looking so indecent around you has its allure to it. One that Jing Yuan lets himself entertain with a smitten smile as he works.

He is attracted to you, surely. This he knows and has known.

Jing Yuan acknowledges that this is both emotional and physical. You are dear to him, truly. In a way that is unique to any of the connections, he holds in the present. Your presence is one he thoroughly enjoys, and, more than once, (many times), has craved during his late-evening ruminations in his courtyard. He— has thought about inviting you over, if for nothing else than a chat in the moonlight and tea or wine to your preference, however—

He has always stopped himself.

Yearning, he will allow in the ways he has learned to manage it over the centuries. Small doses of longing that can be enjoyed and swallowed down, without festering. Being brazen with his wants and feelings is... slipperier. Especially concerning you, as you are dear to him, and Jing Yuan, for better or for worse, would like to share space with you for as long as he can manage.

This attraction is regardless of secondary gender.

Jing Yuan has not cared about secondary gender for a great while (since he shared a bed with a short-lived alpha and one of Long’s Scions, who, like all Vidyadhara, did not have a secondary gender at all.)

Your presentation as an omega was never a deterrent to him. If anything, it was something of a comfort. Jing Yuan was claimed long ago, and he knows that no alpha’s claim will feel the same as Yingxing’s and he wouldn’t want anyone, especially you, to attempt to emulate it. The ownership of a claim was not something he sought. Jing Yuan has had his heart broken enough for this lifetime. He is sure you could rend his heart asunder, however it would not be in the way of losing a mate that he is biologically tied to.

Statistically, Jing Yuan is lucky that such a loss did not cause him to become Mara struck five hundred years ago.

He is very content with whatever your relationship could become. If nothing else, the prospect of it allures him. Especially now that you know his presentation and clearly seem undeterred yourself. If— if anything. Your scent calmed and cooled when he’d told you on the terraces.

Another thing that Jing Yuan will have to parse when he isn’t so wet that he’s leaving puddles in his wake.

For now, Jing Yuan’s nest is satisfactory aside from a few personal items.

Now, all it’s missing is you.

...

Jing Yuan does not find you in the kitchen, but rather the foyer, wishing Qingzu a goodbye with a wave and shout.

Jing Yuan must—

(Temper his instincts because you are far too close to the door and you need to be in his nest and his teeth need to be in you and his scent on you—)

“Jing Yuan,” you say to him warmly, with a smile. There are a few canvas bags on your arms. “How are you feeling—?”

Jing Yuan can’t stop himself from dragging you away from the tall set of doors and back to the kitchen. You squawk at his firmness, but don’t reject his touch. He helps you heft the bags onto a low table. His own arms shake, with both the strain and his own heat-induced weakness.

“It’s really progressing, huh?” You tentatively raise a hand, and place it on his forearm to stroke there.

Jing Yuan practically purrs when you rub over the silken fabric, “It is. Quickly. However, my nest and appropriate supplies are ready. Did Qingzu deliver all that I asked?”

“It seems so.”

There are— three more bottles of lube. A few pearly-looking medicine pills, a specialty item from the Alchemy Commission. Several stacks of ready-made meals and electrolyte powder. There are several vials of milky-looking oils he had her grab for more scandalous purposes as Jing Yuan would like to avoid any type of friction abrasion. Lastly, there are few unmarked boxes with new toys.

“You’re so well-prepared.” Your eyes are wide as you take stock of the haul. Jing Yuan bundles things into a basket and ushers you to his nest.

“I have gone through many heats,” he chuckles. “I have learned the best tricks.”

“I-I can see.”

As you enter his bedroom, you stare at his nest with wide eyes. You jump when Jing Yuan locks the door.

“... Is that alright?” Jing Yuan asks.

“Yes, yes, of course. I just—” You swallow. “I haven’t ever helped another omega through a heat. If you have any pointers or preferences, let me know while you’re still in your full mind, please? I’d like to make this as comfortable for you as possible.”

Jing Yuan thinks for a moment. With a tilt of his head, he rests his hands on your shoulders. Your scent is spiced, a bit nervous, but also undeniably aroused. Your gaze darts down to his exposed collarbones and chest, then quickly back up to his eyes. Heat rises fiercely in your cheeks.

“Your presence will be helpful in and of itself,” he assures you with a squeeze. Carefully, he hooks his thumbs on your outer garment and pulls it down, undoing buttons and ties along the way. Your lips part, breath hot. “I’ll guide you as I need. My heats tend to be mild, though they do last a full week. There will be lulls, which I tend to be quite worn out during. I’ll need your assistance more than anything.”

You nod, taking in his response.

Jing Yuan— he’s holding it together. Slick is beginning to drip down his inner thighs and there’s an ache in his core that feels heavier and hotter by the minute. However, he does want to do this part slowly. He prides himself on his patience. Piece by piece, he takes off your day clothes and tosses them into his nest. Without them, your scent is stronger. Your neck is bare from any topical or adhesive blockers.

“During the rest of it though?” You ask, softly. “When you’re in the throes of it.”

Jing Yuan hums, letting a shaking hand rest on the curve of your waist, “I’m not certain. It’s been quite some time since I’ve shared a heat with anyone.”

“... Really?”

“Yes.” Jing Yuan presses his lips to your forehead without thinking. The heat of it, of you, sinks into his own. He feels like he’s going to burn up. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes.” You answer, and push yourself closer to his neck. Your lips part to taste his scent on the back of your tongue. “You are a catch. I know you have quite the lineup of suitors... I just assumed.“

“You also assumed I was an alpha.”

“The General is a skillful liar.”

Jing Yuan clicks his tongue, sliding a hand below your last garments. Satin, lacey things that are almost sheer. Thin. He could tear them easily, but doesn’t. His touch lingers.

“ Jing Yuan,” he reminds you. You stammer before pitching into him. He carefully walks the two of you backwards. His legs are close to giving out. “And I’d like to think of it as a skillful withholding of unnecessary information.”

“ Jing Yuan is very good with his words,” You murmur into the soft skin of his neck, lingering around one of the scent glands there. They ache, sore and unstimulated.

So carefully, you stretch up on your tiptoes to nose at one of them. Your scents bloom together and his eyes almost roll back into his head at the meld of it, the relief and rush of connection.

It’s the last push Jing Yuan needs before dragging you into his nest with a stifled moan. Coherency is shattered and all he can do is crave, crave, crave.

...

You are a good heatmate.

Astoundingly good. Attentive, kind, and so soft. It’s a relief to Jing Yuan, who’s heat-addled mind is so used to loneliness and cold. You do not have the scent or knot of an alpha, but you’re more than enough. It’s presence and comfort in a way Jing Yuan so, so missed. It’s enough in a different way— and that difference is good.

(You are not Yingxing or Dan Feng, and Jing Yuan is grateful that you aren’t.)

Jing Yuan finds himself on his back, with you wrapped around him. You let him pillow his cheek against your collarbone. His nose presses against your scent gland, and he pants against it with an open mouth and spit slicked lips. Your hand lays over his chest, cupping his breast while gently thumbing over his nipple. He’s so swollen there, aching.

He cries out as you pinch, as if it could relieve any of the pressure roiling around under his skin.

You curl closer into him with your lips against his temple. “Does that feel good?”

He can only keen and hope you understand that it’s a plea for more.

You must because a moment later you’re squeezing with your entire hand. It’s— too big of a handful for you. Your fingers are soft and your touch gentle. The visual of the plump flesh of his chest bulging out from between your fingers rewires Jing Yuan’s brain for a craving he never knew possible. A rush of slick gushes from his cunt and— it’s so much. He lurches into your neck, licking blindly at your scent gland. Vaguely, he notices you stiffen and your scent grows a little sharper.

It’s worry. Jing Yuan can’t have that.

With every ounce of his strength, Jing Yuan rolls you below him, and sits on your hips. You let him, so pliant and agreeable, and lay below him. Jing Yuan’s breath catches and drool slips to the corners of his mouth.

You are beautiful. You look debauched, and you’re not the one in heat. You’re flushed and damp with sweat, just as he is. The robe he’d draped you in is mostly open, revealing supple skin and your last bastion of modesty in the form of a cute pair of panties that Jing Yuan will fantasize about later.

You look up at him in awe, lust-hazed just like him. There’s little composure to be had as your fists ball up in the sheets around his thighs. Your gaze goes glassy as you look from his face down to where he’s seated atop you and back again.

“No teeth,” he assures you. It is the last coherent thought he has, if only to provide your some comfort.

You look up at him sweetly and nod, grabbing the plump flesh above his hips. “No teeth.”

(A claim wouldn’t take, anyway. Not really. Omega-to-omega pairings lack the necessary pheromones to stake a claim on each other. The most it would do would indicate that whoever has been bitten is a submissive-leaning packmate. Which— Jing Yuan actually would not mind biting you. He would like his teeth in your neck if you would ever allow him.)

He groans at the thought, lowering his head as a silver mane of hair spills around his face.

Jing Yuan is drenched and hard, leaking from the tip of his cock and seam of his cunt. It’s— filthy. You’re soaked too, with a mix of him and undoubtedly yourself too, though Jing Yuan can’t scent it over the smell of his own heat. It’s regrettable as he is sure the mix of you must be divine. Heavenly.

He wants it in his mouth.

Jing Yuan slinks down your body, licking and sucking at patches of your skin. You try to bat him off, haul him up and away from your own leaking sex, but he resists. He needs a taste or he’ll die, probably. His heat can be quelled in a number of ways, he presumes.

With his face buried in your cunt, surrounded by your scent, the ache for a knot is dulled. When you cry out on his tongue, it is almost deafened.

Jing Yuan drinks you up— he should pay more mind to your clit, probably, if he wants to get you off properly. However, he is so immensely distracted by your entrance and the essence of you that’s leaking out. There’s a rapidly widening damp spot beneath your ass. A steady flow that Jing Yuan needs in him.

He seals his mouth over your cunt, and prods his tongue inside of you. He presses so close, suffocating with his nose tight to your clit, to lap at your insides.

You— you wail above him. Your hands bury in his increasingly tangled mess of hair for any sort of leverage. Jing Yuan doesn’t let up; he doesn’t think he can. Your tone crashes into one that’s softer, more airy, begging for more. For less. Jing Yuan can’t entirely tell. He isn’t sure he cares, truthfully. All he knows is that your thighs tighten around his head with each suck and slurp.

The sound of it is heavenly.

Your thighs press around his face. Flush to his cheeks are the scent glands in the apex of your inner thighs. Not everyone has them, as they’re something of a recessive trait among all secondary genders. The scent that comes off them is your own, however muskier and deeper. It sticks to the inside of his nose and pours down his throat like a nectar. You mewl when he breaks away to lap at one, coaxing out more of the scent. He gluts himself on it.

He needs, he needs, he needs.

“Jing Yuan,” you pant above him, propping yourself up with one arm while the other blindly reaches among his nest. “Do you need it? Knot?”

He—

(He needs to be filled. He isn’t picky if that feeling is quenched with his cunt, ass, throat, or nose. The scent of you is almost enough, even if he clenches down on nothing and feels hollow in his belly. The sensations are so dull with you nearby. He feels heat incensed, but in a way that craves closeness with you and not the manic pursuit of a knot.)

It’s refreshing. Jing Yuan regrets not propositioning you for this treatment sooner.

“Are you offering?” Jing Yuan purrs. He places his thumbs over the scent glands of your inner thighs and presses down on the swell of them, just under your skin.

Your back bends off the bed and you throw your hand over your mouth. Teary eyes meet him and you nod. From the folds of the nest, you pull forth a knotting toy with a shaking grip.

It’s beautiful for a toy. It’s a model that Jing Yuan had seen in a few high-end adverts on the few social medias he moonlighted on. It’s a flesh-like plastic cock, with an inflatable knot at the base. A little, wired remote drags along the blankets of his nest as you hold the phallus out to him. The plastic of the toy is a light gold, cut with veins of blue. It looks otherworldly and unreal. Jing Yuan has never cared for much realism with his toys, though this one is human enough.

He makes a mental note to get Qingzu a bouquet for purchasing it for him on such short notice.

The head of it feels cool against his cunt. It’s a welcome sensation as it feels like his body is burning up from the insight. He lays over you, wrestling you a bit to be flat below him, with his thighs caging yours. He growls when you try to grab the toy from his hands to assist.

It makes you pause.

Your soft palms cup his cheeks, “Do you not want me to help?”

“The angle—” The angle won’t be right, Jing Yuan wants to say. His words feel lost in his throat as he slowly begins to push inside himself. He gasps and tries to duck into your neck, to like and suck at the gland there and feast on your scent.

“I can try—?”

“ No.”

Jing Yuan wants you just like this. In his nest, smelling like him and arousal and safety. The toy that’s sliding into his cunt is mostly irrelevant, as is the twitch of his cock as he slowly and methodically fucks the toy into himself. Little by little, he bullies it into his underused hole. The stretch is— is not bad. It would be far more uncomfortable if he weren’t in heat and pouring slick.

You ask more quietly, just as he bottoms out. You still haven’t let go of his face. “Are you sure?”

He is, but he can’t find the words to say so. Instead, he nods and tucks himself closer to you. You pet down the back of his neck and push on his scent glands. They ache with his heat. The pressure and direct contact makes him grunt as he adjusts to the toy in his cunt.

You hush him and nuzzle in his cheeks, “You’re doing so well. So good, Jing Yuan.”

He keens and pulls back the toy cock, only to shove it back into himself a moment later. Praise from you is a drug. He’s sure. You’re unbearably earnest and sweet and you are too kind to him. You whisper more of them into his ear as he fucks himself, deep and slow. He feels the sentiment of your words more than he hears it. Deeply affectionate and caring. If he were more lucid, he would be disarmed by you, speechless even. Perhaps he is already speechless, but he blames that on the heat haze and how the head of the toy is pressing deliciously into his sweet spot.

He narrows his focus on the spot and fucks him on the toy in earnest.

Jing Yuan will have an arm ache after this. Many aches, actually. It will be worth it. It is easiest to bear with you underneath him, tilting your hips up to grind against his dripping cock. It’s not the friction his body craves, but it’s welcome. It sends sparks down his spine and he whines into your neck.

You nip at his neck, high on the side of it, and Jing Yuan lets loose a cracking moan. It’s almost embarrassingly loud. Were Jing Yuan able to feel shame in that moment, he’d be red-faced.

Instead, he tips his head to the side, allows you room to mouth and suck marks as you desire. You catch on quickly, and hum, licking broad stripes and soaking him in your scent. Your marks. It surrounds him.

He fucks himself on the toy faster.

(It’s nothing like the heats he had while he was mated with Yingxing and Dan Feng. Not at all. They were shorter, back then. Perhaps it was his youth or the relentless pace and haze Yingxing kept that burned Jing Yuan out faster. Or, maybe it was that Dan Feng always made sure he was wrung out, despite not craving him in the same way Yingxing had. It was carnal then. It still is now, but it does not feel as manic. You are gentle without qualifiers, sweet without expectation, and happy to let him rut into you and back onto the toy as much as he pleases. Your kisses are bruising, but not bloody like Dan Feng’s. There’s a different pace, a different scent, and a different intent.)

Jing Yuan once enjoyed the desperation that Yingxing put into everything he did (including him). He had fallen in love with Dan Feng for his poetics and distanced care. You have neither of these. It is unfair, ultimately, for Jing Yuan to draw comparison.

Perhaps, he’ll feel guilty over it later. For now, his arm gives out and he falls into your chest with a keen. His back arches, hips raised, and the new angle is so, so good. You run your hands through his hair, and move your thigh, just right, so he can grind on it to his heart’s content.

He’s close; he can feel it in his belly.

What sends him over the edge is the feel of your lips against his hairline, the way your lips have curled into a soft, easy smile as you kiss him there. You stroke down his back, like how a good lover would.

You are a good lover.

He shudders as orgasm grips him. The sound that rips from his throat is shattering, as overwhelming as the heat that boils over in his guts. And you are such a good lover, that the little remote must have already been in your hand, as in the moment he comes, the knotted base of the toy begins to swell. Jing Yuan can’t— can’t chase his orgasm. He can feel his eyes growing wet while his body feels out of his control (he hates that, he really does). You, however, are a good lover and reach and stretch, matching his angle with the toy and fuck him through it yourself. The knot catches once inside him, then a second time, and with the third, it locks him and the toy together.

And with what can only be called a sob, Jing Yuan fully collapses on top of you.

He can’t keep himself upright, he realizes. His thighs tremble terribly, and his arms are the same. His eyes are filled with tears he didn’t expect and doesn’t know what to do with. It feels vulnerable. Too vulnerable, in a way that Jing Yuan has avoided for centuries now.

Before the feeling can consume him, you’re coaxing him onto his side and wrapping yourself around him. A sheet gets pulled atop the both of you and you’re nosing into him wherever you can.

“It’s okay,” You tell him. “You’re okay, I promise.”

A muffled sound that comes from your throat, followed by the low roll of a purr.

Oh.

All for him?

He shoves himself closer, skin to skin in all the spots he can reach. His tongue laves at your scent glands as his cunt flutters around the toy. He claws at your back before locking his arms around your waist.

