#solitude: second chances | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wttcsms · 7 months

Text

as it was ; suguru geto.

pairing suguru geto x f!reader word count 4.2k synopsis suguru comes back, only to find that you've been waiting and wanting this whole entire time. content contains modern no curses!au, gojo's sister!reader, brother's best friend, creampie, pet names (good girl, baby), most of the fic is geto's introspection, possessive sex, mutual pining/longing author’s notes im not even horny for geto like that, but i wanted to write angsty smut abt spreading ur legs for a guy that left u & who else is better for this than geto <3

First words are always a bit tricky to get right, especially whenever he has to take into account that he essentially ghosted you a couple of years ago, after taking your virginity no less, and now he’s back in the godforsaken city he swore he was never coming back to, and he’s just at a loss about what to say and more importantly, how to say it.

He supposes an apology, for starters, would be a good first move. And maybe it would be, could be, should be, if only he wasn’t him and you weren’t you, and the two of you were not something so confusing and intricate that it’s hard to put into words and harder still to describe with emotions. The two of you are something raw and painful, both of you taking turns playing both sadist and masochist.

Even to himself, the extent of your relationship sounds twisted, but there was always an underlying purity to it, something that justified its existence. To this day, Suguru Geto is certain that you’re the only person who ever loved him for him, with a love so pure and just that he tries to hide it from everyone else before they can get their filthy hands on it and taint it, twist it into something it’s not.

Sorry I left won’t cut it, and Geto doesn’t even bother trying to come up with any other variations of apology because it’s not necessarily your forgiveness that he’s come back for. The opportunity to say “I’m sorry” and have it actually mean something has long since passed. All that’s left to say is the truth for why he left, which for some odd reason, seems even harder to do than his original disappearing act.

I missed you — that’s a slight improvement. It’s the truth, if not an understatement of it. He doesn’t regret leaving Tokyo, he just regrets leaving you. Which he could say, if you would actually open the door to face him.

He figures it’s what he deserves. He deserves worse, if he’s going to be entirely honest. He deserves a slap to the face, or a kick to his balls, or for you to tell him that you hate him, that you never want to see him ever again.

He knocks on your apartment door, harder this time, as if it’s something urgent. And maybe it is. He’s felt more like himself than he ever has after moving, but the solitude of the countryside got boring soon after, leaving him only with the ghosts from his past to keep him company. He thinks if he doesn’t see you, in the flesh, he might actually go insane.

He knocks again, only to be met with more silence and a door that’s starting to become more of a familiar sight than he would like. Fuck, what is he even doing? Showing up here was a bad idea to begin with, and it’s only seemingly getting worse by every agonizing second that ticks by. Even if you do open the door, there’s always the chance that you won’t let him get a single word in — that’d be the smart choice, anyway.

And you’re a bright girl, don’t get him wrong. Something about the Gojo bloodline makes your family incapable of producing anything less than prodigal sons and daughters. If you’re not proof of this fact, there’s your older brother.

Yet another reason why showing up here is such a shitty plan. Satoru will catch wind of his visit, and when he does, he’ll show no restraint in showing Suguru what all of his private boxing lessons are good for. A broken nose and missing tooth would be a fair exchange to see you for at least a second, though. A tradeoff that he doesn’t need to debate on.

You have to leave your apartment eventually. Suguru dances with the idea of just making camp outside your door and waiting for your stubbornness to fizzle out. It’ll be embarrassing, and your neighbors will surely have something to say about it, but it would be well worth it.

He hears the ding! of the elevator opening and human reflex causes his head to turn at the sound of the noise.

Oh.

The world becomes contradictory at this very moment. The air suddenly stills, but the atmosphere itself seems to come alive at the same time. Stagnant air, bursting with electricity and something awe-inspiring. Everything seems to slow down, but suddenly he’s acutely aware of just how alarmingly fast his heart is beating. It’s been a while since he’s last seen you, not even bothering to check up on your social media because he knows one DM from you would have him crossing the ocean to be back by your side.

The reason why you weren’t answering your door was simply because you weren’t even home. Relief floods his body, makes him less tense, only for him to stiffen up once more whenever his eyes trail over to the warm body awfully close to you.

Or maybe it’s the other way around, since you’re the one clinging onto him.

You and Kento Nanami both look like you two have seen a ghost, and all things considered, you wouldn’t be wrong.

“What are you doing here?” You’re the first to speak, with Nanami’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and it’s this closeness that’s the only thing Suguru finds himself able to focus on. It’s been years. He shouldn’t feel this way. You’re free to do whatever you want with whoever you want. It’s your life. He’s the one that chose to walk out of it, anyway.

“I just wanted to talk,” he answers. Which isn’t a lie. He wanted to talk. He wanted to fight and make up and fuck your brains out and beg for forgiveness and cook you breakfast in the morning and warm your bed, amongst other things, too. But, he figures the condensed version of his list will do, especially considering that three’s a crowd, and most of his itinerary was for your ears only. “Did I come at a bad time?”

You bite your bottom lip, slowly removing yourself from Nanami’s grip. Nanami looks at you first, concern evident in his warm eyes, eyes that you wish were just a bit darker and colder, so that they would be the ones you’re so accustomed to drowning in.

You like Nanami well enough. He’s kind and looks out for you, and sometimes you even consider making a move on him first since he’s too much of a gentleman to cross any boundaries. Then again, you don’t think Nanami sees you as anything more than a little sister, and the last time you fucked one of your brother’s best friends…

It’s why you just give Nanami a smile, one that tells him that you’ve got this under control. His facial expression doesn’t give any indication of what he’s thinking, but the glare he sends Suguru’s way says enough.

Suguru can appreciate the fierce protectiveness Nanami has towards you, but it doesn’t mean he likes it. Especially when it’s Suguru that’s considered to be the threat.

You move to unlock your door once Nanami makes his reluctant exit, and when you enter your apartment, you conveniently don’t shut the door. Suguru trails behind you.

You turn on the lights, your living room and kitchen blending together in an open-floor plan, bathed in the stark, white lights hanging from your high ceilings. Your apartment, at least what Suguru can see of it, is tastefully decorated. Courtesy of your mother, he’s sure. He would ask about her, ask how she’s doing, but he figures now’s just not the right timing.

It doesn’t seem to be the right timing for anything he wants to say. He wants to mention that he’s thought about you, thought about reaching out — sometimes to explain himself, and other times just to discuss the mundane aspects of life — but he thinks that would be even worse than apologizing. It would be cruel of him to dangle this information in your face, haunt you with the knowledge that all this time, he’s truly been avoiding you. Knowing you, you would have questioned him on why he didn’t bother reaching out, and he would have been stuck admitting that it’s simply because he was too scared that you wouldn’t answer.

“Want a drink?” You ask him, back facing him as you peer into your fridge. He catches a glimpse of shiny glass bottles, water bottled in Europe and with the optimal pH balance, he’s certain of it. His throat feels a bit dry, but he tells you no.

“I drank enough water on the drive up here,” he tells you, which again, isn’t a lie. Suguru feels a bit pleased with himself, even if it is a bit narcissistic of himself for expecting a pat on the back for doing something so simple. He supposes it’s just because he’s gotten so used to never being honest with himself — or others, for that matter — so his current streak for telling the truth seems like something to celebrate.

“I didn't drink enough.” You say, and he can’t tell if it’s alcohol you’re talking about or water. You’re a lightweight; yet another trait that seems to be passed down the Gojo family. That explains Nanami escorting you home, then.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I found you?” Suguru helps himself to taking a seat on the white couch in your living room. Because there’s no walls separating the two different spaces, he can still look at you from this position as you rest your elbows on your kitchen’s island, as if needing the support.

“If you wanted me to know, you’d let me know.” It’s the way you say it that reveals that this comment isn’t made just in reply to his current question, but for everything else Suguru was going to follow it with. Don’t you want to know where I went? Don’t you want to know why I left?

It’s amazing what humans are capable of. Nearly six years since the two of you have lost contact — since Suguru broke all contact — and yet, you can still read him just as well as he can read you. You see him for what he is, not whatever mask he wants to disguise himself with, and it’s scary, he thinks. Scary to be seen by someone. And nice. It’s nice to have someone know you’re a monster and still not run away.

He’s not quite sure what that says about you.

“It’s a bit of a funny story.” He says, trying to steer this conversation to a more lighthearted tone even though the two of you are nowhere close to feeling light and the jury’s still out on whether or not Suguru Geto has a heart. “You don’t need the reminder, but don’t ever tell Mei Mei a secret you want to keep.”

The mention of your shared friend — if Mei Mei can even be considered one — makes the corners of your pretty mouth tilt upward. Mei Mei was born with a silver spoon, but the running joke is that it wasn’t in her mouth because she bartered with the doctor and blackmailed him into giving her a gold one. If you have the funds, Mei Mei has the information you’re looking for.

She’s the only number Suguru saved in his phone contacts, and it’s only because he knew that if he needed anyone else’s number, Mei Mei would readily give it after her Venmo request goes through.

“Of course she would tell you my address.” You say, but you don’t sound upset at all. Just amused, like this whole situation is something endearing, and you don’t harbor any ill feelings towards either of them, even though both Suguru and Mei Mei technically violated your trust. Suguru more so than Mei Mei, but, well, semantics.

“Aren’t you mad?” The “at me” is unspoken.

“Mei Mei is a free spirit.” It’s a joke, and Suguru makes a sound from his throat that resembles a laugh. Mei Mei may do whatever she wants, but nothing about her comes free.

He knows you know what he was actually asking. He’s been trying to gauge your reaction to everything he says, trying to see if you hate his guts or not.

“I missed you.” You tell him suddenly, and while he’s imagined those words coming out of your mouth, it still shakes him up a bit. It’s hard constantly posturing as if he’s cool and collected, nothing ever bothering him, his body and expression never betraying him. But it’s his heart that gives him away, and it’s heart that you hold, and no matter what face he puts on, he knows that you’ll know what the words he won’t say are.

“Don’t apologize.” You continue, closing the distance between you two and opting to take a seat next to him. There’s about six inches of space separating you two. The distance shapeshifts in his mind, sometimes becoming mere millimeters and sometimes feeling more like there’s an ocean between you both.

The sorry was on the tip of his tongue and it traveled all the way there from his heart. It would be a waste of a journey for him to not say it, but he’s certain the apology would do more harm than good, even if it is genuine.

Suguru stands out against the stark white of your apartment. Your mom likes the aesthetic of it, and since it’s your parents’ money, you merely shrugged and let her do whatever she wanted. In his black pants and black sweatshirt, he looks almost out of place in your home.

The thought that he doesn’t belong makes your heart hurt more than the burn of the alcohol from tonight going down your throat.

You don’t waste time wondering where Suguru went because for all intents and purposes, you never even knew where he came from to begin with. You knew him since you were children; your favorite out of all your brother’s friends because it was always Suguru who let you tag along and trail behind them. No one really knows much about Suguru’s life, his past, present, and future all a big blur to anyone but himself. From the way he slowly turns to face you, dark eyes meeting yours, you start to think of the possibility that maybe not even Suguru is an open book with himself.

Suguru looks like a shadow, standing out from the brightness of everything that is surrounding him in your living room. You want to ask him the questions that plague your mind ever since he’s been gone, but you don’t, because you’re scared he is a shadow. One wrong move, and he just disappears from your grasp once again.

There are the hard-hitting questions, of course. The ones that search for why he left and why he told no one and why he didn’t bother taking you. Then there are the gentler ones that would still require him to rip himself open and bare himself to you, things like how’s your new place and meet anyone interesting? You feel his gaze travel from your eyes to the slope of your nose and the apples of your cheek, downward to your lips. The intensity of his stare makes you nervously lick your lips, a tiny, quick action, but his eyes greedily take in the sight of the tip of your pink tongue casually making an appearance, only to retreat behind your pretty pink, glossed lips.

“Are you mad that I came back?” Suguru finds himself taking the role of interviewer, since it’s evident to the two of you that you know better than to bother asking him any questions. He feels like you’re treating him a bit like a stray cat, all cautious and scared of provoking him or forcing him to run away. He wants to tell you that this is not the case and that he actually plans on staying this time around, but he hasn’t entirely convinced himself yet, so he’s not going to break your heart with any more empty promises.

“No. Like I said, I missed you.” He wants to be able to blame your honesty on account of you being drunk, but he knows that you’ve just always been honest to a fault.

“You shouldn’t.” He tells you this, and you scoff. Probably because Suguru is the last person who should be giving any sort of life advice.

“Guess what I’m thinking.” You say, and Suguru feels something come alive from within, like he’s been frozen for the past six years, and the more he gets to bask in the warmth of your presence, the more he starts to defrost. There’s not a single hint of anger or malice in your tone, just the familiar, lighthearted, girlish tone of yours.

“That you think I’m a creep and want me to get the hell out.”

You frown, rolling your eyes, tucking your feet beneath you to get more comfortable on the couch.

“I’m thinking about that last time you told me I shouldn’t be doing something.” There’s a gleam in your bright eyes that clearly spells out desire, and Suguru is very, very close to defrosting. In fact, there’s a heat that’s beginning to settle deep in him, and maybe he should know better than to indulge in it, but it’s been years, and you are sitting here in front of him, pretty and fresh, and his hindbrain takes the driver’s seat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he does know, and he knows that you know that he knows, just as you seemingly know everything about him. Maybe not about his childhood — or lack, thereof — or what he’s been up to, but you know the important stuff. The things that make him tick and all the words he fails to say. Three words. Three words that he doesn’t think he’ll ever muster enough courage to say to you, but from the look in your eyes, you already know.

“I’ll jog your memory.”

And suddenly, your lips are pressed against his. You’re kissing him, and like the lovesick fool he is, he’s kissing you back. It’s pure muscle memory, maybe even animal instinct. He thought that leaving Tokyo was the right thing to do, and for the most part, it was, but with your lips perfectly melding with his own, he thinks that leaving was stupid.

Making out is such a juvenile ordeal, but he relishes in it because Suguru feels like he’s spent most of his youth trying to outrun it, and now he’s trying to take advantage of what his boyhood should have consisted of. The kisses are now bordering on sloppy and hazy, and somehow, you end up straddling his lap. He’s hard, and he should be embarrassed at popping a boner just from wet kisses, but it’s you. You have an effect on him that no one else does. His Achilles. The one weakness only he can feel.

Suguru knows that he is not a good person because a good person doesn’t go behind their best friend’s back and fucks their little sister. He had told, thirty minutes before introducing you to the feeling of his cock stretching you out, that the two of you shouldn’t be doing that. Suguru knows that he is not a good person because he cannot be any happier at the fact that history has a funny way of repeating itself. Six years later, and the two of you are back in a similar position.

You’re starting to rut against him, your dress riding up your thighs and exposing more of your skin to him. Suguru helps himself to handfuls of your soft flesh, squeezing in a manner that can’t be defined as gentle, but he loves how you take him as he is without any sort of complaint. All you do is let out a low moan, your pantyclad pussy grinding against his equally clothed bulge.

Your movements are a bit desperate, frenzied. You’re getting lost in pleasure already, and he hasn’t even done much to elicit such a reaction. The idea that only he can get you this riled up with doing so little makes him impossibly harder, and he looks down, realizing that you’re so soaked, your panties are practically translucent.

The two of you have the option of taking things slow, but neither of you want to do that. When you spend some time starving, you don’t savor the meal, you scarf it down.

That’s what the two of you are — hungry, greedy — as you both hastily strip as much clothing as you can bear to spend time getting out of. Your minidress is tossed carelessly on the living room floor, and Suguru can only bother with unzipping his pants and pushing down his briefs just enough to free his cock.

The intrusion of the tip of his cock entering your wet, needy cunt is less of an intrusion and instead akin to something rightfully returning to where it belongs. Your hands are tangled in his hair, and he relishes this feeling. This wholeness, this concept of being complete.

The inviting warmth of your pussy makes him want to cum right on the spot, but he can’t waste it. He’s spent years pining after you, missing you, and he wants you to feel like the time apart had been worth it.

“I missed you.” This time it’s him who makes the admittance. You tighten up at this confession, and it evokes a low groan from him, almost as if you had forced the sound to come from all the way down his throat.

“I know.” You gasp out, not able to speak clearly with how deep Suguru is hitting. Your living room is filled with the wet clicks and slaps of skin against skin, your juices coating his cock every time he pulls out.

The vein on the underside of his cock rubs against your walls, and the slight curve of it enables him to hit that gummy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. You’ve never given much thought to cocks, but you know that Suguru’s is the prettiest of them all.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He grunts out, lips brushing against the soft skin of your neck before biting down; gentle enough not to draw blood, sharp enough to still leave a mark. You rock against him, hips moving in tandem with his thrusts, the steady hum of pleasure continuously building up in your lower belly. You are dizzy with pleasure; blanketed in it, being spoon fed it.

He doesn’t need you to say it to know it’s true, but you moan it out anyway, both to appease him and because there’s a sort of pride in knowing that you belong to him.

“I’m yours. I belong to you.” The words are separated, punctuated, by the little gasps for air you give out because with every word, he thrusts up even harder, hitting that special spot that will have you cumming all over him, making a mess.

“Yeah?” It comes out sounding like a shaky breath, and he’s close, you know it, you can feel it.

Calloused pads belonging to fingers much larger than yours are being pressed against your clit. You’re soaked, and the dryness of his hands combining with your overall slickness gives way to delicious friction that has you cumming with his name as a broken moan filtering through your swollen lips.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. Good fucking girl.” He mutters, relishing in the way your walls tighten, spasm, clenching and unclenching sporadically as your body loses its energy and you press yourself up against his chest.

He follows after just a few more sloppy thrusts, the last one forcing himself as deep inside of you as possible. His cum is hot and thick, and it’s filling you to the brim. If he pulls out now, it’ll flood out of you, and the thought is both sad and hot at the same time. You want his cum inside of you, to serve as a reminder that this is real, that he’s real.

But seeing the physicality of him staking his claim, white seed dripping out of you, turns you on. Him, too, with the look of fascination and boyish wonder he has in his eyes as he stares at how the two of you are connected.

Before he can bother with confirming a round two, a sharp knock on the door has the two of you comically jumping a bit in surprise, both of you glancing at the door and then at each other.

“[Name], I know you’re in there!” You freeze.

Satoru.

Suguru wants to try to calm you down, whisper to you that everything’s going to be fine, but the anger laced in his best friend’s — former best friend’s — voice is enough to make him freeze up, too. Not just his icy tone, but what he says.

“I know you’re back, too, Suguru.”

#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #one shot #jjk x reader #jjk smut #angst #drabble #imagine

2K notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 11 months

Text

The Best Kept Secret on the Grid || Part Three

MV, CL, CS, LH, LN, PG x fem!reader Warnings: primal play, smut, oral, cumplay, mxm, foursomes WC: 3.1k

F1 Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

You asked, I answered - love Ollie xxx

Gentle waves lapped against the yacht as it was moored in the bay of the private island Max had hired for the week. Your morning had been spent enjoying the ocean spray and the sun with Max navigating the pristine waters of the Mediterranean before you had convinced him to leave the captain's chair and join you on the top deck.

It was lucky there was nothing around for miles or the boat might have run aground when he saw you were sunbathing nude because he didn’t make it back to the steering wheel for quite some time.

“I have a surprise,” Max said as he helped you step off the boat and onto the pier that led to the waterfront villa.

Your already bright smile grew as a quad bike came down the beach and you grew impatient as Max failed to explain anything further. “Well, don’t leave me hanging,” you urged him. “What’s the surprise?”

“You’ll find out,” he teased before grabbing your hips and lifting you onto the back of the quad driven by one of the staff that maintained the villa. “Everything you need is in the backpack.”

He tipped your head back and crushed his lips to yours, nipping your bottom one as he pulled away smirking. “I’ll see you soon.”

You would have opened the backpack to try and figure out what was happening but the ATV revved and your hands were preoccupied with grabbing the handles as you were sequestered away. The ride was nowhere near as smooth as the yacht had been on the sea and you bounced around as the man Max had entrusted your safety to left the beach and drove inland, deep into the forest you had yet to explore.

“Nous voilà. Bonne chance,” he said as he stopped in a clearing with a small lake. Your French may have been limited but even you knew ‘goodluck’ when you heard it and you frowned as you hopped out of the offroad vehicle, grabbing the backpack before he left again.

“What the hell, Max,” you muttered as you were left alone and the sound of the bike was replaced with birdsong.

There were staff all over the island, topping up supplies in the villa and maintaining the land, but they were very adept at keeping to the shadows to give you the privacy that was expected with your stay. You only hoped they were somewhere nearby as you took a seat at the edge of the water and opened the backpack to see an envelope with your name on it.

We know how much you love the chase and you know we love the competition, so while you and Max were off island we snuck on. For each hour you escape us, another joins the hunt. Goodluck, Charles, Lewis, Carlos, Checo, Lando, Fernando, Pierre & George.

Your heart jumped at the thrill they offered and you opened the bag open further to see some warm clothes to go over the swimsuit you still wore along with shoes, food and water, as well as a map and compass. You unfolded the map first and saw there were places marked that offered more supplies before checking your watch. It was a little after noon and with sunset tending to be just before 9pm you could see yourself enjoying the night with all of them, if you could evade them for nine hours.

It didn’t escape your notice that the names were in the same order of the driver standings and you knew it wasn’t going to be an easy task hiding from them on the island. It wasn’t that large but the forest offered the best chance with its cover so you pulled on the clothes and packed the bag up again before setting off into the bush, keeping your heading north with the compass.

The first hour passed quickly with you looking over your shoulder every ten seconds but the second hour grew a little tiresome as the initial burst of adrenaline retreated and the solitude of the dense trees left you going stir crazy.

By late afternoon you knew Max, Charles, Lewis and Carlos were definitely about with Checo likely already having joined them too. It was Carlos’ laugh that alerted you to their proximity and you daren’t breathe as you dropped to the ground and rolled under a thicket of bush. Your ears pounded as your heart rate spiked and blood pumped furiously around your body. Excitement of the chase warred with the need to get caught and it took all your self control to keep still as they passed your hidden position.

“Sucks to be you, mate,” Carlos teased, “you’ll be fighting your own brother for her next season.”

The thought of sharing the Leclerc brothers stoked the fire igniting in your body and your thighs pressed together tightly.

“Do you see any Alfa Romeo drivers here?” Charles shot back.

“He makes a very good point,” Max said with a laugh. “But if you were champion you wouldn’t have to fight anyone.”

“Yeah,” Charles scoffed and you could picture him shaking his head.

“It’s not impossible to do, fucking difficult, don’t get me wrong, but not impossible,” Lewis noted as their voices faded off with the snaps of sticks under their boots.

The last thing you heard was Checo suggesting splitting into smaller groups to cover more area and the others agreeing, you didn’t hear who teamed up with who.

Another two hours had passed by the time you reached the northern beach of the island, long shadows chasing the retreating tide as the temperature started dropping. It was quite the relief to find that a glamping tent had been set up and inside was a warm meal as well as more clothing and there was even a solar shower after all the walking you had done. There was no way you were going to pass up the chance to have a hot shower and quickly stripped off your clothes before stepping under the refreshing water.

If you weren’t so tired from the unexpected exercise the afternoon brought you might have questioned how the meal was hot or why the tent wasn’t on the map.

“Well, well, look who wandered in,” Pierre chuckled as he stepped into the tent with a towel hung low on his hips, George at his side with wet hair and a grin on his lips. “This is a surprise.”

You froze as you realised this wasn’t a supply tent for you but where the guys were waiting for their time to join the hunt. “Fuck,” you cursed and stepped out from under the spray of water to grab a towel.

“No need to cover up, love,” George tutted as crossed the distance in two long strides and blocked the shelf full of them. “I quite like you as you are.”

You looked at his watch and bit your lip at the heat of his stare. “You’re not playing yet.”

His thumb caught a drop of water clinging to your bottom lip and your nipples peaked as the air cooled around you. “I never play when it comes to you.”

Pierre watched with an amused look as he sat back on the bed that had been made with the same neatness as the beds in the villa. “It’s kind of a shame you’re here really, I was looking forward to hunting you down.”

Your chest rose and fell with quick breaths as you enjoyed the same thought. “You could let me go, there’s still five minutes.”

His head tilted as he pondered the decision but your attention was torn when George’s knuckles traced your jawline before trailing down your neck and over your collarbone, a soft sigh parting your lips at the touch.

“Tempting,” George muttered, “but we can hardly let you walk out of here when you look at us like that.”

A shiver rolled down your spine as your tired muscles were refreshed with an injection of adrenaline and a smile played at your lips. Unable to help yourself, you grabbed George’s hips and rose on your tiptoes to brush your lips across his cheek. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

Your fingers curled into his towel and pulled it from his hips as you ran out of the tent, Pierre’s deep laugh promising retribution as it followed you out. “Four minutes, chérie!”

Your feet were flying as you sprinted off the beach and back into the treeline knowing Pierre would be hot on your heels the moment the hour clicked over. You checked your watch to see how much time was left and cursed as you remembered taking it off to shower.

You didn’t have a single clue what direction you were heading, all you wore was George’s towel and the low sun barely saturated the canopy of leaves overhead. Realistically, you weren’t sure you could outrun the guys for another hour to get your share of them all but you kept trying.

Your lungs burned and your bare feet hurt but you kept your head down and kept moving before bursting through the tree line into a clearing, crashing into the back of someone. You both fell to the ground with a surprised shout and he managed to wrap his arms around you before the impact came but the towel managed to come free. Rolling on top of him, you straddled his waist and pinned his shoulders down.

“Got you.”

Charles' stunned expression only lasted a second before he grinned. “The hunter becomes the hunted.”

“Where are your clothes?” Max asked as he picked up the towel and you saw Carlos in the clearing too, the trio making up one of the teams they split into.

You dragged your eyes up the length of his body and licked your lips. “Why, want me to cover up?”

“No fucking way, hermosa,” Carlos replied quickly as he took the towel from Max and balled it up before throwing it back into the bush. “This is perfect.”

“You look cold,” Charles commented as he pushed himself up on his elbows to flick his tongue over your nipples and a needy whine poured from you. “I think between the three of us we can warm you up.”

Your mind went blank at the promise of being between them and your hips rocked over his in search of friction. “Please…”

Carlos was already shucking his jacket and ripping his belt out of the loops with a sharp snap so he could kick off his jeans while Max was content to lean against a tree, arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold before him.

Your head fell back with a cry when Charles bit the swell of your breast and your knees tightened around him in response to the bolt of lightning you felt in your core. “Fuck, I missed those sounds,” he groaned as he pulled away before tugging you up his body and positioning your cunt over his lips. “Not as much as I missed how you taste.”

The heat of his breath blowing across your core was nothing compared to his tongue as he tasted you for the first time in weeks and your jaw fell slack with a moan.

“That’s it, baby, open wide,” Carlos praised, his fist pumping slowly up and down his cock as stepped closer.

