#unclench though it's not canon

[xxsabitoxx]

Pale Blue [Part One]

Geto Suguru x AFAB Pregnant Reader

READ PART TWO HERE

Warnings: THIS FIC IS CANON COMPLIANT, if you are not caught up on Jujutsu Kaisen's manga, or at the very least if you have not seen "gojo's past" you WILL be spoiled. This story contains darker themes, heavier topics, pregnancy and all the lovely details of it, and lastly explicit sexual content. Read at your own risk!

A/N: Here it is!! Part One!! This fic is super self indulgent for me and I'm very excited for y'all to read it. The idea literally came to me in a dream like a month ago and I woke up and immediately started writing. It's been a long ass time since I've written a plot heavy fic, and it's been well over a year since I've actively planned a multiple part story and gone through with it. So, this fic is kinda like... my baby lol.

Word Count: 19k | Playlist

September 2007

Your mouth felt like chalk, hands trembling ever so slightly as you set the small wand on the countertop in your bathroom. You couldn't think straight, but that unfortunately wasn’t anything new, it had been that way for the last three weeks. Ever since he left, you had felt like your head was stuck in a fishbowl. People eyeing you with pity at the world you had been dropped into, their whispers muffled into incoherent nonsense as you walked by. Satoru was no better off, but he could at least tug his emotions off of his sleeves and place them in his heart where nobody could see them, except for you. At least you would be able to see them if he didn’t shut you out. 

Not that you had been any kinder, you had withdrawn too. 

The only one who seemed alright was Shoko, her reaction to Suguru’s deflection was nothing out of character. Not many things could shock her to her core, even something as absurd as what Suguru had done couldn’t wipe the gentle smile from her face when she saw him again. You envied her for that level of composure. You envied her for getting to see him again, just as you envied Satoru. For some reason, the man evaded you as if you were the plague. Or perhaps it looked like you were merely chasing after a ghost, a figment of your imagination. You kind of wished that it was true, that Geto Suguru had been someone you conjured up in your mind. 

But he wasn’t, he was a real, breathing human who had taken over one hundred lives…. Including his parents. The thought made your mouth taste like metal, everytime you zoned out too long and thought too hard, you’d bite your inner cheek until it bled. Three weeks later you still felt like you were moving on autopilot, the only thing that could pull you out of it would be his gentle embrace. You blinked a bit, the metallic taste coating your tongue as you unclench your jaw and look in the mirror. You hardly recognize yourself, for a moment  you think you look just like him, and it's enough to steal the little air you had in your lungs. 

You had never thought you'd experience a heartbreak as severe as this one, and you especially didn’t think it would be dealt to you by Suguru. Though you saw all of the signs, the hundreds if not thousands he put out and never let you touch. No, his cries for help were always directed at Satoru. The white haired man never seemed to catch them, and if he did, he never said a thing. Suguru had refused to acknowledge his issues when he was with you, no matter how many times you tried to sit him down and get it out. He’d change the subject and move on. 

He’d sweet-talk you, making you forget why you had been so concerned in the first place because there, for a fleeting moment, was the boy you had fallen in love with two years prior. He’d fill your mind with nothing but good things, pretty noises, good feelings. Not stopping until his name was all you could utter, not stopping until you fell asleep in his arms, content and sedated. He was a master at avoidance, trying so hard to keep things perfect just for you. You were beginning to hate him for it, but even the idea of hating him made bile burn your throat. 

You were left in emotional turmoil, love mixing with hate mixing with rage and depression. No matter how many times the word hate flashed through your mind, it was never truly directed at Suguru. Rather the jujutsu world, the things they had forced upon him, the pressure he had been made to feel. You especially felt that bubbling hate for a certain man by the name of Fushiguro Toji, who caused this whole spiral. He was long gone now, Satoru had effectively put the man down and he would not be getting back up. Though it killed you to no end that he got the easy way out. You almost wished that Satoru had kept the man alive. 