You’re purring for him.

He can help but do the same, even chirping without meaning to as he nips at your jaw. Jing Yuan trails his lips to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. You curl and laugh at his touch, and Jing Yuan steals the lovely sounds from you with a kiss. It’s something deep and consuming, and Jing Yuan needs more of the taste of you. You squirm into it, gasping and opening your mouth for him to explore as he needs. Your openness continues to undo him.

It’s all the reassurance he needs. Any poisonous feelings fall away, and Jing Yuan, for the first time in far too long, finds himself content and knotted.

...

Jing Yuan has never had a heat quite like this one.

It is certainly more mild, and certainly a bit shorter than what he was expecting. The worst of it lasts five days, followed by three days that he can’t quite call post-heat. Though the desire in him is less feverish, he still craves your presence so much it hurts, and the idea of you being out of his nests sends him into a toothy panic those days. The ‘no teeth’ rule is modified to allow some biting, as long as it doesn’t involve any scent glands.

(However, Jing Yuan still would not mind putting a claiming bite on you. He makes a note to bring this up when he’s feeling some clarity of mind and can... attempt to court you properly.)

The most intense days of his heat are spent with a knotting toy in his cunt, rutting against your soft thighs, or with your hands wrapped around his cock. He eats you out whenever he can muster up the energy to shimmy between your legs and luxuriate there. Any down time is spent dozing in the warm sun rays that his bedroom is perfectly placed to receive.

The latter days of his heat, Jing Yuan is more lucid.

It’s in those days he truly enjoys his heat. Though the burn of arousal still lays within him, it is easily tempered with your presence in his nest and your many shared bite marks. Your time awake is spent lazily kissing, speaking in low voices, and sharing laughter and cups of cool water, one after the other.

Jing Yuan, partially, did not think he would ever get to experience this type of connection again. with you or any other partner. The intimacy of the act is so deeply vulnerable, and after the spiritual loss of both Yingxing and Dan Feng, he never endeavored, or wanted to endeavor to, open himself up in that way again.

He, perhaps, convinced himself he did not need to.

(Nevermind the many nights, both heat-addled and otherwise, Jing Yuan spent craving nesting companions. Nevermind how many nights Jing Yuan lay alone, accepting his losses and mourning mates he’d never hold again. Jing Yuan could never choose to be selfish.)

It helped when Yanqing was little. He was just a small pup with golden eyes like Jing Yuan’s and a fiery spirit, even when he was so small. Jing Yuan had never considered himself maternal, however having a pup to take care of brought out latent instincts he’d spent the better part of his life pretending didn’t exist. As Yanqing aged, however, he was less receptive to such affections and connections. After presenting (far too young, poor thing, traumatized body), Yanqing wouldn’t share a nest with Jing Yuan unless he fell ill. Even then, Jing Yuan would have to coax him into it.

It quenched something in him. It allowed Jing Yuan to let himself care in the direct way he craved. With his position as General, how often does get to show care with his hands, and not with his words or stratagems? Not with sacrifice or poetry, but with his body and scent.

Jing Yuan realizes now that there truly have been so many urges and behaviors Jing Yuan simply did not indulge.

And as his heat breaks, Jing Yuan thinks he’d like to start indulging them more.

...

On the last day of his heat, you stir around nightfall. You are exhausted, Jing Yuan knows this. Though his heat has provided him with a surprising amount of stamina, you are in standard condition, and looked wrung out halfway through day two of his heat. Jing Yuan’s grateful you’re as fond of midday naps as he is.

You are cradled against his chest, your cheek pillows on his breast. He’d thrown a robe on while washing up, and hadn’t elected to remove it. The silky texture of it feels lovely against his flushed, sensitive skin. You seem to enjoy it too as you grip at the fabric of it in your sleep, nuzzling into his chest.

Your brow scrunches and a little sound pops from your throat as you try to burrow closer. It’s a hopelessly sweet gesture, desperate and honest. Jing Yuan can’t help but chuckle and smooth a hand over your mussed-up hair.

When your eyes crack open, your voice is raw, “‘S morning?”

“No, nighttime.” Jing Yuan nods to the darkened window.

You raise yourself up just enough to look, hum, and then fall back on top of him, “Feels like it should be morning.”

“We haven’t been keeping a very consistent sleeping schedule,” Jing Yuan rarely does, but he imagines that you and your position with the Sky Faring Commission have quite a regular routine. “You can keep resting.”

“I don’t wanna’,” Though, you shove your nuzzle into his chest, smearing him with your scent. “I wanna stay up and talk to you.”

“Me?” Jing Yuan smiles, smitten. He pinches your cheek. “About anything in particular?”

“... Not yet.” Your eyes slip closed. “Maybe later. I want to say things to you, but I feel... mushy. Inside my head.”

“Pheromone drunk?”

“‘Something like that,” Your words slur. “Not that I’m complaining. You smell so good, Jing Yuan.”

When you say his name, he shudders. The hand that’s been playing with your hand slips to your nape and squeezes. You keen at the contact and tangle your legs with his. It’s an impossible amount of closeness you are seeking, but Jing Yuan must attempt to give it to you. It’s abashed and honest, and in the stillness of night, how can he not indulge?

“Do I?”

“ Mhm.”

“Like what?”

You’re falling asleep, clearly. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open even as you inhale deeply. Your lips part and you take his scent into your mouth.

“Earth after rain,” You hum. “Sunbeam and linen. Warm milk.”

He squeezes you.

(A long time ago, Yingxing had complained about his scent. ‘Complained’. His face had been flushed crimson, telling him how distracting his sweet, rich scent had been. Dan Feng thought it was the funniest thing, considering Yingxing so clearly enjoyed Jing Yuan’s scent, as did he. They’d described it similarly— “petrichor” Dan Feng had told Jing Yuan while sweeping his mane back from his neck— “the smell of sunshine” Yingxing had told Jing Yuan after berating him.)

“How complementary.” Jing Yuan purrs and pulls you closer by the waist. Your face is smushed against his chest, but you don’t complain. You keep your lips parted to enjoy his scent. “And you like it?”

“So much,” You assure him, droopy-eyed.

So good for him, so so good.

Jing Yuan presses the tip of his finger to your lips, a bit chapped from the dehydration and exertion. You chirp with it, a bit more awake.

He hushes you, and pushes his finger further into his mouth, “Sleep now, dear. You need to rest.”

“‘So do ya’,” You try to say, though it comes out garbled as Jing Yuan lays his finger on the flat of your tongue. Your eyes widen and go a bit crossed to look at his wrist, then up to his eyes.

Jing Yuan isn’t entirely sure what compels him, but something does. Gently, he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead. He idles there, and pets down your side.

“I’ll sleep soon, I’m sure you know.” Jing Yuan says softly. “Will you indulge me?”

(He asks to be selfish.)

Without hesitating, you nod.

(And you let him.)

Jing Yuan doesn’t explain himself. He doesn’t need to. Maybe it’s the specific sweetness his scent must take on, or the night air in contrast to the warmth and comfort of his nest, but you understand what he wants and give it to him without so much as a word.

Your lips open a little wider and Jing Yuan slips another finger inside. You stroke your tongue on his fingers as you close your mouth, eyes going dazed and heavy-lidded. You take a deep breath, inhaling his scent into the deepest parts of your lungs. You suck on his fingers gently.

Jing Yuan watches with still, even breaths.

Later, he will analyze why this scratches so many itches in his brain. Why his post-heat mind feels more calm and sated than he thought possible. Why he wants more of this, always, even if he doesn’t have a name for it yet.

For now, he is so, so content to have you this way. You are lulled back to sleep so easily, sucking on his fingers with your cheek still smushed against his breast. Even as you sleep, Jing Yuan doesn’t remove his fingers. He explores the inside of your mouth with gentle, easy pressure, so as to not wake you. It’s exploratory, more than anything.

He plays with you in such a way until he’s too drowsy to continue. Satisfied and warm, he drags you under the covers and holds you close, scenting you one last time before letting himself fall into a contented, new kind of sleep.

...

You depart suddenly, while Jing Yuan is in the kitchen deftly chopping fruits and assembling little parfaits.

You had been in his bathroom, freshening up with whatever products you’d like from his stash. Jing Yuan had left you your own robe for when you exited, quietly beaming that he’d have yet another article with your scent on it.

However, when you do leave the bathroom, you are fully dressed in the day clothes you arrived in a week ago. You stand at the doorway of his kitchen, pausing, wide-eyed.

“I n-need to go,” Your voice wavers, like you’re going to be ill.

Something squeezes in between Jing Yuan’s ribs. There are thin, transparent patches on your neck on either side. Scent blockers. Your eyes look watery. Jing Yuan immediately sets down the knife he had been working with.

“Is everything alright?” asks Jing Yuan. He knows something is wrong, even if he can’t smell you, you’re clearly distressed and disheveled.

“It’s— it’s nothing. It’ll be okay.” You tell him. Your voice trembles and you shake your head.

“Are you sure? I can help.”

“It’s— it’s really nothing. I need to leave. I-I’m really sorry.”

You look from him to the foyer that leads to his front door and back again. There’s a desperate look in your eye that Jing Yuan has never seen with such an intensity before. It makes his heart ache and his hands feel clammy. He sighs.

(And a quiet, ever-present voice in his mind says, “they all leave, eventually.”)

“Alright.” Jing Yuan gives you a smile, the best he can muster. He knows it must be sadder than intended, as your expression falls and you look like you’ve been punched.

“I’m so s-sorry.”

“It’s alright,” It isn’t. Not fully. “Handle whatever it is that you must. I’m only a call away. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Okay.” You take a shaking breath and shudder out the exhale. You’re trying not to cry and it takes everything in Jing Yuan’s being not to rush to you and attempt to mend whatever is causing you distress but—

(He can’t. He can’t do that. You have asked him to leave you be and Jing Yuan has spent his entire life honing his ability not to chase, even when he so, so badly wishes to.)

You give him one final, fleeting look, “Thank you. I— I’ll see you at our next lunch, okay? I’m sorry.”

It looks like there’s more you want to say, but you’re already out the door before you can. Jing Yuan hears it open and shut with a soft thud that vibrates throughout his home. It leaves Jing Yuan standing alone in his kitchen, frozen, while the robe he wears slips down his shoulders. He bears your marks, and reeks of your scent. His nest grows colder each minute. And though his heat has ended, the yearning for you has not.

If anything, the feeling is far stronger than it was before.

He latches onto the fact you will have your lunches. That— he will find some clarity then. That he can inspect you for damage during the next sunshine-filled meal you share, and prod to see if the last week and half did not carry the same type of... meaning for you, as it did Jing Yuan. He will need to make sure you’re well. He’ll fret until then, he knows this.

(A more dormant, possessive part of him wishes he snatched you back from his foyer and threw you back into his nest. If something was wrong, he could. If something needed fixing, he could help. If it were anything official for your work, Jing Yuan would pull any and all strings to get you out of the obligation. If you were hurt, Jing Yuan would do anything to see you better.)

Instead, Jing Yuan idles in his kitchen, feeling struck and helpless. Something in him aches, deep and low, and Jing Yuan lays a hand over his chest and squeezes it into a fist. He had thought he had become used to this type of loneliness, but it aches all the same.

#lore writes #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr x reader #cw omegaverse #ITS HERE... ENJOY!!#part one hehe <33

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weirdmarioenemies · 2 days

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Name: Zomboni

Debut: Plants vs. Zombies

Plants vs. Zombies is such a silly game. Silly is baked into its very code. And I love that! You know me! I live under rotting wood, eating silly and breaking it down into nutrient-rich soil! But I think Zomboni has the honor of being the silliest thing in this already-silly game!

There is no way Zomboni would exist if it weren't for the wordplay. So thank goodness for the wordplay! A zombie, on a Zamboni. Though, we are informed that it is actually "more closely related to a space ogre than a Zombie". What impeccable word choice! So it's not even actually a space ogre. Just some weird guy creature. Awesome

Zomboni drives an ice resurfacing machine, and I have no idea what the general public's knowledge level of these things is. Does the average person know the exist? I knew, but I played and hated playing hockey as a child so I got to watch the ice being resurfaced, which was the best part. Some guy who may or may not be tangentially related to space ogres will drive this machine around the ice rink, cutting down the surface and laying down fresh ice to make a nice and smooth surface, I think. Now, I may be using the generic term for this product, but commonly, there is one brand name that is used commonly, like Band-Aid or Q-Tip or Velcro, and for that we can thank...

Name: Frank J. Zamboni

Debut: Utah

Frank J. Zamboni! Hooray! What do you have to say, Frank?

Wow. So true, Frank. I'm sure this message is reaching its intended audience in this post. Anyway, ol' Ice Tank Frank made such an iconic machine that it is THE ice resurfacing machine in the public consciousness, and there is even a trademark for its iconic shape! That seems unnecessary but ok. Now, when the ghost of the Zamberino was scrying the mortal realm for references to his work in media, he came across parody in a funny video game, and OBVIOUSLY something had to be done about that!

And from then on, Zomboni's description was updated to reflect that it is NOT to be confused with a Zamboni® brand ice resurfacing machine, you silly billy, why would you think that? And they also plugged the Zamboni website in-game, so that the audience of, I must emphasize, a silly video game, would be more likely to buy an entire ice resurfacing machine, or at least its related merchandise. I really would think this would all be fine under parody law, but maybe it has to do with the shape trademark. Whatever. To the Zamboni company's credit, they have some incredible merchandise.

What a powerful item. With this, the course of a baby's life can be changed forever...

Zomboni with an O, I mean with two Os, approaches while creating a trail of freshly laid ice that cannot be planted on. The brand-ambiguous ice resurfacing machine is quite tough, but instant-kill plants are effective, as are Spikeweeds and Spikerocks, which will instantly pop its tires!

Zomboni is a considerable threat, instantly flattening any plant it reaches before its destruction, though the player should be pretty well-equipped to combat it, and the ice is laid on the right side of the screen, rather than the precious left side. Pretty manageable! But Zomboni is only the beginning, and as much delight and intrigue as I have gleaned from Zomboni's existence, it's what FOLLOWS Zomboni that is, in fact, my favorite zombie(s) in the game.

If Zomboni is allowed to create an ice trail, it will be used by Zombie Bobsled Team! Yeah, Frank got a whole "name/debut" section and these guys just get a bolded name in a sentence. You never know what I'm gonna do next! Hee hee!

Zombie Bobsled Team is exactly what it sounds like! A team of zombies, in a bobsled! So that's four zombies, with a defensive vehicle that has to be destroyed before they can be harmed! Zomboni was already over-the-top silly, and then Zombie Bobsled Team goes even higher over that top. And it's a Big Top, where they keep all the clowns. There is not much else I can say about Zombie Bobsled Team, but it really speaks for itself!

For some reason there exists official art of "Mullet Zombie", the Zomboni driver without his vehicle and hat. And for an even somer reason, they put it on the box art for the DS version! PvZ1 is simply very strange when it comes to official key art. Messed up.

#zomboni #zombie bobsled team #zamboni #frank j zamboni #utah #plants vs zombies #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako #long post

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blue-blue-blooms · 3 days

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Eddie Munson Headcanons

Eddie Munson x Reader

Established Relationship

You and Eddie had been dating for a while, pretty much since the summer of '85.

You were Dustin's babysitter which meant you knew him and his friends pretty well. This meant that when they tried to hide a psychokinetic, bald child in Mike Wheeler's basement, you caught them pretty early on.

You hadn't expected to become friends with Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler, but when they proved themselves to be different from your preconceived notions, you became close friends.

So, yeah, you'd fought alongside the party, kicking Demogorgon ass. You'd also gotten drugged and interrogated alongside your friends. You were aware of just how fucked up Hawkins really was.

You thought that it'd be hard to keep all of this a secret from Eddie but you found it surprisingly easy. It was nice to be around someone normal for once, even though Eddie didn't really classify as 'normal'.

You'd go on dates to the movies, share a milkshake at your favorite diner, hold hands as you walked around the woods.

Eddie would try to get you into metal music but you weren't really a fan. It made Eddie pout and stomp his feet like a child sometimes but you were a goddamn babysitter and that shit didn't work on you.

He tried to get you to play D&D but was immediately shot down.

"Last time I chose to participate in a D&D game, a child went missing. So, no way."

He understood that.

He understood a lot, actually. He didn't pester you with questions any time you jolted awake in your sleep, sobbing. He'd just hold you in his arms and sing to you until you'd calmed down. He'd pepper your face with kisses any time you seemed upset. He'd pretend to fall over or hurt himself to get a laugh out of you.

You weren't sure how you'd gone your entire life not having known him. But you knew for sure that you'd spend the rest of your life getting to know him, every version of him.

When Eddie gets caught in the middle of everything, he's incredibly surprised to learn that you already knew. He asked you why you'd never told him anything to which you promptly replied, "I signed an NDA, Eddie. I don't want the government after me." He couldn't really argue with that.