There was something wild and freeing with being lost in the middle of a remote island, the scents of the earth and natural light colliding with the dominant energy rolling off the men. And knowing there were even more of them out there searching for you made you feral with need.

Your lips sealed around Carlos and your nails dug into his ass as you pulled him closer, burying him down your throat until you gagged. His hand found its way to the back of your head and he held you there as your eyes watered and you almost had to tap out.

“Dios mío,” he moaned as he watched you gasp for air before taking him once again, tears staining your cheeks.

Your legs began to tremble around Charles and he moaned as your arousal ran down his chin. The tension that had been building all day finally peaked and stars danced around your vision as Charles’ tongue and Carlos’ cock found the perfect rhythm.

Carlos grinned as your eyelashes fanned across your cheeks, droplets glistening along them while your throat tightened around him. “That’s a good girl,” he praised and wrapped his large hand around your throat to feel your struggles with his size.

Your orgasm shattered every inch of you and your cries were smothered as Carlos’ hand tightened, his hips thrusting forward as he joined you. His taste filled your mouth and you hummed as it ran down your chin before you climbed back down Charles' body and saw the mess on his face.

“Open your mouth, Charles,” Max said with a smirk as he pushed off the tree and knelt beside him. Charles obeyed in an instant but Max wasn’t satisfied as he caught his chin and opened his mouth wider. “Go on, baby, he’s dying for a taste too.”

You leaned forward and parted your lips, letting the thick stream of cum flow into Charles’ mouth before he pulled you down and shared the taste on your tongue with a deep groan.

“How was your warm up?” Max asked as he lifted you off Charles. Your feet touched the ground and though they were a little weak from the orgasm they seemed stable enough.

“Warm up?”

Max checked his phone and chuckled before he slapped your ass. “Run, rabbit, run.”

Carlos’ laugh echoed Max’s from where he was pulling his boxers back up his thick thighs. “Here come the wolves.”

Two British accents caught your attention from somewhere in the trees and everyone turned to the sound but while they were distracted you bolted in the opposite direction, your legs bumbling like a newborn fawn. You barely made it fifty yards before a pair of strong arms caught you and you let out a surprised scream as the ground disappeared from under your feet.

Your already smarting ass took a fresh smack from Lewis’ large hand and you moaned as the heat spread across your skin. Peering up from where you had been tossed over his shoulder, you smiled as Lando caught up with his own lopsided grin.

“Hey gorgeous,” he greeted before Lewis turned around to say something to him but Lando was a little distracted. “Oh, hello gorgeous.”

His lips felt refreshingly cool against the handprints burning backside and you fell limp against Lewis’ back with a sigh at how good it felt. The upside down world starting to spin when Lewis held your legs apart so Lando could fuck you with his fingers and you quickly got lightheaded from it all.

“Tu vas bien?”

You worked hard to push yourself up to see Pierre had found you with his trademark smirk painted on his face and you gave him the thumbs up as your lips parted with another breathless moan. “Just exploring the island.”

“So I see,” he chuckled as he circled around you. “Heads or tails?”

“Heads,” Lewis called before Pierre tossed a coin in the air and slapped it down on his hand, Lewis’ deep laugh vibrating through you at the result. For a second you were almost airborne before he caught you and lowered your feet back to the ground to see the damp mark on his shirt. His smile was one of pure indulgence as he held your eyes and lifted the material to his lips and tasted you with a hum of satisfaction. “On your knees, babygirl.”

Your fingers worked his belt open and pulled his cargo pants down as you sank to your knees, your hand wrapping around his thick cock before you wet your lips. A pair of hands gripped your hips and you moaned around your mouthful as Lando pulled you back to meet his thrust.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, gorgeous,” Lando groaned happily.

Needing to breathe, you pulled back with a gasp and peeked over your shoulder to see Pierre pressed against Lando’s back and your core clenched as both of their eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.

“Oh my fuck,” you moaned as a delightful shiver spread across your body and Pierre placed his hands over Lando’s, holding your hips too as he set the pace.

“You like that, babygirl?” Lewis asked with a knowing smile as he ran a thumb over your swollen lips. “You want to watch them too?”

You nodded eagerly and tongue lashed across the pad of his thumb before you sucked it into your mouth and his chest rose quickly with the deep breath he took. He pulled you away from Lando, the emptiness only lasting a moment as he spun you around to face them and stretched your cunt as he snapped his hips forward.

Your hands braced on Lando’s chest and he stole the startled cry by crushing his lips against yours. You broke away breathless and your head fell back to rest in the crook of Lewis’ neck.

“Open your eyes,” Pierre ordered and they snapped open at the command to meet his over Lando’s shoulder.

Your eyes trailed down Lando’s body to where Pierre was stroking his hard length smoothly thanks to your arousal slick on his palms. You could hardly breathe as Lewis matched their pace, his tattooed hand reaching around you to find your clit.

“Uh-uh, eyes, chérie.”

Heat spread up your spine and tremors followed as the pleasure built to breaking point. It was the deep moan that Lando made as he came that tipped you over the edge and your fingers gathered the cum that warmed your skin so you could taste him too.

“Oh, babygirl,” Lewis moaned in your ear before spanking his palm across your ass. “You’re so tight, I can’t even, ugh,” his words were lost to his bliss as he rolled his hips slowly, milking every last drop that had begun to leak down your thighs.

“Putain,” Pierre swore as saw the delicious mess that had been made and slammed his dick into Lando one last time before spilling his own.

For a moment the clearing was silent except for the heavy breathing from all the exertion but then a slow clap started and Max, Charles and Carlos stepped out from the trees.

“Please don’t make me run again,” you panted from where you were sitting on Lewis’ lap, a sheen of sweat coating your skin. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“You’re welcome,” Lewis chuckled low in your ear.

“Luckily, the villa is just through those trees,” Max said as he pointed behind you and sure enough there were lights when you looked properly. “You, my little rabbit, have earned a bit of recovery time. After all, we have all night.”

Click here for part four.

Tagging: @slytherheign @alwaysclassyeagle @godess-of-mist @leahstf @mydutchproblem

#formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 smut #formula one smut #the best kept secret on the grid #m x m #max verstappen x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #lewis hamilton x you #carlos sainz x reader

2K notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 6 months

Text

a lesson in forgiveness.

The puppet’s plan to save you by deleting himself from the world did not work. You were dead and would remain dead for all of eternity. You were never to be given a second chance, yet he received one, now going by the name Wanderer.

Wanderer had begun to heal, very, very slowly from not only your death but his own past life with the help of the Dendro Archon, but there was not a day where Wanderer didn’t think of you. Sometimes for a little while, sometimes for a long time. Though Wanderer had always kept your gift close to him. The comb you had given him had endured throughout time, not without challenges though. You had given it to him as a good luck charm before he set off on that fateful day. Some of the teeth had been chipped or even broken off. Wanderer always treated it with the utmost care, but time is everything’s greatest enemy, even to immortals.

More recently, Wanderer had decided to create a small doll of you. It was necessary for him, it was a way to cope and come to terms with your death. He remembers centuries ago, you said you had always wanted to see the world. To leave the little village you called home and see Teyvat for yourself. It’s not the same, but perhaps this could be some sort of atonement for letting you die. You’ll be able to see the beautiful sights that he sees with him. Maybe that would make you happy, wherever you were. He would not tell anyone how much time he put into it, for it was an embarrassingly long time. Every stitch and every detail was planned carefully, even making multiple pairs of clothing for you. He didn’t often use them though, but perhaps it was a way to keep his mind off other things.

Nowadays, Lesser Lord Kusanali had begun to assign him to some bothersome tasks, which he reluctantly carried out. Though, it was mostly a front. He didn’t mind as much as he grunted and scoffed about it. And, Wanderer knows without a doubt that you would adore Nahida. So, he really didn’t mind being the Archons’s shadow. Ah, and the Aranara too, you would absolutely fawn over them. If he was Kabukimono, he would too.

But right now he was taking a break at his usual local cafe. This had become a sort of routine for Wanderer. It was nothing out of the ordinary now. Plus, the coffee here was not bad. The puppet was enjoying his solitude, away from the noise of others when a voice broke his tranquility.

“Hello, is this seat taken?” Wanderer's eyebrow twitched at the disturbance. Couldn’t this person read the room? He thought it would be quite obvious that he preferred to be left alone. He cracked an eyebrow open to retort the person but the sight of them made every part of his body freeze up, and the words died in his throat. This couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. If he were holding his cup of coffee, he would have dropped it.

For you were standing in front of him again.

There were not many times Wanderer has been left speechless, for he always has some kind of response to everything, but not this time. What could he say, when confronted with the love of his life after over four hundred years of their death?

“Hello?” You tilted your head, beckoning for a reply. A nervous but genuine smile eased its way onto your lips. “Would you mind if I sat here with you?” Wanderer forced himself to regain his composure.

“…Do what you want.” That came out harsher than the puppet wanted it to, but his stern way of speaking had long been the norm for him.

“Okay, thanks,” you smiled once again, tension in your shoulders leaving as you pulled out the chair. That smile of yours. That smile was all too familiar. Every part of his body was debating the possibility of this being you. Oh, how he longed for it to be you, but he couldn’t be sure that this was you. It must be just an uncanny resemblance to the you from centuries ago. Because you, [Name], were dead, and you were never coming back.

You began to search through your bag, looking for something. He got a peak of the contents, and there lay some Lavender Melon wrapped up to savor later for a snack. He gritted his teeth at the similarities before deciding to study you more. Your clothes had traditional aspects of Inazuma but also incorporated some styles from Sumeru. Perhaps you were on a trip? His question wasn’t left unanswered for long.

“You know, this is my first day in Sumeru. It’s so much bigger and livelier than I thought,” you hummed happily. “So I thought, the first thing I should do was try some of the local food! I heard it’s quite delicious,” you grinned again finding the Mora pouch in your bag. Then a look of realization appeared on your face. “Oh! How silly of me, rambling to a complete stranger. I’m [Name], by the way.”

[Name].

[Name]. The name that had haunted and lingered with him for so long, had come back to the present day. Wanderer’s breath hitched as he could not help but feel a wave of emotions at the reality of the situation. You were back. You were alive again, happy and smiling, looking as if nothing had changed at all. Granted, there were still a few small differences from your past self, but it was wholly and authentically you. [Name]. There was no denying it, and he found himself boring his eyes into your figure. You were still so pretty, so attractive, your beauty not changing throughout time. The way you furrowed your eyebrows as you read through the menu, licking your lips in anticipation of digging into some yummy cuisine.

Wanderer wonders if you still like to cook, the same way the old you loved to. He wonders if you’ll recognize the techniques the old you taught him, how to cut and peel vegetables. Wanderer does it with ease now, no longer cutting his fingers clumsily as Kabukimono did. He wonders if you’d like his own cooking. Much of his knowledge of cooking came from you. He wants to see your face light up in excitement as you relish and praise him for how good he’s gotten without you. If he cooked you the same foods you ate together from those days, how would you react? If he showed you the comb, would you remember? If you remembered, would you forgive him for how he let you die all those years ago? Wanderer’s mind was overloaded with questions.

He had gone through unspeakable things, but he was extremely strong now, at least stronger than Kabukimono. Wanderer thinks you’ll never be hurt ever again, not by any Treasure Hoarders, Fatui, Kairagi, Nobushi, Hilichurls, or whatever other monsters Teyvat has to offer. No, so long as he watched over you from afar, you would never be injured. But, he questions himself, does he truly deserve this opportunity? No, the better question was, do you deserve to have to deal with him, with him being the person he is now? You looked perfectly fine without him, oblivious to the way he had been suffering for so long after your death. Oblivious to the sins that coated his hands. At the very least, you didn’t meet him while he was Scaramouche. He probably would not have been a good lover to you back then. Your voice interrupted his thoughts.

“This is my first time trying Sumeru’s coffee. Is it good?” His chest panged once again at how similar your words were spoken now as compared to a few hundred years ago. Wanderer remembers the exact moment, in the bath when you spoke about trying Sumeru’s coffee with him, as if it was yesterday…

“It’s alright,” Wanderer kept his tone neutral despite his thoughts.

“Oh really? Is it bitter or sweet?”

“Neither, it is a good balance. But… I always ask for mine to be extra bitter,” Wanderer admitted to you. Normally, he would never have even entertained a conversation with a stranger, but in a way, you were not a stranger to him.

“Extra bitter, huh? And that doesn’t bother you? Interesting,” you smiled, gaining interest in the conversation as you leaned in closer to him. “I don’t think I could ever handle that!” Wanderer knew that already. In Tatarasuna, you could never stomach the taste of such bitterness. Another look of realization crossed your face as you giggled to yourself.

“It just hit me, I introduced myself but I never asked you. What’s your name?” You smiled once again beautifully, Sumeru’s sun illuminating your features. Wanderer etched your expression forever into his mind before he spoke.

“Just call me… Hat Guy,” Wanderer did not know why he chose to say that name out of all, and he had to stop himself from cringing at himself.

“H-Hat Guy…?” You repeated. You were dead silent for a few seconds before you erupted in laughter, which sounded oh-so-familiar to him, and made his ‘heart’ sing. Your hand flew to your mouth in an attempt to muffle your giggles. “Ah- ahahaha! I didn’t take you for a guy who likes to joke!”

Wanderer didn’t know how things would go from here, but as the wind carried your laugh away, he felt truly at peace after a very, very long time.

lesson 1. lesson 2. lesson 3. lesson 4. lesson 5. lesson 6. lesson 7. lesson 8. lesson 9. lesson 10. bonus lesson.

1K notes · View notes

earthyaries · 1 year

Text

Astrology Observations pt. 19

🕷️ Mutable moons need solitude / alone time. These people are introverts

🕷️ Capricorn ascendents w a Gemini 6H are great employees, but it’s nearly impossible for them to stay at one job for longer than a few years (or even less 👀)

🕷️ Everyone I know w a weak Mars placement or Mars in detriment have low spice tolerances & those who have a prominent Mars placement or an exalted Mars love spicy foods

🕷️ Fixed Mercuries run the music industry

🕷️ I swear Taurus placements are always late to everything lmao

🕷️ If you have Mercury square/conjunct/opposite Neptune in your chart, you need to be vocal & clear to others about what’s on your mind. Prone to misunderstanding- it’s in your best interest to get a second opinion, & be direct but civil when you feel wronged (bc there’s a high chance it’s not as bad as you’re thinking lol)

🕷️ Oppositely, ppl w their Mercury trine/sextile Neptune are so good at putting themselves in others’ shoes & seeing things from different perspectives. Excellent mediators !!

🕷️Capricorn placements: stop taking care of ppl financially just bc you care about them. Send a nice text or something 😭 (yea this is a self callout)

🕷️I could be biased but imo no one plays the victim like someone w Cancer or Libra placements

🕷️Libra & Cancer placements do be bhad tho. Literal ass & titties of the zodiac LMAO

🕷️Name me one fire sun woman that isn’t LGBTQ+ (impossible edition)

🕷️You’d think that ppl w 3H Mercuries would be good texters, but the ones I know either 1) forget to text back 2) stay on DND, or 3) prefer to call or FaceTime

🕷️ Aquarius Venus ppl are so fun to talk to, they’re all straight up clowns

🕷️ Someone w a 2H Chiron will literally go flat broke before they ask anyone for financial help. Their self esteem is strongly attached to their finances & material possessions so to be caught lacking in that area would be their worst nightmare

🕷️ As someone w Cardinal placements, Cardinal placements are so dramatic lmfao

🕷️ The Sagittarius Neptune generation (1970-1984) & all their escapist tendencies ☠️ whether it be drinking, dr*gs, traveling, gambling, working 24/7, or watching lots of TV..

🕷️ The Aquarius Neptune generation (1998-2011) & their internet activism :/ great in theory! But needs improvement. “Cancel culture” turned cyber-bullying, online desensitization, & “influencers” are some of the results from this generation. They might feel like an activist for posting on their story, but it will take more than that to create serious change

#astrology #astro observations #astrology observations

2K notes · View notes

fanficwriterlover · 7 months

Text

My Choice Our Consequence

Chapter 1: The Consequence...

Summary: You're a sniper/medic, part of the team 141. Everyone considers you their light, however, your light has diminished and has started taking a toll on the rest of the team because of a choice you made...now you have to face the consequences of your actions and live with that reminder forever..

Expectations: Slow burn, Breakup, Depression, Panic Attacks, Yelling, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of SA, Romance, Slow Romance, Fighting, Violence, Blood, Killing, Shooting,Stabbing, Smut, Fluff, Flirting, Teasing, etc...

Call Sign: Hera or Lil Light

Word Count: 7.4k

A03 Version

Did you predict this would happen to you ? No...not to your full extent of your brain capacity. Were you regretting that night because you were emotional that night and took a huge risk ? Absolutely ! You wanted to kick yourself so hard for how stupid you were for not being rational, and God for bid even allowing him to keep it in. Yet, there you were, trembling in your bathroom holding a mere plastic with such simple symbols that held so much weight...

"Fuck..." you mumble to yourself. To be honest, you were horrified by this revelation, because you had broken up with your ex over a month ago, and neither of you had sex in well ages... yet during your time of solitude, you took the liberty to drown your pain with another man. Now in some cases this shouldn't be a big deal right ? I mean...just tell the man you laid with, that apparently your birth control didn't really prevent the bastards bloody seeds from entering your womb and creating a growing child. Oh yeah, with that, your ex decided to walk back into your life wanting a second chance, and he's been awfully persistent in stalking and threatening via text messages and more. Oh and to top it off...the possible father to be, had been avoiding you like the plague. So yes...everything is just lovely. You groan out in a choked sob yet you grumbled with anger. Of all people and of all times...why you ?

Over a month ago~

You had to get yourself together though, because unfortunately you weren't some mere woman who just happened to be knocked up...oh to make it worse you just so happened to be a Sargent who is part of the task force 141 as their designated sniper/medic and to make it WORSE. You were supposed to be leaving for a mission in the next hour. You dropped the plastic into your sink as you slouched down onto the cold tile flooring pressing your back to the wall and cradling your head "Oh fuck...what am I going to do" you nearly sobbed trying to hold back your tears from gushing down your cheeks.

God forbid they notice the tear stains on your cheek, or puffy eyes that are blood shot and red nose, your team will definitely be on your arse about what's got you so moody. Honestly when you noticed your mood being more...well gruff you simply thought it was due to stress. Especially what happened a month ago....all you wanted was to be left alone to eat your breakfast especially with how horrible your morning has started, the one solitude moment of peace and enjoyment. Mind you, you loved the company of Soap and Gaz (your teammates) but for some reason, their obnoxious banter and rowdiness was only making you irritable. Honestly you thought it was from lack of sleep considering a week prior your ex has been unrelenting on getting a hold of you, asking for forgiveness and wanting to try again.

He was a civilian, you knew him since highschool before you enlisted. However, this job demanded a lot and your time became few and few. Which caused a tear in your relationship, even though your ex knew of the reality of your job you always did your best to reach out to him and spend any waking hour to contact him. Sure, there was signs of distancing but you didn't know better....then after one mission, you came back early, and as eager as you were to surprise your once boyfriend, you found him on your couch with another woman. It was an earth shattering moment. In that moment of weakness you did something stupid...

I don't know how long I was standing outside in the rain...shaking and crying. An hour ? Two ? Three ? Did it honestly matter ? The image of your boyfriend in between the legs of a woman you've never seen on your couch shattered you into pieces. You were standing before the gates at your base, debating on whether to return to your bunk, but everyone knew you would be going home to your flat to be with your boyfriend. Yet the idea of confrontation by your team wasn't something you wanted to deal with at the moment. Let alone for them to see you in such a state. So you decided to do your best to sneak past everyone. Slowly dragging your feet, you made your way into the building where all the bunkers were, you could hear members laughing loudly and celebrating as you passed the lounge area. You tried to remain unnoticed and silent, sneaking by, which in the moment you thought you were successful. Drawing near as you kept walking down the halls to your door, however, what you didn't realize was a looming shadow who was watching your every move. Just as you were about to open your door-

"Why are you drenched ?" A deep Manchester voice spoke, that all so familiar voice sent a rush up your spin and it wasn't even from the cold of your soaked clothes. His voice always made you tremble and flustered. Hesitantly you made eye contact with the owner of the voice, seeing the balaclava of the skull man standing dauntingly 6'4" with his blonde lashes partially slitting his almond eyes that took in your features. Even with his eyes on you, you wanted to shrink. Mind you, Ghost and you had no qualms with one another but you always found him intimidating yet together you worked well as a team. "I- went for a walk and ended up getting rained on" you fumbled up a lie avoiding eye contact squeezing your hand on the door knob silently praying he wouldn't notice.

"That so?" He says lowly. It makes you gaze back up at him once more not fully looking in his direction as he had his arms crossed still looking down at you, you heavily gulped "Y-Yeah ?" You could see a partial shift over his eyes, it meant he raised a brow at you before approaching you more as he stood directly behind you now, his chest nearly pressing up behind you, this made you hesitantly turn to face your Lieutenant who was looking down at you more seriously. His head tilting down at your short figure his arms coming down to his sides. You had to put a hand up onto his chest to stop him from drawing any closer as your heart began to race and you immediately averted your gaze from his towering figure.

You didn't even realize he had you pinned into your door with his hand over you gripping the ledge of the doorframe as you could feel the rise in your cheeks. "You 're lying. What did he do ?'" his eyes scanned over your features. Obviously the rain did very little to hide your tear stained cheeks and the redness in your eyes. Yet you still refused to meet his gaze. For what felt like an internity his gloved hands reached up and lifted your chin slowly. The sensation of his rough leather skeleton gloves made your eyes widen as he tipped your chin up to meet his looming gaze. How could you look away now. Your eyes latched on to his menacing gaze. You can see his eyes slightly flickered with some kind of emotion...now you wouldn't consider yourself an expert on reading his expressions but you'd like to think you could a little....yet it was impossible that Ghost...the Lieutenant Ghost was sympathetic for you ?

Don't even think you realized what was happening or that he had slightly lifted his balaclava up just over the bridge of his perfectly shaped nose, that showed the hint of a scar that peeked under his mask across his strong high bone cheeks and perfect lips that has a scar slicing the right corner. You didn't even realize then, he leaned near your ear and whispered "Y/n...snap out of it" ....wait no thats not what he said.

"Oi ! Earth to y/n ! You get any shut eye ? I miss your sexy voice Bonnie" Soap snickered as you were brought back into the moment having been in position, as it seemed your mind was seamlessly going to recall that moment between you and the Lieutenant yet, your body already knew what it was doing. You had your sniper rifle in front of you with the scope brushing at your long eyelashes. You were stationed not that many klicks from where the boys were moving into action. You could see Soap stealthily moving around another building trying to move closer to the targets building without alerting the guards until they've breached their walls. Of course, the living myth and legend was leading them closer to the building, he camouflaged impressively well into the shadows for such a big guy.

Again your mind was drifting and the static in your comms rang through your ear as your Lieutenant spoke "Hera. Take the two on the west building." This snapped you to attention as you shifted your scope as he had directed, your finger moving to the trigger as you took a deep breath to stop your queasy stomach. Pulling the trigger you took down one man, who crumbled down quickly the other becoming aware of his partner down but before he could so much as spread the word you had pulled the trigger already and he was down as well. You radio into your comms "Clear. Proceed with caution Bravo 0-7, there's 4 at the back entry." You locked your rifle as you moved your eyes from the scope "Copy that Hera." He says through the comms. You had to shift positions now, lingering in one spot was dangerous, as you slid back from your spot out of sight hitting your comms "Alpha 2-8 moving positions" you swiftly made your way to another spot that gave you a different angle to where the boys were going to be entering as you got into your knees setting down your rifle.

Yet something felt very wrong. You were frozen to the spot, listening intently, your nose, due to your pregnancy, it was heightened and you could smell someone's sweat from where you were. Over the comms you could hear that Soap and Ghost had already breached the walls making their way to find the enemy hiding within the walls. Behind you, there was nothing but high grass, and you were wearing beige clothing to blend to the tall dying grass.

You pull out your knife and pistol, clicking off the safety and check it's loaded. Even now the scent was more potent, you wanted to throw up, the unwanted man was wearing heavy cologne of sorts and for anyone in the SAS that's a stupid move. Even now you could hear the ringing in the comms as Ghost and Soap updated on their movement and such.

Yet even when you heard them ask "Soap, to Alpha 2-8, what's ya status lass ? " you could hear the slight panic in Soap's voice yet right now you were remaining still observing your surroundings. Even now you can hear how frantic Soap was becoming and the deep booming voice of your Lieutenant sounded through your earpiece "Hera. What's your status." He sounded gruff and annoyed probably not to you but you did catch between the two over the comms that the enemy was not in the building and that it was a setup.

That much you already knew. You reached for the comms pressing the button and speaking softly "This is Alpha 2-8....my post has been compromised" and yet that is when you saw your stalker lunge out from the tall grass, immediately you pulled the trigger, but not before he tumbled into you having a knife in hand slicing your shoulder deeply, you yelped upon impact, tumbling to the ground, hitting the back of your head, but not hesitating to wrap your legs around the man who was trying to stab you hovering over you with him trying to push it down to your throat. You grunted trying to hold his grip as he straddled you down, you can hear Soap frantically calling through the comms "Oi! Hera ! Answer us Bonnie !" You couldn't as you grunted pushing with legs to knee him in the groin which caused him to roll off you. Quickly you reached for your dagger and rolled to where he was stabbing down hitting him then the chest, as you didn't hesitate to grab your pistol that was tossed to the side and shoot him in the head.

Panting hard you held your stomach immediately feeling sick, the blood all over your hands and face, the scent...oh God that potent iron scent. You had to move away to empty your stomach all the whole Ghost and Soap were making their way back to your last known location hearing you hurl your stomach. Ghosts loud booming voice could be heard from a distance while he hit the comms "Hera !" You began to cough more as you tried to take deep breaths. Reaching painful to the comms with your wounded shoulder "I'm good. Just had a tussle."

You were shaking looking away from the dead man, not aware that Ghost and Soap reached you. They took in the scene then you. Soap quickly approaching you seeing you look sick and bleeding "Jesus Bonnie... thought we lost you, you sure ki-" he paused mid saying "Aye...you good ?" You were going to respond but it felt like your stomach was acidic. You didn't even know. But your vision began to blur and you fainted. You could only feel strong arms quickly catch you before the fall but it was numb everywhere throughout your body. You could see the skull mask hovering and the slight glimpse of the Mohawk figure looking over you trying to get your attention. But your eyes closed.

White, a color you probably absolutely hated seeing that blinded you in every corner. Sitting in the chair your legs dangling as you fiddled with your fingers. You had recovered after you've fainted when they loaded you on the chopper, you assured the team you were just dehydrated. But of course, Lieutenant gave you that knowing glare that made you relent. You knew what the doctor was going to say, he drew your blood, tended your wounds, and checked for bruising which was on your hips, wrists, and chest.