You couldn’t stomach it as your back pressed into the cold wall of your bathroom, arms folded over your chest as you stared at nothing in particular. Eyes refusing to focus on anything of importance but making a point to avoid the developing test on the counter. 

Suguru had left you a note, shortly after his final conversation with Satoru. You had returned to your dorm to see it on your bed and you recognized his handwriting before you even read your name on the envelope. You could still feel your hands trembling as you ripped the paper, flinching as it cut your skin, crumbling as tears dripped down your cheeks. You read it three times before finally comprehending the words, the paper littered with tear drops and your blood. Every word was written with care, you could hear his voice as your eyes passed over each sentence, see his face before you as if he was speaking. 

It was an apology, his resolve and a goodbye all in one. Leaving you more empty than you had felt before. Still, it sat on your nightstand, you couldn’t throw it away. As if his sweaters weren’t still hanging in your closet, like the blanket he got you wasn’t still sitting on your bed. You held onto that letter like it was the last thing you had of him. Mourning him as if he had died, like he wasn’t still alive and breathing and walking around within the very city you were in now. You almost thought it would be easier if he had died. At least you’d feel some sort of closure, knowing he’s not coming back. But this, this was a form of torture for you. 

To know that you could bump into him at a restaurant, or even pass him on a busy street. He wasn’t gone, if anything he was doing better than he ever was. Leaving you, Satoru, Shoko, and everyone else behind to pick up the shattered pieces. Still, you couldn’t hate him for that. No amount of anger would mend the torn pieces of your broken heart. You were fairly certain nothing would, the only cure was the one man you could no longer call your own. You’d spend the rest of your life with your heart ripped wide, an empty void filling the space. 

You inhaled deeply, pushing off the bathroom wall and taking a hesitant step towards the counter. The test was upside down, you couldn’t see the small little window that would show you the results, for a moment you wanted to pick it up and throw it in the trash without even looking. There was nothing stopping you from doing so either, but you held back anyways. The only reason you were taking a pregnancy test in the first place was because your period was two weeks late. You could easily chalk it up to stress, but at the same time you knew all too well that you and Suguru often went without protection. Idiot. 

Somehow, despite his inner battles, Suguru’s sex drive never slowed down. Maybe it was the craving for physical touch or maybe sex was a great way for him to forget about his issues for a while. Regardless, you had always been eager to oblige, even if it meant falling into his traps and luring your attention away from the real issue at hand. You had no idea how long it had been and if the damn thing was positive you were sure it would show up by now. So you picked it up and flipped it over in your hand, tired eyes scanning it. Your forehead creased for a moment, eyes squinting in frustration because you couldn’t tell if there was a second line or not. 

If it’s positive, it's too early to tell. Your grip tightens around the small plastic test, anger flooding your heart as you chuck it in the trash can with such force it rattles as it hits the wall. Once again you are left with uncertainty. It seemed nobody could give you a straight answer anymore. Truth be told, you weren’t sure what you wanted that test to say. The thought of being pregnant with his child would have elated you two months ago. Now the thought made your insides twist and turn, for a moment you thought you were going to puke again. At the very same time, the idea of the test being negative felt like a rug being pulled out from under you. 

As if you didn’t know that feeling well enough. 

In a twisted way, you thought that being pregnant would bring him back to you. As if it would erase every heinous crime he had committed and bring the man you loved back into your arms. You were foolish, but not foolish enough to really believe in those daydreams. You hauled yourself out of your bathroom and back into your dorm room, falling into your disheveled bed with a soft thump. His t-shirt was hanging loosely on your body, it still smells faintly of him. It’s the only shirt of his that you’d been wearing, too afraid to lose his scent on the others. 

It was still early enough for you to sleep for a few more hours before Shoko was knocking on your door and hauling you into the world. You hated it, but she assured you that you’d thank her for it in a couple months. You doubted it, and for some reason you felt like she did too. 