After he found out what happened at Starcourt, he'd thrown a shoulder around you and smacked a huge kiss on your cheek, "You're telling me you fought off actual Russian spies, got drugged, fought a fucking Mind Flayer, and made it out alive? Damn, babe, I didn't know you were such a badass."

He nearly fell over after he found out you broke Billy Hargrove's nose after he nearly killed Steve.

"That's really hot."

"Is this actually turning you on?"

"I mean...I wouldn't mind if you punched me in the face."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #stranger things fic #fluff #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x oc #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson drabble #Eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fic #steve harrington

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jadedxhearts · 3 days

Text

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

After not being able to have alone time with Law for a while due to all the events taking place, you’re finally able to get what you want one evening. Note: I know everything in the beginning of Wano kinda happens in one day but for the sake of this fic it does not lol.

originally posted on Sept 14, 2022

Please note that this is an old work and isn't representative of my current writing skills!

Having nearly no privacy was incredibly frustrating, especially having to live in a ruined palace. No closed off rooms, just massive holes in walls to make separate “rooms”.

Hell, you couldn’t even go have a bath alone. All the water had to carefully be stolen from the farm, so you had a very limited amount to wash yourself with; meaning you were basically just splashing water on yourself fully clothed and hoping it would be enough.

And go for a walk in the woods? You’d either be followed or worse, run into trouble, get caught.

So therefore, you had absolutely no way to be alone with Law. Somebody was always in the abandoned castle, always following you into the woods, it was always something.

Until today.

In a rare moment, everyone had left the hideout to search for those with moon tattoos on their ankles. And as for the three idiots on your crew, Law had kicked them out saying they were on “spy duty”, because surely Luffy and the other Strawhats would be showing up one of these days. And boy did they eat it up, grabbing their binoculars and running off, talking about how important this was.

So here you were now, in the present situation;

After making sure the boys were far off, Law laid back, pulling a finger in an inward motion to tell you to come forward. You gladly hopped onto his lap, running your fingers along his chest. “Finally.”

“Don’t get too excited. They could come back at any moment,” Law advised. “Though, I doubt that idiot will show up anytime soon.”

Sighing, you slipped a hand under the top of his robes, placing your hand on his firm chest, the other one around his jaw. You leaned forward and down to press a kiss to your lover’s lips.

“Surely we can sneak something in, Law? Please, I’m so tired of not being able to touch you…”

“Is that not what you’re doing right now?”

“You know what I mean!” You snapped, pulling your face away from his. “Maybe you should just be blunt with them and tell them you and I need alone time.”

“Why don’t you do it then?” He asked, smirking.

“Wh-well I, no. That’s embarrassing.”

Law rolled his eyes, and put a hand on your back, pushing you to lay right up against him. “Then I guess you won’t get what you want.”

You bit playfully at his lip, a fake glare sent his way. “Fine.”

Law chuckled very briefly, before reconnecting his lips with yours. His right hand moved to your bottom, cupping it through your kimono.

You shuddered at the aroused feeling going straight to your core, welcoming Law’s touches. You slipped your hand underneath his head, grabbing at his hair and deepening the kiss.

“So impatient…” he mumbled against your lips, both of which were now wet with spit.

“It’s been too long, Law. I need you, now.” You whined.

Law unoccupied hand slipped up to your chest and under the folds of the kimono, finding its resting place on your right breast, gently massaging it and flicking at your nipple.

You let out a soft moan, wanting him to go further, go lower.

He bit at your lip before kissing you, and pulled back to speak; “you need to be quiet, y/n. The others aren’t too far away.”

“I don’t care,” you told him. “Let them hear the way you fuck me so good, baby.”

Law’s hips involuntarily jerked up, rubbing up against your covered heat, which in turn made you grind down on him.

“Fuck, quit saying shit like that. Makes me wanna take you right here, where we can get caught so easily.”

You moaned again, pushing your lips back into his own to try and muffle the sound. You adjusted your hips so that your legs could be around his thigh, pushing part of his clothing aside so you could plant yourself onto his bare skin. With small movements that weren’t incredibly noticeable, you began rubbing your cunt on his thigh, the only barrier being your panties, which were growing wet quickly.

“That’s right, fuck yourself on my thigh like a stupid slut.” Law praised you. “Such a good girl…”

His lips returned to kiss you, and you continued to moan into his mouth, gripping his sleeve and pulling on his hair.

“Law, please, need you…” you whined.

“You can wait, love. I know you can.” He teased, “besides, I don’t need those idiots catching us, I never want anyone to see you like this.

“You know why?” He asked.

“Cause I’m, ah-” You let out a cry as you felt yourself getting close to releasing. “I’m all yours, Law. Only yours.”

“That’s right” he said, connecting your lips once again.

The kisses turned hot and passionate, but with lots of panting and whining in between. Law was starting to actually worry somebody would walk in on the two of you, but you were relentless, grinding yourself onto his thigh. He could feel your slick against his skin. Truly, it turned him on so much he couldn’t stop you.

“Law, baby, I’m-“

“CAPTAIN!!!”

“Fuck!” You cried, stopping your movements and smacking your fist against his chest. “No…”

“CAPTAIN!”

Just before Bepo, Penguin and Shachi could fully walk into the abandoned castle, Law quickly removed his hands from your chest and instead placed a hand on your back, while you hid your flushed face in his neck.

“What.”

Law seemed annoyed.

The boys stumbled back, surprised at the position the two of you were laying in. But instead of commenting on it, they blurted out the last thing you expected to hear.

“MUGIWARA’S HERE!”

—

Unfortunately for you, Law had to abandon you at the castle, leaving you all worked up and alone. When he finally returned, you feared that there was absolutely no way you’d be getting to finish, as now Luffy and all the Strawhats who weren’t in the Flower Capital were now here.

You had sulked all day, and now you sulked in Law’s arms. Or, arm, really.

You leaned against him, only one of his arms around you, as you both stood outside with your crew, while the others inside were learning of the events that took place twenty years ago.

“Law,” you whispered, turning your head to look up at him. “Can we please… just go off in the woods?”

Law sighed, shaking his head. “In the dirt? I don’t think so, y/n.”

You lowered your head, frowning. “Please, Law… it’s too painful.”

“Are you that desperate?” He asked.

“Yes! Just… tell the others I have a stomachache, and I don’t wanna puke in front of them or something.”

“You drive me insane,” he muttered.

But to your surprise, he pushed both of you up off the wall you were leaning against, and began walking you towards the woods.

“Y/n doesn’t feel good,” Law announced. “I’m going with her. She’s too embarrassed to throw up in front of you guys, apparently.”

The boys began laughing, making some comment about how nothing would be as embarrassing as what happened to Bepo earlier that day.

But they let both of you go without any issues.

It wasn’t too difficult to find a secluded spot, since the forest was fairly thick and it was dark out, the only light being from the moon.

You only hoped the distance was far enough that nobody could hear you.

You looked behind you, searching to see exactly how far you’d walked out. Unable to see the ruins, you figured it was good enough.

You felt Law’s hand on your jaw, gently forcing you to look up at him.

“They won’t hear,” he reassured you. “And if they do, they can just deal with it.”

Breath shuddering, you leaned forward to close the space between your lips and the smirk that his lips formed. Placing another hand on your back, Law pushed you closer and connected the both of you.

Your hands found their way up to his hair once again, running your fingers through his soft locks of messy hair. With one hand, you took his hat and placed it on your own head before returning your hand to play with his hair.

“Step back,” he told you.

Listening, you removed your hands and took a couple small steps back, allowing Law to move.

He took the cloak that hung over his shoulders and laid it out on the grass, dropping his katana next to it.

“Lay down.”

You smiled. “Aw, you don’t want me to get all dirty,” you said. “How sweet of you, Law.”

“I don’t want to get dirty.” He corrected you. “But yeah, it would be bad if you got dirt on you. Cause then I’d have to get it off.”

Giggling, you sat down on the cloak and leaned back, holding yourself up with your elbows behind you.

Law kneeled in front of you, placing his hands on your thighs, rubbing them. “Tell me what you want, y/n.”

He leaned forward to bite at your collarbone, sucking on the skin between his teeth. You miserably failed to hold back the tiny whimper you’d been holding in. “I… want your fingers,” you told him.

Law kissed the now hickey on your neck before removing himself to pull back just a little, pushing your kimono away from your legs and grabbing the panties you wore underneath, pulling them off of you. He examined them for a moment, before tossing them behind him.

“Law!” You protested.

“What?”

“Now they’re gonna be dirty! What am I supposed to wear?!”

“They were already dirty with you nearly cumming inside them earlier. You can wear nothing until we get back to our stuff.”

You were going to whine, but then Law pushed a finger against your clit without warning, sliding it down to your wet folds.

“Look at how soaked you are, y/n. You’re such a slut.”

“I can’t help it,” you whined.

You cried out as he began to rub your clit with his thumb, his index and middle finger running along you to wet them, before he slowly slid them inside your cunt. The movement on your sensitive bud slowed down as he gently felt along your walls, scissoring his fingers to stretch you just a little, before he curled the two digits, rubbing up against your sweet spot.

“Law, baby,” you moaned.

“You're such a good whore, y/n, coming all undone just from my fingers. And to think you almost came on my thigh, without me even touching you. Pathetic.”

You squirmed and moaned, knowing you were close to cumming, desperately hoping you’d be able to release this time.

You threw your head back with a groan as Law added a third finger, speeding up his motions and thoroughly fingering you. Your fingers tried grabbing at the cloak underneath you, but due to your position and the weight on it, you were unsuccessful. With nothing to ground yourself, you clenched your fists and cried out, moaning Law’s name.

“Law, I’m close, fuck-“

“Gonna cum on my fingers, hm?” He asked.

“Yes! Please, Law, please let me cum, I-“

But Law pulled his fingers away just as you were mere milliseconds away from climaxing, and you let out a frustrated cry. “No! Law, please!”

“You begged me to come out here and fuck you. You’ll play by my rules,” he told you. “Being that you won’t cum until I say so. Okay, wife-ya?”

You let out a whine at the pet name, moving your arms away from under you so you could lay back fully on the ground. Your hands found their way to your face, which you held in embarrassment.

“Okay, Law…”

Peeking through your fingers, you saw him smirking. You closed your eyes as he lowered his head, feeling his breath against your soaked cunt.

“Maybe I should eat you out, hm?”

You trembled and clenched around nothing, trying to buck your hips forward so they’d reach his mouth. But then Law pulled back.

“Or maybe I should punish you for what you did earlier. Get on your knees.”

You obliged, pushing yourself off your back and onto your knees, placing your hands on your thighs and waited.

Law stood up, his hands reaching underneath his hat which still sat on your head, hands making their way underneath your hair so he could get a good grip on your head.

“Go ahead,” he instructed.

You pushed the robes away so that you could get your face between his muscular thighs, gently freeing his cock with shaking hands.

It’d been a while since you’d had him shoved down your throat. You wondered if you’d be able to handle it.

Positioning your hands, you brought the tip to your mouth and kissed it, gently suckling on it.

Above you, Law let out a small groan that caused a chill to run throughout your hot body, making you squeeze your thighs together in some pathetic attempt to pleasure yourself.

You ran your tongue up his shaft a few times before finally widening your mouth, praying you wouldn’t gag and mess it all up.

As you brought the tip into your mouth fully, Law moved his hips forward, practically shoving his entire length into your mouth. You tried protesting, but it was all just muffled noises as you choked on him.

In an attempt to gain access to air, you grabbed at his hand, squeezing it.

Reluctantly, Law pulled his cock out of your mouth, and you began coughing and spitting.

“Too much?” He asked.

You nodded, wiping the spit from your face. “I can’t… handle it,” you answered.

“That’s okay. We’ll try again and again until you can take it all.”

Your head returned to him, and you took just the tip of him into your mouth, running your tongue around his cock.

“Good girl,” Law praised. “Can you take a little more?”

You nodded, and he pushed just a little more inside. And then a little more, and more until he was fully inside your mouth once again.

“Breathe through your nose,” he reminded you.

Finally, you were able to take him once more. You squeezed his hand again, letting him know it was okay to move. He let go of your hand to place it in your hair and began thrusting, but very gently.

Eventually, the more comfortable you got, the faster he moved. He was fully deepthroating you now, his grip on your hair nearly painful now. You didn’t mind though, because hearing his little moans was the greatest sound you’d ever heard, and it turned you on to no end knowing that you were the one giving him such pleasure.

“I’m gonna- fuck!” He cursed, unloading himself into your throat with no warning.

He quickly pulled out after, knowing you probably wouldn’t be able to breathe right without any warning. You swallowed what you could, but started coughing again, head resting on his hip.

“You did so good, y/n.” Law told you, rubbing your tender head. “I’m proud of you.”

You smiled and let the praise go straight to your head. You hadn’t even noticed that Law was moving, until he moved you to sit on his lap.

“Now I’ll fuck you, just as you wanted. Okay?”

You nodded and raised your hips so he could position his once again hard cock underneath you. Holding himself with one hand, he brought the other one to your hip, gripping at the soft flesh. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you sank down onto him, moaning at the way he stretched you.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, “you’re so… tight.”

“Law, I- I can’t, too big-“

“Yes you can,” he reassured you. “I know it’s been a while but you’ll be okay. I won’t hurt you, love.”

You teared up, one singular tear rubbing down your flushed cheeks. You didn’t know if it was from his sweet words, or the way he was practically splitting you in half.

“Move when you’re ready,” he said, running a hand through your hair and kissing you.

After a moment of simply sitting halfway on his cock, you finally lowered yourself, swallowing up his entire length.

“Good girl.”

You whined as you slowly lifted your hips again before sliding them back down. You did this a few more times before you felt ready enough to fully ride him.

Testing the waters, you rocked your hips forward once, shuddering and clenching on his thick length.

“Fuck,” you cried, moving your hips back, and then forth again.

“You’re doing so good, y/n. Taking my cock so well, like a good little slut.”

“Law,” you moaned his name, “feels..so… good.”

He smirked as he watched you begin to bounce on him, your eyes shut tightly and mouth hung open as moans fell from you.

Feeling more confident, you sped up your movements until you were completely riding him, bouncing up and down so quickly your moans weren’t catching up with it anymore.

“Oh, Law, baby… I’m gonna- mmm.”

His right hand was now underneath you, rubbing circles into your clit. “I know. I can always tell by the way you start clenching on me.”

“F-fuck!”

You threw your head back, slowly opening your eyes and looking down again, seeing the sight before you. Law had that stupid smirk on his face again, but you could see in his eyes that he was truly loving this.

But then his mouth fell open, and he began panting and groaning, his hips shaking as he was now incredibly close, too.

His left hand gripped your hip even tighter, and his other started rubbing your soft bud faster.

“Cum with me, baby,” he told you.

You whined, loving when he called you baby. Out of all the stupid shit he’d call you, nothing else made your heart flutter like this.

You let out a loud moan, your orgasm overtaking you, releasing all your sweet juices down onto his cock as he came again, his hot cum filling you up.

You both stopped moving, and Law laid back so you could collapse on top of him.

“Better now?” He asked.

You nodded, kissing him.

After another moment of laying together, he slowly pulled out of you, causing your mixed cum to flow out of your pussy and onto your thighs.

“Think you can walk back to base?” He asked, helping you up.

On wobbly legs, you nodded. But it was obvious you couldn’t.

Sighing, Law lifted you up, over his shoulder. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. He picked up his things and your panties before heading back towards the ruins.

Before you could reach the clearing, you felt ready to walk again so he let you down, throwing the cloak over your shoulders to keep you warm.

It seemed everyone was passed out, so it was easy for you to get a clean pair of panties on before you laid down with Law, arms wrapped around him as you drifted off to sleep, fully satisfied.

#law x reader #law x reader smut

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doumadono · 12 hours

Note

EMERGENCY REQUEST

Hii, i was wondering if you could write platonic Aizawa emergency request in which hr has a daughter ho has veen strugling with self harm and su1cidal thoughts, please.

I had been really low latly and i relapes after 7 months of not self harming.

Thanks love 🩷

A/N: I'm so sorry to hear that you've been struggling lately, Nonnie. Remember, setbacks are a part of recovery, and it's okay to ask for help when you need it. You've made progress before, and you can do it again. Sending you love and support ♥

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Aizawa is incredibly protective and caring towards you, his precious daughter.

He always makes time for you, even with his busy schedule as a pro hero and teacher at U.A.

Aizawa is observant, noticing even the slightest changes in your behavior.

One day, he accidentally walks in on you wrapping your wrists in bandages after harming yourself, and he's filled with terror.

Despite his fear, he immediately approaches you, sitting down beside you on the bed. "What's going on?" he asks straightforwardly, his voice laced with concern. "Why are you doing this to yourself, sweetheart"

You look up at him, your Y/E/C eyes filled with pain and uncertainty. "I... I just can't handle it anymore," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You explain that the pressure of hero studies and internships has been weighing heavily on you, and you don't know know how to cope anymore. "One day, I accidentally hurt my hand... and... it felt so good... like all my stress was relieved," you begin, tears streaming down your flushed face. "So I started doing this... from time to time... and... I couldn't stop... I was punishing myself for not being perfect, daddy," you say, your sobs becoming uncontrollable.