Even now your anxiety was high as you nearly jumped out of the chair at the sight of a familiar doctor who you'd often work with around the med base. Dr.Connar. Good looking man, he was slender tallish(no where close to military big like Ghost) tustled brownish black hair, deep brown eyes and genuine smile. He was holding your chart and you knew what to expect. "We have got to stop meeting like this y/n." He snickered seeing you as he pulled up a chair in front of you as you gazed up at him waiting for the inevitable. "So...your wound isn't infected. Just some mild bruising will be gone in a couple days. You hit your head I see. Slight bleeding nothing serious though...." this was when he gazes up at you seriously over the chart we he was reading resting it on the table to the side, he leaned forward his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at you seriously

"As you know... protocol. I have to check your blood to ensure you were not given anything into your bloodstream or got an unknown infection." You nodded your head slowly not averting your eyes from his serious gaze. "Then you also know...I must give this report to your Captain of your condition? " you flinched as he considered it as a condition now looking down. His eyes still boring into you as he let out a sigh "What the fuck y/n ! You should've been nowhere near the battlefield. You could've been seriously hurt or killed !" You flinched a bit more, tears forming in your eyes as you couldn't hold it any longer.

"You don't think I don't Fuckin' know that ?!" You cry out in anger yet he doesn't so much as flinch just simply gives you a sympathetic look. "I didn't ask for this ! Any of it !" You get out of the chair huffing annoyed as you began pacing the room his eyes watching your every movement. " You know since you are my patient I'd have to put in you are suspended from combat, training, or field work. Considering even maternity leave by second trimester." He says so casually but it makes you glare daggers at him, deep down logically you know he's right but...fuck you didn't want to have everyone questioning you why you're being pulled off when you are physically fine.

"Please Peter....don't do this to me." You beg him looking at him, he stands up placing a hand on your shoulders making you look at him "Y/n... believe me. I am not doing this as your doctor. I'm doing this as your friend. If something were to happen to you-" you interjected "Nothing will, I can fight-" yet he grips your shoulders more firmly "No ! You could've lost it or your life ! I will not stand by as your doctor or friend to put your life or that child in harms way !"

Child. Huh. Funny, you just found out... could barely even consider it a child as it's just a mere embryo at this point not even a human body formed yet. But deep down, without so much thought your hand slid down touching your stomach and Peter guided you to sit into the chair. "You're my dearest friend. I know this is terrifying...but you have to think outside yourself now" you glance at him as he was boring into your eyes. You knew he was right...deep down you would want to protect your growing child. However, knowing the horrors of the world and your enemies made you terrified to think the timing was just horrible. You couldn't stop. The tears rolled down your face heavily and you sobbed into your friend's shoulder as he let you, hold you.

The next day, you were asked into the office by Captain Price, everyone was expecting you to have to hand in your medical sheet, yet you begged your friend to allow you to talk it out with your captain. You were terrified. Gazing at the door in front of you that had Price's name plate on it, you tentatively rasped your knuckles onto it. As if immediately you hear the Liverpool accent gruffly acknowledge "Enter." John has always been a comforting Captain despite his ranking he valued every solider it's why you remained loyal to this taskforce especially after being handpicking from him. He glances up from the piles of papers he was signing off seeing you enter as he gave you a content smile "Good seeing you Y/n. How are you feeling?"

He motions for you to sit as you do so nervously, "Good sir...um I brought you my medical chart" you reluctantly stretch it out within hand to offer him to look at it as he takes it, even before he opened it you spoked "Permission to ask a favor sir ?" This caught his attention as he set the file down taking in your nervous features. You looked nervous, barely looking like you've slept and definitely have been crying. He tips his head to tell you to go on "Go on..." you let out a shakey breath. "I'd like to request that...my medical condition not be shared outside this room please ?" You almost whispered the please, your eyes begging him to understand and this was a request he was taken back from. Setting the file down rather to hear it from you then read it himself . Honestly John's heart was beating so hard, it was going loudly in his ears "I'll agree...that is if you tell me what it is you have ?"

Honestly his eyes raked over your form, despite being small, you weren't exactly weak, infact he wouldn't even consider you the type to have an illness so imagine his surprise to your request yet nonetheless he was patient and understanding.

You bite your lower lip gripping at the knees of your cargo pants shamefully looking down starting to shake, John placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. You didn't realize he was sitting in front of you at the edge of his desk leaning forward. He was willing to wait until you were ready to tell, and looking into his ocean eyes you gave in "I- I'm pregnant sir..." his eyes were wide for a moment reeling from the news.

Sure he knew you had a boyfriend but you hadn't interacted with him in months that much he was aware of. He would console you some nights when you'd cry about being distant and how he doesn't treat you or touch you the same. Of course he wanted to support you, you were like a daughter to him, so he spoke softly yet with authority "I can see this is a big deal...then I am to presume..." glancing at your figure he didn't know much about pregnant women but he could tell you were no where near showing. "I will not reprimand you y/n...but I need to know." He looks at you seriously waiting.

You knew what he was asking for and it made you even more scared. Having to tell your friend was already a huge step but to tell your captain? "L-Lieutenant G-Ghost sir..." you looked down with shame.

However Price was more shocked than anything. Their Simon Riley? He wanted to gawk at this news but knew that's not what you needed right now, quite frankly he had to contain to his rank. Sitting back "You are aware of the consequences to such inappropriate conduct ? You could be stripped of your rank and court martial." He frowns at you seriously which you nod your head seldomly "Y-Yes sir" he sighs out pinching the bridge of his nose "Does he know ?" This makes you flinch. You really did not want to walk up to your Lieutenant and tell him you're possibly pregnant with his child. That's a big F no. You glance up at your Captain. "No sir... I don't think I can." He gives you a look as you respond immediately "Please Captain, I don't want to cause trouble. I'm begging you. Please make an excuse to suspend me." You gave him a pleading look.

Now under most cases he would've given into your puppy dog eyes but this was serious. You were asking him not only as a Captain but as the best friend to Ghost. To go behind his back and lie to him. He crossed his arms over his chest letting out a deep sigh "Y/n...I am not keen on withholding information from my lieutenant-" you were about to interject yet he raised his hand, which made you silence blushing heavily heart racing "However...I'll grant this request on ONE condition." You seemed hopeful with this proposition. Yet John gave you a very straight look, "I don't care when you do it. But you MUST tell my Lieutenant." He looks at you daring you to object. Now deep down you wanted to. The fear in your eyes was evident. Approach Ghost ? No way...I can barely handle his intense gaze let alone confronting him about this. You bit the inside of your cheek considering it, before relenting "I-I agree sir...when I find the right time. I will. I promise." He studies you looking to see if you were lying but he found none, if anything he just saw how fearful you were from all this so he had to trust you.

Nodding his head accepting that answer he moved back around to his chair sitting down "I will work on a reason for your suspension until you've well..." he seemed flustered to say the least as he cleared his throat. "I'll have Laswell make sure to come up with a decent reason to keep the other lads off your radar." You smile gratefully nodding you head. As you salute him then take your leave. You didn't realize how much you were holding your breath as you let out a shaky breath. Great...now how do you tell a Ghost that he knocked you up ? Grumbling softly you began walking to your bunker, by now, Price was probably working up a reason for your suspension so it seemed only right to pack. Perhaps maybe you'll find the right thing to say to him...why you....such a big responsibility on your shoulders and yet you have to make a choice. Yet depending on what you choose...will it be good ? Or make it worse ?

You make your way down the hall, heading to the food court where everyone was gathered, grabbing their trays of food. Seeing faces that were unfamiliar or people you recognize but never really got to know. Everyone was chatting with another. You took in the room, it was almost overwhelming. Especially the smell, god, the smell of men was potent. Was it always this musky smelling with different colognes drifting through the air. It made you want to hurl your stomach. That was when you felt a large arm drape roughly over your shoulders causing to grunt from the impact as you look up to meet a familiar blue eyes and Mohawk figure. Soap. “There you been lass ! Save a seat for ya’ !” You sigh inwardly “Jesus Christ Soap, I just got discharged-“ he seems to immediately look at you worriedly “You broken Bonnie ?” he studies you almost inspecting to find the source of your pain “Nah, I’m good. Just bit sick to the stomach” he seems to relax at that patting you gently on the shoulder and pushing you to go up to grab some food “Glad you good, had us worried there for a ‘ec, shoot, don’t think I’ve ever seen LT so panicked.” He wiggles a brow at you which makes you shrink and blush before batting his arm away as you grab a tray to pick out food. “Oh hush Soap…any news since-?” you ask curiously as you grab fruits and a salad then take a glance in his direction.

He was stacking his plate up with everything. Jesus that man could eat. It made you start to realize now that you should probably eat more than you’re used to since now you’ll be feeding for two. You decided based on the selection of food presented that you would think your stomach would tolerate is a simple chicken sandwich. Placing it on your plate Soap mumbles lowly “No…nothing. Fuck’n sucks. Feels like we just chasing shadows.” You look up at him sympathetically and toss and apple at him which he fumbles to catch yet does looking at you “You need to even out your diet Soap. Need some form of fruit or veggies in that belly of yours.” As you look down with a smirk to his tray. Boy this Scottish man can eat, not one not two BUT three sandwiches. You snort shaking your head dismissively walking toward where Gaz was seated at a table waving the two of you over. As Soap snaps back “Oi ! I’ll have you know I gotta feed my gains ! We all can’t be tiny and slender like you” he grumbles. This makes you blush, because already you felt you were more bloated than usual. Sure the bump wasn’t as pronounced if anything looked like you gained a few pounds. However, you were always athletic and physically in shape.

Taking a seat next to Gaz you smile at him, which he returns the gesture “Glad to see you well Hera. Had us all worried.” You blush and smile at him. Oh Gaz was probably secretly your favorite he was charming and sweet and absolutely the best kind of friend you could ask for. He is the definition of blood brother. You two always looked after each other and you were the one who mentioned his name to Price so there was a mutual friendship long before the taskforce. “Sorry for making you worry…by the way where’s Ghost ?” you cock your head looking at both men. They seem to frown at the mention of his name but Soap finally answers “Honestly…’aven’t seen him much lately…LT been very weird lately. But I bet he’ll be happy to see you up and about,” he pats your shoulder playfully smirking at you. You laugh softly. Eventually you finally begin eating, guess they seem oblivious to asking why you fainted which you were glad. They knew exactly how to make you relax, between their bickering and story telling they made you relax and feel normal and forget about the looming secret growing.

Immediately your instinct is to reach to your thigh where you usually wore your strap holding your dagger but of course. You were literally butt naked. Turning fully to look at the figure, you realize it’s none other than Ghost. You breathe out a sigh “Fuckin’ hell Ghost. Why you have to be such a creep !” you hiss out in an annoyance after nearly being scared trying to soothe your heart rate down as you look at his eyes rake over you. “You need to sharpen your awareness then. Could’ve been anyone.” He says seriously, his arms crossed over his chest looking at you. Now not only were you flustered but him correcting you at the moment really triggered you as you snap, “Well I shouldn’t need to be on guard on base !” you glare at him, yet he doesn’t so much as seem bothered by your features. Instead he approaches you, moving closer as he looks down at you. Your back pressed into the edge of the sink as he leans forward-

The day went by so quickly, you went with the boys to shoot some rounds, finally approved by your friend to hold a rifle to shoot some rounds. Of course, your aim is flawless when holding your favorite rifle It made you feel normalize in your life. After that you decided be best to take a shower as there are so few women on this base, and most the building was set up for men, you’d often wait until late as possible to be able to shower in peace. Taking a change of clothes and a towel you enter the shower room setting your bag down and undressing. Immediately your eyes scan over your naked form, for now you showed no signs. In fact you still looked sleek and fit. Yet you knew the wiser. Glancing at the side of your profile, you immediately felt insecure, the idea your body will change and expand that you’ll put on weight made you shiver. Tearing your eyes from the mirror you step into a shower stall and turn on the water. The gushing of cold hits your hand as you wait for it to warm up, now normally your body could handle such, but now you felt it was too cold to tolerate. Even with your body barely been pregnant long it already seems to be shifting to accommodate this unborn form.

You step under the warmth of the water letting it glide over your body. Its almost cleansing feeling the water graze over your body, as you comb your fingers through your scalp down to the end of your hair length. You began rubbing yourself with your bar of soap and sponge taking your time to clean yourself fully. Once you finished you turn off the water and wringing out your hair before reaching for your towel. The bathroom room was now full of your shower steam as it fogged the mirrors. You stood in front of one of them with your towel wrapped around, leaning closer you use your hand, in a circular motion to clear off the fogged mirror only to see a skull mask looking directly at you.

Ghosts POV

When they heard you over the comms tell them your spot been compromised he felt horrified that they wouldn’t have been able to get back to you on time and would’ve found you dead. Yet instead, they found you losing your stomach. It was all weird. You were if anything the most toughest women he’s met aside from Laswell, and that speaks volume. You were someone he let his guard down with, without regret. He didn’t mind showing you his darkest side, his pain, his reminders, and face. You took him in. You acknowledged him. You were patient with him too which is something he respected about you. You were someone who carried them self with such maturity, purity, and selflessness. And he…stupidly took advantage of that. From that night.

The minute you began to faint, he was immediately lunging to your side and catching you before you hit the ground. Judging by your state, didn’t seem like you were wounded extremely. Maybe some bruising. However, he found it unusual that you were losing your stomach after killing a man. I mean, everyone’s done stuff that made them sick, but he’s seen you calm and collected stabbing a man in the neck when you were lunged at one time during a mission. He always found you resilient so seeing you this sensitive seemed odd. Soap disrupted his thoughts looking down at your passed out form “Oi, Bonnie !” he immediately checked your pulse yet he knew wiser “She ‘s alright Soap. Just fainted from the looks of it.”

He then reaches to his vest still cradling her in his arms as he radios in the help, “Nikolai, bring the helo to RV. Coming in hot, Hera fainted.” He immediately picks you up bridal style, despite wearing a vest and armor you were still light. He nods his head, “Keep up Soap” as he already begins running to the rendezvous. Upon seeing the chopper lower, you began to stir in his arms and mumbles hoarsely “I-Im good. You can put me down Ghost.” He doesn’t even look down at you saying deeply “Didn’t look that way Sargent.” Yet you protest more, which he relents to setting you carefully onto the ground. His hands honestly wanted to linger over you longer but Soap came in supporting you with your arm over his shoulder “Aye ! Glad to have you back Bonnie. Gave us quite a scare !” he shouts over the loud chopper blades as they both walk in sync to load in.

Ghost lingers a good distance scanning their surroundings before getting into the chopper. He sits across from you, his eyes not leaving your frame. You seem distant... Like your mind was elsewhere yet you tried to remain present in the moment. He couldn’t help but try to read you as you made your best attempt to assure everyone you’re fine. But he could see otherwise. The way your eyes fluttered, how you forced a fake smile that seemed to work on others but couldn’t fool him. He also couldn’t help but notice how your hand instinctively went to touch your stomach.

He squinted his eyes, ‘Did you get hit in the stomach ? Is she hurt ? She didn’t seem bothered when I had my hand there carrying her.’ All these thoughts ran through his mind during the whole flight back. Once they finally returned, you of course tried to brush off that you were fine, yet Ghost wasn’t having it. You were off. He could feel it. He simply gave you a stern look and a sharp tone, “No. You’re getting checked up. End of discussion Sargent.” This made you flinch with his tone, but he had no choice. You wouldn’t have listened to reason no matter how much Soap begged or even asked you. However one thing he did admire you for, as a soldier, you always obeyed orders. You made your way to the med base, his eyes never leaving you as he wanted to make sure you actually headed that direction, yet Soap pulled him from his line of sight. “Gee, LT, didn’t have to be all ‘trict on ‘er.” Ghost side glances Soap with a slight brow raise. Then huff. “I don’t care. She needed to be told. She listened. ‘nough said” Taking his leave before Soap could say anything else he needed to get his mind off you.

Now he stands in front of you, with you barely covered before him. This was different. He could see the traces of bruising form on your shoulder. One was peeking just above your cleavage. His eyes took you in as your drenched form stood in front of him shying away from his line of sight as he was so close to you. He’d give anything to feel you again like before especially as you stand here practically exposed to him. Yet, as much as he wanted to give into his temptations... “I ‘ear you been askin’ ‘round for me,” his eyes scan between yours as you seem to gulp at this, obviously indicating it was true. “But now you loss for words ?” you bite the inside of your cheek, obviously he hit a nerve. Cocking a brow as he saw the strength in your eyes that always made him honestly want to give in. You spoke-“I was….there was something I wanted to tell you,” he tilted his head to the side narrowing his eyes a bit then nods “Well what is it ?” He takes a step back from you, his broad arms crossed as he gazes down at you.

He was leaning close to your ear, you were trembling before him, your hands out pressing onto his hoodie chest. His heart rate spiked from under your touch. Your lips said one thing but your body said something else. He watched you that day talk excitedly about seeing your boyfriend. Yet, he finds you a mess with tear stains avoiding everyone. He knew. He bloody fucking knew it. Your boyfriend was everything he hated and would even compare to as his own father. You who fought everyday, gave yourself willingly, everything as an amazing women and girlfriend. Only for that selfish prick to break it. It boiled him. To see you this way, you were their light. To see you so diminished was something he'd tear the world to bring that shine out in you. He leaned close to your ear “Say the word love. I’m here.” Your eyes looked up at him, oh those doe eyes. He would surrender to that sight in a heartbeat.

You were his weakness…

...but he also learned to see you were also his strength. You mouth slowly began to parts your eyes seemed to show a since of strength ‘Fuck…even when broken she stands strong. This women…’ he didn’t waste a minute crashing his lips onto your trembling lips. They were so plump and soft. You tasted salty from your tears, which he sucked away but the lingering taste of cherry from your lips made him want to devour you more. His hand sneaked down still holding under your chin, while the other unlatched from above the doorframe to rest on your hip. Pulling you closer to him, he could feel your hand slowly slide up his bicep to his neck. The sensation feeling of your soft fingers fleeting over it made him more riled. He immediately let go of his hold on your chin and opened the door to your bunker. He guides you in his hand pushing you in at your hips as he almost guides you to your bed in the corner. You stop just in front of the bed, his hands cupping your cheeks and neck kissing you more fiercely. You’re the one to make the first move, during the intense heat, you begin tugging at his belt loop. He can feel it. Yet-

Being practically naked gripping your towel around your dripping body was definitely not how you imagined telling him about being pregnant, however, maybe you can ask something else- “What happened a month ago... do you regret it ?” perhaps getting some kind of answer will bring out the courage to tell him. You watch for any kind of shift in his eyes yet you barely see much. However his eyes does narrow in on you, you wonder if he sees you’re dodging what’s the real reason you’ve been asking around of his absence. Just when your mind was planning to handle whatever response he gives, everything hit you like a bullet into a vest-

Wrong, because less then two days later he was making his way to the Captains office, knocking on it and telling him of his arrival. With the Captain deeply grunting to come in. What he wasn’t expecting was to see the Captain, stressed ? The man looked exhausted like he was fighting a battle of some sort. He looked as if he was atlas holding the world over his shoulder, every muscle tensed and jaw clenched using every ounce of power to keep going. Then when the Captains eyes met his, and the words came out, Ghost world came shattering. “Y/n, has quit the taskforce…” his eyes went wide, he was a man to hide any emotions but this…he wasn’t expecting you to up and leave. Did you even say bye to everyone? Were you crying your eyes out when you decided it ? But the one question that bothered in the back of his mind was; Was it because of HIM ?

He grunts a bit “Was a one time thing.” His eyes unwavering and stoic as if this is such a silly subject to be bringing up as he decided it was best to burn this bridge before his feelings got worse for you. He could not allow this to become more. He promised- now swore he’ll never get attached and he stupidly did. It was obvious for Soap to see, and if that was the case, how many others would notice too ? “It meant nothing Sargent. We both needed an escape. If this is what you wanted to waste my time for than we are done.” ‘Fuckin’ ‘ell, that should do it…’ he thought to himself, yet what he didn’t expect was to see the tears daring to form in your eyes he simply just stood there, your little fists were gripping the towel so tight your knuckles were white and your jaw was clenched. Yet, he didn’t stop there. He should have. “You’re a burden to this team…we don’t need dead weight. If you can’t get better than your no use to this team.” He said it…damages done.

The words hurt him just as much as it seemed to have hurt you. But instead of lashing out, which honestly he would have preferred you do then maybe he would’ve taken back his words. You… just stood there silent. It was worse than a ticking bomb going off. Your eyes were blazing with anger and he can see your tears wanting to crash down yet you suck in a deep breath, he honestly was expecting the worse, and you just went to grab your stuff. You began changing you didn’t even care if he would be watching or not, of course he wouldn’t dare instead was looking at the sinks only daring to listen to you as you shuffle. In matter of minutes you were dressed, holding your bag about to leave, you hand on the handle yet you stop. Looking at him ,‘Fuck…now I’ve done it. Price gonna rem me for it now’ he thought but instead you look at him with that same strength in your eyes “Good night Lieutenant.” It came out sharp he could hear it the slight venom in it but he didn’t so much aa react. He stupidly just stood there side glancing you before you finally took your leave. He then gazes back at the mirror, seeing his reflection he hated what he was seeing in himself but it had to be done. Maybe when you’ve cooled your head he’ll approach you differently. Perhaps these words would encourage you to do better. Perhaps now he won’t distracted by your alluring presence. Right-?

…

481 notes · View notes

occatorcreator · 10 days

Text

Second Chances

Links - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

1 - Family Lost

Purple and his mother receive a grim diagnosis, and Purple struggles to find a cure to save his only living family member.

Content Warnings: Disease and Major Character Death

Tick tock. Tick tock.

Purple stared up at the clock that punctuated the silent waiting room with its ticking.

10:15 am. His morning elective class was close to wrapping up. He distantly thought that he should care about what he’ll miss at school, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than the hammering of the clock and how long he waited for a response.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

He looked from the clock to the door, waiting for a nurse to come and summon him. Right now, he had been in the hospital for over two hours and there hadn’t been any updates on his mother’s current condition.

If I had slept in, Purple thought, tapping his foot with anxious energy in time with the clock, would she not have made it?

The thing was, he almost had. He had almost shut his blaring alarm off and gone back to sleep. He really hadn’t been in the mood to go to school this morning; he was sure there was a test in math, and he wasn’t ready for it. School was… well, it had become more unpleasant since the divorce. Despite it being a year since Navy left, thoughts of the divorce sent his mind into a negative tailspin. All those times Navy ragged on him to wake up “bright and early” every day for routine exercise, and all those times he got annoyed by Purple’s fussing made him resent the idea of getting up at all.

He debated sleeping in to spite Navy, but what was the point of that? Not like Navy would show up to witness the spite. All that would come of sleeping in would be the omelets mom prepared growing cold. She was the only parent he had left now; he couldn’t let her down by being a brat about school.

And now he faced the possibility of having no parents… he found his mother fallen to the kitchen floor, unconscious, with the omelets burning.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

Every second not knowing if Orchid was alright or dead drove Purple mad. He had driven as quickly as he could to the hospital and made enough of a scene in the emergency room to get her wheeled in right away. The doctors had escorted him to a nearby waiting room after they took Orchid to treatment, offering reassurance and describing some procedure they’re doing.

Knowing that barely worked to calm him down. Purple was no longer actively panicking, but he was fretting. He hated sitting. It was the inability to do anything but wait, unsure what the response would be, unable to take his mind off of anything but his prayers that things will be alright.

Tick tock. Tick- creak.

The door grabbed Purple’s attention. He stood up preemptively, ready to meet the nurse, only to blanch back as a giant orange stick figure ducked his way through the door frame. Clutching at his massive hand was a golden child, about four or five years old. He looked nervously around the room, sticking close to the orange stick’s leg.

“Just have a seat, Mr. Tango,” the nurse said. “We’ll call you when they’re done.”

The stick figure nodded at the nurse with a sour expression.

“Will Second be okay?” the child asked the nurse.

“Your older sibling will be fixed up,” the nurse said, smiling softly. “It’s just a minor fracture.”

And what about my mother? Purple wanted to ask. Is she going to be okay?

The question died on his tongue as Mr. Tango passed by him to take a seat. Purple instantly stepped back from the towering figure. By the time he and his child found a place to sit, the nurse had already left, shutting the door.

Great, still nothing, Purple thought, returning to his seat. He missed the prior solitude of the waiting room. With other stick figures around, he felt self conscious of his worrying. Not to mention, one of them was a small child. Purple wasn’t ready for the annoyance that would follow when that small child inevitably got bored and started wandering around, looking for things to do.

“Hello,” the child waved at Purple.

Purple took a deep breath, counted mentally to two, and looked at the child standing before him with what he hoped was a neutral expression.

“Hi,” he greeted half-heartedly.

The child tapped his hands together nervously, eyes looking down at Purple’s feet upon the less-than warm response. Somehow his sour mood didn’t send the kid crawling to his parent, which made Purple raise an eyebrow.

“What do you want?” Purple asked, baring his teeth in a false grin.

“Um, can I have that?” The child asked, pointing at the table filled with magazines.

Purple waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not using it, and you don’t need to ask. Just take it.”

The child brightened and grabbed a magazine. He retreated back to sit by his father, who’s cold gaze regarded Purple in a way that made Purple’s skin crawl. The giant’s gaze reminded him of Navy’s.

Specifically, the day Navy left. He could never forget that cold and guarded stare despite Orchid’s best attempts to shield them from him.

“I guess this is it, then,” Navy said, “I’m leaving.”

Don’t think about him, Purple mentally scolded, closing his eyes to refocus on the present.

With nothing else to get his mind off of the past and present situation, he watched as the child flipped through the magazine. It didn’t take long for the child to realize that magazines were mostly advertisements and boring articles he couldn’t read before he placed it to the side. He caught that Purple was looking at him, and Purple failed to look away in time.

“My sibby broke their thumb.”

Sibby? Purple didn’t know how to comment on that odd shorthand for sibling.

“Ah…How did that happen?” It took Purple a full second before he found his voice. He got the feeling the kid was a bit of a chatterbox, how unfortunate. Purple had no desire to talk, but he felt like he couldn’t stay silent either.

Maybe this could get his mind off of things...

“My dad had a day off, took me and Second in the park,” the child said, “We did lots of fun stuff and it was really nice out. We were playing truth or dare, and I dared Second to punch a tree!”

He looked expectantly, waiting for Purple to supply a question. Yet when Purple only bothered with a raised eyebrow, Mr. Tango cleared his throat.

“You two didn’t answer why you did that in the first place, Gold,” Mr. Tango said.

The child — Gold — looked down at his dangling legs, ashamed. “It’s cuz Sec’s as strong as you, dad.” Gold said, “I wanted to see if they could punch a hole in the tree.”