Your sleep was dreamless, it had been since Suguru left you. You weren’t quite sure if you were thankful for that or not. Suguru was still the last thing you thought about before falling asleep and the first thing you thought of when you woke up. His absence consumed your every thought, impossible to ignore, unable to forget. There had been a few tough nights where you dragged yourself down the hall towards Satoru’s room. The man was usually still up, sitting on his bed with a book in hand that you could tell he wasn’t reading. Just an attempt at distraction. 

He welcomes you without a word, scooting over a bit so you could sit beside him, head on his shoulder as he tosses the book to the floor. You remain like that until you fall asleep, no words spoken but nothing needed to be verbalized to understand you were both mourning the loss of a man who wasn’t even dead. In an odd way, you felt as if you were mourning Satoru as well. His smile, his jokes, the way his eyes seemed to sparkle, all of those things had dwindled. To his credit, he was managing to pull himself back together, at least better than you had been. 

A harsh knock at your door signaled that Shoko was there. You hadn’t even realized that you fell asleep, but you felt even more groggy than you had a couple hours prior. “I’m up.” It’s hoarse and unconvincing but you hear Shoko utter a small “ok”. You know she’s still there, she always waits for you to get dressed and emerge from your room yourself. If you make her wait any longer than fifteen minutes she's usually barging in herself to pull you from your bed. Your body aches as you sit up, stumbling across the room to the bathroom because you need to pee yet again. 

The air almost feels stale as you get your routine done in the bathroom, the test is still sitting in the small can beside your sink. It’s presence is heavy, to the point you question if you should take it out with you despite only having a couple tissues accompanying it. You decided against it when she knocked again. “Just getting dressed.” You mumbled softly, listening for her small “Hmph.” At least letting you know she heard you. Your uniform still felt foreign on your skin, it had for the last three weeks but you tried to ignore it. “About time.” Shoko smiled as you emerged, Satoru beside her. “Oh? You’re both here?” Your tone was questioning but not mad. 

“Yeah, Yaga said we should take the day to be normal or something like that.” Satoru drawled, circular glasses sliding down his nose as he rolled his eyes. “Us? Normal?” You snorted, pulling your door shut as Shoko began walking down the hallway. “He just doesn’t know what to do with us at the moment.” Satoru offered in a low tone, Shoko would scold him for speaking like that, especially to you. The thing is, he wasn’t saying anything that you hadn’t already thought of yourself. “I don’t know what to do with us either.” You could assume Yaga was being vigilant, the guilt of not seeing what was happening with Suguru was weighing on him too. 

The flick of Shoko’s lighter was heard as you stepped into the morning air, laughter bubbling in your chest as you looked at her. “It was killing you, wasn’t it.” Yaga had been cracking down on her bad habit, trying to limit her by saying no smoking in the dorms. “Just a little.” She teased back, inhaling deeply before blowing the gray smoke past her lips. “Shoko, gimme one.” Your eyebrow cocked as Satoru stuck his hand out. Her eyes met you for a moment before begrudgingly handing the lighter and pack to him. “New habit?” You commented softly, watching as he stuck a cylinder between his lips and held his hand up to block the flame from the wind. 

Satoru shrugged, inhaling a bit before blowing out, moving to hand the pack to you. You hesitated, the test in your dorm trash can still lingering in the back of your mind. “I’m good.” You took them anyway, handing them to Shoko. Neither of them said anything but they shared a knowing glance, they couldn’t be mad at you for trying to quit a bad habit. “So where are we going?” You didn’t like the prolonged silence as the two of them puffed away. “I didn’t think you’d want to go anywhere, but if you want we can go get breakfast.” Shoko’s eyes flickered over both you and Satoru, as if she was looking at two temperamental children. 

“Breakfast sounds good.” Satoru offered, shoving one hand in his pocket while the other plucked the cig from his lips. “It does.” You added softly, stomach turning at the very thought of food but you couldn’t let them know that. You had lost your appetite shortly after he left, but you still forced yourself to eat at least one substantial meal a day. The nausea that had settled in your gut most days usually deterred you from anything else but plain rice and maybe some soup. Still, it was food and the only thing you could keep down at that. “Alright, I’ll call for a driver and we can go get something to eat.” Shoko pulled out her phone, clicking on a number she saved. 