Aizawa listens attentively, his heart breaking at the thought of his daughter struggling alone. Without hesitation, he offers his unwavering support, reassuring you that you're not alone in this, his strong arms wrapping tightly around your trembling form as he offers you the tightest hug he can.

You hug him back tightly, whimpering, "I'm sorry, daddy, I'm so sorry!"

As you're held in his arms, you don't notice the tears streaming down Shota's face as he comforts you. He soothes you with gentle words and his presence, rocking you back and forth in his arms. "You're perfect just the way you are," he assures, clearing his throat to hide the hoarseness in his tone from the tears he shed for you. "We're in this together. You're not alone. We're a team. Always remember that you can come to me with all your problems, even the ones that seem small or irrelevant. Your problems are mine too. I'm your dad, and I'll do whatever I can to help you. Always."

You nod, listening to your dad's words. "I didn't want to bother you with..."

He interrupts you, shushing you, gently cupping your wet cheeks in his hands and making you meet his gaze. "You are never a bother. Never. You're my entire world, babygirl."

Aizawa makes sure to prioritize your well-being, adjusting his schedule to spend more time with you and offering words of encouragement whenever you need them.

He often says sweet little things like "I love you, sweetheart" or "you mean the world to me." He also praises your efforts, saying things like "you did very well on this test. I know you worked hard for a good grade, but even if it's not what you expected, remember that grades don't define your skills, knowledge, or spirit."

Through your journey, Aizawa learns to open up more to you, strengthening your bond and creating a safe space for you to express all of your feelings.

Even though Aizawa is hesitant at first, after realizing the seriousness of the situation, he doesn't hesitate to ask his friends for help.

And of course, they respond.

Hizashi visits Aizawa's apartment every day, bringing groceries and always having a little sweet snack for you that he knows you enjoy.

Despite the challenges you both face, Aizawa remains by your side, ready to support you through every step of your recovery journey.

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inawickedlittletown · 2 days

Text

You Can Always Find Me Where the Skies are Blue (BuckTommy fic) - 1/4

Summary:

Soulmates are rare. So rare that it's actually incredible that Buck has two soulmate couples in his life. Statistics tell him it's very unlikely for him to meet his soulmate. Of course, then he meets Tommy. Too bad it happens at the worst possible moment.

Canon compliant soulmate AU where Buck is still a mess and Tommy is still very understanding.

Words: 4,378

Ao3

Part One

The truth was that Buck never quite got an understanding for how the whole soulmate thing worked. His parents were soulmates which was strange to think about considering his childhood, but then Buck hadn’t known about the older brother he’d been born to save, the one he’d failed to save.

From what he’d learned in school, soulmates had been more common in the past. They said it was something to do with population growth or something about cultural life experience and technology.

There was a lot of research on why soulmates had dwindled, but no one had concrete answers. There was some kind of database where soulmates had to register. So while it wasn’t impossible to find a couple that were actually soulmates, more often than not people settled down with someone that wasn’t their soulmate. A lot of them were happy.

Buck thought that one day, it would seem like some kind of myth. Instead of viewing Aristophanes’ speech in Plato’s symposium as an explanation, it would become legend. It would no longer be an early explanation of soulmates. It would be like Plato’s allegory of the cave, a thing to consider without real life application.

And so, before Buck had even reached the age of eighteen, he was sure that he would never find his soulmate. He wasn’t resigned to it, he just knew enough about statistics and probability. Most people wouldn’t meet their soulmate. It was just how math worked.

When he joined the 118, he couldn’t deny that a part of him had been surprised when he learned that Hen was married to her soulmate. He’d asked so many questions that Hen had eventually banned him from continuing to ask.

It hadn’t stopped Buck from thinking that it was amazing. More surprising was his sister and Chim and how Buck had missed the whole thing even though he was the one to introduce them. That whole thing had made Buck well aware that even among soulmates things could be complicated.

So, when Buck followed behind Chim and Eddie onto the tarmac of LAFD Harbor station air operations, the worry in his gut growing and growing the more he thought about Bobby and Athena being unreachable and Hen being correct about the need to go out and rescue them, he didn’t expect to meet his soulmate.

In the books, it never described what it was like. It only said that you would know it if it happened to you. The book was right.

Buck knew it the moment their eyes met.

It was the world snapping to focus, narrowing down on that person and saying: “this one is for you”. It was a feeling in his gut. Tommy Kinard missed a step and as for Buck, he froze on the spot. What felt like minutes translated to seconds, but it was enough for them to both know.

They were soulmates.

Chim was explaining, expanding on what he’d said to Tommy over the phone as their uber driver drove them to Harbor. Tommy was nodding, but his eyes were on Buck and Buck couldn’t look away from him either.

It was only when Tommy looked away that Buck dropped his eyes from Tommy. He tried to shake it off, remembering why they had faked stomach issues and left in the middle of a call. Yes, he might have found his soulmate, but it wasn’t the time or place. Of course, what they were about to do was verging on stupid and reckless…but if Hen was right — and she most likely was — then they had to and Buck couldn’t complicate matters because their pilot turned out to be his soulmate.

He could tell that Tommy seemed to have decided the same from how quickly he began directing them to a helicopter.

“Thanks again, Tommy,” Chim said. “We’ll for sure owe you one. Collect from any of us.”

“That would require I know who exactly I’m allowing onto my helicopter,” Tommy said.

Eddie stepped forward first, hand out to shake Tommy’s. “Eddie Diaz,” he said.

“I’m Evan Buckley,” Buck said, and he knew his voice was shaky.

None of them noticed because it seemed that Hen had arrived. Tommy’s hand touched Buck’s shoulder. “Get situated. I’ll get Hen.”

His shoulder felt warm, it was in Buck’s head, but still it lingered even as he climbed in first. He took a few breaths to center himself. They would have time to deal with it later. He had to focus on that. By the time they were in the air, that got a little easier. When Tommy mentioned that they might all die, Buck felt the loss of what he’d just found and he wanted to scream. In a way, it also made perfect sense for his life. Of course he would meet his soulmate, get into a life or death situation, and perish.

When they found the capsized cruise ship, he almost felt relieved, followed by the fear of what they would find once they got down there. Bobby and Athena had to be alright, they just had to be.

Focusing on the work kept him from thinking about Tommy and about everything that came with it because there were so many layers to get through. It was a while before Bobby, the kid, and Eddie had climbed into the back of the helicopter, leaving Buck to sit up front.

Tommy glanced at him right as he settled himself in and he smiled a smile that scrunched up his nose and the corners of his eyes. Buck shouldn’t have found it so endearing, then again, this was his soulmate. Buck smiled back and he wanted nothing more than to bring it up, to confirm with Tommy what they both knew to be true. He couldn’t, though. He didn’t want to do it over the open channel. So, instead, he turned away, admiring the clear blue skies and the water below. It was as if the storm they flew into hadn’t been there at all. When he looked back at Tommy again, it was even harder to look away, but he forced himself to when the helicopter touched down on the ship.

His mind couldn’t quite wrap around it. He had a soulmate. He, Evan Buckley had a soulmate and he’d met him. Him. His soulmate was a dude. A man. It was hitting him secondary to the initial thing, that he had a soulmate at all.

Same sex soulmates were a normal thing, Buck knew, it was just that in most instances soulmates were romantic and Buck wasn’t gay. He loved women. He slept with women. He was attracted to women.

Bobby walked ahead of them and Buck heard Hen calling out to Athena. Buck stopped to watch as Bobby and Athena ran into each other’s arms and he was caught up in the moment. He hadn’t gotten a lot of time with Athena when Tommy first landed the helicopter on the capsized ship, but he’d seen her worry for Bobby. That was the devotion and love that Buck wanted…what he’d been searching for and failing to find for years.

Athena and Bobby weren’t even soulmates, though they may as well be. They had always given Buck hope that he could be happy without a soulmate…but now he’d found his soulmate. Tommy.

Eddie was next to him, but Buck was a little more focused on Tommy approaching. It all still felt like the wrong place or time and as Eddie headed towards the other side of the ship, leaving them seemingly alone, Buck had no idea what to do. Slowly, he turned to look at Tommy. Tommy was smiling wide. He looked beautiful. Buck didn’t think he’d ever thought that about a dude before and yet it was true. Their shared look was enough to confirm what Buck already knew.

“You’re—” Buck managed to get out, his throat closing in on the word.

“Yeah…we are,” Tommy said. His eyes were shining.

Buck’s mind went blank, words and thoughts jumbled up in a way that had never happened before. Tommy seemed if not similarly affected, then willing to wait for Buck to be the first to say something. Buck also realized that he didn’t mind just losing himself in staring at Tommy.

He only looked away when Eddie was back, bumping into his shoulder and delivering a bottle of water to him and Tommy each, entirely oblivious to what was going on between them. Buck’s hands shook as he opened the bottle, but he was grateful and drank almost all of it in one go.

Eddie was talking about their ETA back to LA when Chim appeared at Tommy’s side.

“Can’t thank you enough, man,” he said, clapping Tommy on the shoulder.

Tommy laughed. “I’m always a call away, Howie. But, thank you…I really…thank you.”

Chim just shook his head, but Tommy’s eyes were on Buck and Buck inhaled a breath. He’d have to thank Chim too, eventually. It wasn’t lost on him that he had introduced Chin to his soulmate and that Chim had now introduced Buck to his.

Bobby and Athena approached, arms still around each other. They looked exhausted, but happy.

“I was so glad to see you two,” Bobby said, directed at Buck and Eddie. Then, he turned towards Tommy. “And you…thank you, for helping these guys out.”

Bobby reached out a hand and Tommy grasped it and Buck could tell he was shocked by Bobby pulling him into a quick but meaningful hug. Athena for her part just pat Tommy’s shoulder.

It should have bothered Buck that he had yet to have a single moment alone with his soulmate, but he liked having him there among his family. They would talk about it, figure out what it meant later. It gave Buck a bit of time to think, too. He had a soulmate. His soulmate was a man. His soulmate was Tommy, a ridiculously impressive LAFD pilot.

Buck was an ally. He always put a rainbow up on his social media in June. He’d gone to a few pride parades since living in LA. He’d never dated a guy before, though, never even thought that it was a possibility for him. Looking at Tommy, he wondered if Tommy had known that men were an option for him. All that Buck really knew about the guy was that he’d been with the 118 as far back as when Chim had become a firefighter and that he hadn’t stayed too long after Bobby took over as Captain.

Maybe they were meant to be platonic…have some deep understanding about each other that no one else could ever comprehend. A little like he and Eddie, maybe. That wouldn’t be too bad.

He stole glances of Tommy as Bobby and Athena started to tell them exactly what had gone down even before the hurricane. Buck was having a hard time focusing, but the few things he caught did make it seem like it had been far more eventful than any cruise had a right to be.

He couldn’t deny that Tommy was attractive. He was tall and his arms were kind of huge. Tommy’s attention was wholly on Athena and Bobby, eyebrows a bit furrowed as Bobby explained how it had felt when the ship capsized. Buck’s attention was on the way Tommy’s mouth moved as if out of surprise for what Bobby had just said. His attention was drawn to Tommy’s storm colored eyes and on the slight curl of his hair.

“I wish you had been there to see him, Buck,” Athena said.

Buck refocused. Eyes reluctantly going to Athena.

“Well, if Buck had been there, he would have been the one doing that climb,” Bobby said. “I’m going to be sore for days.”

“I don’t think that’s the only reason,” Athena said.

Tommy was called away before Buck could find a reason to explain wanting to talk to him on his own and then the next time he saw him, he was saying a quick goodbye and heading back to the helicopter. Buck watched him as he took off and wished that somehow he’d had a reason to go with him.

“Cool guy,” Eddie said.

“Yeah,” Buck said and he knew he sounded awestruck.

—

Tommy had known from the moment he saw him.

When his phone rang and Howie’s name appeared, Tommy had sort of known that Chim probably wanted something from him. It was why he called at all these days, but Tommy didn’t mind. He wasn’t wrong and as Chim explained something about Hen having a hunch and how she was probably gonna not pull off whatever she was thinking she was doing, Tommy had already mostly agreed to help. After all, Chim did save his life and he had a lot of respect for Hen too.

Then, Chim arrived with two firefighters in tow. They both looked the part, strong and sturdy kind of guys. Attractive, though Tommy tried not to notice that type of thing while at work and most definitely about colleagues. It wasn’t until they had gotten nearer that Tommy got a better look at them, a better look at his soulmate.

Tommy had never known that he would ever replicate the feeling of flying while on solid ground, but if asked to describe it later, that was what it felt like when his eyes landed on his soulmate right before he paused mid-step and almost lost his balance. He didn’t even know his name.

Chim was giving him a more in depth explanation about the cruise ship and storm and Hen’s part in it, but while Tommy could hear him, he couldn’t process the information. He led them to the helicopter, glad it was already out on the tarmac and that it had been refueled just a few hours earlier.

“Thanks again, Tommy,” Chim said. “We’ll for sure owe you one. Collect from any of us.”

“That would require I knew who exactly I was allowing onto my helicopter,” Tommy said, sure that if he didn’t say anything, he wouldn’t get to know his soulmate’s name.

“Eddie Diaz,” the one that wasn’t his soulmate said, reaching his hand out for Tommy to shake.

“I’m Evan Buckley.”

Evan. Tommy repeated it inside his head. Evan.

They didn’t shake hands like he and Eddie had, and Tommy had heard how shaky his voice sounded. He also didn’t miss the slight pink on Evan’s cheeks. It was horrible timing. He could see the shock and awe in Evan’s face, but it was going to have to wait. So Tommy did the thing where he pushed aside the personal to focus on his job. He got Hen to the helicopter where the others were already stashed and then they were in the air.

Tommy had been flying for so long that his focus didn’t need to be on it 100% of the time. It let him linger on the moment from earlier, what it had been like to see Evan Buckley for the very first time. He held onto that moment as they flew, even as he realized that what they were doing verged more on the dangerous and reckless side than anything he’d ever done. He had to get them through it, even when he had to make awful fake static noises at the chief and ignore his orders to get back to Harbor.

In the end, it all worked out.

They found the cruise ship and they were lucky they did, none of them talked about how easy it would have been for them to miss it. It was hours of work after that, not that Tommy minded. Eventually, he made a final trip to pick up Bobby, the kid he’d rescued, and Eddie and Evan.

Evan wound up up front and maybe it was presumptuous to think about how good Evan looked right there at his side. Tommy hoped it would happen again and soon. With the skies having cleared up, the sun shone through and in the moments that Tommy allowed himself to take Evan in, there was no denying how gorgeous this boy was especially when the light hit him just right.

With everything going on, they didn’t get more than a small moment to acknowledge it once they were on the ship and Tommy felt warm because it was real. He had a soulmate.

It wasn’t until he was back at Harbor that he realized he hadn’t exchanged numbers with Evan — not that it was a big deal. He’d just have to call Chim. Yet, as much as there was an urgency, Tommy was still at work and he still had to write up a report about the night and explain to his Captain exactly what had gone down before he could finally end his shift.

He texted Chim as he walked to his car almost an hour later, but got no response. When his phone did start vibrating, it was an unknown number. He picked up at once, heart in his throat because it had to be Evan.

“Hello,” he said and hoped he sounded normal.

“Hey, Tommy, it’s Eddie.”

He tried not to be disappointed, but of course he was. It was nothing against Eddie…it was just that he wanted to hear from Evan.

“Got your number from Chim. I hope it’s okay I’m calling. I was just wondering if you’d want to meet up sometime,” Eddie said.

For one very strange moment, Tommy wondered if Eddie was trying to ask him out. He probably had no idea that he and Evan were soulmates and…but, no, he didn’t think that Eddie had seemed interested in him like that. Tommy did wonder if it would be rude to ask Eddie for Evan’s number. He missed something that Eddie said, but caught:

“....drinks or something. Maybe as a thank you for helping us get to Bobby and Athena.”

“Uh, sure,” Tommy said.

“Cool. Cool. How about later tonight?”

Tommy wasn’t great at saying no to things. He also had no reason to put Eddie off. “Yeah…yeah that sounds good. And if you want to invite anyone else from the 118 that’d be great.”

Eddie chuckled. “I think they’re all pretty beat. It might just be us two, unless you want to bring along a friend or something.”

Tommy wanted to ask about Evan. He wanted nothing more than to beg Eddie to bring Evan along. Knew if he did he would be giving away what they were or even just his interest in Evan. He couldn’t do that.

“I’ll text you when and where,” Eddie said. “Just gotta secure a babysitter.”

“Okay,” Tommy said. “Sounds good.”

Chim still hadn’t answered. Tommy texted Hen next. No response. Maybe it would be Eddie that would give him Evan’s number…Tommy would just have to show up for that hang out and get the number out of Eddie. Or maybe, Evan would call him first. He hadn’t known that this was going to be complicated and actually it kind of wasn’t, it was that he was impatient.

Tommy managed a nap out of sheer exhaustion. He’d learned a long time ago how to sleep almost anywhere, which didn’t change that sometimes he just couldn’t sleep. Yet, despite not having contact with Evan, there was peace in knowing he was out there and knowing that he was his soulmate.