Punch a hole in a tree? Ridiculous. Purple scoffed.

“Still. Punching things without the proper technique can be dangerous,” Mr. Tango said. “I hope you two don’t do that again in the future.”

“We won’t, dad,” Gold said.

Again, Mr. Tango reminded Purple of Navy. That comment was a straight-out warning he said during sparring lessons. His father drilled in many basics on keeping yourself from breaking your arm while fighting. Having that reminder of his father again, combined with the ludicrousness of the child’s story, and the fact they were in the hospital over something so stupid made Purple surly.

“Let me guess,” Purple said, “your sibling was dumb enough to tuck their thumb in their fist while punching?”

That was harsh. Now both father and son were glaring at Purple. Purple could feel his heart hammering, desire to cower and apologize strong, but not strong enough to overcome anger brought on from constant fatigue and stress.

“Second’s not dumb!” Gold snapped. “They just didn’t know they needed to do that.”

Purple shrugged. “Sounds like the definition of dumb to me,” Purple said, “I mean tucking your thumb in is unnatural and uncomfortable, so why do that?”

“Not everyone comes into the world knowing everything there is to know,” Mr. Tango warned, “and I don’t care much for you insulting someone you hardly know.”

Mr. Tango said it with a threatening, low tone that made Purple reconsider and apologize for his meanness.

Almost. He might have, had Gold kept his mouth shut.

“They managed to knock the tree down in one hit even when doing it wrong!” Gold bragged. “I bet you can’t do that!”

Inadvertently, Gold managed to hit a sore point for Purple. Orchid and Navy both were prolific fighters in their prime, strong and agile enough to break wood and cinder blocks with a well placed hit. Purple knew it could be done, but he was never strong enough, never fast enough to do it. All he got was painful bruising and a sprain so awful he gave up trying.

And given today, Purple’s fuse was short.

“You little liar,” Purple snapped, “no one can do that.”

“I’m not!” Gold balked, and he tugged on Mr. Tango’s arm. “Dad, you saw it too! Tell him! Second did punch a tree down!”

But there was a split second of hesitation in Mr. Tango’s gaze, that moment of doubt and skepticism. Before he had the chance to defend his son, Purple pounced.

“If your dad claims that, then he’s helping a liar,” Purple said, “I thought preschool taught you better than to make up stories for attention.”

“I’m not! I’m not! I’m not!” Gold yelled, and Purple saw that the child was so worked up that tears were forming in his eyes. “I’m not a liar!”

“What is your problem?” Mr. Tango snapped, standing up tall to get between Gold and Purple. He didn’t yell like Purple did, but clearly didn’t hide his anger. “You have no right to talk to my son like that.”

“Maybe if you didn’t want me to yell at your liar of a kid,” Purple snapped, standing back up, “then you should have parented better.”

“Excuse me?”

Purple stood up. He was a pipsqueak to the massive stick figure before him, his limbs shaking from fear and rage both.

“I’m just saying, a kid who broke his wrist punching trees and one that makes up tall tales to strangers reflects poorly on you.” Purple said, “My parents wouldn’t hear me spouting such nonsense.”

“Where are they?” Mr. Tango asked, grinning without any joy. “I would like to talk with them about their parenting skills if they could raise someone who’d yell at children for little reason.”

To that Purple had no response.

Oh creator, what would mom think of me right now? Purple thought, visibly deflating and stared at the ground in shame.

Now the only sound there was the clocks ticking and Gold crying. Seeing no fight left in Purple, Mr. Tango sat down and started to console his child. Gold buried his head in his father’s chest, weeping and insisting he wasn’t a liar.

Creak

“Purple?” A nurse came in with a clipboard.

“Yes?” Purple straightened himself up. “Is she ready?”

“She is,” the nurse nodded, his expression appearing grim despite his smile. “She wants to talk to you.”

Oh, good she’s awake, Purple thought, but still… the dread in his stomach grew. Why is the nurse looking at me like that if she’s awake?

“Okay. Take me to her.”

He followed the nurse out, ignoring the pressing glares of Mr. Tango and Gold following him out.

“Rapid aging syndrome?”

Purple sat by Orchid’s beside, holding her hand. Orchid was looking rather pale and frail, but she was alive. The doctors managed to stabilize her.

But only stabilize; there was no cure for this condition.

“Yes,” Orchid said, “Explains a lot of things, like why I didn’t have the same stamina as your father even though we’re the same age.”

She said it with light airiness that nearly made Purple cry.

“But, this is a glitch in your programming, right?” Purple said, clearing his throat, “couldn’t they patch you?”

To that Orchid let out a shaky sigh and patted Purple’s hand. Purple noticed the faint tremor in her hands.

“They found out that they can’t,” Orchid said, plainly.

“Why not,” Purple asked, voice rising. “They’re doctors! Expert coders! They have to fix you! What sort of doctors would they be if they couldn’t?”

“It’s not that simple, honey,” Orchid hushed, “They discovered that my code’s corrupted. The fact they could stabilize me without losing my memories was a miracle in it of itself.”

“Surely, there’s a way around corruption,” Purple begged, “You mean to tell me they can’t stop you from just… aging to death?”

Orchid didn’t say anything at first. She looked up at the ceiling with an inscrutable expression. In that moment, Purple wondered how well she was taking the news that she was given a terrible death sentence, aging at an insanely rapid rate until she shriveled up to a husk. Looking at her now, all the marks Purple blamed on exhaustion or loss of appetite were the tell-tale signs of becoming an elder.

“The doctors gave me two choices,” Orchid said after a moment, “Either I would have 5 months left to live, or they would reset me.” She then turned to Purple. “And reset means full reset. My age, all of my memories… I would be as I was created, as my 18 year old self. I wouldn’t even recognize you as my son anymore. Even with that, I could still be… lost to a reset. There is no guarantee to save me.” Her expression turned pained. “You know which one I had to choose.”

“That’s so f-messed up,” Purple caught himself. But he wished he could swear. How could anyone sugarcoat that?

“The doctors will want to discuss care options in light of my condition,” Orchid said, “having nurses to care for me at home, or placing me in hospice care.”

“But we don’t have the money for a live-in nurse,” Purple pointed out quietly.

Orchid hummed in agreement. “And I don’t want to be moved to hospice care if I can still stand and walk.”

“I could care for you,” Purple offered. “Take off school for a bit-“

“I don’t want to place you in that position,” Orchid waved her hand, “and your education would suffer for it.“

“Mom, I’ll be blunt, my education has already suffered from… Navy leaving.” Purple couldn’t even say the divorce to her, “I won’t be able to focus on shoring up what’s left of my education knowing that your… that you're going to…”

He couldn’t say that either. He shan’t say it, or else he made it true. He didn’t want it to be true.

“Fair point…” Orchid muttered. She placed her hand on her chin and hummed. “There is always my creator,” Orchid paused, “I still have her email address, and I occasionally send her updates. We could stay with her for a while.”

“An actual human? With a desktop?” Purple asked. “Is it even possible for us to go there?”

Orchid nodded. “I’m certain something can be arranged once I reach out to my lawyer and get my affairs in order.”

“Don’t say that, mom,” Purple shook his head.

“I’m afraid we don’t have many options,” Orchid said, “Plus, it would be nice to take you to our childhood home.”

Our? Purple thought, You mean, dad also grew up on that computer?

Purple wasn’t sure about going on a human’s computer with all the risks, but like Orchid said, it wasn’t like there was any better options they could take.

I’ll find something to save you from this fate, mom, he thought, I promise.

Purple kept this vow deep in his heart as the doctors returned.

Her name was Alana, and, despite his mom promising to take him to her childhood home, she clearly owned the latest Apple Macintosh. Alana was nice, nicer than what Purple expected of a human from his history class, and she welcomed Orchid and Purple upon their arrival through her email. They had to write out words on the email in order to communicate with her, but Purple learned he didn’t need to talk with Alana often. She was present for the first two days to ensure they settled on the desktop, before just disappearing and leaving them to their own devices for days on end.

Orchid explained most of the situation to Alana. She wasn’t fully candid about her diagnosis, but she shared that Purple was her and Navy’s son, and that they needed a place to stay in the meantime.

Alana asked only one question. “What happened to Navy?”

The awkward silence and body language from both Orchid and Purple told enough for Alana to discern something happened, but she didn’t feel the need to press.

Living on a desktop was a new experience, one Orchid was happy to guide Purple on.

“Ah, they updated so many things!” Orchid said in awe, “You’re getting a better experience than I did. The desktop is so lovely!”

She leaned down to press a button. It was the finder, and it opened up a series of apps. However, she let out a groan of pain as she struggled to stand back up.

“Careful!” Purple said, lifting her up, “you know you can’t move like you used to.”

Orchid looked forlornly at what she opened, rubbing her back. Stacks of icons stretched above her without any easy way to traverse them.

“Right. Climbing would be your strong suit, you have to do that a lot on a desktop,” she said, half muttering as the advice she gave came with a realization of her condition. That her body was too old to navigate something that she had done in her youth.

Purple had to watch her as that condition worsened overtime.

Not that Purple was idle during this time. He set to work making the desktop space more accommodating for an elder. He found Flash and constructed a crude house with the pencil tool. The linework wasn’t the neatest, but it was convenient, light enough for him to pick up the house and set it down, but sturdy enough that a punch wouldn’t knock it down.

He tried looking around for Orchid and Navy’s files. After all, if they were made, then that means there had to be backup copies somewhere around. Surely, Alana transferred their files to the new computer, there had to be something to counter the apparent corruption.

“Purple, please don’t be going into Alana’s files,” Orchid warned.

Purple nearly fell off the top of the directory, not expecting to hear her voice. It started to croak with age, a tremor of strain she didn’t use to have. She leaned on a crude cane Purple drew to help support herself. He hastily went down so she didn’t have to call him.

“I’m not doing anything shady,” Purple insisted, “I was hoping to find… something.”

Orchid gave him a look. A look he knew too well when she suspected Purple was up to one of his antics. He received that look a lot whenever the school called about his moments of less-than-stellar behavior.

But as quickly as it appeared, it fell. “Look, I’m just warning you, if you poke around in her files and break it, she will be incredibly upset and hurt by that,” she chuckled lightly, “I’m speaking from experience here. Navy and I regretted how we clowned around back in the day.”

You? A trouble maker? Purple couldn’t help but smirk at the idea of Orchid, roughly around his age, causing trouble for her creator. But the smirk faded when that image contrasted the frail stick figure before him.

“Why did Alana… make the both of you?” Purple asked.

Orchid blinked, not expecting the question. She fiddled with her cane, nails gently scraping against its side.

“I don’t know. Flash animation was new and there was a genre of animation that featured fighting stick figures beginning to form. I supposed Alana wanted to add a battle couple, but I couldn’t be certain.”

Purple’s face curled at the thought. “Like she made you two to be a couple?”

“Not like that, she made us to be a team,” Orchid’s smile looked forlorn and she looked elsewhere, “the love came later.”

Purple shuffled awkwardly, knowing how that “love” ended for them all. “Why did you two leave the computer?”

“Stick City was new, and we both wanted to strike it on our own,” Orchid explained, “we wanted to be famous, and we didn’t feel like we could if we stayed on a desktop.” She let out a huff. “How funny that I ended up back here after all this time.”

“It’s not.”

“Well, Purple, I’d rather you not go poking around and getting into trouble.” Orchid placed her hand on Purple’s shoulder. “Come. I can show you some games on the Mac you can play in the meantime.”

“Games?”

“Yes, I know I can’t play the ones that are more active, but I don’t want that to stop you from experiencing the fun you can have on a desktop,” she said, “it’s way more immersive.”

Purple opened his mouth to argue something, before closing it and nodding.

I really can’t go against her wishes now, Purple thought, besides, there are healing items in games, maybe I can find something to fix her?

“What do you recommend I try, mom?” he asked.

Time moved too quickly for Purple’s liking. He did as much as he could in his investigation of the games on Alana’s computer. Some of the games were fun, but ultimately useless to his main goal. Others had healing items he had to buy from a vendor or could collect in chests. He gave these to Orchid, yet the most they did was ease her aching joints.

He found Minecraft through his investigation and it, too, had healing items that didn’t work. Yet, the game was fun, intriguing enough for even Orchid to join in on the fun. He found himself simply just building things with Orchid out of the simple blocks provided in creative mode. They began to build a foundation of a castle, but in time, only Purple was able to build the castle. When that happened, he abandoned construction to refocus his efforts in finding a cure.

Orchid was visibly getting older and weaker every passing day. She walked slower, leaned on her cane more often, and complained of pain in her bones. Vision and hearing were going, and Purple had to draw her glasses and hearing aides to help her.

Nothing was working. He tried experimenting with healing items he found: mixing it into her food, combining it with other mechanics, and even breaking into a game’s code to see if there was anything he could pull. All his efforts did was ease the burdens of aging. He could not cure nor save Orchid from her fate.

Eventually, Orchid became too weak to even leave her bed. Purple was torn between wanting to stay by her side and care for her or leaving to find something he possibly overlooked. He settled for spawning a villager from an egg to be her nurse while he stepped away. But walking away was difficult; he felt every hour he was away was the hour he came back to find her…

He came crawling back with nothing to show for it.

“Is there anything in your game that can stop this?” Purple asked the villager, one night after he returned. “To stop her from dying?”

The villager looked around, unsure if Purple was genuinely engaging with them or speaking out loud to himself. When Purple remained silent, the villager felt like they needed to respond.

“I don’t know,” they admitted, “I haven’t heard of anything like that.”

“You do realize you don’t age, right?” Purple continued. “You and every video game character are just frozen, as you are. You don’t have to worry about growing old, leaving your kids and loved ones behind...”

“That’s not…” the villager trailed off when he met Purple’s cold stare. “It’s not that simple..”

“Seems pretty simple to me. You, a computer program, live on, while us stick figures, also computer programs, grow old and die. How unfair is that?” Purple muttered. “I ask again. Is there anything in this stupid game that can make her ageless like you?”

The villager shook his head and took a step back. Something was in Purple’s voice that deeply frightened the sniveling NPC. And for a moment, Purple thought of pulling out his sword and stabbing the villager for his unhelpfulness.

After all they were only ageless, not immortal. Weak.

He walked away from the villager, but those horrid thoughts followed him.

“What’s happening to Orchid?”

Alana logged on to find her desktop disheveled: a half finished castle from Minecraft, a crude house with a crude bed where Orchid lay in it. She must look so bad that even a human could see it on the screen.

Purple stayed by her side, unable to sleep, and stared blankly at the writing above him. He dared not grab the pen he used to write, he didn’t want to get up and leave his mother’s side.

It had been five months. Her time was almost up, and all his efforts to stop it amounted to nothing.

The cursor moved down and Purple placed himself between it and his mother.

“Don’t!” he said, splaying his hand out. He knew Alana couldn’t hear, but he spoke anyway. “She’s very fragile.”

“Is that Alana?” Orchid croaked.

Her feeble, weak voice broke Purple’s heart to hear. Her glasses were off to the side, but she didn’t reach for them.

“Yes, it’s her.”

“Ah, I'm glad,” Orchid said, “I worried… I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye.”

“No, no mom, you don’t have to,” Purple said, clinging to her hands. “There- I’m still searching for a cure- I can-“

“Shh,” Orchid placed her hand on his cheek, stilling him. “No, Purple, honey. My time is up. And I don’t want to see you wasting your time searching for a cure that doesn’t exist.”

“But I can’t give up, not now,” Purple shook his head. Her face began to blur and hot tears streaked down his face. “I don’t want you to leave me. Stay here. Please.”

“I don’t want to go, either,” Orchid coughed, “I want to be with you… but I don’t want you to suffer for my sake.”

She wiped his tears with her shaking, wrinkled hands. A pointless endeavor, for Purple could not stop sobbing.

“I’m sorry, mom,” Purple choked, holding her hand.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Purple,” Orchid said. Her hand slackened to her side and eyes closed. “Promise me something, Purple?”

“What?” Purple leaned in. “What do you need me to do?”

There was a beat of silence, just the raspy rise and fall of her chest.

“Promise me that you'll…” Orchid whispered so faintly, every word laborious. “Promise me you’ll… take good care of yourself… that you’ll find someone-” She broke off into coughing.

“Hush, hush. Of course, of course I will.” Purple said and hugged Orchid. “I promise.”

Orchid didn’t return the hug, too weak to do so.

“I love you,” she wheezed.

Then, she let out a shuddering gasp and fell limp within his arms.

“Mom?” Purple pried away, staring at her gaunt face, eyes closed. He saw that she was becoming translucent, fading away like a spirit.

“Mom? Please…”

Then there was nothing, just him clinging to the blankets. All that Orchid was became nothing now. Not a trace of her was left, except her scent and his memories.

And with that he wept openly into the empty bed while Alana wordlessly hovered above.

#occatorart #alan becker #animator vs animation #animator vs minecraft #second family au #cw death #ava purple #ava orchid #ava king #ava gold #cw disease #existential dread

193 notes · View notes

nichirinpen · 2 months

Text

In His Divine Gaze

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Can also be read here on AO3

Word Count: 20K

Synopsis- Following the traditions of your village, you become a Shrine Maiden. However, unlike most, you meet your shrine's God.

Content Tags: AFAB reader descriptions, Smut, penis in vagina sex, vaginal penetration, attempted assault (mahito is a creep)

Whether we like it or not, life tends to follow tradition. Old and dusty rituals followed by people to cling to the past. It ties people to their heritage, to their families. It has explanations for the unexplainable and gives a face to old superstitions. Tradition crossed time, mixing the past with the present, often in tiresome ways.

Your village had a rather odd tradition once someone reached the age of 18. Called the ‘Path of Three’ it was a replacement for a birthday celebration for the new adults. Dragged out in the middle of the town, the idea was to choose your path in life. With the celebration you could marry, become a trader or go work for the village shrine.

In almost all cases, young individuals chose to marry and live in the village. It was the easiest choice for most, guaranteeing them housing and in most cases a blessing from the village elders. Marrying was the choice that guaranteed safety and a full belly most nights. Despite being behind the times, the village had plenty to go around. And besides, propagation in a dying village was needed and highly encouraged. Each year another elder passed and the village numbers dwindled further. The eldest of the village clung to the shreds of the past, refusing to admit that with each year, the end of the village drew nearer.

Second choice was becoming a trader. That path meant a chance at leaving the old woods, of adventuring across the country. It carried with it whispers of riches, good food and escape from under the thumb of the elders. Being so sheltered within the pines however, made it a less popular path. The youth of the village tended to be wary of adventuring beyond the deep woods.

The final choice, the shrine meant servitude to the old gods. It was rarely picked, the choice meaning nothing but a life of celibacy and working yourself to the bone. It didn’t help that the shrine was led by the oldest and nastiest woman in the village. Because of this most avoided it like the plague. Your mother had once described it as a nest of disease, the quiet comment earning her the ire of the village elders. They would never admit it, but the shrine was like the rest of the village, becoming forgotten by the new world.

In your case you chose the shrine. Marrying wasn't something you had wanted. Not when the only eligible partner was 17 years older than you and had a penchant for being drunk. He had dropped heavy hints in the months leading up to your birthday, clumsily pawing at you as if you were livestock. No matter where you went, he was there, stinking and laughing. Your parents had encouraged him, their hints at wanting grandchildren much heavier handed. Gifts meant for fertility had greeted you a whole month before your 18th birthday, followed by the wide smiles of your parents. The thought alone made you want to vomit but you persisted. Ignoring him and them to the best of your ability.

When it was finally your birthday, the look on his face when you made your choice had been enough to make up for his disgusting behavior. A shrine maiden made sense for you. Being a wife held no interest. Not when it meant having as many babies as you could and spending your days gossiping with the other tired women of your village. Being a trader meant long periods of time away from the village. Much like the rest of the village, you liked the deep pines you lived in. They offered quiet and solitude that the rest of the world seemed adamant on moving away from.

So you chose the shrine much to your parents dismay.

Like most modern villages, old gods and their shrines were starting to become mere whispers. As the new age seeped across the land, the strings of tradition were starting to fray. Superstitions and reverence were fading to stories that were told to scare children and nothing more. Some villages had even had the arrogance to tear down old shrines. To rid themselves of the past in favor of the cold stone and metal of the future.

Because of this, the elders of your village approved of your choice heartly. It had earned you a bundle of fabric, a sack of rice and a small kitten. Gifts were not typically given to a new shrine keeper. But seeing as you were the second person in almost 19 years to do so, the village elders were ecstatic. They needed more people to keep tradition alive, especially since the old shrine keeper was getting up there in years.

So you left the warm and bustling village and found yourself in the woods that surround it. Your farewells had been bittersweet, your parents whispering that you could always change your mind. You didn’t however, heart thrumming slightly at the thought of finally being away from the watchful eyes of the village. Being alone in the woods sounded like a godsend.

So, kitten tucked in the front of your kimono and a cloth bag of your possessions on your back, you made the trek into the deep pines. Just over a day's walk from the village, the old shrine was nestled in a thick grove of pine. The stone and wood of its walls were decaying. Here in the deep woods, nature was adamant about overtaking everything. Deep emerald moss and prickly vines twisted over the hunched form of the shrine. Almost as if the forest were halfway through swallowing the old structure, it became impossible at some points to see where the shrine ended and the forest began. Wood shavings and bits of stone littered the mossy steps up to it, the building seeming to shed like an old dog. You carefully skirted around the larger chunks, knowing that if you tripped and broke anything, no one would be able to rescue you.

The once vibrant red paint of the shrine was peeling in thick chunks from the worn wood. Spread about the lush forest ground like strang blood flecks. There was something eerie about the building. Even the foundation was crumbling, cracks like spiderwebs spreading from stone to stone. Though you admittedly were not quite religious and weren’t sure how much you believed in the old gods, something about this building seemed alive. As if an unseen being sat at its middle, peeking over the crumbling walls at you with many eyes.

The shrine keeper, Ama, was much like the building. Hunched in her old age, her rough skin and dark eyes drew a picture of one who had been alive for centuries. Ama, of course, was only 83, a near miracle in the village. The old woman did not see it as such, living this long was a curse to her. She was old, unkind and foul tempered.

On your first day she had tried to send you back to the village, snapping that the youth like you just wanted to dilly dally in the forest like pigs. Though you towered over her, Ama scared you. She had a fierceness in her gaze that matched the unsettling aura of the shrine. You had stumbled over your words, sputtering like a fish as she glared. Her boney fists had been like knives in your hips as she pushed you from the shrine. And you had let her, eyes wide and mouth agape as she slammed the shrine doors behind you.

That night you had slept in the shrine steps, shivering and sneezing as the night winds ripped through the trees. In the dark, under a moonless sky, the pines weren’t as comforting as they were in the sun. And yet, you didn’t feel too afraid. Having the oddly watchful shrine at your back felt somewhat reassuring. And blessedly the kitten you had been given had remained on your chest, the little orange creature purring away through the night. He sat tucked in your kimono, brown eyes half closed in that sweet way cats did when sleepy and content. You decided that night to name him Yuji. The name was fitting. He was only a few months old and already had been more helpful than anyone else in your life.

Ama had let you stay after that, grumbling about having wasted enough energy to deter you. Under the morning sun you had given her a stiff smile, trying to ignore the fact that you could feel all of your bones from sleeping on stone. The old woman had given you a brief look of respect before covering it with her bristling glare. She was quick to thrust a broom in your hands, commenting that at least you had the decency to bring a shrine cat with you.

And so you had begun your days as a Shrine Maiden.

Other than her, the only other shrine worker was a man named Mahito. He was in his 30s and had picked the shrine as his place of work even before the age of 18. Being an orphan and having no home he had been left with little choice. Much like with the stray dogs that made their way in, the village had discarded him as soon as they were able.

Mahito was quiet and unsettling. He reminded you of stories of yokai for some reason, his gaze odd and piercing. Though you tried not to judge one by their appearance, there was something about his lank graying hair and scarred face that made your stomach churn. It was as if he were something pretending to be a man, his skin sitting strangely upon his bones. His voice didn’t help either, the man’s words seemed to twist like snakes. The air around him felt tainted by just a single word. You tried your best to avoid him as you carried out the various tasks Ama set for you each day. It was easy enough given that his daily tasks seem to pertain to the basement and inner courtyard. You happily avoided both and the bugs that seemed to thrive there. The few moments in which you had to interact with him were short enough that you were able to power through them with a forced smile. If he was aware of his effect on you, Mahito, thankfully gave no indication.

And time passed like this. One year became two, then 6 and you were still running about the shrine and its grounds, following Ama's raspy bark as she pointed to this and that. Over time you grew stronger, the coldness of winters and the sweltering summers having little effect with each year. It was a quiet life with just the three of you. Incredibly different from the village where everyone seemed to know what everyone else was doing.

The village life didn’t entirely leave you however. Despite liking being alone, you often found yourself trailing Ama on her daily rounds, not wanting to be caught alone by Mahito. The old woman seemed not to mind, happily giving you small tasks on the upkeep of the shrine.

Despite time’s instance of wearing the building down Ama kept it as clean and tidy as she could. The forest and the elements made the task difficult. It seemed nearly everyday there was some new part of the woods pushing its way past the old stone.

You assisted Ama silently, never complaining about any duties she gave you. Some days it was finding and tossing all the spiders in the shrine, others it was tying new talismans on the outer Tori gate. Ama would never admit it, but your silent acceptance seemed to please her.

Each morning she waited in the inner courtyard to bark the morning’s orders. In your 5th year she began following you about, glaring at your work. Ama offered no praise and no help. But you were quick to learn that didn’t mean she was unhappy.

In your 6th year some mornings Ama would give you nothing to do, simply asking you to watch the shrine as she took a walk. You spent those days on the front stairs with Yuji, sewing and waiting for Ama to reemerge from the deep pines. She never said where her walks took her, but she always appeared happy afterwards. Just for a moment, when she stepped from the trees to the stone, you caught a glimpse of the woman she once was. She would stand tall, a small smile upon her face and then she would step from beneath the last pine and once more she was a hunched and twisted old woman.

With these walks, the wall between you and Ama seemed to have lessened. The old shrine keeper slowly let you into her world. Her anger you learned was due to the villagers. Less offerings were being sent to the god. And no one showed up to the prayer ceremonies. Each ceremony she preferred, each ritual of offerings she held, Ama seemed angrier and older. Her chapped lips would offer curses to the village after each prayer. It was a sad sight that seemed to worsen through time.

You sat through all of them, offering your silent servitude to a nameless god. Despite your best efforts to pry, Ama didn’t produce a name for the god. And as time flew by, you began to think that the God was perhaps lost to time.

It wasn’t uncommon. As the new age filtered in, stories of gods abandoning their shrines grew in numbers. They went where the prayers were and here in the deep pines, only 2 offered prayer to the nameless god. You had noticed that Mahito never attended, the pale man always skulking away when Ama made her pre ceremony preparations.