“You’ve been eating, right?” You jumped a little, eyes sliding over to Satoru. His tone was low, just low enough for only you to hear. “Yeah, I’ve been eating… you?” He looked the same, tall and lean with broad shoulders. Satoru nodded, pushing his glasses up to sit on the bridge of his nose. “The car will be at the gates for us in five minutes so let's get going.” Shoko started walking, like always you and Satoru followed behind her like ducklings. Satoru’s question still lingered in your mind, his ability to read your thoughts nearly rivaled Suguru. 

You had to wonder just how much those six eyes of his could see. 

The three of you clamored into the car, Satoru taking the passenger seat while you and Shoko took the back. You had no idea where you were going, not even when Shoko gave an address to the driver. It was somewhere in the city, you knew that much, but you trusted her judgment and prayed they would have something plain for your stomach. None of you spoke as the car barreled forward, your eyes glued to the surroundings zipping past you, as if you’d catch him walking down the street on a busy morning. You knew you’d always be looking for him, everywhere you went, your eyes would search for him. 

You tore your eyes from the window, glancing at Satoru in the passenger seat. You couldn’t see his eyes, but his head was turned towards the window. If you had to guess, he was doing the very same thing. Looking for someone who would never appear. Unless you were Shoko of course, you still felt your throat tighten at the thought. You knew Suguru had chosen to reveal himself to her for a couple reasons. One being that she wasn’t nearly strong enough to take him down single handedly. The other being her easy going nature, he knew there would be little to no conflict or questions to answer with her. If roles were reversed, you’d do the same. 

“Hello?” You blinked, looking at Shoko with parted lips. “You okay?” her head tilted, brown eyes lingering over your features. “I… yeah.” You swallowed, the car was still moving so you didn’t space out for that long. “What are you in the mood to eat?” She repeated the question she had asked seconds prior while you were clearly on another plane of existence. “Something plain.” You offered lamely, hands clasping together in your lap. “Plain?” Satoru questioned, eyes shifting to look at you through the rearview mirror. “My stomach has been sensitive. Plain foods are all I can really get down right now.” You shrunk into the seat. 

Shoko hummed, eyes observing you intently now. You could almost hear her silently listing all of your physical symptoms, noting in her head the various things that could cause them. Most could be answered with heartbreak, but that didn’t typically make you sensitive to certain foods. Shoko and Satoru knew of Suguru's relationship with you. They knew you were serious about each other, that you often slept in the other’s dorm depending on the day. They knew you went on dates and bought each other gifts. They knew you had long since confessed your love to one another and were not strangers to holding hands when you thought nobody was looking. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the two of you slept together as well. 

~

“Quiet.” You sunk your teeth into the side of your cheek, struggling to stifle your noises as Suguru’s fingers curled inside of your tight heat. “You don’t want them to hear us, right?” he cooed again, lips ghosting the shell of your ear as he pressed you harder into the empty desk, nearly pushing it into the wall of the classroom with the ferocity of his hunger. 

You shook your head, not trusting your voice in that moment to make any coherent sounds. Your nails dug into his bicep, legs splayed hazardously over the sides of the desk as you used your free hand to brace yourself. Two fingers continued to plunge in and out of you, curling perfectly and sucking the air from your lungs as he found that one particular spot. 

Suguru watched in fascination, dark eyes glazed over as they flickered between his hand and your face. Each draw back revealed the slick shine of your arousal on his digits, each push forward was accompanied by a squelch. It made his throat tight, arousal making him feel hot all over as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. 

“Sugu…” You choked, face warming considerably as you realized how desperate you sounded. “Hmm?” a gentle hum, his fingers burying deep and massaging your walls until your thighs twitched. “I need you.” Your head fell back, hand leaving his bicep to slap over your mouth in an attempt to silence the cry that left you. “You…need me?” 