Evan didn’t call. Chim and Hen didn’t respond. Eddie texted him the name of a bar that Tommy knew well. Some of the guys from Harbor liked going there to play pool. They also had Karaoke night every Wednesday night and trivia on Thursdays. Maybe he knew a little bit too much about that bar. So, he texted back a thumbs up and got ready to meet up with Eddie. Eddie was already at the bar when he arrived, a beer in front of him while he made small talk with the bartender. He looked relaxed, in a way that Tommy almost hadn’t expected him to be.

“Hey!” Eddie threw out. “Glad you made it.”

He took the stool next to Eddie, ordering a beer and then turning to him. “How’s it going? I was surprised to get your call.”

Eddie smiled easily. “Well after Buck turned me down for drinks, I thought maybe you were like me and needed this a bit after everything.”

He usually didn’t. Not that it wasn’t welcome. The bartender passed him his beer.

“Evan turned you down?” Tommy asked.

“Uh…yeah, guess he was really tired.”

“Right,” Tommy said. “It was a long night.”

A longer night than Eddie knew. Tommy took a gulp of his beer and tried to figure out a way for him to keep the conversation on Buck…Evan. He was Evan to Tommy especially knowing that everyone else seemed to use the nickname.

“Well Bobby is kind of like a father to Buck, so even though he didn’t show it…he was really worried.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. “It’s actually like a family over there.”

“You could say that,” Eddie said with a smile. “I guess it wasn’t that when you were at the 118?”

“Farthest thing from it,” Tommy said. “I guess I left right before things changed.”

He had never once regretted leaving when he did. Tommy had always meant to get back in the air. It was where he was freest and the thing he missed the most after leaving the army. So, when he had completed the required years as a firefighter, Tommy had started looking for a transfer to any of the air operation stations. His experience as a pilot helped, and he’d found a place where he belonged. He felt freer than he ever had and it had allowed him a brand new start. One in which he could explore parts of himself he hadn’t ever thought he would.

“I should say I’m sorry you missed out, but I’m sure you love what you do.”

“I do,” Tommy said.

If there was one thing, it was Evan. Would he have met him earlier if he stayed? Of course there was no changing the past. There was also who Tommy had been then and Tommy could admit to himself that he hadn’t been ready for a soulmate, much less Evan.

Eddie drew the conversation in another direction. They started exchanging stories then. Stories about their time at the army which led into conversations about what it was like to return to a civilian life. It was hard, Tommy knew, to talk about it with regular people that hadn’t served and hadn’t seen the things they had. It was clear almost right away that Eddie didn’t have anyone to talk to about stuff like that. Tommy did still have a few friends from back then, but they weren’t all that close anymore. He figured it was exactly why Eddie had reached out.

Past that, though, they had other things in common and it wasn’t that Tommy forgot about Evan — he was always there in his mind — it was that Tommy found himself having a good time with Eddie. They got talking basketball when the scores of a game were being reported on the tv, and when an ad for a MMA fight came on Eddie made a comment about how he missed going to see fights live.

“Shift ran late when tickets went on sale,” Eddie said. “Didn’t even get a chance to try and get at them.”

“I have tickets for this one,” Tommy said.

“I hate you right now,” Eddie said, but he said it with a grin.

He hadn’t bought them. A buddy of his had asked if Tommy wanted to go and then because he was a promoter, given him the two tickets. Tommy had meant to ask someone from Harbor if they wanted to go with him, but he’d forgotten.

“Hey, you want to go with me?”

“What? Wait, are you serious, man?”

“Yeah. I mean, it was gonna go to waste, so why not? Fight’s in Vegas. I can probably fly us there.”

Eddie’s grin grew wider. “Hell yeah, that sounds amazing.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie’s hand landed on his shoulder. “You just made my night, man. This is awesome.”

They talked MMA fighting for a while and he could tell that Eddie had probably dabbled in it a bit.

“So,” he said two beers in. “Is this the norm for you and Evan? Going out after a shift?”

“When my kid allows,” Eddie said. “Half the time we’re at my house or his apartment with Chris. Marisol’s gotten used to it.”

“Marisol?”

“My girlfriend,” Eddie said.

“Ah. And uh, what about his…partner?”

Tommy braced himself. He hadn’t thought about the possibility that Evan would be involved with someone. It was one of those things that you heard about, people that were happily in a relationship and suddenly one of them met their soulmate. It wasn’t like most people were out there waiting for their soulmate convinced that it was something that would actually happen.

Eddie laughed. “He broke up with his last girlfriend a little while ago. She was a death doula if you can believe that’s a real thing.”

“I can’t actually,” Tommy said. “But clearly it didn’t work out.”

“Nope,” Eddie said. “He has the worst luck.”

“Maybe that’s changing,” Tommy said.

The conversation shifted again somehow and Tommy couldn’t ask more questions about Evan without giving away that he was looking for information on him. Tommy didn’t want to tell Eddie about Evan being his soulmate, not without first speaking to Evan. He did garner that Eddie and Evan were close, but despite trying several times, didn’t manage to finangle a way to ask for Evan’s phone number.

He felt a little bit pathetic. After all, who met their soulmate — a rarity in itself — and then not insist on taking a moment to talk even in spite of the circumstances? Insist on exchanging numbers?

By the time he made it home, a little buzzed from the beer, he realized that somehow he’d made lots of plans to hang out with Eddie and none with Evan. He was a mess.

#911 abc #911 fic #bucktommy #tevan #kinley #bucktommy fic #soulmate au #tommy kinard #evan buckley

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 1 day

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Do you ever think about the like ... intimacy implications(?) of Inej wearing Kaz's gloves to climb the incinerator? Like she gets inside of a part of him, a part no one else has seen. She understands him better because of it, sees just how the gloves are made. She can't touch him but touches the thing that's closest and most intimate to him. She finds what keeps him sane and returns it to him. It's nearly erotic without being sexual, don't you think?

Hello and welcome to episode 4 of DK Finally Gets It Together And Answers Her Asks Because It's About Damn Time (the title's growing on me)

Ep One - Ep Two - Ep Three

As always sorry for how long it had taken me to get to this ask but thank you very much for sending it, let's talk!

YES

Y E S

I in fact think about this an awful lot. For me, there are two specific details about Inej putting Kaz's gloves on that feel very intimate and the first is her own hesitance to do so. She talks about how she knows that Kaz would tell her to just get on with it but that she feels as though she's violating his privacy by taking them - I don't have my book on me but I'm pretty sure she says it feels like going into his rooms and rifling through his belongings without permission. The second thing that feels incredibly intimate to me when I read this scene is that when Inej notices that the gloves are unlined and have thin slashes in the fingertips she realises that this is so he can maintain contact with cards or coins or so on when pickpocketing and performing slight of hand and she describes it as "touch without touch". TOUCH WITHOUT TOUCH.

INEJ WEARING KAZ'S GLOVES IS TOUCH WITHOUT TOUCH. THEY ARE SO CLOSE AND YET THEY ARE SO FAR AWAY FROM EACH OTHER and I'm pretty sure that it's after this scene once they're on the roof together that Inej says it's the first time they've touched skin on skin (though please correct me if I'm wrong) so this is the closest they've ever got to touching before!!!!!!!!!!

I may simply melt into a puddle thinking about them

#dk finally gets it together and answers her asks because it's about damn time #kanej #kanej supremacy #six of crows #grishaverse #crooked kingdom #leigh bardugo #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x inej #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #nina zenik #matthias helvar #kanej my beloved #*cries in kanej*

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hwangism143 · 2 days

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off - limits (preview)

synopsis: hwang hyunjin was multiple things to you: incredible. god-like. everything. but most of all, he was off-limits. that is, until, you both are forced to share a room at a beach getaway. sounds perfectly romantic, right? except for your fear of the ocean and his recent break-up.

pairing: non-idol!hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: best friends brother trope, one room trope, angst, fluff

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of death, nightmares, graphic description of nearly drowning (more warnings will be added to the main fic)

word count (preview): 968 words

release date: 03/05/24

a/n: finally! my first over 10k word fic lol. this was requested to me by @scarlet789 and i immediately started working on it. you can send in an ask or reply below if you wish to be added to the taglist for this fic, coming out nest friday!

preview down below

"Hmm," Hyunjin hummed in contemplation to something you had said, "You know, I always liked your company more then Hyun-jee's. Don't tell her though." He had mischievous look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips, eliciting a laugh from within you and bringing back a memory you had forgotten.

You were still slightly awed by the fact that the Hwang Hyun-jee invited you to spend summer with her. At a ski lodge. A fricking ski lodge! The shocking revelation that you could be considered cool enough to hang out with her and her brother were the thoughts in your head as you stared at the copy of Emma in your hands, pretending to read the text.

Beside you, you could hear the steady scratching of pencil against paper, interrupted only by the symphony of an eraser rubbing against the sheet. This little orchestra playing next to you was evidence of Hyunjin's existence, an art in itself if anyone asked you.

"You should teach me French," he asks you out of the blue, "For when if leave to go to Paris."

You look at him inquisitively. He told you that he got accepted into art school in Paris a few days ago. You did feel sad about the fact that he was going, but deep down you knew very well that practically, after this summer your interactions with Hyunjin would be few and far in between.

"You have Hyun-jee, she can teach you. If, that is, you can put up with her," you retort teasingly.

Hyunjin gives you a sly smirk, "That's exactly why I was asking you. I think I'll like your style of teaching better. And so, I want you to please, please, please teach me French."

You had no idea where this sudden newfound confidence to flirt with Hyunjin had bloomed within you but, oh well, you only live once. "Do you want me teaching you, or just me in general?"

"Ah," he said shaking his head regretfully with a smile, "Even though you have only known me for a few weeks, you already know me too well."

Butterflies ignite in your stomach, although you're pretty sure he was just playing along with you. You wonder what he's sketching, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his eyes set in concentration. Even though you have a feeling it isn't, you sincerely hope it's you.

You don't know that your hopeful assumption was true.

A tightening in you chest starts to grow when the topic shifts to love. Earlier, talking to Hyunjin about love used to come as easy walking on your two feet. Now, it just hurts. He asked you if you were seeing someone. You promptly replied in the negative. You asked him if he was seeing someone. He reflected your answer back onto you.

But what did it really mean? You were always going to be bound in this life by that unspoken oath you made to Hyun-jee all those years ago. It wasn't even about love anymore, it was about not breaking another person's trust, a person who you held closer to your heart than most of your family.

You started thinking though. What was the point of hiding your feelings, old or not, from Hyunjin any longer? It wasn't like you could act on it, but you may as well have told him. Maybe then a huge weight from your chest would be released and you wouldn't be shackled by commitments, things you felt you owed to both of them.

"I don't think you know this but," your expression suddenly changed, "I used to have the biggest crush on you that summer."

"Used to?" At this point, Hyunjin is sitting up straight, eyeing you curiously. You roll your eyes and give him a playful slap on his arm. His expression, however, turns into one of regret. You begin to feel remorseful about telling him, paranoia settling in and molding itself into the fabric of who you were.

"That's a shame," he says quietly.

The air changes, charged with something you can't quite place. Hyunjin hols eye contact with you, unsaid words coursing through them. You never really believed in the phrase 'the eye is the window to the soul', but right now, you were terrified of whatever the hell your eyes were revealing to him right now. Hyunjin then proceeds to utter something, something so capable of infusing you with poisoned hope, that it takes your breath away.

"I think I would have loved loving you."

Time has stopped. Feelings of desperation, annihilation and most importantly, temptation, cascade in a whirlpool inside you. It had been years. This was wrong. This was the universe dangling temptation in front of you, urging you to just take a bite. Rebelliously, you wondered, what if you were selfish for one? Why were you feeling this way now?

"I think I would have loved being loved by you," you choke out. Hyunjin's hand laces through yours and gives it a little squeeze in response.

That is when it dawns on you that Hyunjin is as confined in this matter as you, if not more. Hyun-jee is his sister for God's sake; whatever guilt you felt in wanting him, he must have felt tenfold in wanting you. You know exactly what the little squeeze he gave you signifies: It will pass. If it cannot be, it will cease.

And you know it's true because you and Hyunjin can never be 'us' or 'we' as long as you were present in this reality. You wished there was a universe somewhere, a parallel reality when Hyunjin and you were considered of one breath because to breath you would need him like oxygen.

Judging by his expression, he must have been drifting in thought about that too.

#stray kids #skz #hyunjin #hyunjin x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #hyunjin x female reader #- via's fics <3

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thiniceofeternalyouth · 3 days

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MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER TEN

MY BEST FRIEND

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~12k

⊲ previous

You'd been in the hot water so long that all the skin on your fingers had shriveled to look like old one, and even afterward you still felt haunted by that cold - your body shuddered every now and then.

Even though you'd asked Frank for a bunch of hygiene supplies, you'd only used shampoo and body wash because when you looked at your body and saw a bunch of small sores, you involuntarily swallowed, putting the scrub jar away.

Refusing to look at yourself in the mirror, you quickly pulled on clean clothes and grumbled grudgingly - you wanted something more substantial than a plain T-shirt. You opened the door ajar. "Frank," you shouted into the emptiness of the big house. "Where's your sweater?"

The rattle of tableware could be heard from downstairs. "What sweater?" he echoed your shout.

"Ya know, the white one that still survived the Paleozoic," your head was already fully out from behind the door, and you froze waiting for an answer.

An imposing figure appeared on the stairs. "Be quiet," the man hushed you. "Ya'll wake the kids."

"I'm sorry," you whispered in a panic. "So where am I supposed to find a sweater?"

"It's got more holes in it than threads," Frank said clearly angered by your choice of clothing.

You shrugged naively. "It's warm, though."

"I'll look for it," he patted you on the head. The hand was so heavy that you almost hit the floor. "Ya go on downstairs. I made some food."

Your stomach didn't rumble at the mention of food. Instead, it felt like a sticky, thick mass in your chest that you wanted to spit out. "Okay," you said swallowing hard.

When you went down to the kitchen, something delicious was waiting for you - a plate of creamy pasta and chicken, and a bowl of fresh vegetables next to it. As you sat down in front of the food, you felt incredibly stuffy. You put the blame for the overheated air on the stove, which still hadn't cooled down.

All you did was wrap spaghetti around your fork and unroll it, and if you were younger, you would have gotten a thousand reprimands for playing with meal. For the first time in your life, you could barely eat.

After the void, it was like this. Even in the same silence, there was room for background noise - all the ringing, beeping, rustling. You wanted to tell everyone what you'd found or to lock yourself in your room and never come out - at least not until the thoughts in your head was quieter.

You threw your fork into the plate disappointedly, and it clattered with such a clang that you involuntarily squeezed your eyes shut. The insistent rumbling sound was impossible to push away, and it only tightened the nauseous knot in your throat more. "... here?" someone's voice, like spokes, began to unravel the tangle of ringing thoughts. You jumped up before someone's hand was on your shoulder.

Dany stood in front of you - all skinny and frightened. "Ya here?" she asked quietly, barely moving her lips. Her glistening gaze darted around haphazardly, scrutinizing your face as if trying to search for the truth. "It's really ya, isn't it?"

"Hey, bun," you said smiling involuntarily, and with all your remaining strength, you pulled the girl against you. Her gaunt figure responded easily to your actions - she collapsed helplessly in your embrace. "It's me."

Under her weight, your legs began to give way and shake. Holding Danielle by the waist, you pulled her to a chair and sat down beside her. She sat glaring at the table, but you noticed that she occasionally glanced at your plate. "Ya hungry?"

Danielle nodded uncertainly. "Just a little."

You rose from your seat. "Then wait a minute...," you were cut off at half a word by the squeak of a plate against the countertop. You stared in utter amazement at Dany who was already shoving a second forkful of pasta into her mouth. "Have ya not been fed here at all?" you blurted out dumbfounded, looking at her sudden appetite. "Uh, no, wait a minute...," you scratched your forehead thoughtfully, putting the mosaic together in your head. "What are ya even doing here?"

"Couldn't be in that house anymore," Danielle's voice was already weak, but her mouthful of food made it almost impossible to make out the words at all.

"Something wrong?" you alarmed.

You don't think you've ever seen that shade of red on her face before, though you've seen her embarrassed or flustered more than once. "Are ya kidding me?" she snapped angrily, throwing her fork on the table - the force she exerted caused it to fly off into the far corner of the kitchen. "Ya just disappeared!"

"Dany, but I'm back..." you started softly and reached out to her trying to wrap your arms around her shoulders.

Danielle straightened up sharply and pulled away avoiding your touch. "This isn't about ya right now!" she shouted. "I couldn't even breathe properly in that house, I-I broke up with Megumi because of it, I thought...," she sobbed and went silent for a second trying to quiet the growing pain in her throat. "I thought this would happen to me at some point too, I'd just disappear even though someone would wait for me," the girl mechanically began to shake her head from side to side as if denying everything that could happen to her.