As the years passed, Ama grew weaker. Her odd little walks took more and more time and you grew worried she was going to get lost in the deep pines. But she always returned and you kept your worries silent. You were curious of course, what could be so important in the woods that Ama would risk a fall over twisted roots to go each week?

But one glare from her wrinkled face was enough to wither the question in your throat. You pretended to not care, to not count the minutes until she returned.

Yuji had grown to be a big cat, spending his days napping in the sun on the shrine’s roof and following you about during your daily chores. He sat with Ama each morning, waiting for you to enter the main hall. Yuji was a funny cat, watching Ama bark her daily orders at you before following you to whichever end of the shrine you had been sent to. You appreciated his company and his funny little expressions. Life in the shrine was simple and yet complete. Not once did you think of returning to the village. Here your heart was fulfilled.

Then one day in the fall, Ama was not waiting in the main hall when you awoke. Waiting for a few moments you took note that Yuji was not in his usual spot either. You thought to ask Mahito, but his face in your mind made your anxiety deepen. You stood for a time, ignoring the chill wind as it ripped through your kimono. Worry took hold and you had made your way to her room, wincing at the heavy incense smell that seeped from it. Prayer incense, the ones she only used when offering words for the dead. You paused before the door, unsure if you should enter. Ama, despite opening up to you, was still incredibly private. Her room was the only spot in the shrine you had not yet seen. But despite your apprehension at being scolded, your anxiety at her wellbeing was stronger. The scent had your heart in your throat as you quietly entered her room, shutting the door behind you quietly.

"I knew it would be you " She rasped from her bed, the many blankets seeming to do nothing for her shivering. "Mahito is not to be trusted "

Ama looked withered, so small under the futon that you almost couldn’t believe it was her. At her side was Yuji, the big cat looking like a small tiger by her side. The old woman’s glare held no sharpness, her eyes half lidded as she stared. Sweat clung to her face and hair, shining strangely under the flickering candle light.

“I am not dead yet.” She rasped, brow furrowing further as she tried to level a glare at you. You had merely nodded at her words, fetching fresh water for her to drink. The old woman had become decrepit in the past few years. Her hands and back twisted by age to the point that she looked almost like a tree. Ama had allowed you to help her drink before swatting away your attempts to feed her a thin broth. Her fingers, you noted, seemed stuck, clawed like birds feet.

"You must carry out my duty now." She had pointed with one shaking hand at a small jade box. It sat, half hidden in the sleeve of a kimono. As if Ama had been halfway through stashing it away.

You opened it, finding a map. The paper was ancient, creased over a dozen times and torn around the edges. You held it carefully, squinting in the low light at the faint ink. The map detailed the main shrine and a smaller, hidden shrine in the woods. Just far enough from the main shrine that it couldn’t be seen even from the highest vantage point. It wasn't one you had ever heard her talk about before and you had thrown her a puzzled look. Ama had huffed, then coughed violently as she glared at you.

"Go to the tree burnt by lightning and stay there. When the bell rings follow the rope to the oldest tree. Then wait, with your eyes on the ground."

You knew better than to talk when Ama was, instead throwing her another questioning glance. Ama had paused for another coughing fit, allowing you to help her take another sip of water.

"The god of our forest is old and blind. He will not harm you."

Her words had you frozen, brow furrowing as you waited for further explanation. Ama gave none, merely stating that you were to follow a small stone path to a bathing pool. The god would put his hand on your shoulder for guidance. Again Ama expressed he was blind and that you must be slow and steady when walking.

“If he falls, you must NOT look at him. Help him up without using your sight.”

She added that once at the pool you were to shut your eyes and stand there, to wait for his hand on your shoulder again before making your way back to the first tree. You were to repeat this once a month, more if the god called on you.

“How will I know he’s calling for me?” It was the first question you dared to ask. Ama seemed to approve, coughing lightly into one crooked hand.

“You just will. You are his new keeper.” The sentence was tinged with sadness, Ama’s eyes glittering slightly in the dim light as tears welled in her old eyes. She did not cry however, the old woman turned her head from you and buried her face in Yuji’s side.

And with that, the conversation was over. You stuck the map in your kimono, bowing once to Ama before standing.

“Keep her safe.” You nodded at Yuji who let out a small meow in response. It wasn’t bandits or thieves you were worried about. No, leaving Ama alone with just Mahito seemed like a mistake. But Yuji disliked him as much as you and you knew the cat would do what it could to keep Ama safe. You just hoped it didn’t come to that.

That afternoon you paced outside of Ama’s room for a time. What she had shared was huge, but part of you couldn’t help but wonder if it was the dream of an old woman. A story she had clung to and now was passing to you.

Just once couldn’t hurt, you decided. One trip to this hidden area of the shrine just to see. And so you made the hour trek to the hidden shrine. The story explained the days Ama was gone for hours on end. You and Mahito had never asked her why she disappeared so much but now you knew she would have never told either of you.

Ama was dying. That was the only reason she had seen fit to tell you. In your heart you knew it to be true. But it saddened you. The old woman was snappish and callous. But she had given you a home for the past 6 years.

The walk to the tree struck by lightning was difficult. Though you were much younger than Ama, the twisted roots seemed to grab at your feet. More than once you tripped and fell, hands and knees scrapping painfully against the forest floor. How had Ama made it through this by herself? The woman couldn’t even stand up straight, much less fully lift her legs anymore. It was a miracle she hadn’t broken anything on her weekly trek. You were quick to discard your sandals, the shoes more of a hindrance than anything else. It left the mud seeping through your socks, cold and unpleasant. But you could walk easier, so you grit your teeth and pressed on.

After struggling through the pines, you finally made it to a clearing. It had you pause, the sight somehow more terrifying than anything you had ever seen.

A lone tree stood next to the burnt husk of a small shrine. Around them in a perfect circle was 12 feet of ashen ground. It was as if there was a perfectly controlled burn that ignited only there. The pines around the area stood tall and untouched. Massive wardens to this odd patch of forest. It was silent in this part of the woods. Unnaturally so. No birds whistled, not even the whisper of pine needles met your ears.

You held your breath as you walked to the tree, half expecting the ground to erupt with flames as you crossed. Only the crunch of ash beneath your feet greeted you, the sound unsettling. Your socks left muddy prints across the ash and you grimaced at how covered your feet had become. There was no saving these socks and if you tripped again, your kimono was sure to find a similar fate.

The burnt tree smelled. It was faint, only apparent when you were right next to the crumbling bark. It was acrid and dusty, the smell making the inside of your nose tickle. It was also a tad sweet, like spun sugar. You ignored the anxiety that churned in your stomach, determined to at least humor Ama. The ash on your socks was at least proof you could show her you came here. Even if it had been a waste of time.

As promised a rope was tied around the burnt tree. It was a thick, bright red cord that was tied almost delicately against the black wood. Unlike everything else it was incredibly clean. The bright red gleaming in stark contrast to the drab woods around it. Unlike the shimenawa at the shrine, this rope seemed rather expensive. You studied it, searching for a talisman or the mysterious bell Ama had mentioned. The crimson twist of silk contained neither however.

You frowned as you ran a hand against the silken rope. Ama had asked that you wait until you heard a bell. Glancing at the husk of the shrine, you noted no bell there either. Had it been lost? Fallen somewhere?

You chewed your bottom lip, hand steady against the rope as you thought. 10 minutes. You would give it 10 minutes and then walk back to the shrine. It had already been well over an hour as is to get here and you worried about leaving Ama alone. Mahito was there, the man a silent threat in your mind. While he had never done anything, his presence alone was like a thorn in your side. You weren’t superstitious, but you trusted your gut feelings. They had been right about the suitor in the village, they were right in this situation.

Gods what an idiot. You let out a huff of air. Only an idiot would leave a cat to protect someone. Maybe thats why Ama sent you on this goose chase. This was no doubt a lesson in being less naive. Certainly less cruel than you knew she could have been and for that you were grateful. Still, it didn’t make you feel any less stupid and you dreaded the lecture you knew was awaiting you back at the shrine.

A bell rang, the noise cutting through the silence like a knife. You flinched, eyes wide as you spun about, searching for the source. There was none, the sound again ringing out, seemingly from thin air. It was high and soft, a noise you might’ve found comforting had it not been in the middle of the pines.

Swallowing thickly, you dropped your gaze and took a step. Slowly, but surely, you followed the rope by feeling alone. The silk slid under your right hand smoothly, never catching on your palm. You weren’t sure how long you walked for, the light in this part of the woods was shielded by the trees. Had evening begun to set? You weren’t sure, your eyes locked firmly on your own feet as you walked. From the ashen ground, you stepped into the mossy mud of the pines. Again your feet became wet and you made a mental note that next time you should bring the damn sandals.

If there was a next time. A small part of you felt trapped, like a rabbit being led to a cage. Surely Ama wouldn’t have sent you to your death. Right?

Finally your hand hit the end of the rope. A smooth knot met your thumb, quickly followed by rough wood. You had made it to the other tree and the stone path. Right at your toe tips was the mossy stone, nearly swallowed by the forest floor. The bright moss stood in contrast with you muddied and ash dusted feet. Wiggling your toes, you wondered how far the path was to the bath, how long you would have to wait. You stood, chest tight as your mind buzzed. Perhaps you had imagined the bell? But it had been so clear, so loud. You smoothed your hand over the front of your kimono, dusting off a few errant pieces of ash.

Ama had been right about the bell, perhaps it wasn’t imagined and she was right about the old God?

You waited with baited breath, fighting the urge to look around you. Ama hadn't stated what would happen if you looked, but her warning had been clear. You must not look at the old God.

Beneath your hand, the tree you leaned against felt cool. The chill seeped into your skin, a dull ache radiating into your fingers as you stood still and listened.

The silence in the woods was deafening now. It made your heart race, body tensed as if ready to run at a moment's notice. You were terrified. Ama had never said which God lived in these woods. But the past few years she had asked him to curse so many of the villagers. Her old age had twisted not just her bones but her soul as well. You had heard the muttered prayers, the floods and fires she had wished for. Your throat felt dry, vision blurring slightly at the edges as you stared at your feet.

Maybe it needed a sacrifice before it would humor the old woman?

A warm hand slipped onto your shoulder and you jumped, a small yelp leaving your lips. You almost looked up, before fear set in and your gaze snapped to the forest floor again. Tears clung to your lower lashes as your heart thundered in your chest. For a moment all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears and your vision blurred as the hand tightened its grip slightly.

“You’re new.”

The God sounded young, like a man in his early 30s. The sound threw you off, mind reeling as you tried to rationalize the voice. He sounded human and again you were tempted to look.

Internally you battled yourself. To look and NOT to look. To speak and to keep silent. Your mind grappled with the conflicting urges, finally settling on a horrible combination. You gave a jerky nod and a grunt.

He is going to kill me for my rudeness. You could feel the blood leaving your face as the hand shifted slightly. But the God did nothing, a small chuckle making its way to your ears.

“You can speak to me. I don’t bite.”

The sentence was so normal. Casual and teasing. It made your stomach churn and you swiped one shaking hand across your forehead.

“Th-thank you My Lord.” You cringed as you spoke, your voice cracking horribly on the last word. The old God merely hummed, gently squeezing your shoulder.

Taking that as a command, you jerked forward, shakily stepping onto the stone path. The path was thankfully smooth and you walked slowly, each step careful as you tried to set an even pace. You shook violently, each step feeling as though you were fighting your way through water. Heart thundering in your head, you tried to keep the shaking rasp of your breath quiet, terrified that he would take your fear as an insult.

The God was obviously much taller than you, from the corner of your eye you caught a flash of a perfect, pale foot. You were worried however that a faster pace would cause the god to trip. The path, while smooth, was still irregular in places. You found yourself stumbling here and there despite having eyes on the path itself. Ama had indicated he was blind, an odd quality for a divine being, but you would keep him safe. Or die trying.

“Where is Ama?”

The God’s tone was light, but you could feel how his fingers tightened slightly when he spoke her name. You weren’t sure what to say at first, eyes locked on your feet as you carefully moved forward. The words churned in the back of your throat, sticking together until you had a painful lump in your throat. You didn’t want to admit the truth because it scared you. Ama was dying and that would leave the shrine to you. It would leave you alone with Mahito. For the first time in your adult life, you would be without an elder to guide you.

The God cleared his throat, tone teasing as he spoke, “It is rude to leave a god waiting.”

You nodded sharply, fingers playing with the edges of your sleeve as you spoke.

“Ama is dying.”

It was all you could get out. The rest of your fears twisted in your stomach, a ravenous beast chewing at your innards. For a moment you wondered if you would vomit but the feeling passed.

From behind you the God sighed, hand tightening again as he followed you.

The walk was silent, the path before you seeming to stretch on for miles. As you walked the sun barely shifted its position in the sky. Time was passing oddly, much more slowly than your body knew it should be. Perhaps a side effect of being near a divine being. Occasionally you felt the urge to speak, to break the deafening silence. But your fear would quickly wash the impulse away. The divine being was real, warm at your side. Your life quite literally was in the palm of his hand.

You shivered at the realization, again fighting the urge to peek over your shoulder. Even the small glimpses of his foot felt entirely wrong. As if you had committed some unspoken sin. You chewed at the inside of your cheek as you walked, mind flipping back and forth from the God at your shoulder and how fragile Ama had looked before you left.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the path stopped. The smooth stones went right up to the steaming water of the spring. You stopped, hands clasped at your waist and gaze locked on your feet. Ama hadn't really explained what to do at this point. Did he need help undressing? Did he need help bathing?

The God answered your unspoken questions for you, his hand slipping from your shoulder. From behind you, the sound of robes hitting dirt sounded out. You quickly shut your eyes, fingertips digging into the flesh of your palms as you tried to keep your breath steady.

“How many steps to the water?”

The question startled you and you shifted, sliding one eye open and searching until you found the pale foot. Beside it was a shimmering blue kimono, carelessly dropped on the moss and stone. From the foot to the bath was about 2 feet of space. You told the god as such, quickly closing your eyes again as he moved forward.

“You can look you know. I can’t tell either way.”

The god was teasing as he slipped into the water. But you frowned at his words.

“If you can’t tell either way then how do you know i haven’t been looking.”

The darkness behind your eyelids was strangely complete despite the sunlight filtering down from between the trees. You could hear water splashing and the God chuckling under his breath.

“Ama told you not to look right?”

Your brows furrowed and you resisted the urge to peek at him. For some reason you pictured a twisting smirk sitting on the god’s face. The man chuckled and you shifted uncomfortably.

“I bet she told you I'm old as well.”

That had you slowly opening your eyes, narrowed gaze slowly moving to the edge of the pool. He was right, Ama had called him old. But the foot you had seen was too youthful. Curiosity finally overpowered you, swelling until you could no longer ignore it.

You slid your gaze up and froze as you locked eyes with the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Water clung to his pale skin like translucent pearls, they glittered in his snowy hair and on his lashes like fragments of stars. Your breath hitched as met his gaze, feeling as if the god could see your very soul. His eyes were a brilliant blue, glittering like the sun on a bluejay’s wing. You had never seen anyone with such vibrantly colored eyes before.

A trader had once brought a shard of brilliant blue stone to the village. Aquamarine he had called it, chest puffed as he had described the difficulty he had obtaining it.

The God’s eyes looked as if they were cast in from that stone. So brilliant and bright that for a moment, you found yourself lost. And then he shifted and your slight trance was broken. Fear slithered into your heart and you tensed, half expecting for him to smite you where you stood.

“Do I still look handsome?” He asked in a teasing tone, one pale hand scooping water over his tousled hair. You licked your lips, throat feeling oddly dry as you fumbled for words.

“Um. Yes. You are truly beautiful.”

You flushed as you admitted it, internally cringing at your words. Surely that was some sort of blasphemy. You had ogled the man at his request, but what if it was a test. Ama had been so clear in you not looking and you had broken the rule almost immediately.

He rest his arms on the edge of the steaming pool, his gaze set slightly above your right shoulder. You tilted your head, quietly picking up one arm and waving it. He didn’t react, instead dunking his head beneath the water. For a moment you were flooded with shame for questioning the validity of his blindness. But Ama had been wrong about his age. You watched the surface of the water, picking at your thumb nail. Did she know? Or had she simply been following the rules of the shrine keeper before her?

You waited, watching nervously from the stone path as his shadow sunk deeper in the water. The steam blurred your vision slightly, warm tendrils brushing against your skin like a ghost

If he was blind how would he know which way was up? It felt like a stupid question but after a few moments had passed, your worry grew. Could a god drown?

You didn’t think so but you also didn’t think any would look so human. It was unsettling how human he looked. And yet there was that hint of otherworldly quality. As if someone had taken the purest snow from the tallest mountain peak and sculpted it into the shape of a man.

Another moment passed and you flinched a crow called out overhead. It snapped you out of the odd poetic reverie you had been in. Kneeling, you leaned over the water, trying to swallow the rising panic that was blooming in your chest.

The steam from the pool felt nice against your skin, the warmth welcome in the chill of the day. You couldn’t see him, the water was an odd greenish blue. The color was unnatural and too intense for you to see anything past shadows in the water.

Should I swim after him?

The color of the water was incredibly off putting, but if you let your local god drown, that was an ultimate sin wasn’t it?

“Worried?” He emerged from the water with a devious grin, wrapping one hand around your wrist. You let out a shriek in response, resisting the urge to smack him on the shoulder.

“You-you.” You began to sputter, mind fighting itself. On one hand you wanted to tell this divine being he was an idiot. On the other hand, you were terrified that at any moment, he would punish you for your impudence.

“Satoru.” He let your wrist go, sinking back into the water to his chin. His skin was flushed slightly, the heat giving him a nice rosy pink across his cheeks and tops of his ears. You frowned at him, waiting for further explanation on the name he just dropped. Was he calling me Satoru?

You chewed the inside of your cheek, scrubbing the water droplets off your wrist with a corner of your kimono sleeve.

“That’s not my name.” You finally gumbled quietly, warily watching the god as he lazily swam about the pool. The man laughed, shooting you a look.

“Of course it isn’t stupid. It’s my name.”

Your mouth fell open and you stared for a moment. “Is….Is that allowed?” You sputtered out. It felt wrong and entirely too intimate knowing his name. All the stories you had grown up with had painted the picture of gods who accepted perfect adoration. Of titles such as ‘your eminence’ and ‘honored one’ being used. Not actual names. It was an unspoken fact that any gods that did have names had given pseudonyms of sorts. Long gone were the days of knowing a god’s actual name. Names held power for beings such as them and there was no need for any mortal tongue to speak them.

Satoru was certainly his true name. It was too simple to be anything else. You recalled the stories traders would sometimes share when passing through the pine village. Of god’s with names, title really, like ‘Curse Devourer’ and ‘Blood Manipulator’. Names that made you wonder how kind these gods were. How cruel they might be.

Satoru snorted, shaking his wet hair from his eyes. “Am I not your god? Are the rules not for me to make?”

He made a good point. You hummed in response, pulling your knees to your chest as you thought. As the god bathed you pondered why Ama had put so many rules in place. Perhaps it wasn’t to protect you but to protect him?

Overhead the sky began to grow dark, the sun beginning its slow descent to kiss the earth. Purple and orange bloomed across the horizon as if a great paint brush were stirring the clouds. The beauty was simple, something you rarely noticed at the shrine with all the tall pines in the way. It was then that you realized just how long you had been away from Ama.

Was she alright?

You were so lost in thought you didn’t realize the god had finished his bath until he stood before you, unashamed at his nudity. You slapped a hand over your eyes, face burning as you stuttered out protests. Of course he was unabashed in his nudity. The man was the image of perfection. The small look you had gotten at his more, delicate part, left your mind in a very depraved place. It was unfair just how beautiful ALL of him was.

You stood silently, back to him until once more the warm hand was upon your shoulder. This time you glanced up at him, taking in his pale eyes and even paler hair up close. He was divine.

“Tell Ama I'd like to see her once more.”

You murmured that you would, turning and starting the slow walk back to the burnt tree. Satoru left how he had arrived, silently with the soft sound of bells ringing out. You waited for a moment, gaze locked on the sky until finally, you began walking again. Threading your way through the many trees you found yourself back at the shrine. The sun was low in the sky and in the pit of your stomach, fear twisted with sharp spines and teeth.

Ama was dead.

You found her, small and frail, where you had left her. It was as if she were asleep and initially you thought she was. But a shifting of the shadows in the room and you realized Mahito was sitting beside her.

The older man looked at you with his odd eyes, his face anything but mournful. You said nothing, biting back the sudden rage that filled your veins. There was no proof, no indication of the truth to your thoughts. But you knew he had ended her life. His pale, gray tinged hands sat on his lap like sickly spiders. They twitched under your gaze. Culprits. Yes Ama had been dying, but he had taken her last breath from her.

You carried out Ama’s funeral rites alone. Well, nearly alone. Yuji stayed plastered to your side, the cat was on edge. He was jumpy, fluffing up at the smallest sound. Mahito had been cruel to him in some way. Ama’s body had been alone save the creep at her side when you had come home, the cat hiding in your own room. You silently comforted the cat as you stood guard over Ama’s burial. Under your watchful gaze, you prayed for her soul. You hoped that in some way, with his divine powers, Satoru would see her one last time. That Ama would find the peace she had lost.

You didn’t sleep that night. Locked in your room, with Yuji on your lap, you sat and watched your door. The dark hours ticked by and you remained still. From various parts of the shrine, old wood settled and the wind found its way through cracks in the foundation. And from the hallways, foot steps. Slow and calculated. Each one placed just so to create the least amount of noise. You sat tense, hands gripping your knees as you waited.

That night nothing happened. Nothing but footsteps, pacing the hallway outside your room for hours.

“You seem tired” Satoru mused, he was half out of the bath, one finger running gently over the brightly coloured candies before him. Ama had been right, that you would just ‘know’ when Satoru needed you. It was an odd tickle in the back of your mind, like a ghostly finger was poking at your brain. Your second walk had included Yuji. The cat had thrilled Satoru, the god practically squealing over the softness of the tabby’s fur.

The baths occurred randomly, sometimes multiple times a week, sometimes nothing for two weeks. With each occurrence you learned more about the God. He liked sweets, he was apparently friends with the ‘Curse Devourer’ and he seemed to really like teasing you.

“You know that ignoring me does you no good.” Satoru was sitting, crossed legged and entirely nude. He was sitting right in front of the bathing pool, a teasing smile plastered across his face. You stared at a point slightly over his left shoulder, hands neatly clasped on your lap.

“I’m not ignoring you.” It was a partial truth. Today instead of talking with him, you were speaking when spoken to.

“You’re not looking at me.” He shifted, moving forward until one of his knees tapped yours. You flinched, feeling a blush spread across your face as he leaned close. He was determined to get you to look at his face and you were determined to not accidentally see his dick again.

“For a shrine maiden you’re rather bratty.” Satoru teased, on hand fiddling with the worn sleeve of your kimono. That caught your attention and your gaze shifted, a small burst of anger shooting through your veins. You met his gaze, ignoring the warm wave of emotion that curled in your abdomen. Satoru’s jewel-like eyes glittered with amusement. He was so close you could see his lashes, silver white and so fine that it looked almost as if he had snow stuck to his eyelids.

“What do you want?” You sighed, clenching your heads together in an attempt to suppress a shiver. Satoru’s gaze narrowed slightly, his playful look melting away and suddenly, you felt exposed. As if he had undressed you and were peering past your flesh and into your soul. The look stole your breath away.

“When are you going to tell me what's bothering you?” His voice was low, warm breath tickling your cheek as he leaned in and ran a finger from your shoulder to your elbow. The shiver rippled across your flesh accompanied by a burst of heat between your thighs. You flushed, resisting the urge to slap his hand away.

“You need to learn some decorum.” You muttered, shivering again as his large hand rested gently on top of yours. The concerned, piercing look vanished, replaced again by the teasing and idiotic grin of his. You were beginning to realize that his cheerful and annoying exterior was a mask. Despite being a divine being, he had the behavioral habits of a human. It was odd.

You let out an outrange gasp as suddenly Satoru pitched backwards, falling into the pool. The move gave you a clear eyeful of his nether region in all its glory. He cackled as he surfaced, flicking a handful of water towards you.

“You ass!” You sputtered, scooching backwards with a glare. Satoru shot you a grin that was beyond pleased.

“That’s no way to talk to your God now is it?”

“I am tired” You finally murmured, watching as Yuji batted a small blue candy across the path.

The day after Ama had been laid to rest, you had made the long trek back to the village. It was your duty after all. Mahito did not join you. The man had taken to skulking around the shrine, always just a few feet away. You could feel his gaze on your skin, the hidden intensity that was brewing just under his pallid flesh. It scared you. But you were alone and you had to be unshakable. You had to appear as Ama did, cold and hard in the light of the world.

The Village elders were not saddened by Ama’s passing. It had been expected and if they had been honest with you, they had been wanting it for some time. They hated Ama as much as she hated them. The follies of the elderly, holding onto grudges decades later.

You had merely nodded when they appointed you as the new Shrine keeper. It made sense, Mahito was still considered an outsider of sorts. You didn’t care either way. The village hadn’t changed since you had last seen it. Your parents were older, but still stuck in their ways. They had come to you, whispering about how it wasn’t too late to marry, to have offspring.

You had left without a word, stopping only once to buy a small canvas bag of candy.

“You could join me.” Satoru teased, flicking an orange candy towards you. Rolling your eyes, you took it, gently blowing a speck of dirt off before popping it in your mouth. The God pouted at you, cramming a handful of the sweets into his mouth before dipping beneath the steaming water. He was like a child sometimes, his cheerfully obstinate attitude boardline annoying at times.

That is why you didn’t tell him. Didn’t mention the footsteps that kept you awake. Didn’t tell him how sometimes, the door to your room would slide open just a crack. How one pale eye would press against the slit and watch you for hours. You didn’t tell him how you slept waiting for him after the bell tolled. How his hand on your shoulder woke you from the micro naps. Didn’t tell him how you napped in the forest, under fallen trees in beds of moss. Because the shrine wasn’t safe any more. A beast lurked within the halls, waiting for you to falter.

“I’m just saying.” Satoru reemerged, “Maybe the steam will wash away your stinking attitude.”

You leveled a glare at the man, grateful that he couldn’t see the action. It was for sure blasphemy to do so and you took a tiny amount of satisfaction in the action.

“You make ask one blasphemous question.” Satoru for once hadn’t jumped right into the bath. He sat in an ornate sky blue kimono adorned with golden cranes, propped on one elbow against a large rock. The look on his face spelled trouble, the man could barely contain the grin that spread across his face. The sunlight streaming through the pines tinted the tips of his hair a soft yellow. It gave him an oddly homely look, his face somehow softer when not framed in pure white. The look wasn’t enough to hide amusement that was slowly growing in intensity. He was baiting you, seemingly already knowing what you would want to ask.