Those words were jarring to him, as if a chain of firecrackers had been ignited under his skin. You nodded, helpless and at his mercy as you prayed Satoru and Shoko wouldn’t wander off to figure out where the two of you had gone. You couldn’t quite comprehend what happened next, the sudden retreat of his fingers left you feeling empty, clearing your foggy mind for a second. 

They were quickly replaced with something else, something wet and soft. Your eyes widened considerably when you looked down to see Suguru on his knees, hands gripping the plush of your thighs with his face buried between. He would have given you more if it weren't for his damn pants, he was too impatient to struggle with the high waisted fashion choices he made. 

You couldn’t think again, mind immediately fogging over as you focused solely on Suguru’s head between your legs. The flat of his tongue licking up your folds before delving further, bumping your clit with his nose and earning a strangled noise from you. You bit down on your fist now, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to silence yourself for a bit. 

Suguru didn’t mind, if anything he wanted them to hear you. He wanted to see the shocked look on Satoru’s face when he realized what was happening. He couldn’t lie, this whole rendezvous had started because of an offhand comment Satoru made. One about how he was likely better at pleasing women than Suguru. You knew that's why you were in here too, you felt like you needed to thank Satoru for pushing Suguru to this point, whether that was his intention or not. 

Heat continued to build in your gut, if you could trust yourself to stay balanced you would have let go of the desk and buried your hand in his hair. You wanted to tug the silky black locks from the confines of the bun he always kept them in, watch them cascade around his handsome face and turn messy because of your fingers. Then again, that may make it a little too obvious to your two awaiting friends. “Sugu…” 

You gasped, hand flying from your mouth to grab the desk as you nearly lost your balance. Suguru had started to stand, knocking you back as his arms wrapped around your lower half in a bear hug. Suguru was standing at his full height now, your knees bent over his shoulders while only your mid-back and shoulders pressed into the desk. You could have melted into a puddle the moment his eyes met yours, his mouth still pressed firmly to your cunt. 

“Suguru…” You choked again, hands moving to grip the sides of the desk for some kind of grounding. You could feel him smirk, eyes burning into yours as his tongue lavished you. It was all too much, too lewd, too risky. Your orgasm was building faster than you anticipated, the tingling arousal shooting down your spine and making your legs tense as he teased you. You came with a choked cry of his name, eyes squeezing shut as you rode out your orgasm. 

~

“We’re here.” You blinked, eyes scanning your surroundings as Satoru got out of the car. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can get the food to go and head back to campus.” Shoko’s words were out of concern but her tone was still relaxed. “I’m alright, I could use some time in a busy space.” You lied, the quiet of your dorm room had never sounded so inviting. “Thank you.” You muttered softly to the driver, his small smile told you he was well aware of what was going on. Satoru was already by the front door of the cafe, putting out the butt of his cigarette on a nearby trash can before dropping it in. Shoko did the same, following after you as you entered. 

Satoru’s looks tended to come in handy, his glasses sliding down his nose to show the startling blue of his eyes was all that was needed to get the three of you a seat and bypass the wait. “At least you’re good for something.” You teased him, watching him roll his eyes before smiling. “It’s my duty to get the two of you quick service and good food, even if I have to whore myself out.” For some reason, that had laughter bubbling in your chest, the genuine kind. “Such a noble sacrifice.” You laughed, the menu in your hand shaking as your shoulders bounced. You were too distracted to see the way Satoru’s shoulders seemed to sag in relief as he watched you, for a moment it was like nothing had changed.

If it weren't for the gaping, empty space in the booth beside him, he would have been convinced. 

“What are you going to get, Shoko?” She was the only one actively looking over the menu. “I’m not sure yet, but they do have some options that would be easy on your stomach.” You weren’t sure why but it made your heart ache just a bit, she had been more concerned over your meal than her own. At the very same time, it made you feel small, like you were a bit of a nuisance for having stomach issues… or whatever they were… in the first place. “Oh, alright.” You focused on the menu, aware of their eyes on you as you tried to find something small but appealing. You settled on tamagoyaki and asked for it to be made on the salty side rather than sweet. 