You were taken aback by this outburst of emotion, and you blinked your eyes in confusion and tried to touch her again. "It's okay," you said quietly, wiping away a tear that had appeared on Dany's cheek. "Maybe it wasn't like that yesterday, but it's fine now. What did ya...," you fell silent for a second, rubbing your temple as if that might take away the approaching headache. "Ahem, what did ya say about Megumi? Did ya two really break up?"

"I didn't want the same fate for him," Danielle mumbled taking your hand away from her face - this time her movement was neither angry nor wary. Quite the opposite, she squeezed your palm in hers. "So... It'll be easier for both if us."

"Dany, if ya just don't like him anymore, that's one thing," you said smirking slightly.

"It's not like that!" she blurted out indignantly, and if her eagerness had been a fraction stronger, there was a chance your palm in her hand would have crunched. "I already explained that!"

"I don't doubt ya had noble goals in mind," you said nodding meaningfully. "But don't ya think it should be up to the two of ya to decide?" exhaling noisily through her nose, Dany frowned. "It's not like I even asked about it, though," you pointed out reasonably. "He agreed to break up with ya?"

Danielle faltered. "I, uh... I just confronted him with the accomplished fact."

"So mature of ya," you patted her hand condescendingly while smiling broadly - and even though Dany couldn't see it, she could clearly sense it in your voice.

"Everything's a joke to ya, isn't it?" she hissed, jumping up from her seat. "Though what was I even counting on?" she asked, grinning bitterly. "I doubt ya'll ever understand me. Ya and the topic of relationships are... well, ya know. Incompatible," she waved her hand disappointedly leaving your dialog behind and headed for the second floor.

You would have called out to her if it hadn't been for a impudent misunderstanding between you two. What upset her so much? What did you say wrong?

In this blind journey, the feelings of one person never reached the feelings of the other. All the words got lost and dissolved - you were silent. You were silent and watched her disappear into the darkness of the second floor.

"Ahem," Frank coughed pointedly, coming down the stairs just after Danielle left. "Here ya go," he said, holding out his old sweater to you.

You frantically pulled the sweater over you, catching your breath. Once your head was through the collar, you exhaled disappointedly. "Ya heard everything, didn't ya?"

"Not on purpose," Frank replied idly, picking up his fork from the floor. "Young lady, is this how I taught ya to act around food?" he said, turning his attention to the plate in which the disheveled spaghetti rested.

"I'm sorry," you pressed your lips together guiltily. "I didn't feel like I can eat anything, and Dany... Well, she just didn't finish it."

"Ya need to go to the doc. We’re leaving," Frank sternly retorted.

"Frank, it's late and-"

"I said we’re leaving!" he bellowed, slamming his fist down on the table - the tabletop was clearly not ready for such a thing. There was a pitiful cracking sound. You bit your tongue and your eyes widened for a moment - if you'd ever seen Frank like that, it was so long ago that you couldn't even remember.

"Frank, I'm fine," you said, choosing your words carefully. "I'll go see him tomorrow morning, 'kay?"

"Why in the morning?" he said warily, pushing back a chair and gesturing for you to sit down - the sweep of his hand somehow looked like an invitation to an execution.

After hesitating, you walked over and sat down - as instructed. "There's something I need to do. I don't think I can eat or even just sit still until I do."

"What exactly?"

"I really need to see the higher-ups," trepidation turned your voice into a squeak and you coughed, embarrassed at what you heard.

"Why?" Frank tapped his fingers harshly on the damaged tabletop.

You faltered, staring at your lap. "I want to see if there's someone else among them," you said so quietly that Frank could only understand your words when he read your lips.

"What?" he interrogated incredulously. "Ya really think there could have been some trash among them?"

"Yeah, I think so," you replied firmly. "Though no, I'm not sure. Not all the way through. It's just that I think so. God," you buried your face tiredly in the palm of your hand. "That's exactly why I want to check."

Frank was dumbfounded, for nothing like this had ever happened before in his memory, nor in the stories of his father and grandfather. "No, ya can't do that," he objected. "Think about it," noticing your skeptical expression, Frank switched to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ya can't just barge in and test them like that. What if the demon isn't among them? What if one of them die in the process? There'll be tons of witnesses that ya did it, and ya have to realize what'll happen. And even if ya do find a demon among them, what then? At best, ya'll have to fight it, and look at ya!" he said indignantly, grabbing your skinny hand. "And if ya're unlucky, ya'll just scare the bugger away. No, ya can't do that," he shook his head. "We have to be smarter, more cunning. Fish them out one at a time and check them out. If one doesn't make it and still dies, there'll be no witnesses. I'll give ya an alibi. Ya were at my place tending the roses," he squeezed your palm gently. "Yeah, tending roses," the man nodded confidently. "To check on everyone, ya need to recover, though, so we're going to the dock. No arguments."

"I guess ya're right," you mumbled guiltily, then bit the inside of your cheeks for a moment - all out of frustration. "I'm just... I'm just in a hurry."

Frank ruffled your hair, smiling cordially. "What did I teach ya? It's just like eating, isn't it? If ya hurry, ya'll get indigestion," he said, standing up and putting the plate of pasta in the sink. "Besides...," he began tautly after a brief pause; the sound of the plate clattering against metal sent shivers down your spine. Since when did that sound become so creepy? "Food is supposed to be enjoyed."

You glimpsed the man, his face shrouded in shadows for a moment. "Frank," you began mundanely. "Ya said we goingto the doc? Ya going with me?

The shadows immediately dispersed as if by obedience to a lighted lantern. "Sure!" he exclaimed resolutely. "I must see to it myself."

"It's not like I'm a kindergartener," you whined.

Frank hummed skeptically and protractedly. "Maybe not, but to me ya're still a little pain in the ass."

You continued to whine. "I'll get there myself!"

"No bickering," Frank ordered confidently but gently, raising his palm in the air - you were immediately silenced.

"Fine," you frowned, pouting your lips. "But can we still go in the morning? I'm too tired right now," you muttered, getting up from your chair, but only to get to the couch and flop down on it. "Can't we at least watch something?" you hissed angrily, waving your hand toward the TV. "Some stupid show, movie or series, whatever. I just really miss TV."

Frank sat down next to you. "Certainly we can," he said, turning on the TV.

Pictures appeared on the screen. Bright juicy images that made your eyes water, but you were glad of that because the color purple hadn't given you anything but a migraine in a long time. Frank switched channels until you saw something that looked interesting and watchable.

You settled down and stretched out on the couch to your full height, throwing your legs unceremoniously over Frank's lap. All your attention was on what was happening on the screen, so you didn't even notice how Frank smiled at first, and then, noticing the calluses and sores on your feet, swallowed worriedly. "Aren't ya expecting anyone?" you suddenly blurted out your question, shifting your gaze to the door.

Frank, taken aback, shook his head. "No," he drawled hesitantly. "I'm not expecting anyone. What's the matter?"

You glared at the door for a few more moments. "No, nothing," you muttered quietly, returning your attention to the television. "How long ago did Dany and Megumi break up?" you asked, gently poking the man's stomach with your foot.

He immediately exhaled sharply and irritably as if he'd been waiting for you to ask that question. "As soon as she moved here!" he spat out, clapping his hands. "This boy comes here almost every week to talk to her, and she doesn't even leave the room. She can't even tell me what's troubling her! Her wording is so vague... I just want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she comes to her senses!" he slapped your leg with heat, and you hissed involuntarily. "Sorry!"

"It's okay," you said, though it felt like an electric shock was still shooting through your leg. "I'll try to talk to her, though ya heard it yourself... Maybe Kyle should be the one to ask. He's good at, well, uh, how to put it..."

"Support people?" finished the man for you.

"Yeah," you nodded. "Sorta."

"Yeah, he came by already, tried to," he waved his hand irritably. "It's like she can't hear anyone."

"We have to get her out of this state," you declared, fidgeting restlessly. "I don't want her to do anything stupid."

Frank squinted suspiciously, looking at you. "What kinda stupid thing is that?" you looked at him meaningfully, pursing your lips. "No," he said with a huff. "She wouldn't dare."

"She's a teenager," you remarked, sitting up and tucking your legs under you. "Teenagers have a rough time of it. First and most often unrequited love, adjustment, successful or not-so-successful socialization, misunderstanding from parents who devalue their problems-"

"Ya'll have to excuse me, but most of the time teenagers don't have real problems," Frank said, but noticing your nostrils starting to flare, added: "I said most of the time. Not always."

"Everyone judges the depth of a puddle based on their own height," you subdued the man with a look. "And they haven't grown up yet. They may brush it off or laugh about it in a dozen years, but right now it's a real problem for them," you burrowed deeper into the collar of your sweater as if hiding. "And it's all just about ordinary life. Now imagine what life is like for Dany in our world."

"So maybe we should let her go?" suggested Frank quietly.

"That's for her to decide. And anyway, she has no mother or father left, where are we gonna let her go?" you objected. "I'll still try to talk to her again after a while. No, I'll at least try to get her out of the room first, and then I'll see how it goes."

Frank glanced over his shoulder, straight for the stairs. Nothing was heard - no fuss, no footsteps. "All right," he said. "But after what ya said, it makes me wanna take the door off its hinges in her room now."

"Ya're supposed to be improving her condition, not making it worse," you muttered unhappily.

Frank, to signify his defenselessness, threw up his hands. "I said what I wanted to do, not that I was really gonna do it."

Without answering anything, you were running through your head thinking that you wouldn't have taken the door off its hinges. You would have just installed cameras. At Frank's questioning look, you slapped yourself on the forehead for allowing such an idea. Frank hummed longingly as if your entire chain of reasoning was right there in plain sight and he'd followed it. "We're not gonna do anything like that!" you protested, jumping up on the spot.

"Honey, ya okay?" the man asked worriedly, grabbing your shoulder and bringing you back to your original position.

"Yeah, yeah," you nonchalantly waved it off, leaning back on the back of the couch. "Look, but guys... I mean, Kyle, Rachel, and Issu, they... they went on without me, right?"

"Sure," Frank confirmed, squeezing your shoulder. "They're responsible persons," you felt light. No doubt you'd felt it before, whether it was your lean body or your home surroundings, but this was a different feeling. Not lightness. Relief. Frank noticed the wrinkles in your forehead finally relax. "What is it?"

"Frank, I found a settlement."

The man, startled by what he heard, gave an amazed gasp. You felt a large hand scoop you up, and all you had time to do before you were pinned to his chest was squeak. "Oh," Frank chuckled nervously. "The darkest hour is nearest the dawn, yeah?"

Frank stroked your hair and seemed to be saying how good you were - the lack of oxygen in his arms made you dizzy, and you couldn't tell if he was saying it or if you were just imagining it. It felt good, though. "Uh-huh," you muffled out.

When the man finally loosened his grip a little, you were able to take a few full breaths and come to your senses. Your gaze automatically drifted to the front door again. "The fuck is this," you cursed, getting up from your seat. In one motion, you were at the door and opened it with a jerk. No one.

You ran out onto the porch, looking around - no one was lurking behind any bush or tree. You rushed out to the backyard. Still in your right mind and sneaking carefully between the beds so as not to damage anything, you hung over the low wooden fence and looked down - the path that led to your house was indeed someone running. Someone small and thin, probably a child. The last thing you saw before the child finally ran down the hill and disappeared behind the other house was something glinting on his hand.

"Who's there?" shouted Frank, standing at the beginning of the beds.

You looked once more at the house behind which the unknown guest had hidden. There was nothing to be seen. "I have no clue," you said, still keeping your eyes on that house and hoping someone would show up. "It looks like it was a kid."

Frank, resting his arms at his sides, snorted. "What kinda kid walks this late?" waiting a little while for you to level with him, he strode beside you back into the house. "Okay, ya stay here and I'll go and go around to everyone," he said, stepping over the threshold - only to grab his jacket. "Maybe one of the adults didn't look out. It's no case for a child to be out alone so late. Even in Hopetown," Frank kissed you on the top of the head and left you alone with the show on TV.

***

The series was interesting. You didn't even notice the morning had come when you were watching people who had survived a plane crash trying to survive on an island far away from civilization. Frank, who had returned in the middle of the night, had fallen asleep on the couch where you were sitting, muttering quietly to himself that no one had lost anyone.

The man slept so soundly that he was not disturbed by the birds whose beautiful singing in the morning seemed annoying, nor by the sound of the alarm clock on his phone, which pissed you off more. "Frank, turn it off," you muttered, but he didn't respond. You kicked him defiantly in the thigh, and only then did he perk up, jabbed something randomly at the phone screen, and his head fell back against the pillow. "Frank, the geese won't feed themselves," you said, climbing up and sitting down on the back of the couch. "Get up, ya sloth!" planting your feet on his back, you attempted to shove him off the couch. The man's body wouldn't budge, and the alarm clock rang again.

You were distracted from the action by a thin voice. "Y/N-ie?" there was Tris on the far step, clutching a tattered stuffed cat. Frank jumped up on the spot, and you tightened your lips skeptically - a tank shot wouldn't have woken him up, but a child's voice brought him to his senses.

"Ya woke her," you hissed, jumping off the couch. You walked over to Tris and squatted down in front of her. "Hey," as soon as you reached for her, she immediately pulled away and almost tripped on the step. "What's wrong?" you worried, frowning your eyebrows.

"You're ugly," the girl stared at you with frightened eyes and clutched the toy harder to her chest. "Don't touch me."

You opened your mouth, but closed it again. "She's not ugly," said Frank, scooping Tris up in his arms. "She just hasn't been eating enough. Now do ya see what happens to people who don't eat enough?" he questioned instructively, walking over to the fridge.

You should have spent more time with her. She rarely saw you, and this time you came home looking like that. You knew exactly why she'd acted the way she did, but you couldn't help the pang of annoyance.

You walked over to her, sitting meekly on Frank's arm and examining the contents of the refrigerator with him, and immediately intercepted the little girl - she immediately started kicking and squealing. "Let go! I don't wanna!"

You pulled her against you, ignoring the childish but precise blows of small fists against your body. "It's me, it's just me," you babbled, never losing your grip, though you cringed every time a fist hit your bulging spine. "That's me. Bun, look at me," just hearing the nickname startled Tris. She frowned at you, and though she still didn't trust you, she stopped whipping you.

"You used to come more often," tears could be heard in her voice. "Why did you stop coming? Y-you don't love me anymore?"

"What?" you blurted out in confusion. "No, no, of course not. I just got worked up. I'm sorry," you said, pulling her tighter against you.

If her tears had been silent before, now she burst into sobs. "S-so you love work more?"

"No, no, don't say that. I love you equally," came the clank of a plate and Frank turned around and looked at you so fiercely that you immediately realized your mistake. "That's not what I meant to say! Of course I love ya more. It's just... I need to make some money," you said quietly, shielding Tris from any other more detailed explanations as to why you were doing this.

Frank rustled the kitchen utensils harder, drawing attention to himself. "Honey," he addressed Tris, though you both raised your heads. "What do ya want for breakfast?"

Tris sniffed weakly through her reddened nose. "Omelet with cheese," she said quietly, and snuggled into your neck again.

Frank's phone rang again - you snorted irritably, thinking it was another alarm clock, but to your surprise, he tapped the screen and put the phone to his ear. Who's calling him this early? "Yes," he said into the receiver. "Yeah, she's here," he answered monosyllabically, giving you a glimpse. "Yeah, I got it," he dropped the call and stared dumbly at the screen for a few more seconds. Coughing, Frank slowly walked over to you. "Higher-ups are calling."

For some reason now, thinking about last night's strange guest made your insides boil - just like the water in a kettle, only this one had an automatic shutoff, but your insides continued to seethe. "What the hell?" you whispered angrily, looking up at the puzzled Frank.

As you walked along the tired road, ignoring the streetlights that had been there for a hundred years, you kept thinking about that child. Had they really fallen so low as to ask the child to watch you and, more importantly, what had the higher-ups offered them? Or did they take advantage of the little man's unselfishness?

The snow had melted and the masonry was still covered with fallen autumn leaves. Had it occurred to any of them to pick up a broom and clean up the mess? Out of frustration, you tried to kick one such leaf - it mockingly flew aside, and you almost fell. "Careful," Frank said, grabbing you under the arm.

Despite your condition, you tried to keep your posture as straight and your head as high as possible, even though it made you uncomfortable. As soon as you were distracted for a second, your body folded in on itself and your head fell back. "Did ya tell them?" you asked, realizing the absurdity of your question.

"No."

"I had to ask."

"I know," Frank said understandingly.

No matter how much you walked, it was as if the wide wooden doors were never coming closer. "Was it a good idea to leave Tris and Mike with Danielle?"

"I'm not sure," the man shook his head sadly. "But I couldn't send ya alone, either. And Danielle... Maybe she'll be distracted for at least an hour, who knows."

"Or maybe she needs some peace and quiet right now and we've only made things worse," you put forward a disappointing suggestion.

Frank's face turned stern, which foreshadowed the grumbling. "That's it, enough. We can't keep up everywhere and always do everything right."

"Is this about your cheese omelet?" you giggled.

Frank immediately exploded. "I did everything right!" he thundered. "Why didn't she like it?"