You were tempted to make your question about his habit of wearing women’s kimonos. Part of you was curious if there was a Mrs. God of the bath. But another, smaller part of yourself didn’t want to ever find the answer to that question.

You sat, carefully tucking your legs beneath you as you mulled over what exactly to ask. Yuji flopped over next to Satoru, the orange tabby squirming about on the stone as he waited to be pet.

“Are you actually blind?” You tensed as you asked the question, fully expecting to have failed the test he put forward. Ama had misled you on the other facts about the God and you had been burning with curiosity about if his need for a guide was just another inaccuracy. It wasn’t a test however, Satoru merely tilted his head as he considered the question.

“No.” He looked serious for once, the expression killing the burst of irritation that threaded through your veins. Satoru drummed his fingers against the mossy stone path, stopping with a smile as Yuji butted his head against the god’s hand.

“I have sight, I just can’t bear to use it in your realm.” He gestured around the two of you, face half twisted in a grimace.

“It’s too much. There’s too much going on with you humans and your curses and prayers.”

Satoru ran a hand over his face, one glittering blue eye peeking out from between a crack in his fingers. You chewed at your bottom lip, unsure of how to respond. His answer really didn’t make sense.

“Look.” Satoru moved until he sat before you, hands on your knees as he leaned forward. You stiffened at his closeness, heart beat skyrocketing as his warm breath tickled your face. Even sitting he was taller than you.

“Look at me.” He took your face in his hands, directing your gaze. You held your breath, afraid to breathe on him. It was terrifying being so close to him.

This close you could see every long eyelash. They glittered, silvery white like the wings of a crane, so long that they touched his cheeks with each blink. Up this close you could smell him as well, the scent of bergamot and oranges filling your nose.

“For a few seconds, I’ll look.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that and nodded stiffly. All you could think about was his hands, thin fingers that sat on your cheeks, thumbs barely touching the corners of your lips. He was warm, his skin was soft. In that moment, Satoru felt human to you.

And in the next moment, you understood exactly what he meant.

As you stared, something changed and all of sudden his eyes were no longer shiny gems. He blinked and all of a sudden you were staring at stars. Satoru’s eyes were blue and radiant, clearer than the sky and deeper than the sea. They glitter as if filled with a thousand stars. As if someone had compressed all of the night sky beneath the sea.

It took your breath away. He was beautiful and terrifying all at once. And you felt utterly insignificant. He could see you, all of you.

And then he blinked again and you were staring at his jewel-like eyes. They seemed dull in comparison, still beautiful, yes. But so dull in comparison to the beauty he had shown you for just a moment.

“You have issues.” Satoru quipped, letting your face go. You scowled at him, rolling your eyes at his perfect ruining of the moment. Once again he was the flippant man who you could barely call a god. You looked away as he stood and stripped, the man jumping into the steaming pond with a laugh.

“No thank you, My Lord.” Your response dripped with sarcasm, the last two words twisting on your tongue slightly. Satoru frowned at that, eyes narrowing as he picked through the remaining candies.

“Careful there, human. I can hear your disdain.” He waggled a finger in your direction, an absolutely maniacal grin on his face, “I might have to punish your sinful mouth.”

You hoped he could feel the glare you leveled at him. His playful banter may have been welcome under better circumstances. But today, after weeks of practically no sleep, you were tired of the teasing.

Satoru seemed oblivious, popping the last of the candy into his mouth. He rested his chin on his arms, glittering eyes running over your form. For a moment you froze, certain he could see you. See the pain and exhaustion that sat on your shoulders. But no, it was the lack of sleep getting to you.

The walk back to the burnt tree was painful, you felt dizzy and all you could think of was your bed. You barely registered the warmth of his hand on your shoulder until it was gone. Satoru left without a word, fizzling from the mortal world as he always did.

You stood for a moment, swaying before you began the long walk back. Yuji followed you carefully. The cat had an easier time of traversing the twisting roots. He was kind to you however, sticking close as you stumbled clumsily back to the shrine.

“Where were you?” It was the person you least wanted to see. Mahito leaned against the entrance of the shrine. His black robes clung to his thin form like a death shroud. You felt a dull pang of anger. He must be sleeping whenever you were away from the shrine. His late night stalking seemed to have no effect on him, the man always alert, shiny eyes staring at you from beneath his lank gray hair.

Skirting around him, you scooped Yuji up, pointedly not looking at the man.

“Shrine duties.” You offered quietly over your shoulder. Mahito pushed off the wall, walking beside you as you slowly made your way deep into the shrine. He smelled odd, musty and wet as if he had spent the day in a basement. The smell filled your head, adding to the dizziness that already clung to your mind. You felt like passing out, but he was the last one you would let know that.

“I could help.” Mahito took a few rushed steps, standing before you and halting your path. You squinted at him, tightening on your grip on Yuji. In that moment you realized how much taller he was than you. That his form, as thin as it was, was muscled. He had one hand in his hair, allowing the sleeve of his robes to shift. You could see his hidden strength rippling under his plaid flesh.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” A statement, not a question. His eyes raked over your face, looking for the cracks in your exterior. You merely titled your head to one side, leveling glare at the man.

“I am the head of the shrine now. When I have something I’ll let you know.” You pushed past him, heading to your room without a glance backwards.

Months passed. Summer heat, then fall winds, until winter blanketed the pines in snow. Sleeping outside was no longer an option. Now you took rest at odd moments, hidden in the nooks and crannies of the shrine. Never a full sleep and never for more than 15 minutes at a time. You were becoming a husk.

Satoru knew it, the man’s teasing tone melting into concern. He was softer with you, gentle hand lingering longer than it usually did. You grew quiet, your energy focused on just existing.

And as a husk, you faltered.

One night in your room, on the soft blankets of your bed, your body finally caved. The need to sleep crashed into you like a tsunami, drowning you under the blanket of exhaustion. You fell asleep, alone in your room.

When you awoke it was a struggle to pull yourself from sleep. The sleep was so deep that it was as if you were trying to pull yourself from a pool of syrup. It coated the insides of your lungs and mind, trying to suffocate you back into the deep abyss of sleep. Your eyelids slipped open, the action achingly slow. It felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds. For a moment all you perceived was the deep darkness your room was cast in. The night had seeped in your room through the open door.

Open door.

The realization sent a jolt of panic through you, throwing off the last shreds of sleepiness from your mind. Clarity hit you like a bolt of lighting and it was then that you realized the predicament you were in.

A hand, cold and clammy, was pressed against your mouth.

You let out an enraged shriek, the sound muffled as the hand pressed harder against your mouth. The pressure was crushing, thumb digging painfully into the soft skin of your cheek. You struggled against Mahito, one hand coming up to swing at him. The pale man leered down at you, his other hand already beneath your kimono, thumb digging into the soft flesh of your left thigh.

He straddled your other thigh, erection straining against his robes and your skin.

You let out an indignant scream, teeth scraping at the skin of his palm.

“Shut up.” Mahito hissed, leaning in, his weight crushing as he put his face close to yours. You glared at him, raking your nails over his arms and shoulders. His clammy lips were on your skin, pressing against your neck as his warm breath stuttered out.

To your right, a loud hiss sounded. Yuji, back from one of his nighttime walks. The orange tabby ran at the man, hissing and spitting up a storm as he sunk his claws into the hand at your thigh. Mahito howled in pain, hand pulling away from your mouth as he backhanded Yuji. He hit the cat with such force that the small creature flew through the shoji screen to your room with a whimper.

You let out your own howl, anger and pain mixing in an animalistic noise. With his weight shifted, you were able to partially sit up, craning your neck back before whipping forward and headbutting the man. Mahito let out a gurgling cry, warm blood spattering on the front of your kimono as he fell backwards. With a cry, you kicked him off, heels connecting with his stomach and groin as you flailed about.

Without a second thought you were up, pushing through the remains of your door and picking up Yuji. The tabby was limp in your arms and a choking sob spilled from your lips as you fled from the shrine. Your feet stung against the rough stone and as you made it to the front entrance, the cold hit you, seeping into your skin.

“Wake up kitty.” Warm tears stained your cheeks as you ran, contrasting the freezing snow that fell silently around you. “Please.”

The world was silent except for your broken sobs as you fled into the pines. Your cries echoed off the tall pines, making the dark woods sound plagued by ghosts. The snow was heavy, thick flakes quickly covering your tracks as you weaved through the dark trees. It was a small blessing as from behind you, Mahito was yelling. Snarling for you to return to the shrine as he attempted to follow you through the storm. Unlike him, you didn’t need to see to know where the burnt tree was. It was second nature at this point.

Your bare feet slid through the snow, toes jamming against the hidden tree roots as you scrambled for the only place your mind could think of.

But he wasn’t there. The tree stood alone, a dark jagged line against the blinding white of the snow. Satoru hadn’t called for you, of course you were alone. Your god wasn’t in the shrine, wasn’t on this mortal plane. He had left you alone when you needed him most. Satoru had left Ama alone when she needed him most.

What use is the God of baths? The God of an empty shrine and a single shrine maiden. Am I merely a plaything for the divine?

The snow clung to your cheeks, the cold seeping into your skin, your bones. In your arms, Yuji lay limp, you couldn’t even tell if he was even breathing. Part of you refused to look, refused to acknowledge the possibility that he was gone. That you were completely alone.

From a distance, the muffled shouting from Mahito rang out across the snow. You turned slightly, squinting through the snow. The weather was complete, it was snow that you had loved to watch as a child from the comfort of a warm bed. Now it was swallowing you whole. The snow covered your feet, the limbs were numb and you knew that within a few more moments the damage to them would be complete. Your fingers had paled, tinged with the unnatural blueish gray of frost damage. And you were growing warm.

‘There was a name for it’, you thought faintly, letting yourself sink to your knees. The growing drifts of snow swallowed your hips as you slumped down. There had been a boy in your village who had gone out in a particularly bad storm. No one knew why he had gone out, perhaps to play. Regardless of the reason, he had died, found days later half undressed in the snow. His parents had been confused but the village healer had murmured something about snow delirium.

Mahito’s shouting grew fainter and you couldn’t decide if it was him moving away or your hearing somehow going. You buried your face in Yuji’s warm fur, tears prickling in the corner of your eyes. A dull ache burned in your chest, urging you to lie in the snow. To sleep, just for a moment.

“What have we here?” A low voice, smooth as silk and full of curiosity slid around you. It was soft and comforting in a way that was almost unsettling. With effort you looked up, brows furrowing as you took in the man who stood before you. Dressed in all black robes from head to toe, he stood out against the snow like a wraith. The wind seemed unable to touch him, the deep silk robes and his inky hair unnaturally still. He was like a statue, save for the occasional gentle brushing of snow from his robes. You blinked slowly up at him, taking in his fox like features, the long lashes that kissed his cheeks with each blink. He was the second most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Death has come to walk me away. You thought dully, standing with effort. Your limbs resisted you, joints stiff with the cold and groaning in protest. The man watched, his look a mix of mild curiosity and something that bordered on concern.

“You.” You began, voice hoarse and cracking with the effort, “You can take me but save him, please.” You held Yuji out with some effort, swaying as your breath stuttered in your chest. Your plea seemed to confuse the man, one thin eyebrow raising as he took in Yuji. You offered the cat to him, trying not to let the tears you felt dancing in your eyes fall. Your arms shook slightly, the cold full set in your muscles.

“You’re Satoru’s human.” It was a statement and a strange one at that. His words had you still, breath catching in your throat as finally, hot tears poured down your face.

“Yes. Yes, I am Satoru’s Human. His Shrine Maiden.” You sobbed, clutching Yuji to your chest again. The shadow of a man let out a low hum, eyes taking in your disheveled form. You knew he could see the blood, how your robes were hanging open in an unseemly way. Something in his eyes darkened and you flinched as his gaze suddenly snapped from you, fixing on a point over your right shoulder. Distantly, you could hear Mahito shouting, the words ‘Bitch’ and ‘Mine’ echoing faintly through the pines. The strange man heard it as well, his thin brows lowering until a thunderous scowl sat upon his face.

“A mortal dare lay hands upon a God’s possession?” His comment wasn’t for you, strangely enough it seemed directed at the sky. You felt a bit concerned at being called a possession. But the concern was faint, slowly fading as the last of the warmth seemed to drain from your limbs. With it went your strength and you found yourself crumpled in the snow again, arms locked in place as you cradled the limp form of Yuji. For a moment the world blurred, black spots popping across your field of vision as you went slightly limp.

“You’re safe now.”

A warm hand took yours, pulling you gently to your feet. And suddenly, the world was gone.

No. That wasn’t quite right.

The world fell away.

You both existed and didn’t, pulled into the great expanse that was the home of the stars. Earth as you knew it, the pines and the snow scattered into wisps akin to mist. The sky swelled around you and suddenly you saw it. The home of the divine. Beyond the clouds, twisted in among the stars. It glittered as the largest star itself, a shifting space. First a palace, then a planet, a forest, a shrine, then back to a palace.

There was no hot, no cold. You weren’t even sure you would call the state you found yourself in as ‘alive’. It was a state of existence that transcended the physical. Yuji was both his own bright soul and yet he was part of yours, intertwined in what was your chest.

The man in black robes was more physically there, he seemed able to keep his shape despite the odd ripples and the twisting urge to just…dissipate.

Your guide landed elegantly upon the shimmering marble floors, tugging your floating and dumb struck existence down. Warmth radiated from his hand, through you until suddenly you existed again.

You let out a sharp and startled gasp, fingers digging into Yuji’s fur as you reeled at the sight around you. It was beautiful, otherworldly and entirely too much. You faintly registered the existence of other beings passing by, their presence immense and overwhelming.

The floor was white, then gold, then shimmering like sunlight caught in a raindrop. Doors faded into existence and opened to reveal worlds beyond your comprehension. Beings that looked human stepped from them and down hallways that built themselves. This realm was never ending and never resting. It’s form twisted and bent to the needs of the individuals that traversed it.

The largest man you had ever seen stalked past. His hair was the color cherry blossoms and he had too many arms. You caught his eyes and shivered at the look of pure disgust that twisted his already mangled face. His form was familiar, something you had seen on a scrap of aged parchment. A demon that used to walk among men.

The realm was living. It’s consciousness touched yours, gently probing. Like a curious cat it was looking in every nook and cranny, quietly waiting for you to give it a nudge. If you so willed it, the realm would twist for you, become the path to wherever you needed.

A woman emerged from a door shaped like a coffin lid. It was almost too small for her to exit, and she had to twist herself like a cat to pull free. Her long white hair covered one eye, falling down her back in luscious waves. She paused at the sight of you, single dark brown eye taking you before she offered you a small nod. You found yourself compelled to nod back, watching as she turned and sauntered up a staircase made of stardust.

“Look at me.” It was the man in black robes, one pale hand lifting your chin. You shivered at his touch, brows furrowing as another wave of confusion rocked you. In your arms, Yuji stirred faintly, head lifting weakly. You blinked, gaze shifting from the cat, to the man in black, then back to the twisting palace around you.

Behind your guide was a new man, his tired eyes pinching in the corners as he came to a full stop to look at you. Unlike the other beings of this place, he was in a full western style suit. It was a dull gray, contrasting with the glimmering almost gold color of his hair. Exhaustion visibly clung to him, you could feel it through the realm’s odd connection. It made you sway slightly, lightheaded in its intensity. He let out a sigh, making a point to turn and walk in the opposite direction.

“You survived. Surprising given how close to death you were.” The man murmured, a strand of his dark hair falling in his face as he leaned closer. He ran one long finger down the side of your face, frowning slightly at something he saw.

“Did I die?” You asked weakly, afraid of the answer. Your odd companion raised one eyebrow, straightening as he tilted his head to shoot you a rather cold look.

“I’m the god of curses. Not death.” He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I suppose however I have assisted in cursing a human or ten to death.”

He saw your look of confused terror and offered you a comforting smile. “Suguru. Call me Suguru.”

You blinked, holding Yuji a little closer as you inhaled in an attempt to calm yourself. Everything was happening too fast. You were still reeling from Mahito’s attempted assault.

“Where is Satoru?” You almost didn’t dare to ask. Part of you was still full of dull anger at the fact that he hadn’t been there, that he hadn’t been the one to tug you into this divine realm. And a smaller, nasty part, was wondering if he had abandoned you. The final shrine maiden of the deep pines left to tend an empty shrine.

Suguru smiled and this time it was awful. A terrifying grin that made the corners of his dark eyes crinkle. It was as if all of a sudden you were an injured deer standing in front of a bear.

“He’s taking care of matters on the mortal plane.”

You knew without asking that Mahito was most likely facing a terrible terrible death. It made you feel small for some reason. Small and utterly human.

“I’ll take you to his realm.”

You blinked at that, slowly following him as Suguru made his way quickly through the shifting palace. The building seemed to understand that you were human, tiles of marble clicking into place before your very feet as you followed behind a God that had no need for such niceties. He walked across the bare expanse of space as if it were nothing. It most likely was, the man was divine.

Almost as divine as Satoru. You thought. As if he knew, Suguru’s head jerked, the man shooting a look over his shoulder. Surely he couldn’t read your mind.

‘I certainly can’ It was his voice, inside your mind and poking at the innermost expanse of your brain. You swallowed your thoughts, trying to keep your mind clear as you followed. It was easy enough to do, your mind drowning in anxiety as you tried to avoid the dark God’s glances.

In your arms, Yuji had fully awoken. He sat contently in your arms as if nothing had occurred. Looking down at him, you watched him blink back up at you, a small purring starting up in his chest as he settled deeper in your arms. The tabby seemed un-bothered by the shifting world around you. The marble floor, golden walls and plant life that seemed to blink in and out of existence. All of them ignored in favor of staring up at you. As if to the small orange cat, you were somehow above all else.

“One little jump.” Suguru turned, wrapping one arm around your waist as you came to a halt beside him. Before you was a door way and beyond it, a deep void of black littered by many stars. You shot him a questioning look, the hall you had been in simply ended. There was nowhere to jump to.

The smile Suguru gave you this time was not at all comforting. It was better than his vicious smile, but it still made your stomach churn as his grip tightened.

“Wh-” Your breath left your body before you could complete the word. Suguru had jumped, straight into the void and you were being sucked down. Faster than anything humanly possible. You would have screamed if it were possible, but the void was all around you, crushing you.

And then you were back on your feet in an endless field of soft white grass. Your vision swam for a moment and you struggled to stay upright. Yuji let out a little whine, the cat puffed up as he too fought the after effects of the jump.

“Tell Satoru he owes me.” And Suguru was gone. You stood for a moment, frowning at the space where he had left you. The field was silent, stretching on for miles. The grass moved in a warm breeze tickling your feet.

Everything was too informal. Your mind yelled at you that you must’ve died. Something had happened in the snow and now your mind was showing you a nice little fantasy before you died.

Perhaps you had died back in the forest when Ama had asked you to make the first trek to the bath. Tripped on a tree root and fell down the mountain side.

“Oh!” You blinked, backing up a step as a dark shape cut through the field. It was large and fast and on you before you could run.

“OH!” You let out a laugh that was a mix of relief and astonishment. A large black dog stood before you, intently sniffing the edges of your kimono. He was shaggy, fur sticking up oddly in places. The dog let out a small bark, nudging your hip with his nose. From your arms Yuji let out a meow, ears pulled back as he stared down at the dog. They stared at each other for a moment, a silent conversation rippling between them. Then they relaxed, Yuji settling in your arms and the dog wagging his tail happily.

He nudged your hand again, taking a step forward. When you didn’t follow he repeated the action, letting out a low ‘boof’ noise. You took a step forward, slowly following the large dog as he trotted across the field.

For a while there was nothing but the pale grass and the warm breeze. Occasionally you could hear things drifting through the lazy wind. Laughter, conversations, a whisper, all of them faint like memories you couldn’t quite recall. Despite the stress of being pulled to this place, you didn’t grow tired as you walked. It was as if time didn’t exist in this place, keeping the aches of mortal life at bay.

From the grass, a house arose. Logically you knew you should have been able to see the sprawling estate from where you entered the field. But like the great hall before it, the building seemed to materialize from the air, building itself stone by stone.

As the main door slid into place, a zen garden entrance built itself around you and your companion. You let out a small gasp as the grass slid away from your feet, small stone pebbles quickly taking its place. It made you stumble slightly and at your side, the dog quickly leaned into you to provide support.

You stared in awe at the tall stone walls and the deep blue tile of the roof. This estate was much like the ones in your world. Built normally for the lords of the land and something you had only observed in paintings. No one in your village was wealthy enough for an estate of any kind. Not even the elders who were born from old noble families. Like the traditions they clung to, they had become obsolete under the new world’s technology.

You stepped up to the door, murmuring a small ‘hello’ as you tentatively entered. The estate was silent, no servants it seemed and the master of the house had yet to appear.

Yuji lept from your arms, trotting down the long main hallway after the shaggy dog. You followed them nervously, wincing as your bruised and dirty feet touched the spotless flooring. It felt wrong to sully this grande estate with your mere presence.

But there was no one around to complain. You stepped carefully regardless, trailing past multiple sitting rooms, closets, open spaces you had no name for. There were rooms full of paintings and glass sculptures. Rooms full of the most beautiful kimonos you had ever seen, rooms filled with books and scrolls strewn about like small mountains made of paper. There were rooms that opened into the field again, the wood flooring twisting strangely into the pale field as if the world and the estate were one structure.

The shaggy dog stopped at one of the doorways, darting into the room and flopping onto a large futon. You stepped after him, smiling as you realized it was the dog’s room. There were ink portraits of the shaggy beast all over the wall, the scrolls hanging in a neat line.

“Are you Megumi?” You asked the dog. Megumi huffed in response, shifting to let Yuji sit on the futon next to him. His job seemed complete and now the dog was drifting off to sleep with your cat at his side. You watched them quietly for a moment before exiting the room.

The hallway of the estate seemed endless, stretching on impossibly long. Logically you knew there was no way it could fit inside the exterior estate you had seen. But like the rest of this realm, it seemed part of a large odd being.

You grimaced as you passed a mirror, stopping taking in the bags under your eyes. Bruises littered your exposed skin, in part from Mahito’s assault. But the blueish tint persisted in your fingers and toes. You wiggled your toes, wincing at the small twinge of pain that radiated up your legs. Leaning forward you took in the blood dried over your chest and kimono, grimacing as you scratched a nail over one patch.

I could use a shower. You thought sourly, flicking a pain needle from your shoulder. An odd warmth tickled the back of your mind and you flinched as next to the mirror, a doorway appeared. It was a plain sliding door, unassuming and entirely out of place in the luxurious hallway. You stared at it for a moment and then slid it open cautiously.

It was a bathing room. Much more luxurious than you had ever been in, but still simpler than the halls around you. White tile lined the wall, small pale blue flowers painted here and there. They led to a large stone bath inset in the floor, already filled to the brim with steaming water.

Stepping inside the room, you carefully slid the door closed before peeling your kimono off. It fell with a sad rustle onto the clean tile, looking like a rag more than an outfit.

Shuffling over to the bath, you leaned over it, taking in the crystal clear water. It poured quietly into the pool from a brass crane head. But it didn’t overfill, despite the constant flow, instead the water lapped at the stone edge of the bath.

Almost too clean, You mused, turning around to look for a container for some water. It felt rude to even think about stepping in the bath before attempting to scrub some of the grime off. The room was empty and you almost had time to frown. But the house knew what you wanted. You jumped as a small wooden bucket suddenly popped out of thin air, clattering to the floor and spilling a small vial onto the tile. You approached it slowly, picking both items up with hesitation. They appeared normal enough, smooth wood and beautiful ceramic. Filling the bucket with water, you twisted the vial open, sniffing it cautiously.

The smell of lychee and something else that was oddly sweet drifted from the neck of the bottle. It reminded you a bit of some of the candies Satoru had a fondness for. You sat on the floor and then paused. There was nothing to use to wash yourself with.

This time the house dropped a washcloth right on your face. You laughed at the magic and absurdity of it, trying your best to think thankful thoughts towards the house.

As quickly as you could you scrubbed your skin, praying for the sensation of Mahito’s hands to leave your skin. As much as you didn’t want to acknowledge it, his touch clung to you like ghostly hands.

Perhaps boiling water will do the job. You tossed the washcloth into the bucket, noting with a grimace how dirty the water within was. As you stepped into the warm water, the bucket vanished with a small pop. You stared for a moment in shock, one foot submerged.

“Thank you.” You slid into the water, looking up at the ceiling. A few of the tiles rippled, as if the estate were acknowledging your thanks.

The water, like the realm it was in, was divine. You let out a sigh, sinking to your chin and closing your eyes. The warm water seemed to seep into every pore, relaxing your muscles and pushing the sensation of your assault from your skin. You allowed yourself to sink under the water.

From head to toe, you were warm, you felt safe. Alone, but safe. Squeezing your eyes closed even tighter, you fought the tears that welled in your throat. A twisting mix of grief and anger sat in your throat and you fought to swallow it. Beneath the surface, you let out a silent scream of frustration.

You should have swallowed water with such a stupid action. But the house had shifted again and your head was above water, the bath suddenly less deep. You let out a small sigh, resting your chin on your knees. No hidden emotions it was, at least not beneath bath water.

Hours passed and still the water remained a consistent perfect temperature. In the steam you had time to ponder. To face the emotions that roiled beneath your skin. You had been assaulted, yanked into a realm you had no place in and now you were alone in a magical house.

What future was there for you? Could you even go back to the shrine, to the village?

No.

There was no one there for you. No one who wanted to take the long trek up to the shrine. Like the old temple, you were to be forgotten up on the mountain between the pines. As with the shrine keepers before you, your bones were meant to grow mossy beneath tree roots and the rubble of the temple as it moldered and fell.

Looking at your reflection, you thought about Satoru, of why he had even been in the mortal realm.

“Surely there are baths in the Divine realm?” You asked, watching as the god felt his way along the stone edge of the tub, the man slowly stalking after Yuji. The cat seemed amused, stepping just out of grasp but chirping to let Satoru know exactly how far off he was.

“Of course there are.” The look he shot over his shoulder told you exactly how stupid he found the question. You flushed, rolling your eyes as he ignored the unspoken question.

“Then why come here?” You moved closer to the edge of the pool, daring to dip your toes into the warm water. It was a move you would never do when he was closer, you had a feeling the god would find it funny to pull you in.

“How else can I answer prayers?” Satoru grabbed for Yuji, missing as the cat neatly jumped over his grasp and bolted back towards you. The little cat was triumphant, butting his head against your hip with a purr. You noted with amusement that he looked incredibly smug.

“If I never experience the simple tasks of humanity, how can I accurately gauge the urgency of a prayer?”

You were tempted to tell him that bathing was perhaps not the best thing to gauge prayers against. But your train of thought was interrupted as his hand landed on your foot. You froze, tensing as you waited to be pulled under the water. He had somehow moved faster and farther than was possible. You had blinked and he had moved.