Shoko went for a traditional meal as well while Satoru ventured into their “western” cuisine. His choice sounded so sweet that the thought of it made your teeth hurt. “I don’t know how you do it, Satoru.” you sipped your tea slowly, letting the hot liquid slide down your throat and settle in your stomach. He only shrugged, smiling softly “I’ve yet to find something too sweet for me to handle.” Normally he would have added something flirty but he decided against it. Despite knowing you and Suguru were a couple, it never stopped Satoru’s flirtatious comments. It only bothered Suguru a little bit but he knew his best friend would never cross that kind of line. 

“You may go into cardiac arrest before you meet your match, Satoru.” Shoko snorted, sipping her coffee as she took in the surroundings of the busy cafe. For a moment, you wondered if she was doing what you and Satoru had been subconsciously doing for the last three weeks. “I keep waiting for him to appear.” Your tone was just barely above a whisper, as if even bringing up his existence would cause the world to implode around you. “Me too.” Shoko spoke softly, eyes still looking anywhere but the two of you. Satoru kept quiet, face unusually somber as he sipped his coffee. “I think I’ll eventually go insane.” 

You tried to sound lighthearted but the crack in your voice gave the opposite effect. 

Satoru’s eyes flickered up at that, making your shoulders shrink into the booth. You had quickly come to learn that both of your friends were treating you like fragile porcelain. Though you partially felt the same when talking to them, especially Satoru. Despite the frequent and long nights with each other, little to no words were ever spoken. “I’m fine.” You tried, voice a little stronger than before. “We can talk about these things without falling apart.” It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than them. Before anyone could speak, the waiter was walking over with your food, effectively stopping any further discussion. 

“Satoru…” You choked as the waiter walked away, eyes focused on the sugary, gooey concoction on the plate before him. “That’s your ticket to the ER.” Shoko was gawking at it too, a bite of food already halfway to her mouth. Satoru, on the other hand, looked like a kid on christmas morning, glasses sliding down his nose with a smile on his face. Your stomach grumbled as he cut into the pancakes, the feeling making you jump just a bit. You actually felt hungry, mouth watering as you looked down at your own plate and moved to take a bite. 

Silence fell over the table as you all ate, within minutes half of your food was gone and you were quietly wishing you had ordered something a little bigger.

“You need a napkin.” You laughed softly, handing Satoru your spare napkin so he could wipe the syrup off of his cheek. “Thanks.” For some reason you couldn't help but think he looked like a little kid. For another reason you couldn’t quite explain, it made sadness sink into your shoulders. He should be here with the three of you, eating and laughing and bringing you the comfort you always looked for in him. Your hands shook as you moved to eat more, not willing to let the surge of emotion get rid of the appetite you rarely had nowadays. 

As you finished your plate, you felt the bubbling wave of nausea build in your stomach. You inhaled slowly, trying to find a way to ease your worries and keep your food down. “Are you okay? You look a little green.” Shoko eyed you with concern, not even a second later Satoru was signaling the waiter for the check. “Y-yeah… told you my stomach was sensitive. That’s the most I've eaten at once in the last three weeks.” You couldn’t stand the embarrassment of making a scene or wasting money on the food you had just consumed. “I’ll be back.” You slipped out of the booth, your friend’s concerned eyes zeroing in on you as you disappeared for the bathroom. 

Luckily for you the bathroom was empty, the fluorescent lights making you flinch as you stumbled to the sink and turned the water on cold. You leaned over it, hands and wrists submerged under the running stream, chest heaving with the effort to remain calm. You were desperate to keep the food down, so desperate you could feel sweat forming on your temple as you tried to focus on anything but the nausea. Suguru’s face flashed through your mind and for a moment you were convinced your knees would give out from under you. 

~

“I told you to take it easy.” He huffs softly, fingers running through your hair as he rakes it away from your face. Carefully, he’s looping one of his elastics around your hair to keep it in place. Your head is still buried in the toilet, you had just finished throwing up for the third time in the last hour. “Are you still with me?” His hand is on your back now, rubbing slow but deliberate circles. Feebly you give him a thumbs up, throat burning from the sting of alcohol coming back up. 