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a sly smile. "Tris told me that Gojo's was better," though Frank's face was covered by a thick mustache and beard, you could see that his face was turning red, and the increasing wheezing could be picked up even by a hearing impaired person. "Don't be so jealous," you encouraged him, shoving him lightly with your shoulder.

"Let your man cook for her now, then," he muttered unhappily.

You didn't blush, you didn't flinch or swallow your tongue - it all sounded like one big joke to you. "He's not my man," you dismissed.

The door seemed closer and closer. It was only three lanterns away. "For how long?" snorted Frank. "He even took Shaya's-"

"That's it, I'm going," you cut him off halfway through.

The man froze in place, and you stopped abruptly with him, for Frank still held you under his arm. "What does that mean? I'm coming with ya."

"No," you objected softly. "Just in case, I need ya out of the area of potential danger."

Frank jerked you to stand in front of him - he stared into your eyes, trying to find your plans in them. "I told ya not to do anything rash."

You squeezed his hand gently. "I won't. Just being reassuring."

He squeezed your palm in response. "Fine, but I'm gonna stand here. One more thing - if ya're not back in ten minutes, I'm coming after ya."

You giggled, childishly and shyly nodding. "Okay."

Without looking back, you made it the rest of the distance to the door much faster than you'd expected, and what surprised you even more was that it was closed. You leaned your forehead against the wooden surface - of course you would have liked to kick the door with your foot to secure your long-held opinion of yourself, but you could do nothing more than push. The door gave way with great difficulty, shuffling and scratching the floor - not for a moment did you feel as if you were moving a mountain, for you had done your best, and it had hardly moved an inch or two.

You pushed again, and the door gave way as easily as if it weighed nothing - it flew off with a bang, causing you to slam face down on the floor. "Eh...," you mumbled. There was no blood - but the sharp sensation in the bridge of your nose made you start to sniffle. You raised your head - five pairs of eyes were staring at you. All of them. "Howdy," you muttered, rising to your feet and shaking yourself off. "Couldn't ya open it?" you asked grudgingly, pointing behind you. "It's heavy."

Christian glanced at you from head to toe, slowly stroking his chin. Only Nathaniel greeted you with a nod of his head. Old Ellie sat next to him. You could see through the magnifying lenses of her glasses that her eyes were slipping shut. A couple, a man and a woman, who didn't even glance in your direction, but only continued to talk quietly about something, occupied the remaining two chairs on Christian's left hand. "Ooh," you drawled contentedly. "Even the married ones are here. Ravona, Yoichi, hey," you waved at them, and the woman finally graced you with a glance. You chuckled quietly as she raised her eyebrows haughtily and went back to cooing with her husband. "What can I do for ya?" you turned to Christian obligingly.

"A cockroach, indeed," Christian said absently, and he was no longer looking at you, but through you. "You came back last night."

"Yes-"

"It wasn't a question," Christian said, flailing his palm lightly in the air. "You should have come here right away," you bit your cheeks and lowered your head sharply, all because you felt a growing anger – like the anger a child feels when a parent scolds him for something as trivial as that. "You're aware of that, too, so you're not being as cheeky as you usually are."

"Yeah I just wanted to take a bath and rest for a while," you blurted out, splashing your hands dramatically at the injustice. "What's wrong with that?"

Christian barely audibly clucked his tongue. "People could have gotten hurt 'cause of your cravings," he stated, rising from his seat and carefully picking up the clerical shears from the stand with his fingers. "You know the terms under which we agreed to maintain neutrality, so if you'd be so kind...," he stepped close to you - so close that you could smell his breath mixed with the scent of minty mouthwash. "Hold still."

Christian raised one arm, the loose shiny fabric falling away, exposing his forearm. "What are you doing?" bellowed Nathaniel alarmed. "That's not protocol!"

"Silence!" Christian hissed loudly, throwing his scissor hand into the air. Nathaniel stopped abruptly and put his hand to his mouth - you could see from the corner of your eye that he was trying to separate his stitched lips with his fingers.

Something under your eye prickled. When you touched the pad of your finger to the sore spot and looked at it, you noticed blood, and then you turned your gaze to Christian, eyebrow raised disapprovingly. "I apologize," he said courteously, lowering the hand that was clutching the shears and bringing it to his bare forearm. "I was careless. It won't happen again. Now...," he ran the edge of the scissors across his skin without thinking, leaving a long deep cut that immediately began to bleed.

For everyone here, it started to flow. For you, it started to ooze. Breathing steadily, you tore your gaze away from the scarlet liquid and stared into Christian's eyes. No surprise, there was a condescending, barely perceptible smile on his face as usual. Saliva began to pool in your mouth, but you didn't dare swallow, not to let on that all you felt was dread hunger.

Dread hunger was always something unpleasant, even painful and unbearable, but you were in nothing but excruciating pain - as if every bone in your body were being broken in three places and all your nerves were being slowly pulled out from under your skin. For a second, you wished the man standing in front of you would turn into a mirror - just to make sure you were all right. In fact, Christian did reflect your condition because if anything had happened to you, his haughty smile would have turned into a nasty one.

Nathaniel rose from his seat again, drawing attention to himself. Christian reluctantly turned around, hardly taking his eyes off you. "That's enough. She's fine," Nathaniel said sharply, and you took advantage of the confusion to finally swallow the thick saliva that had accumulated.

"Well," Christian sighed, and after waiting for the wound on his forearm to heal, walked to his chair. "I won't keep you any longer," he said carelessly over his shoulder.

You couldn't even roll your eyes, and with the last shred of pride you could muster, you turned and walked away from the place. Your throat felt like it was churning, and it seemed to you that as soon as you opened your mouth, either vomit or blood would pour out.

You were beginning to forget your own language, so when you saw Frank on the horizon, you couldn't swear properly - even your thoughts were a mess of letters and sounds instead of the usual words. Your legs began to shake. The last thing you saw before you bent in half was Frank running toward you. "Honey," he whispered, picking you up by the waist. "Does it hurt too much?" he worried, trying to look into your face, but you didn't rise it. You didn't even hear him. "Let's get ya to the doc," the man said softly, scooping you up in his arms.

[May 30, 2020; 09:43 am; hunters' hq]

Your vision was so blurred that even the silhouettes were a mishmash of faded colors. You couldn't feel your own limbs, and you shook your head sluggishly as someone's hands tried to shove something into your mouth - the tip of your tongue picked out several small, smooth capsules, and then your mouth was filled with water; you coughed - someone instantly pressed their palm against your lips, forcing you to swallow it all.

Finally, the mess in your eyes began to blur - you saw a doc's coat disappear through the doorway, like a snow-white dove that had flown away. "Hey," the face leaning over you was nothing, though you caught a glimpse of green. "Sunshine, ya okay?"

Rolled onto your side, you squeezed your eyes shut a few times, and when you opened them, you saw Kyle in front of you. You wanted to jump up and pounce on him, but he hugged you faster. "Kyle!" you exclaimed in relief. "God, it's so good to see ya again!"

"Hey," he reached out softly, burrowing into the top of your head.

You squirmed impatiently. "Kyle, that was awful!" you complained. "I had to lie on the bare floor, my lower back hurts like hell, no hot water or food, no toothpaste, I'm ninety percent sand, my knees hurt, and my ears are still buzzing like there's a train coming!"

A chuckle escaped Kyle's lips - he was relieved at the sound of your confused babbling as confirmation that you were indeed back. "Easy," he grinned, laying you back down on the couch. "Ya still have a high fever, so don't jump up."

You snorted. "How many people do ya even know who died of high temperature?"

"Read about the Inquisition, that's fucked up," he joked, pulling the blanket over you and tucking the edges under your squirming legs.

You hesitated a little and watched the procession, your lips tightening uneasily and you pulled yourself to a sitting position again. "Look, Kyle... Out there in the void-"

He looked at you despondently. "Don't even start," he retorted grimly.

"We need to get back there as soon as possible-"

"Enough!" he bellowed angrily. "Ya just got back, and all ya doing now is complaining, snapping at me, and also claiming ya need to go back! Have ya even considered how I feel, no?" his voice broke on the last words, and it happened as suddenly as it did easily - as if someone had accidentally snapped a thin dry branch in two. "Don't ya dare," he panted, shaking his head tiredly.

"Kyle," you began softly. "I told ya I'm really happy to see ya-"

"It's a bare fucking minimum!" his broken voice turned to a shout, and as he gave you his disappointed stare, you discerned in the fluorescent light the redness of his eyes.

As you struggled to swallow the threads of resentment and injustice, you thought about the fact that maybe you deserved this kind of bias on his part, but that didn't give Kyle the right to interrupt you. "I just wanted to tell ya that I found a settlement, that's all," you muttered, playing with the edge of the blanket with your fingers.

"Oh, shit," Kyle marveled, and now without the veil of anger in his eyes, he sat down gently on the bed and wrapped his arms around you again. "I'm sorry," he mumbled guiltily. "I... I was just really worried, ya know."

"Screaming wasn't necessary," you mumbled grumpily into his shirt. "That's why I have to go back there, or show ya, so ya can at least start without me."

"I know, I know," Kyle said understandingly, stroking your head because he now shared your excitement with you. "But in order to show it, ya need to recover. Ya can't go into the void yet. Even if ya don't get broken in half, if Doc finds out about it, he-"

"Will cut off my legs," you finished for him doomfully. "I'm aware of that."

Kyle hummed thoughtfully. "Ya know what we should do? Why don't ya take a couple weeks off for now, and then ya can show me, where the settlement is" you grimaced irritably at the time he'd given you. "And I'll show Rach and Issu, and we'll start without ya. And when ya finally recovered, ya'll join us. Deal?"

"And what will ya do for those two weeks?" you sourly inquired.

"For now, we'll run like we ran, since raids can't be interrupted. I think we won't even run, but walk," he grinned. "Saving our strength. Maybe we'll come across another settlement," you didn't answer, only sighed disappointedly and longingly. "Stop sulking," Kyle gently tugged at your ear, and feeling you shudder, chuckled. "Lemme get my laptop and we will watch something, 'kay?"

"Okay," you replied, watching him get up from the couch. "Bring me a snack, too."

Kyle opened his mouth, and when he realized the words weren't coming out, he closed it back up. He glanced toward one of the bollards where something was lying on it. "Ya know...," he began carefully, afraid to see even a hint of tears in your eyes. "There are some problems with that."

You followed the direction of his gaze, and when you saw several bags of glucose for the IV, you despaired. "No," you exhaled bitterly. "No, no, no!" you banged your fists stubbornly on the bunk. "Don't do this to me, please. I'm gonna die, I'm gonna wither and die."

"Don't be dramatic," Kyle laughed, looking at your stricken face. "Doc said it's only for a couple days. Keep your cool, and I'll be right back," he said as he walked out the door, but stopped immediately. It was as if he was staring somewhere in the emptiness of the hallway, not blinking or averting his gaze. You gingerly threw back the blanket, and swung your legs over as quietly as you could, a pleasant chill traveling down your feet as they touched the floor. "Hey," you jerked back when Kyle spoke again. "What ya doing here?"

Megumi appeared in the doorway. "I... I'm sorry, I just heard you were back," he glimpsed at you. "I just... I wanted to talk, uh… About Dany, but I guess I choose wrong timing. Um... Are you feeling okay?"

"As you can see," you chirped, smiling, but all Megumi saw was a couple hundred bones held together by a thin layer of skin. "It's all good. So what's the deal with Dany-"

"I'll go," Megumi mumbled awkwardly, and turned on his heels and scurried away. You gave Kyle a puzzled look, and he returned you the same one, shrugging his shoulders.

[May 30, 2020; 4:53 pm; hunters' hq]

[04:51pm] Oldman: Ward seven on the left. She's not feeling well rn, so go easy on her

Gojo kept staring at the message, stroking the small scratch on his phone's screen - a scratch that had formed just recently, the moment he'd first read it. Standing in front of the door to the infirmary, he consciously made a fist and only unclenched it when the pain of his nails digging into his skin made it clear that he was awake.

Gojo finally entered the corridor of the infirmary and took a step. Then another step, and another, and another, and another, and another, each one faster than the last, and his mind was racing with the thought of not running. Why was he walking so fast? The ward was already so close, and he was afraid he wouldn't have time to quiet that excited yet aching feeling in his chest, lest he look like an immature teenager who couldn't control his feelings.

He stopped in the doorway. He didn't just stop, he froze. How tired are you if you didn't even look at him? And if you didn't hear him at all, what happened to you?

You were sitting on the bed, staring at the phone - his ribs were stabbing. So you had a chance to send him a message, but you didn't.

Gojo tapped on the doorjamb to get your attention, and when you finally looked at him, he wanted to laugh. Your eyes did look three times as big against your gaunt face, but he didn't see you as just a skeleton covered in skin. Gojo thought only that you reminded him so much of a lemur. "You just got back," he grinned, looking at your clothes - a shapeless, holey sweater and pants that were three times your size, whether they were men's or whether you'd gotten so skinny that all your previous clothes hung on you like a sack. "And you've already had a clothes fight with some beggar?"

The snow had long since melted, washing away all the winter moping and despair, and the spring drops had long since played their inspiring choruses, but he was still here. "Hey," you said softly with such a joyful exhalation that Gojo bit his lip, not knowing why, either to suppress a silly smile or to muffle a painful whimper.

Your husky voice should have dispelled all his doubts about the illusory nature of what was happening, but he still couldn't believe you were back.

His unfamiliarly warm gaze made you catch up to the very chimera and grab for it, but even holding it with both hands, you still couldn't believe he stayed.

"Hey," he echoed you, keeping the quiet motifs of the chamber. "You look awful."

His words were hardly encouraging, but to you they sounded like a compliment. You watched Gojo approach the bed and sit awkwardly on the footboard, tucking his legs under him. He looked exactly the same as the first day you met him, though a mysterious blue under his eyes peeked through. "And ya're still beautiful."

He grinned affectionately. "Shut up," he mumbled shyly, moving closer to you.

You had no idea how much courage it took for him to press his forehead against yours, for he did it without hesitation, confidently. However, you, for your part, looked down like a coward. "I...," you began excitedly, swallowing. "Honestly, I didn't think ya'd stay," a nervous chuckle escaped your lips - you wanted to color your words with indifference, but it came out the other way around.

You felt Gojo's arms around your waist. He would have pressed you against him for all he was worth, but due to your condition, he had to sacrifice his desires. "I know I've given you reasons not to trust me. It won't happen again," he whispered into your neck, and you knew what he meant. He stayed yesterday, he'll stay tomorrow.

He'll stay with you.

Even though he couldn't hold you tighter, he selfishly tried to pull you closer, even though there was no more space between you. When he unintentionally pressed his knee against one of the sore spots on your leg, your whole body tensed involuntarily. Sensing this, Gojo raised his head and stared at you. "What is it?"

You shook your head, tucking your leg deeper under you. "It's okay," you declared, but the words came out through clenched teeth.

"What have you got there?" he asked worriedly, gently grabbing your ankle. "Let me see."

"It's not a pretty sight out there," you said, stubbornly trying to remove his hand. "Don't."

Your attempts were unsuccessful - if you could handle one of his hands, you couldn't handle two. Gojo pulled your leg out and rested it on his knee. "I actually exorcise curses," he announced smugly, rolling up your pant leg. "Do you have any idea how nasty they can look? I got one once, in the shape of a wormy di-"

"I got it!" you exclaimed, waving your free hand. "I got it, don't go on," you buried your face in your hand in embarrassment, and Gojo laughed softly.

Nudging your shin, he examined it. The usual calluses and a few sores - Gojo didn't feel anything nasty or repulsive. "Well," he drawled thoughtfully, looking around the ward. Gently placing your foot on the couch, he stood up and began rummaging through the drawers.

Even as you heard the sounds of searching, you couldn't move your hand away from your face. "What ya doing?" you mumbled in frustration.

The sounds and rumbling intensified - some things seemed to be flying to the floor. "Looking for ointment...," he muttered under his nose. A drawer door slammed. "Oh, found it!" you tried to disconnect from everything that was going on, but his hands, that once again encircled your shin and brought it back to his knee, stubbornly prevented you from doing so. "Hold still," if you didn't have your hands right now, you'd be staring at the ceiling. If you were forced to look, you'd be gouging your eyes out. You could feel Gojo gently circling certain places on your leg as if inspecting, and only then a cool sensation that dulled the pain. If the gel was so cold, why did you feel so warm?

You sighed in relief when he finally put your leg back on the bed, and you were about to pull your hand away from your face, but when Gojo started on the second one, you pressed your palm back with such force that you nearly evened the bridge of your nose with your eyes.

He'd never thought or suspected that such a thing existed - that he could touch a person so easily, and even when he touched the affected areas of they skin, he wouldn't be disgusted. On the contrary, Gojo wished you had at least two more of them on your feet.

You heard a smack. "What the hell?"

"A mosquito," he mumbled, rubbing his sore cheek and shaking his head as if to ward off that stupid thought in the form of that imaginary mosquito. "Uh, well...," he said quietly, slowly running his fingers down your calves from bottom to top, admiring the result. "I think that's it," despite the finished work, his palms, as if enchanted, couldn't get away from you.