Satoru didn’t pull you under however, his long fingers wrapping around your ankle as he stared up at you.

“I bathe here to listen to my shrine keepers. To hear about humanity from a human.”

You merely hummed in response, pulse thundering in your ear as his thumb gently rubbed against your skin. There was a heat in your veins, shooting from his touch to your abdomen, coiling and trembling as you stared into his eyes.

“What good is a God who can’t listen?”

You ruminated on the past until your skin grew pruney from sitting in the water for so long. The house in its odd connection with you had a towel and new kimono all ready before you even fully stepped from the bath.

The kimono, much like the house, was ridiculously luxurious. A light purple with hand stitched cranes across the bottom. They twisted across the purple in a long line, wings outstretched and in mid motion. You felt too plain and human to wear such a garment. Spun from the finest silk, it slid on like a second skin. Perfectly tailored to fit you. Even the obi, you found yourself in awe of the cream colored fabric and the literal thousands of tiny stitched sage green bamboo shoots. These were the clothing of a woman far more grand than yourself. Royalty wore such items, not humble shrine keepters. Sliding the obi into place you patted the fabric absentmindedly.

You had bathed, gotten rid of your ruined kimono and now had no idea what to do. It felt odd to be alone in such a vast estate. Yes Megumi and Yuji were with you, but if you had to guess, they would most likely be sleeping for a while. You weren’t sure how, but you were fairly certain Yuji had been brought back to life. The cat had been so still in your arms, yet this realm seemed to have given him a second chance. You were sure the small tabby must be exhausted from whatever blessing had brought him back.

You were alone, so you wandered. The hallway was never ending, twisting and turning here and there. You passed countless sitting rooms, kitchens and bathrooms that were larger than the entire shrine. There was no sense of time in this place. No need to eat nor to sleep. You existed in a way that was outside of being human. Still, the habits of humanity called to you. In one of the ornate kitchens you stopped and ate the small meal the house pulled into existence. Rice, miso soup and an egg. It was simple but the best meal you had eaten in ages. You cried as you ate, wiping tears away as you savored the food.

The house seemed to understand what you needed before you did. To your surprise you found a room opening soon after you finished eating. It was simple, the house seeming to know the luxurious rooms made you uncomfortable. This room was small, with a plush futon and blankets within. You were quick to drop to the futon, pulling the blankets around you. The room was warm and quiet. Despite being in a state without physical needs, the exhaustion from the mortal realm was still in your bones and you quickly drifted off to sleep.

You had no idea how long you slept for. All you knew is you awoke with a jerk, breath catching in your throat. For a second your brain grappled with the fact that you were not in the shrine, panic swelling in your chest. But the house creaked around you, the sound bringing the world into focus.

Satoru was crouched before you, chin in one hand as he seemingly watched you. He smiled as you sat up. His eyes were the incredible star like blue again, glittering as if lit from within. It was a tad unsettling, but for the most part you found yourself breathless, pinned by his gaze.

“Sleep well?” His hair was damp, laying flatter against his head than normal. You found yourself reaching out and flicking at one snowy strand with a frown. The man ducked away from your touch, grabbing your hand and pulling you up as he stood. He seemed freshly bathed and manic. The grin he normally wore when making teasing comments was plastered across his face. He was practically bouncing as he pulled you from the room.

“Have you seen the whole house?”

You stumbled after him sleepy, murmuring that you doubted you could if you tried. Satoru laughed at that, shooting you a brilliant smile. He pulled you excitedly from room to room and you realized that now the estate actually had a normal layout. It was a modest size, still littered with luxury, but you could actually make sense of it.

“Why does it look so different?” You stopped in your tracks, tugging your hand from Satoru’s. The man paused, running a hand through his snowy hair. He seemed surprised at the question, brilliant eyes roving over your form.

“I was away. The realm scatters a bit when I'm not here.”

The answer made some sense. From what little you could tell, you knew it was living. Perhaps not as you were but it existed as its own being in the realm of the gods.

Satoru gently grabbed your hand again, tugging you over to a large window. From here you could see the pale field and beyond it, a glittering blue sea. You had never had the chance to see the ocean when you were in the mortal realm. It was too far a trek, but the stories you had heard didn’t do the body of water justice.

“We can go there later, I can show you the prayers that wash ashore.” Satoru murmured. He was standing behind you, warm breath tickling your ear as he spoke. You shuddered slightly, leaning against him as you stared out across the field. He was warm, large form easily overshadowing yours. One hand came up, resting on your shoulder, much like he had just days ago. It was a familiar feeling and you felt yourself melting against him.

Emotions you had crushed and swallowed came bubbling to the surface. A burning ache coiled in your stomach, tangling with the heat that radiated from his touch on your shoulder. You tilted your head slightly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Satoru was staring at you intently, his gaze asking an unspoken question. He looked hungry. It both thrilled and scared you. A shudder ran through you as you turned back, looking at his reflection in the glass.

“Yes” You offered an answer to the question he had not yet asked. A thrill of heat rippling from your belly to your extremities.

His hand slid down your side, large fingers curling into the silk of your kimono. You shuddered, heat coiling in your stomach as his warm breath tickled your right ear. Satoru paused, his other hand gently holding your waist.

“Are you sure?” The question was spoken softly, his normal teasing tone replaced by something so gentle that for a moment you were speechless. But only a moment, you nodded, placing your hand over his, fingers sliding to his wrist in a silent gesture asking him to continue.

The hand that had been tangled in your kimono, dipped beneath it, pushing past the silk of your juban beneath and pausing as he touched the bare flesh of your thigh. Your breath hitched, face flushing as you realized that the house had never provided you undergarments other than the juban. If it could, you were sure the house would be chuckling, in perfect sync with its master.

Satoru was laughing, the sound low and breathy as he pulled you closer. Your back was pressed firmly against his broad chest and you let out a small gasp as you felt his erection press against your backside.

His hand moved to the juncture between your thighs, warm fingertips sliding over your clit and delving into your folds in an inquisitive motion. You shuddered, breath hitching as you struggled to stay upright. A few seconds pressed against him, that's all it had taken for you to become soaking wet. Satoru chuckled in your ear, lips pressing against the soft skin of your throat as he gently swirled his finger tip around your entrance. The muscles fluttered in response, clenching around nothing as he teased the opening. Your legs shook and you gripped the hand that held on your waist in a death grip. He was the only thing keeping you upright, his gentle actions somehow making your mind both empty and overstimulated all at once.

“Do I really have such an effect on you?” It was the teasing tone you were used to and you shot a look over your shoulder, knowing that your flushed face and parted lips did nothing to convey the small flame of irritation. The emotion dissolved as his lips captured yours. Your breath caught as you melted into the kiss, his lips were warm, sliding against yours with a barely contained hunger. Satoru was shaking slightly, breath puffing from his nose sharply as he licked against your lips.

The arm at your waist slid up, finding its way beneath your kimono and grasping your breast. You moaned against his lips, leaning into the touch as Satoru ran his thumb over the peak of your nipple. The moan granted him entry and you shuddered as his tongue ran over your teeth, tangling with your own as he deepened the kiss. It was desperate and feral, your teeth clinking together as each kiss grew sloppier and more hungry.

The hand on your breast tightened, steadying the both of you as Satoru plunged a finger into your entrance. There was a brief sharp pain and you froze for a moment before relaxing again. The sensation dissolved into pleasure as he gently delved deeper. The rough pad of his finger rubbed against the sensitive inner heat of your pussy. You shook in his grip, hips moving in sync with his finger thrusting. The man moaned into your mouth adding another finger. It stretched you, but felt divine. Satoru was blessed with long fingers, his touch reaching the deep sensitive parts within you. He curled his fingers, hitting a new, deeper spot that sent a wave of pleasure through your veins.

A low moan split the air as you broke the kiss, neck again slightly. You gripped his wrist in an attempt to steady yourself, hips grinding gently against his palm as Saturo continued his gentle finger fucking. The god shifted, knee nudging your right thigh aside and opening you wider to him, The action had your clit pressing against his palm, the warm skin rubbing gently with each thrust of his finger. It was delightful and too much. You squirmed, panting in his arms as he gently bit at your neck, tongue laving against your pulse.

“S-shouldn’t.” Your words stuck in your throat as you struggled to stay upright, “Shouldn’t we be in bed?”

Your flush deepend as Satoru let out a sharp laugh. It was no secret you were inexperienced, the life of a shrine maiden was one of celibacy. And he knew that, being one of the Gods who had no doubt set the rules for temples. You squirmed in his arms, mind fuzzy as his finger slipped from you, cunt suddenly clenching around nothing.

“We can.” Satoru lifted you easily, the quick action making you dizzy. You clutched your Kimono close, the garment mussed and only being held by your Obi. The room around you seemed to twist and then you gasped as suddenly you were in a different room. There was a lurch in your chest and for a moment you thought you might vomit.

“Sorry.” Satoru offered you a small grimace, gently setting you on a large plush bed. “First time is always unpleasant.”

How did we get here? You wondered, blinking up at the tall ceiling. This room was dark, the walls a blue that was almost black. Spots of glittering gold and white appeared here and there, vanishing almost as quickly as they appeared. You frowned, propping yourself up on your elbows as you took in the sight. Your first impression was wrong. The walls were clear. It was the night sky that twisted about you, the stars and clouds of dust playfully twisting about as small points of light.

“No one can see us here.” Saturo shed his own robes, the silk sliding off with a familiar noise. Just as on earth he was unabashed with his nudity. You might have thrown him a look had you not been in awe at the room around you. The bed, draped in warm furs, was the only furniture in the room. It was like a nest, slightly deeper in the center. You let yourself fall back, staring at the dancing space around you.

“How much can you see from here?” He had explained his ability to you and while you had an understanding, you had a feeling he had simplified it for you. Saturo grinned, stalking over to the bed and crawling onto it. He moved like a beast, each move calculated as he drew closer to his prey.

“I see everything.” It was a simple answer that implied such grandiosity that it was almost unimaginable. He crouched over you, a perfectly sculpted man. And he ignored the twisting beauty around him, instead focusing on you.

“Why me?” It was something that had been tugging at the back of your mind since he had first started teasing you. Without him ever stating it, you knew he was never like that with Ama and you had a feeling perhaps he had never been like that with any other mortal.

“Why not you?” The answer was followed by a grin that was so smug it was insufferable. You scoffed, lightly slapping his bicep. Saturo cackled, leaning in and capturing your lips. It was a non-answer and you decided you were fine with that. You melted against him, opening your thighs to allow his hips to grind against yours.

He was a man starved, one hand tangling in your hair as with the other he pinched and pulled at your left breast. You moaned against his lips, hips canting up against his. His cock slid against your wet folds, warm and stiff against your clit. The smooth skin gave way to the rough white thatch of hair at the base of his cock. It created a different kind of friction, one that sent lightning bolts of pleasure through you. The sensation made you shudder, hips shifting so you could open your legs wider. Satoru grunted in frustration at your kimono, tugging the silk roughly until the belt gave and you were able to slide your arms free. He slid his arms beneath you, mouth latching onto your breast as he lazy thrust against you.

It had you breathless, small choked moans leaving you as you grinded against him. There was a burning, tight sensation growing in your abdomen, building with each pass of your clit against his dripping cock. You chased it, slick folds pressing against his cock, creating a low lewd noise with each pass. Satoru moaned against your breast, the pace of his thrusting quickening as he matched your mindless desire. You threaded one hand through his hair, the other sliding over the expanse of his shoulders.

“So close.” You whispered, head falling back and eyes closing as you canted your hips against his.

Satoru let go of your breast with a small pop, leaning back and grinning down at you. A low whine of displeasure left you, lips pulling down in frustration as you panted up at him. He looked smug, one hand fisting around his cock as he gave it a quick pump, thumb smearing the mix of your juices and his precum over the head.

“Let me take you?” His voice was husky, the blue of his eye eclipsed by how blown his pupils were. You nodded, heart pounding in your ears. Excitement and lust coiled in your abdomen, you ached in a way you knew would only be satisfied once he was within you.

Satoru was not gentle you were coming to realize. He was careful, mindful of where each touch landed. But gentle was not a word you would use. He was hungry, impatient and feral in his need.

And you didn’t mind. His rough fingers dragged pleasure from deep within you. Each touch making your legs shake, back arch and moans slide from your throat. He was a beast but one that knew its prey well.

“Good.” Satoru huffed out. He remained as he was, kneeling, cock stiffly pointing upwards. You noted with a blush that his white patch of pubic hair was drenched from your earlier grinding.

Satoru shot you a grin that bordered on manic, taking your thighs in each hand and spreading them farther apart. You shivered slightly with the action, the wet between your thighs being brushed by cold. But only for an instant.

Satoru sheathed himself within you in one fluid motion. You let out a silent gasp, the air caught in your throat as the walls of your cunt fluttered about him. He stretched you completely, almost uncomfortably so. But the dull ache gave way to pleasure as he began to move.

Satoru seemed content to remain kneeling, his brilliant gaze locked on your face as he thrust into your warm heat. He looked powerful, muscles rippling with each thrust, an iron grip on your thighs. You shuddered beneath him, for a moment pleasure forgotten as you viewed the god above you. He was otherworldly. White hair shimmering as if made of stardust, blue eyes piercing your very soul.

The thoughts dissolved as he thrust again, dragging his cock nearly all the way out before plunging back into you. The pace he set was rough, each thrust pushed pleasure through you. Beneath him you were breathless, matching his roughness as best you could.

The pleasure was mind numbing, your legs shook in his grasp as the head of his member kissed deep within your heat, hitting your cervix with an aching accuracy. You arched, hips stuttering against his as you chased the heat coiling in your stomach. Each thrust built it higher and higher, a taut string close to snapping.

Faintly you registered that you were moaning, half words falling from your lips as you tried to ask him for more. To go faster.

Satoru laughed, the sound triumphant and breathless. He fell forward, capturing your lips with his, the hunger behind the action making his nose smash against yours. You didn’t mind the clumsiness and the slight pain. Arching against him, you panted against his mouth, arms sliding around his shoulders to pull him closer. Satoru’s kisses were sloppy, his teeth scraping against your bottom lip.

You moaned, hips canting against his as your clit caught against the rough hair at the base of his cock. It sent a thrill of pleasure through you and as you moaned, he thrust again, grinding his hips into you.

Breaking the kiss, Satoru moved his head to your neck, kissing the soft flesh beneath your ear.

“Cum for me.” The words were low and growled, sending a shiver down your spine. You huffed out a low moan, unable to respond. His hands were on your hips, the man kneeling again, lifting you on his lap as he thrusted up into your tight heat.

The change of position sent stars across your vision and finally, the heat in your abdomen snapped.

You came with a cry, hands clawing at Satoru’s back as he kept thrusting. The walls of your cunt squeezed and fluttered around him, your orgasm prolonged by the rough movements. You let your head nestle in the crook of his neck, panting as he kept going.

Satoru’s arms shook slightly, his movements becoming erratic as he fucked you. The grip on your hips was bruising as he drilled into you. Satoru shifted, his teeth catching on your shoulder as he let out a low snarl. You shivered as he finally came, the warmth of his release filling you completely.

For a moment the two of you remained locked in place. Satoru’s teeth in your shoulder, hands keeping your hips locked against his. Now, not trapped in the heat of lust, you felt hazy, mind reeling from the intensity of his actions.

“Sorry.” Satoru finally pulled back, gently lying you on the bed and rubbing his thumb over the red indents in your shoulder. You murmured that it was fine, arching with a gasp as he pulled his now flaccid cock from you.

Satoru disappeared for a moment, then was back, a towel in hand. You blinked, mouth parted to question him.

“Teleportation.” He muttered, concentrating on cleaning you, then himself before tossing the towel away. Satoru flopped next to you, tugging the blankets over the pair of you with a satisfied sigh.

You watched him, curled on your side. A sudden feeling of awkwardness suddenly filled you. What would happen to you now?

Satoru seemed unbothered, nestling close to you, one arm thrown casually over your waist.

“What now?” You asked, the words sticking slightly in your throat. You were afraid that he would tell you it was time to go back to the mortal realm. To the emptiness and lonely life.

Satoru’s eyes had closed, but he cracked one brilliant eye open, frowning.

“What do you mean?”

You bit your bottom lip, one hand coming up to pull the blanket closer to your chin.

“I’m human. I’m not meant to be here.”

Satoru hummed, opening his other eye to stare at you. His gaze seemed to read your soul and you shivered as his unblinking stare lingered.

“Do you want to go back?” His tone had a hidden emotion beneath it, something in his eyes making you hesitate before answering.

“No?”

He seemed pleased with that answer, the large grin you had come to secretly love. Satoru propped himself up on one below, looking down at you, expression becoming serious.

“Would you want to stay here forever?”

The question was odd but you nodded, hoping you understood him correctly. In the hours you had spent with him, you had come to enjoy Satoru’s teasing and playful nature. He was both a terrifyingly beautiful man and the biggest idiot you had ever met. An eternity with him, in the house surrounded by pale fields. You would enjoy that. Plus, Yuji would be safe, he wouldn’t know the pain that the mortal realm brought anymore.

Satoru sat up, blankets falling from him as he regarded you, face unreadable.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded again at his question, fingers playing with the edge of the blanket as you waited for whatever it was he was building to. Satoru was silent for a moment, then brought his hand to his mouth, biting down on his thumb.

You gasped at the dull noise it made, sitting up as you shot him a confused look. The man seemed unbothered, extending his hand to you as if offering you something.

“If you’re sure.” He was watching you closely, blue eyes following the slight changes in your body language as you glance at him, then his hand in confusion.

You blinked. Satoru’s blood was golden, beads that looked akin to jewelry sat neatly upon his skin. You glanced up at him again, eyes searching his face for an answer.

“I am sure.” You murmured, not quite understanding what he wanted you to do. Satoru smiled, lifting his thumb closer to your face and wiggling it.

“The blood of a god is coveted by some.” He looked strangely smug, “It contains the secret to immortality.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, waiting for the manic smile to hit and for the god to tell you it was a joke. But when he didn’t, you cautiously leaned forward, wrapping your lips around the digit.

His blood tasted of sunshine and yet was also nothing. You shuddered as you pulled back, nose wrinkling slightly as you licked your lips, swiping the remnants of the droplets. Nothing happened. You felt the same and you again waited for the infernal smile you knew he was going to throw your way.

“What would you like to be the goddess of?” Satoru asked, itching the thumb. You noted it was completely healed as if nothing had happened. For a moment you sat, mind racing as you struggled with the odd nothingness of what had occurred. Pondering the question, you flopped back down, pulling the blankets close as you thought. If he wasn’t playing a prank, what would you be best at?

You thought of the village that was your home and the gods they whispered about. Turning over different jobs, of things in nature you enjoyed. There were too many options. But finally, you thought of Ama, of the shrine. Of the loneliness the old woman had experienced.

“The goddess of forgotten shrines and their keepers.” You murmured. Satoru seemed surprised at your choice, humming as he thought.

“I think that one isn’t taken.” His brilliant blue gaze raked over your form and you shivered as a warmth spread through your limbs. It was as if you had gulped down sake, the sensation unlike anything else. A buzzing existed in your limbs, fizzing through your veins and nerves like sunlight itself was warming you from the inside out.

“There you are.” He laughed, reaching out with one long finger and tapping you on the nose. “It’ll be strange at first. Hearing them when they pray. But you’ll figure out how to filter it.”

You frowned at that, nestling deeper in the blankets as you concentrated.

Silence.

Then.

“Whoever resides here–”

“I’m sorry, I’m old–.”

“They forgot about this place, I hope my staying here doesn’t–”

“Are you still here? Can you —”

Fragments, barely whispers twisted through your mind. You sat upright, eyes unfocused as you tried to listen to them. There were too many and they were all so quiet.

“How many abandoned shrine keepers are there?” You turned, fighting back an odd sadness that swelled in your chest. Satoru hummed, leaning back on the plush pillows, fingers drumming lightly against his bare chest.

“Too many.” His piercing blue eyes fixed on the ceiling, “Plus the accidental shrines.”

You tilted your head at that, shivering slightly as another whisper danced through your mind.

“Humans create their own shrines without realizing it.” Satoru focused on you, reaching out to run a hand along your bare side.

“Children with sticks and plush toys. Adults with their particularly set up kitchens.” He shrugged, his expression one of amused resignation, “They don’t realize that they do it, that their thoughts are structured like prayers.”

Satoru’s gaze slid away from you, his expression becoming somber. “They tend to get ignored. None of us see merit in picking up their prayers.”

You swallowed the hurt and irritation that welled in your stomach. Satoru was a god, he had admitted to thinking something as simple as a bath let him see how humans lived. He and no doubt the others had such a removed view of how humanity lived. Human needs and emotions were foreign. Yes, Satoru had emotion. But it always seemed guarded or inappropriately placed.

You lay back in the blankets, dwelling on the echoed whispers in your mind.

“Will I disappear if they stop creating shrines? If they abandon the notion of gods?” You asked, eyes searching the dark expanse above. Satoru rolled over, slipping his arm over your waist and pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“The last prayer Sukuna got was well over a thousand years ago. He’s become a bit of a recluse, but he’s still here.”

You had no idea who Sukuna was but the thought was comforting. Satoru rested his forehead against yours, flashing you a brilliant smile.

“You don’t have to worry.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, eyes searching his. The man snickered to himself as he continued “I’ll always be here to worship you.”

You rolled your eyes at that, letting a small puff of laughter out. His response tickled your mind however and a question arose.

“What are you even the god of?” You should have honestly asked sooner. With all his joking and lackadaisical attitude, you had assumed he was something soft and kind. But Satoru’s response about ignoring small shrines lended to a more arrogant nature under his cheerful facade.

The man grinned, the smile sharp and unlike anything you had seen before.

“I am the god of power.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that. “So, War, physical strength?”

He shook his head, then paused and nodded. “Yes and no.”

Satoru sat up, flexing his arms. You watched the muscles jump and ripple as he did so.

“There is also power in names, in blood ties. Power exists now in money and goods.”

He spread his arms wide, looking a tad manic.

“For humans, to feel powerful, look or sound powerful, they crave it.”

You shuddered as you listened, thinking of Mahito, of the village you had grown up in. Satoru looked at you, his gaze serious.

“I alone am a god ingrained in the nature of humans.”

You hummed at that, eyes shifting away from him and back to the great expanse of black. Whispers tickled the back of your mind, gentle wishes and murmured prayers for help twisting together into a droning hum.

“Ok not the only one but, the most powerful one.” You glanced back to see Satoru wiggling his eyebrows at you. Laughing, you pulled the blankets closer, peeking at him from around the soft fabric.

“The power god is the most powerful? How poetic.” Your tone was teasing and you let out a squeak as Satoru yanked the blankets up, sliding beneath with you. His face was close, the intense blue of his eyes drilling into your soul as he wagged a finger at you.

“New gods don’t get to be bratty to old gods.”

You snorted, “You’re right grandpa, I apologize.”

You shrieked as he started tickling you in response, Satoru cackling like a madman as he did so. While he might not have realized it, the interaction felt so human. It was a connection you had silently wished for while at the shrine. To have a friend to hold. One who you could laugh with.

“I’m going to do good for all of them.” You murmured when he finally stopped, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. Satoru raised one eyebrow in question, his hands pulling you closer beneath the warm blankets.

“My shrine keepers.” You elaborated, “I won’t abandon them.”

Satoru hummed at that, “You better do good.” His tone was teasing, but the look on his face was serious. It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, the man sighing as he fiddled with one strand of his pale hair.

“I may have broken a rule or two by bringing you here and letting you become a god.”

Your mouth dropped open at that and you sat up, heart racing. Satoru saw your panic and was quick to follow, pulling you into a hug.

“As I said. I’m the best. I get to break rules.” His tone was too casual for your liking and you shot him a glare, irritation swelling in your throat. Satoru could tell you were about to snap out something harsh, the man burying his face in your shoulder.

“They might be mad, might take you aside to make sure I didn’t pressure you.”

He shrugged, lifting his head to look at you. Part of you murmured that after haze of sex was a time when most people had lowered inhibitions. But it wasn’t like you could have just gone back. You had already committed to living with Satoru, even as just a human. The forever promise was a bonus.

“But that's all they can do.” He finished, flopping back onto the bed with an irritated sigh.

“The red tape bastard is going to have a fit and all that’ll be is annoying.”

You lay back down, pulling the blanket over the both of you. There was still no need for sleep in this realm. Even after the slight workout you and Satoru had done. But you felt mentally tired. You knew you would have to face the other gods, the consequences of Satoru’s actions. Warm and snuggled next to the man, your eyes slid shut. Sleep came easy. The prayers of your shrines lulling you into the deep abyss of slumber. You could deal with the outcome later. When you awoke, your first task would be tending the shrines.

#reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #mahito jjk #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jujustus kaisen au

317 notes · View notes

tespianmage · 2 months

Text

A continuation to this comic I did a while back with Tessie and Xavier

Putting the two comics together, uuhhh Duality of Man or something I dunno (they are meant to be complimentary to each other in some form)

#solitude: second chances #solitude oc #solitude au #xavier rotom #solitude: subject placement #it's a struggle to be the designated braincell sometimes #but god damn seeing the art quality between the two comics is night and day that's wild #one of these days i need to make a ref sheet and summary of Tessie or something

16 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 8 months

Text

a woman's voice, i quickly ran

In The Woods Somewhere | Chapter One

Chapter Summary | Joel has been wandering for weeks, aimlessly listing through the forest as he scouts a new patrol path. He's gone much further than he needs, could easily turn back, which he almost does, until he stumbles across you and your coven of children, hiding out in the forest.

Chapter Warnings | Consumption of food, canon typical violence, descriptions of child death and dead bodies, mention of weapons, mention of religion, religious trauma, mention of a cult, swearing, child loss, allusions to controlling behaviour and domestic abuse, allusions to dirty thoughts but nothing explicit yet, age gap relationship in future chapters, no use of y/n.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 6.3K

Authors Note | Well, here we fucking go right? I definitely didn't need another WIP, but I seriously couldn't leave this one alone so here we are. Like I said on the masterlist drop, this is different from what I've written before. It's challenging me in the best way and I really cannot wait to share more with you. If you enjoy this then please consider reblogging, leaving comments or popping into my ask with your thoughts - I love hearing from you guys! And also consider leaving a tip on Ko-Fi if you enjoyed as well - I'm a poor student so anything really helps, but no pressure.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Joel’s boots sink into the ground underfoot. It rained last night. He’s thankful he managed to find an abandoned cabin along the way yesterday before the heaven’s opened. This walk would be even more miserable if his clothes had been soaked through as well. Every few steps his feet slip in the mud. He can already feel his ankles screaming at him to stop, but the sky above him is dark grey and threatening to rain once more, so he keeps walking, hoping there’s someone, somewhere looking down on him, taking pity, hoping he can find another cabin to spend the night in.