“You didn’t eat much today and then you went and got shit-faced with Shoko.” Suguru stated the obvious, trying not to scold you because he knew you weren’t doing good right now. “I don’t think you have anything else to puke up, do you want some water?” You lifted your head now, reaching for toilet paper to wipe your mouth. “Water sounds good.” Your voice was weaker than Suguru had expected it to sound, his heart aching a bit as he sat beside you on the bathroom floor. 

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just yell if you get scared and I’ll be by your side before you know it.” You nodded, thanking him softly as he got up and disappeared out of your bathroom. You were only seventeen at the time, acting far older than you were and thinking you could get away with it. Now, you are facing the consequences of being naive. Typical for someone your age. Suguru had returned in under two minutes, handing you a glass of room temperature water. “It’ll be easier on your stomach at this temperature.” He chuckled as you grimaced. 

He moved to grab a washcloth from your cabinet, turning the sink water on cold. “And this…” he wrung it out twice before turning off the water “will help focus your attention on something other than the nausea.” He placed the cloth on the back of your neck, watching your shoulders sag in relief as something finally cooled your clammy skin. “Thanks, Sugu.” 

~

“Sugu… I’m scared.” Your voice was barely audible, tears burning your eyes as you squeezed them shut. Somehow it was working, your pain outshining the nausea as you tried to stop yourself from sobbing in the middle of the restroom. A year had passed since that moment in time, you were only eighteen now and yet you felt as if you had grown a decade. Yet, you were reduced to a scared and crying child because of nausea. Get it together. You forced yourself to straighten, hands slightly numb under the current of cold water. 

You forced yourself to make eye contact with your reflection, observing how stark the dark circles were under your eyes. Shoko had been right, you did look a bit green, but it was fading steadily as everything subsided. You let your hands sit under the water for a minute longer before bending over the sink and splashing some on your face. The door to the restroom opened as you straightened again, Shoko was looking at you with worry. “Did you get sick?” you shook your head, turning the water off and reaching for the paper towels. 

“Managed to fight it off… for now.” 

“Satoru paid already, there is a convenient store a couple shops down. We can get you some nausea meds and a barf bag for the ride back… just in case.” You nodded, smiling a bit. “That would probably be a good idea.” you followed her out of the bathroom and through the restaurant, Satoru was standing on the sidewalk with a new cigarette between his lips. “Damn, you really did develop a new habit.” He only shrugged, inhaling deeply before blowing more out. “I’ll get over it at some point.” Knowing him and his will-power, he probably would. 

“I’ll call for the driver, Satoru take her to the convenient store and I’ll catch up.” Satoru nodded, saluting her with a quick “yes ma’am” before grabbing your hand and dragging you along. You didn’t speak until Shoko was out of earshot. “Do you think it’s going to get better?” You appreciated the weight of his hand in yours, though you were certain he could feel how clammy it was. “I think it’ll get more bearable with time.” not better, but tolerable. The thought had your chest feeling heavy as you stepped inside of the small store. 

“Nausea meds and barf bags.” Satoru chuckled, reading the signs above each aisle until he spotted one that seemed like a good start. “You’ll have to see a doctor if this doesn’t ease up… how long has it been going on anyways?” You shuffled behind him, arms crossing due to him letting them go a moment prior. “Shortly after he left, after I found the letter.” Only Satoru knew about the letter that had been left behind. How Suguru managed to get back onto campus and leave it in your dorm was beyond him. You had even let him read it, breaking his heart again. 

“Shoko!” Satoru called, noticing her walk down the aisle before you could even turn your head. “I’m not good with this stuff, what should we get?” Satoru had already grabbed a box of blue cylindrical barf bags for you but the actual meds were basically foreign to him. “I’ll handle it from here, Satoru. You can wait in the car, he should be upfront by now.” Satoru’s brows furrowed, so did yours, but the look in Shoko’s eyes had him shrugging and handing the box to you. “Alright then, I’ll see ya out there.” 