Soft touches that dulled or took away all the pain, from blisters to days in the cold, godforsaken wasteland. You never knew that touches could be that gentle, and they could be like that fictitious pill that cured every disease - from slight to severe, from physical to mental, but no one had warned you about the side effects. Breathing became difficult, your lungs ached.

The more he touched you, the quieter the days he spent in your workroom in the clutches of loneliness and agonizing waiting seemed. He could feel all the cold that had accumulated in you on his skin. He desperately tried to banish it with his hands. Neither curses, nor demons, nor the forces of nature dared to touch you – just him and him alone.

When Gojo's hands were under your kneecaps, you shrieked and jerked up, a sharp pain hitting your forehead. "Fuck," you whimpered, rubbing the sore spot and leaning back against the pillow.

"Everyone in your family chooses violence, don't they?" he mumbled, and you immediately reacted to the sound, opening your eyes to find him sitting in front of you, his head tilted back and holding the bridge of his nose.

"God, I'm sorry!" you squeaked, but you didn't even have time to jump out of your seat, for he immediately plopped down beside you, throwing one arm over you, pinning you to the bed. "No blood? Lemme see," you rolled over onto your side in a way you regretted. Gojo's face was only a few inches away, and there wasn't even a hint of blood, though there was something red on his face. His cheeks. This state of affairs didn't suit him, so bringing his hand up to your face, he pinched your nose through your mask. "Hey, what for?" you muttered, sniffling quietly at the growing ticklish feeling.

"Wanted to," he snickered, and with a soft movement, he brushed the unruly strands of hair away from your face. Something tinkled, and you grabbed his arm. "Did ya get a new watch?" you asked, looking at it almost up close, not even noticing how his face was half sunk into the pillow in embarrassment, and Gojo was watching you with only one eye. You saw it, and that was enough for him.

Hearing him mutter something in agreement under his breath, you hummed thoughtfully, which made him even more nervous. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"No, it's nothing," you kept looking at his wristwatch, but with a furrowed brow. "I just have a feeling I've seen them somewhere before."

He pulled his hand away and hid it under the blanket. "Well!" he exclaimed. "That's a popular one, you know."

Gojo didn't dare to ask you if you liked it, foolish though it was, for fear of causing your suspicions. Nevertheless, he hoped you thought it beautiful, for in his mind you were destined to wear them. "Um...," you muttered, averting your gaze. "Is there anything else I should know about?"

"No," he answered quietly but firmly. "Really. I won't hide anything from you ever again," he leaned his forehead against yours, his hand stroking your lower back as if he knew that was where you were hurting.

"Then ya can ask your question again."

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but when he realized what you meant, he smiled in a way that made him look ten years younger. Even though you'd never seen him as a teenager, you felt like that's what he looked like in that bygone and almost forgotten time. "Do you wanna be my best friend?"

"I wanna be your best friend."

[June 1, 2020; 05:28am; hunters' hq, training field]

When it dawned, you realized what you had done. The entire area of grass in front of you had been torn up, but even that didn't make you spare the surviving blades of grass, and you glanced anxiously at your phone again. After you'd seen Kyle off, you sat down to wait for Rachel to return, but it was past five in the morning, and she was still gone.

What kept her so long? Knowing her character, you hoped she was all right, and memories of her combativeness turned your hope into faith. After all, you'd always thought that the more enemies she had around her, the stronger she'd become, but there was a rotten worm inside you, twisting and turning, reminding you that Rachel's fiery temper might someday fail her.

Unconsciously, you reached out to touch the grass and realized that all that was left was bare ground. You snorted irritably and moved a little to the side - there was still plenty of grass to torture, but as you reached out, you realized you couldn't see anything else.

You jumped to your feet and tried to open your eyes, but they closed back up as if in protest, trying to avoid the sharp pain. You turned from side to side, but you couldn't feel any danger, except for someone else's presence.

You rubbed your clenched eyelids with the back of your hands and tried to blink. You could see the silhouette, but more importantly, you could see a lock of red hair. It seemed you'd been thinking about something else, and you'd been so slow to catch the violet flash that you hadn't had time to cover your eyes, and you'd paid for it.

Wiping the tears from your lower eyelids, you tried to see your sister again. She was hobbling, her uniform cut and torn in places, and there was a huge laceration on her side. "Rach!" you alarmed, running closer to her. "Hey, hey," you picked up her falling head on your chest by the chin.

"Adoptee," she said softly, smiling with bloodstained teeth. "Ya alive, aren't ya?" your appearance seemed to give her a little strength - she smacked her forehead into the top of your head. "Ya've noticed too? There are too many loners," she gritted angrily through her teeth. "Look!" she raised her head and stared at you; there were tears in her eyes. "Look at that!" she sobbed, trying to reach her red tail with her hand and extend it in your direction. Part of it wasn't even cut off - it was torn off, like a bunch of old strings. "Look what those scums did to my hair!" she nervously and frantically tried to smooth her ponytail, but when she felt that all the strands were different lengths, she burst into tears. She didn't even seem to notice that there was some flesh missing from her side. "I'm gonna fucking kill 'em," she squeaked in a muffled voice. "And ya!" she tried to shove you away resentfully. "It's all 'cause of ya," she forced herself to say, wiping away nonstop tears with her hand. "If ya hadn't disappeared, I wouldn't be distracted by thoughts of ya, and none of this would be happening!"

You scooped her up by the waist, trying to stay out of the wound. "I know. I'm sorry," you mumbled guiltily, pulling her closer to the house. "Let's just go to the doc, 'kay?"

"Shove your apologies up your ass," she bellowed, but her body went limp in your arms - it felt heavy, but despite her words, she still seemed to rely on you.

***

You'd hoped that Rachel's injury would distract the doc for a while so he wouldn't harp on the fact that you should have stayed in the ward the whole time, and it had worked. Now you stood in front of the fridge, staring at the contents, trying to figure out what you could do to placate the big sister. Your stomach rumbled as you perused the bacon, shrimps, yogurt, and chocolate dragees. When you stopped your gaze at the fresh berries, you almost burst into tears. Maybe it was for the best that you couldn't eat them now - Rachel loved them, too.

You caught a glimpse of a silhouette sitting down at the dinner table. "Hey."

You glanced over your shoulder and noted the dark hair sticking out in all directions. "Hey," you greeted Megumi cheerfully. "Can't sleep?"

"Just used to getting up early," he said, shrugging indifferently. "Y/N?" he turned to you after a brief silence.

"Yeah?" you hummed, pulling out a package of berries.

"I... Um, I overheard that you found a settlement," he began awkwardly. You closed the refrigerator door abruptly - Megumi shuddered. You stopped in front of the boy, staring straight into his eyes. "I-I just thought, since I happen to be able to enter the void as well, maybe...," he fidgeted in his chair, trying to look away from you, but the bonds of your gaze were so strong that even a hunting knife wouldn't do the trick. "Maybe I can help you-"

"No," you replied sharply and headed for the infirmary door.

There was a rustling sound behind you and the sudden creaking of a chair. "I just wanna help. By taking me, you can carry more supplies for the people there," when you turned around, he was staring at the floor, but his fists were clenched. "I passed the isolation easily. Doesn't that prove I'm worth something?"

"It was an accident," you replied coldly.

"Whatever," he went on stubbornly. "Even so, but doesn't that mean I'm worthy?"

You grinned sarcastically, squinting your eyes. "Worthy of what? Getting kicked around in the cold wasteland? Such an honor."

"Saving people," he whispered and finally looked at you, and in his eyes lurked the answer.

"Megumi, what are ya talking about?" you worriedly said. "Ya're already saving them-"

A chuckle or a sob escaped his lips. "Really? How many people did I save while Sukuna was walking around in my body?"

The answer was voiced, but you remained adamant. "I got ya, but ya're still a teenager and there's still a lot ya can accomplish. Ya'll still have time to make things right. So... No. Sorry, but no," hoping that would be enough, you tried to walk away again - both from the boy and the conversation.

Megumi knew what he was doing was dirty, but he realized there was nothing else he could do. "Do you have the right to refuse?" Megumi's voice was firm. "You're supposed to train anyone who asks. You have an obligation," he was still drilling his gaze into your back. "Am I wrong? There are only four of you left," what a miracle - the firm voice suddenly trembled.

What a familiar song. What a familiar, annoying, ear-splitting song. Your nostrils must have flared at that tone. Or the truth that had just burned your ears. You turned around. Along with the boy, you saw his inner core. You stared at each other for a few more moments. Both of you stubborn as hell. "I should call him," you surrendered, reaching into your pocket.

"Don't," Megumi said almost pleadingly. "I wanna decide for myself this time."

"He's your guardian," you reminded him.

Megumi grinned bitterly. "His guardianship began and ended when he took me from the Zenin clan."

"Oh, really?" you inquired, arching an ironic eyebrow. "I take it food and clothes have been falling out of the sky for ya all this time?"

"You may be right," he nodded briefly. "But you can't say he loved me much."

"And ya?" you nodded defiantly toward the boy. "Did ya love him much?" Megumi looked at you perplexed as if you were speaking to him in a foreign language. He opened his mouth but didn't say a word, and with a shake of his head, he immediately closed it back up. "Okay, well...," you scrunched your forehead. "At six in the morning, I expect ya on the practice field. Ya'll run until you spit out your own lungs," your tone made Megumi shiver - as if the temperature in the room had plummeted. "And ya know what? Ya're already late," you barked before finally disappearing behind the infirmary doors.

Ryan and Axel had already run away from you, and they'd done it so fast that they'd probably already made it around the Earth and back to the starting point, while you and Megumi had barely run about seven miles. Even such a run was hard on your recovering body, but it seemed to be harder on the boy as you glared at him from time to time. Sweat was pouring from Megumi's flushed face, and he was forgetting how to breathe properly for such exertion. Something was crunching. Maybe it was the branches under your feet, or maybe it was your knees.

You always tried to find solace in those jogs through the forest, but not now, you were worried about Megumi. Did he take your words so seriously? He was clearly unwell. His legs had already buckled for the fifth time. "Hey," you called out to him quietly. "I've got a calf cramp, let's take a little break," you said, grabbing his shoulder with one hand and your side with the other, trying to catch your breath. He nodded silently, and you moved off the path a little, sitting down by the roots of one of the trees. "Thirsty?" you asked courteously, taking your backpack off your shoulders.

"Yeah," Megumi replied on an exhale. He'd been trying to hold back his own inhalations and exhalations the whole time, so that you wouldn't hear that he'd been crying inside for the last two miles, but he'd only trapped himself more - the lack of oxygen made his body protest harder, and his vision began to darken.

Megumi took the bottle from your hands and took a couple sips, trying not to be greedy. "Now, time for a little breathing exercise," you chirped, taking a seat across from him. "Come on, right with the noise. Inhale," you sucked in air so loudly and forcefully that you scared away a squirrel that had snuck up and was interested in you. When Megumi repeated after you, you exhaled just as much, expecting him to repeat after you.

After doing this a few more times, you noticed that Megumi was feeling better - though he was still glistening with sweat, the redness on his face was starting to fade. "There ya go," you said enthusiastically, sitting down next to him again. "Much better, wouldn't ya say?" you nudged his shoulder softly with yours.

Megumi twirled the water bottle in his hands thoughtfully. "I apologize for speaking to you like that," he said guiltily. "I just didn't know how else to affect you."

"It's fine," you replied indifferently, waving it away. "I just don't understand why ya'd wanna do that anyway."

"The cursed world gave me nothing," he lied, not even realizing he was lying. Sure, the cursed world had given him, and given him a lot, except that Megumi would probably give it all back for free. "And the desire to save people hasn't gone away, and most likely never will," he would no longer be able to plunge into the routine of ordinary life knowing the other side of it - dark and mysterious, as cruel as it is elusive to ordinary people.

These were the kind of people Megumi wanted to protect, wishing that they would never know what lurked behind that door without a doorknob.

"I just...," he began reservedly. "I just don't wanna feel helpless anymore, 'cause if I feel that way, how can I help others?" his restraint immediately broke along with his voice. "When Sukuna took over my body, I just wanted to die."

"I understand," you replied quietly, swallowing.

He smirked wistfully. "I'm sorry, but I doubt that. I remember everything. I was hurt. I was sick. And there was nothing I could do about it," he buried his face in his hands as if the past appeared from behind one of the trees, and it appeared in a most unpleasant guise.

"Let's do this," you said, slapping yourself on your legs. "I promise I'll train ya for a while, and in return, ya promise me to think less about all the bad things that have happened to ya. Deal?" you rubbed the top of his head affectionately.

"Deal," mumbled Megumi into his palms. "Only why 'for a while'? I can handle intense training too."

"You offered to help us," you pointed out. "Not to become a voidrunner."

"But-"

"Let's go home. Ya've had enough for today."

***

You'd already opened the door to the workroom, but you couldn't help but cast one last sympathetic glance at the boy. He was sluggishly shuffling his feet up the stairs, and his torso was as still as if it had been separated from his lower body - arms dangling tiredly along his body, his torso tilted, his head slumped against his chest. "Megumi," you called out to him, and Megumi stopped, though he didn't seem to find the energy to even turn in your direction. "I'll meet ya at the same place tomorrow morning at six," his head twitched, and you took it as a nod. You were about to leave him alone, but you remembered something. "Ya know, let's get together a little early, though," you shouted after him as he opened the door. "Come to my workroom at five, I need to take your measurements!" the door that slammed shut sharply only answered you.

When you finally entered the workroom, you froze like a dumbfounded deer before lights. Gojo was standing across from you, equally motionless and looking at you questioningly. "Ya're back already?" you inquired softly, watching his hand with the towel frozen at the back of his head - it looked like he'd just gotten out of the shower. "I, uh...," you swallowed nervously. "I can explain everything."

You flinched when he moved, so much so he had resembled a statue before. "Oh, come on," he smiled carelessly, stepping closer to you. You exhaled as Gojo walked past you. "I knew you were a thief, didn't I," his muffled voice came from the bathroom. Getting rid of the towel, he appeared before you again, but he didn't even glance in your direction. "So it was only a matter of time before you got to my students, too."

You watched helplessly as he passed by you and moved farther and farther away, and the doubt that it wasn't just about the growing distance between you in the workroom clenched and sought to explode in your soul. "Aren't you angry?"

"Me?" asked Gojo carelessly over his shoulder in your direction. "Angry. I'm so angry," he laughed softly, and you sat down on the edge of the bed, carefully making your way around the room. "At myself."

You waited for him to pay attention to you, and when you caught his gaze, you patted the spot next to you. Gojo hesitantly approached, and you unconsciously reached out to him, so relieved when you realized the distance between you was gone. He gently picked up your palm and sat down next to you. "So...," he began, hesitating. "Megumi has both cursed and dark energy now? That's how a generation grows up," he grinned wistfully, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "That's what I wanted, isn't it? I wanted to raise a generation of strong sorcerers. The kind that would be on par with me. No, even stronger. So strong that one day they could leave me behind."

"Why do ya say that?" you asked half-heartedly. "Why would they leave ya behind?"

"Why else do you think everyone needs me?" Gojo swallowed, looking at your intertwined hands. You were just now realizing how elaborate his ideas about human relationships were in his head, and if they were only there that would be half the problem, but something told you that there was a quiet but all-consuming chaos going on in his soul as well. "I screwed up even here, though. I was so consumed with realizing my own goal that I didn't even notice... No, rather, I forgot that my students were just kids. I was ready to kill anyone who would take their youth away from them, and I ended up taking it from them myself. I guess I really am a shitty teacher, so... Maybe Megumi would be better off with you," he unconsciously released your hand from his.

"Satoru, stop it," you commanded softly. "Ya are not your power. Ya're just a human being, and I think everyone realizes that."

"Oh, really?" snapped Gojo sarcastically. "You wanna say that if I didn't have this power, you'd let me strut around your workroom like this and you would put up with all my scattered stuff? Don't be ridiculous."

"But I've never seen your power," you whispered hurt. You'd heard rumors and stories like the ballads they write about heroes, but you'd only seen it once. In his fight with Sukuna, you'd only caught glimpses of tiny, evaporating drops of his power. Did he think you were holding on to something so ephemeral?

To be honest, he didn't think about it. He couldn't think of any other reason why you'd accepted him and why you'd tolerated him. Staying true to his habits, he couldn't say the words of apology out loud, but he relied on the touches - with any luck, they would say it all for him. "Ya said Megumi would be better off with me," you said into the top of his white hair as his hands tentatively held your waist. "But ya're wrong. He'll be better off with us."

The word 'us' made Gojo think of you and the other hunters, and he didn't even dare to get in between in those thoughts, but when your hands closed around his back, it was like opening all those doors he'd never been able to open. Behind those doors was a bright light, so vivid it hurt his eyes. He had no choice but to stay on one side of the door and burn with his regrets and unfulfilled hopes in that desperate flame, or to step forward and let it burn to the ground, but without him.

Gojo stepped through. Beyond that door was his future and it existed, it glowed, and it was right beside him.

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