When he hears a distant rumble of thunder, he curses Tommy, out loud. He’s nowhere near Jackson now, having been convinced to take a scouting mission for this new route they’d stumbled across once the snows of winter had melted away. He feels like he’s been punished. Shunned from his own community. Even though his brain knows that’s not the case. He hasn’t spoken to Ellie in months, his chest constricting tightly when he thinks to her. He's no-one to blame but himself for where he is, but the Lord knows whatever he did, whatever he would continue to do for that girl, he’d do it all again given his second chance.

He can still see Tommy’s face when he came clean. The look of utter despair, the one chance they had at returning to normal, snatched away by Joel and his gun, and then the look of understanding that Joel had found his purpose again, found someone to give his love to. That’s why he’s here now, backpack laden with a singular change of clothes and his rations, rifle slung over his shoulder. Tommy thought some solitude would help. Help him come to terms with his new relationship, or lack thereof, with Ellie. Give him something to focus on. He still can’t help thinking that it was an excuse for him to be out of town for a few weeks, so that his scowling face didn’t make the children cry or the rest of the town avoid him.

When all is said and done, he misses her. He’d already lost one daughter, and through trying not to lose the other, that’s exactly what he’s done. Pushed her away. Alienated her. What he wouldn’t give to go back and hear those shitty puns again. Of course, in the back of his mind he knew this would happen, he just didn’t think it would be so soon. The only thing he would do differently about the years they’ve lived since they came back to Jackson, it would be to savour the moments he had with her, knowing they’d be gone all too soon.

He can feel his chest tightening. Not in the way it would when he’s exerted himself up a hill. In the way it happens when he feels things spiraling out of control. He rests a palm on the tree-trunk in front of him, other hand clutched to his heart as he closes his eyes and tries to calm him breathing. Ground himself. Count to ten. Think of things he can smell. Think of things he can hear. He’s focusing on the birdsong when he hears something else. Just as sweet as the chirping from the trees, but decidedly more human.

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are grey

Along with the singing, Joel can hear the telltale sound of children. He’s grown used to it since being in Jackson, hearing children enjoy themselves without having to worry about what happens outside of the walls that keep them safe. But there are no walls out here, only forest and danger, so the sound of children laughing is unsettling him, and he’s not really sure why. He pushes himself back from the tree, taking the rifle off his shoulder to rest in his arms as he takes tentative steps through the forest, careful not to step on anything that might give him away. He comes to stop near the front of the line of trees, letting his eyes adjust to the scene in front of him.

There’s a cabin, not unlike the one he’d spent the previous night in, situated in a small clearing. If he looks at it with his contractor eyes it’s pretty well built, solid and sturdy. But it’s not the cabin that he’s interested in, not really. His eyes are drawn to a woman, sitting on a bench that’s placed on the porch of the cabin, and more importantly, the small gaggle of children that are sitting around her. There are four of them, varying in age, two boys and two girls, who are sitting on the floor in front of the woman, who has stopped singing and is now reading aloud from a book that’s on her lap.

The voice that she speaks with is almost as lovely as the voice she sings with, and Joel finds himself leaning against the tree, letting the soft lilt of her voice soothe him. It’s a distant memory but it reminds him almost of his mother, when she’d read to him and Tommy before bed when they were young boys. He doesn’t know the story, can’t make out enough words to follow along, but that doesn’t matter.

He's watching intently as she closes the book on her lap and sets it down on the bench. He listens as she tells the children to go inside. She follows, guiding one of the older children with a hand on the back of his head. She’s only gone for a minute, then she’s back, this time with a shotgun clutched in her arms, much like the way he’s got his own rifle.

“You gonna be trouble?” She calls out, facing him directly, barrel of the gun trained into the trees where he’s stood.

He’s taken back by her observation skills. Joel had been careful to stay as still as he could, but somehow, she’d managed to spot him. He thinks to himself that it’s good, when she’s got children to care for.

“Don’t mean no harm,” He calls back, shouldering his rifle as he does, “Just lookin’ for somewhere to spend the night.”

He steps out of the tree line, hands raised in surrender to bring home his point. She keeps the gun trained on him though. Smart, he thinks, she doesn’t trust him. The sky above decides now, that after hours of threatening, to open, sending fat drops of rain onto the ground.

The woman points with the barrel of her shotgun for Joel to sit on the bench, under the cover of the porch, which he gladly does, grateful for the opportunity to take the weight off his aging ankles. Once he’s sat, he takes a moment to push the curls back from his head, water dripping from the ends, he also leans down to unlace his boots, relieving the pressure on his feet.

“How’d you find us?” She asks, still aiming the gun at him.

“How’s about you get that gun off me, and we’ll talk?” Joel asks, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s stopping you from attacking me once I do?”

“Probably the fact that my gun is there,” He motions to the pillar he’d rested his rifle on, out of reach unless he stands and takes steps to get it, “And those kids in there.”

“You got any other weapons on you?” She asks, Joel nods his head, because it’s true, he’s got a hunting knife in his backpack, “Can I search you?”

“Knock yourself out.” He murmurs in response.

She takes slow steps towards him, eyes not leaving his face as she kneels in front of him, fingers tracing the top of his boots for something concealed. She does the same up the leg of his jeans, trying to feel if he’s got anything hidden there, and then pats down his chest. Joel curses to himself at the way his heart jumps in his chest when her delicate hands touch him. Touch starved idiot, he thinks, he’s not had a woman touch him since Tess, and even that was more of a means to end.

She steps back from him, moving onto his backpack. She takes out his change of clothes, unfolds them to make sure he’s not keeping anything hidden there, but then folds them back up which Joel thinks is curious. She finds the hunting knife buried just below his clothes. She takes it out and inspects it, but doesn’t pocket it for herself, just rests it on top of his folded clothes. Finally, she rustles through his rations – some bags of dried fruit and jerky mostly. He'd been trying to catch fresh meat on the way so there’s still plenty left. Once she’s satisfied Joel has nothing else to hide, she repacks his bag for him, before standing back, gun still in hand but not trained directly to his face anymore.

“Where did you come from?” She asks, leaning against the porch fence.

“I’m from a commune, few weeks walks from here,” He answers honestly, “We noticed a new route out when the snow melted so I’m just scouting it out, makin’ sure there ain’t nothing to cause us trouble,” He looks at the woman now, directly in the eye, “You gonna be trouble for us?”

He’s teasing really, because what threat could one woman and four children pose to Jackson? But she doesn’t take it that way, Joel catching the way her fingers twitch on the trigger.

“Depends,” She speaks, “You gonna be trouble for us?”

“Doubt it,” He shrugs, “We won’t come out this far when we patrol.”

“Then why are you out here at all?”

Ah, yes, the million-dollar question. He really could have gone back a week ago. Once he’d walked as far as he would on his normal patrols, he could have called it and gone back, but there’s something about the solitude here that he enjoys. He also thinks he’s avoiding going back to his miserable existence now. Doesn’t want to live in a place where Ellie ignores him, where she walks past his house without acknowledging him.

“Guess I just like the outdoors.”

She raises her eyebrows at him but seems to accept his answer. The rain is pouring now, soaking the ground again and if there’s one thing he doesn’t want to do right now, it’s trekking through the storm to find someplace else to shelter.

“You mind if I say?” He asks, “Just until the storm passes.”

He watches her closely as she thinks, finally taking a moment to really take her in. She’s young, probably in her early thirties if he was to guess. She’s wearing a white dress, or it would have been white once upon a time. The long hemline is covered in dirt, ghosting along worn work boots. The dress has long sleeves, and the neckline is cut just enough to be enticing but not indecent. He wonders where the hell she’s come from. There are scars that pepper her face, one that cuts across her top lip and another that slashes through her left eyebrow. They look old and healed and he can see another mark on the skin around her throat – perhaps not a scar, more of a burn, that traces around the entirety of that delicate throat. He knows she’s been through something; it must be what’s made her so smart. She is, quite possibly, the most beautiful thing he’s seen. Like an angel, dressed in white, ethereal. He feels depraved in this moment, thinking of all the ways he might break her.

“You stay out here,” She says firmly, “And you don’t speak to the children, understand?”

“Understood.”

She nods, pushing herself back from the railings beneath her back, “I’ll bring some food out later.”

Joel watches as she moves away, murmuring a quiet thank you to her as she disappears back into the cabin, shutting the door behind her. He hears a lock click a moment later and he smiles. This woman knows exactly what she’s doing.

You settle the children at the table a few hours later. You dish servings of the stew you’d made over the fire into bowls and give each of them a glass of water. You turn your back on them when they clasp their hands together, bowing their heads in a silent prayer like they’ve always done. Like they were conditioned to do. You don’t join in. Instead, you take two bigger bowls, filling one for yourself and then the other for the mystery man out there. His portion is bigger. If he’d been surviving on dried rations and whatever he could catch, you think he must be starving. You’re not sure why you care so much, but you think it has something to do with the way you were raised. Before the world went to shit, your parents had always given guests the biggest portion of food, this is just something you carry with you.

When you turn around the children are eating their food. They’re slow, knowing they can savour what they eat now. They don’t have a master who takes their bowls away once he’d finished, no matter how much they had left. They’re quiet too, something they’re still yet to unlearn. Children are to be seen and not heard. You’d told them in the months after that you loved hearing them, the joy they let out when you taught them how to play properly. You’d insisted no-one was going to beat them again for speaking too loudly, but some lessons are harder than others to unlearn.

“Who is that man?” Thomas, the oldest boy asks quietly.

“He’s just passing through,” You smile, ruffling the hair on his head as you pass, “He’ll be gone by the morning.”

“He won’t hurt us?” He asks, and your heart breaks a little, because what do you say?

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly, dipping to press a kiss to the crown of his head, “I keep us safe though, don’t I?” He nods in response, “Then I’ll keep us safe tonight, now finish your dinner, I’ll be back in a little while.”

You set your bowl down on the corner table by the door, unlocking it with one hand before picking up your bowl again. The man from earlier is still sat on the bench, exactly where you’d left him, except now he’s got a book perched on his lap, which you notice is the one you’d been reading to the children earlier. He looks up, closing the book as you offer him his own bowl.

“It’s not much,” You speak softly, sitting in the small chair across from the bench, “It’s squirrel, the meat.” You inform him as he starts pushing his spoon through the meal.

“Thank you,” Is all he says as he lifts the spoon to his mouth, “How long have you been livin’ here?”

You chew your own mouthful of food, realizing quickly that the anxiety in your stomach at someone you don’t know being in your space means you don’t really want to eat anything, the meat and vegetables settling like lead when you swallow. Better to be out here and keep an eye on him though.

“Couple’a months,” You offer, pushing the food around in your bowl, “We’ve moved around a bit.”

“Ever get any trouble?” He asks, shoveling another spoonful of stew into his mouth.

You take a small bite of your own food, chewing it more times than is necessary before you struggle to swallow it down, “Not really,” You answer, “Few people come through, but the shotgun usually means they move on, I think the children help,” You shrug, “World might have gone to shit but people don’t wanna kill kids these days.”

You’re still trying to convince yourself to eat your food when the man in front of you sets his empty bowl on the floor. You look down into the stew, taking another bite making you feel like you might be sick, so you extend the bowl to him.

“No, thank you,” He holds his hand up, “That’s yours.”

“I ate earlier,” You lie, “Please, it’ll just go to waste.”

You can see him battle with himself a little, but ultimately his stomach wins, so he takes the bowl and finishes off your portion in silence, setting his old bowl inside this one once he’s finished. The light has faded fast, it’s still pouring with rain so there’s no chance he’s going to move off tonight. You stand, bending to take the bowls from between his feet.

“I’ll find you a blanket,” You speak quietly as you open the door, “You’ll be more comfortable that way.”

Inside, the children have finished their food and have started to clear up. Another hangover from where you’d been before. Thomas takes the bowls from your hand and gives them to Clara, just a year younger than he is. She places them in the bucket of water in front of the fire and starts to scrub as you root around in the ottoman by the couch. There’s only one blanket in there that you think will be big enough for him and it’s threadbare, but better than nothing you think. Whoever he is, he’s old, or older than you at least, so you take two cushions from the sofa, if his back is anything like yours, he’ll need them.

He's back to reading the book when you take them out to him. This time, he doesn’t close it, just looks up with a smile and says thank you as you place them at the end of the bench. You turn to head back inside.

“I’ll be gone once the sun rises,” He speaks, “Thank you, you’re a very kind girl.”

You scoff a little, thinking if only you knew what I’d done. You smile at him instead, you want to tell him it was nice to meet him, nice to meet a man who doesn’t seem to have ulterior motives, but what would be the point? He’ll be gone in the morning and you’ll be back to keeping your children safe. You say nothing. Leave him on the porch and lock the door. It’s for the best.

Joel doesn’t sleep. He spends his night upright on the porch, rifle over his lap, surveying the tree line in front of the cabin. Every now and then he stands, walking around, because his good ear can only pick so much out. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to stand guard, he wasn’t asked to. You’ve gotten under his skin. He’s been around you less than twelve hours, he doesn’t even know your name, doesn’t know who these children are to you, what you’ve been through, but still feels the need to keep you safe.

The rain had stopped some time ago, just after he noticed the lights inside the cabin go out. It makes hearing things easier, now he’s not trying to make out sounds over the roar of the weather. It’s unsettling though. A few times he thinks he’s heard something amongst the trees, the snapping of twigs and such, but it could easily be an animal. He doesn’t want to risk wandering off into the woods to figure out what it is, because if it is humans, his absence means you and your children are an easy target.

He's sat back on the porch when he hears it. The unmistakable sounds of someone cocking their gun. He’s too slow to react. The sound of the gun firing fills his ears and then the shattering of glass behind him. The bullet piercing through the window behind him. He jumps up, realizing whoever it is out there must have been aiming at him. He readies his rifle, eyes scanning the tree’s for movement. He’s stood with his back to the door, aiming his gun out, waiting for whoever is out there to give away their position when the door is yanked open, you’re stood there with your shotgun.

“Get inside.” He hisses, trying to gently push at your shoulder.

“I haven’t needed your help so far,” She spits back, as another bullet ricochets off the wall of the cabin, they’re definitely aiming at you both, “Where are they?”

“I don’t know,” He whispers, trying to figure out exactly where they’re firing from, “If you’re gonna stay out here, you need to be quiet.”

You scoff at him, as if you’d been making a ton of noise anyway, but then another bullet sounds, bouncing off the wall near your head and you let out a yelp, finally realizing you’re terrified. The man, whose name you still don’t know, grips the top of your arm and pushes you back inside the cabin, following behind you as he slams the door shut.

You watch as he pulls the couch away from the window that had been shot through. He points his rifle out of it and pulls the trigger and you think you can hear someone cry out into the night. Good riddance you think, as you watch him reload his gun. You turn around at the sound of a creaking door, finding Thomas and Clara and the two younger children, Edward and Isabel, clearly frightened by what was happening. You drop your shotgun on the table, rushing over to kneel in front of them. They crowd into your arms, Isabel is crying so you try and soothe her as much as possible.

“What’s happening?” Edward asks.

“There are some bad men outside who want to hurt us,” You answer simply, you’ve tried never to sugarcoat things with them, “But it’s okay,” You try and smile, “Because we’ve got someone looking after us.”

You turn just in time to watch your guest shoot again. It continues like this for what feels like forever, someone outside shoots towards the cabin and then he shoots back, until it’s silent. You watch as the man stays still, but there aren’t any other shots that ring out. You let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding. You were safe.

“Back into there,” You tell the children, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

They do as they’re told, heading back into their bedroom. You close the door and turn around as the man in front of you is finally lowering his gun. You both take a moment to look at each other, chests heaving and adrenaline flooding through your veins.

“Thank you,” You speak softly, walking up to him, “I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

“Probably not been attacked,” He grumbles, “I think it was me outside that made them think there was somethin’ worth takin’.”

“Still,” You place a hand on his shoulder, “Thank you.”

“You can’t stay here,” He says suddenly, “All those gunshots mean infected, I can’t keep you safe enough if they’re gonna start swarmin’.”

“We don’t have anywhere else to go,” You panic, feeling bile rise up in your throat, it had taken you months to find safety like this, and now you had to give it up, “Where are we going to go?”

“There’s another cabin, just a few hours walk away,” He explains, “I stayed there the night before I came here, same kinda thing, and far enough away to be safer, but we have to go now.”

You take a moment to think. You don’t know this man. Sure, he’s just killed people to keep you safe, but maybe this is all part of some master plan, lure you away, take the children from you, force you back into a life you don’t think you’d survive second time around. The alternative though isn’t much better. You stay here and what? You’re overrun by clickers, get torn apart by infected and if they don’t get the children, what becomes of them? When you think about it like this, there is really only one option, and that is trust this man in front of you.

“If I’m going to trust you, I need to know your name.”

“Joel.”

You return the favour quickly, telling him your name, before turning to go to the children. They’re sat together on one bed, comforting each other. You kneel in front of the bed, placing soothing hands wherever you could reach.

“The bad men are gone,” You speak softly, “But it was really loud which means it isn’t safe to stay here anymore, so the man out there is going to take us somewhere safer.”

“How do we know he’s a nice man?” Thomas asks.

“Well, he kept us safe, didn’t he?” You offer, “He didn’t have to help us like that, but he did, so I think that makes him nice, doesn’t it?”

They nod, but you know they would do anything you asked them to do, without question. There isn’t much to pack, you didn’t have much to begin with, but you ask them to gather the small bags you’d found for them along the way and fill it with what they would need. When you head back to the main room, Joel is still posted near the window, keeping an eye out for whatever dangers might be waiting to greet you when you leave.

You find your backpack and make sure it’s filled with everything you might need. It’s still got most of your essentials in it, perhaps you’d always thought this place wouldn’t be forever. You fit a few of the books in that the children love the most before putting it on, gathering the small knife from the table, setting it in your boot and then picking up your shotgun, just in time for the children to emerge with their own bags.

Joel turns around, “Okay, we need to be quick,” He speaks softly, aware that the children must be frightened, “And really quiet, okay?”

They nod, as do you, then he’s opening the door and leading the way. You don’t bother closing the door behind you. You just motion for the children to follow behind Joel. Isabel and Edward are holding hands, just like they always do, Clara and Thomas just a few steps behind them. The sun has started to rise, painting your surroundings in pale light as you start to move quietly behind them all. Then, it all goes wrong. You’re not entirely sure what happens past hearing another gunshot and one of the children screeching.

Joel whips around and trains his gun from where the sound had come from, firing a shot right into the man who was heading right towards you. You scream and step back before you look to your children. Edward is stood with his hand clutched to his side, blood seeping through his shirt and his hand. You barely have time to catch him before he falls. His tiny body is shaking in your arms, as you try and move his hand away from the wound. He cries out in pain when you try and move him.

“I know baby, I know,” You try and soothe, your own tears clouding your vision as you manage to move his hands away, “You gotta let me see, okay?”

When his hands do move, you can already tell there’s nothing you can do. Blood is pooling on the ground, seeping through the white material of your dress as you try and put pressure on it, which causes more pained cries to leave his mouth. You must get him up, you have to move him somewhere you can look at him better.

“We gotta get you up, okay?” You ask him, quickly brushing your tears away from your face as you try and hoist him up, but it’s no use, the screams of pain are more than you can bare.

You let him drop back to the ground, still trying to stem the bleeding when you notice that he’s stopped shaking and his crying has stopped. No. No no no no no.

“Edward?” You ask, shaking his shoulder, “Edward!” This time it’s louder, mor hysterical as your sobs rack your body. He can’t be dead. Not after everything you’d done, “Please, baby, come back to me,” You beg, “I can keep you safe, please just come back.” You cry into his bloodied body, knowing it’s no use, he’s gone.

You let out another sob as you clutch his small body to yours, rocking him back and forth like you used to when you were trying to get him to sleep, tears falling down your face and onto the ground. Then, a strong palm slips onto your shoulder which makes you jump, “We have to go.” Is all Joel says, trying to get you to stand with an arm on your elbow.

“I c-can’t leave h-him here.” You choke out through sobs.

“Give him to me,” Joel insists, taking Edward’s lifeless body from your arms, helping you to stand, “I’ll carry him.”

You don’t know why but you start to wipe at the blood on your dress, it’s seeped into the material so there’s no way you’ll ever get it out, but it’s something to focus on that isn’t Edward being dead. For the first time in years, you don’t look at the other children as you start to follow behind Joel once more. You know their faces would break you, would cause you to fall to your knees and not get up again. The three of them walk side-by-side in front of you again. Silent, but you can tell they’re crying from the way their shoulders are shaking. Isabel is in the middle of Thomas and Clara, each of them clutching one of her hands as they struggle to keep up with Joel’s pace as he walks through the dense forest.

You think you walk for hours, quietly crying as you do. You stop once, Joel walking off away from you whilst you sit with the children that are left, letting them sip from the canteen of water whilst you all catch your breath. You know he does it so none of you have to lay your eyes on Edward’s dead body. You make yourself as small as possible, knees to your chest, to try and hide the worst of the bloody stains on your dress. All too soon, Joel is whistling to you, telling you that it’s not much further.

By the time you reach the cabin, the sun is already starting to set. Joel motions his hand for you to go inside ahead of him which you do, guiding Thomas, Clara and Isabel in before you go. Joel stays outside as you get them settled on the dusty couch inside.

“What happened to Edward?” Isabel asks, her eyes wide as you crouch in front of them.

You take hold of her small hands, “I’m sorry baby,” You sigh, “Edward is gone.” You can feel the lump in your throat, you try to bite your emotion back for their sake.

“Where has he gone?” She asks.

You open and close your mouth, trying to find the right words. Trying not to rip up wounds from the past that you’d only just managed to close with them.

“Well baby, he’s gone somewhere else,” You sigh, “You remember before, when we lost people, and we were always told they went to heaven?” The three children nod at you, “I know we don’t believe that, but he’s somewhere better now.”

“And he won’t come back?”

“No baby,” You coo, running your hand over her hair, “But we’ll see him again someday, I promise.”

You press a kiss to each other their foreheads, opening your backpack to pull out one of their books. You hand it to Thomas so he can read to the other girls before you head outside. You can see Joel near the line of trees, he’s digging with a shovel and your chest constricts at the sight. It’s not fair. None of this is fair. Edward deserved to grow old. You’re angry. You want to scream. You want to strike your fists into something until all you feel is the physical pain, because that’s easier, it’s an easier pain to the one you feel right now.

Joel turns as you stand still at the door, he tilts his head, ushering you over to him. Your body follows the direction, like you always had before. A man tells you to do something, you do it.

“I didn’t know if you wanted to bury him,” He speaks softly, “But if you do, it’s ready.”

You can feel your bottom lip tremble so you bite down on it, hoping the pain stops you from crying, but it’s useless, you still can’t comprehend that he’s gone, despite the fact his body is wrapped in a filthy sheet next to the grave Joel has dug. He deserves so much better than this. You can’t help but take it as a personal failure. You’d vowed to keep them safe, and you’d failed.

“Hey, it’s okay,” He murmurs, letting a hand rest lightly on your shoulder which you shudder away from, “I’ll give you some time, just place him down and I’ll do the rest when you’re ready.”

He walks away, but not into the house, you notice. Maybe he still thinks the children are frightened of him. He walks around the side of the cabin as your focus moves back to the shroud in front of you. You drop to your knees, delicate hands rolling the top of the shroud down to reveal his face. His eyes are closed, and you can almost convince yourself that however he died it was peaceful. His skin is pale and mottled, lips blue. A tear drips from your face and onto his, clearing a trail down his cheek as it moves through the dirt. You lean forward, kissing his forehead, running a hand through his hair like you did each night to soothe him.

“I’m sorry baby,” You whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

You stay like this for a moment, forehead pressed to his. You can’t bare it anymore, pulling back and covering his face, but there’s something stopping you from lowering him into the ground. Then it’s final. You won’t be able to see his face again, listen to his voice when he talks or smile when he laughs. You turn, finding Joel hanging back.

“I can’t do it,” You mutter, “Will you?”

He nods, walking over to you. He doesn’t try and touch you this time, just bends and picks Edward up before placing him lightly into the grave. He stands, putting his hand to the shovel, you decide you can’t watch anymore, turning your back on the scene behind you to go back to the family you still have.

Darkness has enveloped the outdoors. The children have been in bed for a while, after Joel handed out the remainder of his measly rations to everyone. You wish you could convince yourself to sleep, but moving from the couch seems like too much work right now. You’re numb. Joel is sat at the other end of the couch, letting the small fire he set warm him through. The silence is deafening.

“You wanna talk about it?” His gruff voice asks.

You’re biting at the end of your nail, crying again. Your body is aching, dress covered in dry blood. You wish you could wake up from whatever horrible nightmare this is. You finally shake your head, biting at your lip as you do.

“I don’t think I can.”

There’s another beat of silence before Joel speaks again, “I know you don’t wanna think about it right now,” He sighs, “But Jackson, where I live, it’s safe.”

“Is anywhere really safe these days?” You scoff.

He nods his head, “Y’know, that’s what I thought when I got there, but it works,” He shrugs, “My brother, he sorta helps run it, big walls, everyone chips in where they can, take turns patrollin’, I’ve been there two years now and nothin’ bad’s ever happened.”

“So, you’re communists then?”

Joel can’t help but laugh, thinking about the existential crisis Tommy had when Ellie had suggested the same thing, “Somethin’ like that, yeah.”

You sigh, because it’s starting to sound like a good idea. A place where you’d be shut in, protected by people. Where the children could actually be children. You’re still not convinced you trust him though. Sure, he’d protected you. Helped you to safety. Carried Edward’s dead body all the way here, but you’re still convinced it’s some kind of sick joke at your expense. You could be walking headfirst into a trap.

“It’s okay,” He murmurs, “I don’t expect you to trust me, it’s going to take time, but just follow me, even for a while, we’ll go slowly back that way, anytime you wanna leave, you can.”

“I can’t think about this right now,” You snap, “Can we just have some time?”

He gives you a small smile, “Of course, all the time you need, I ain’t in a rush to get back.”

Exhaustion floods your body, eyes becoming heavy, as the final ounces of adrenaline finally leave your body.

“Take the room,” Joel offers, “I can sleep out here.”

“You slept on a wooden bench last night,” You fight, “And I’m younger, I can sleep out here.”

“I didn’t sleep at all,” He counters, “So it don’t matter where I lie, I’m gonna be fast asleep in minutes.”

“You’re sure?” You ask, lifting your heavy bones from the couch.

“Go.” He nods his head towards the closed door to the second bedroom.

“Goodnight.” You speak softly, picking up your backpack to take into the room with you. You’re asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

Taglist: @morning-star-joy @tightjeansjavi @cavillscurls @cupofjoel @darkroastjoel @dinsdjrn @sinsofsummers @montenegroisr @millenial-teenybopper @casa-boiardi @pedrotonin @punkshort @givemeth @noisynightmarepoetry @joeldjarin

497 notes · View notes