He whistled as he strolled by, your eyes narrowing on Shoko. “What’s this about?” you watched her shuffle through the shelves, picking up one and reading the box before setting it down and moving onto the next. “I don’t know what you mean.” She commented offhandedly, plucking another box and reading it before sighing. “This one should work.” She turned, handing it to you while motioning you to follow her down the aisle. You read it over, nothing out of the ordinary so you truly couldn’t figure out what made this one different from the others. 

You stopped short when Shoko did, eyes scanning the aisle and feeling your stomach drop. “Shoko–” You sighed, she was standing in front of the pregnancy tests. “Listen, I know it’s probably the last thing you want to even think about but I think you should take one.” She was grabbing a box of the cheap tests, the same test that was still residing in the trash can of your bathroom. “Shoko, it's not necessary.” You couldn't bring yourself to tell her you already took one, for some reason you couldn’t tell her it was negative either. 

“I’ll buy them, and you’ll keep them. If this nausea doesn’t subside in like two weeks, I’m forcing you to take them.” You felt your face burning, clutching the nausea meds tightly in your hands as you looked away from her. “Fine.” You sighed, head tilted at her shoes as you followed her up front to the register. Everything was placed neatly in a brown bag so nobody could see the contents. Once in the car, you popped open the barf bags just to keep one ready in the event your nausea returned full force. “I figured you would forget this.” 

You looked up to see Satoru handing you a bottle of water, your lips parting in surprise. “You know me well, Satoru. I did forget.” you took it from him, grabbing the box of nausea meds and ripping them open. You took them and sighed, gulping down water when you realized how thirsty you had been. “If we have nothing else to do today, I think I’ll take a nap.” You were aching for your bed, more tired now than you had been after any missions. “Alright but we’ll wake you up for dinner if we don’t hear from you.” Shoko smiled, cracking the window to light a cig. 

“It’s not even 11am yet.” you snorted. “Yeah but you can sleep like the dead when you really need it, if we don’t wake you, you’ll sleep straight through till tomorrow.” You opened your mouth to deny it, about to use your frequent bathroom breaks as an excuse but stopped yourself. Saying that would only confirm the very thing Shoko was suspicious of. “Alright, fine, whatever.” You resigned with a playful huff, arms crossing as you turned to look out the window. Luckily for you, you managed to make it through the ride without needing to use the bag. 

“I’ll see you later.” You called after them, waving as you headed for the dorms. They both waved back, finding shade under a tree to enjoy more of the sunny morning. You felt your shoulders sagging with each step, your social battery diminished far faster now that Suguru wasn’t always by your side. You had almost grown a bit too dependent on him, thinking he would be a constant in your life. You inhaled shakily, the brown bag crumbling between your fingers as your emotions bubbled to the surface yet again. You couldn't seem to get yourself to your dorm fast enough, hot tears slipping down your cheeks as you shoved the key in the lock. 

It came in heavy waves, making you feel weak as you could only succumb to the sadness festering in your chest. You dropped the bag by the door, kicking off your shoes and shouldering off your uniform jacket. Moving on autopilot, you drew your curtains shut and took off the rest of your clothing, sliding his shirt over your head until you were enveloped in his scent. You were gasping for air by the time your body hit the mattress, curling in on yourself as you sobbed. “I miss you.” You hiccuped, rubbing your eyes as if it would stop the tears. 

God dammit, Suguru, why did you have to do this?

You buried your head in your pillow, trying to drown out your own feelings before sadness turned to anger and you ripped your whole room apart because of it. 

~

“Stop wiggling so much.” His voice sounded like gravel, rumbling the back of your head as he spoke. “Can’t help it.” You retorted, trying your best to settle into a comfortable position. Suguru had you wrapped in a bear hug, his favorite form of affection, especially since he knew you couldn’t get out of his grasp. His arms were covered in thick muscles, something you initially didn't expect because his uniform and choice of baggy clothing typically hid them.

 You could use all your strength and his grip wouldn’t falter.  

“Why not?” he mumbled again, if you had to guess, his eyes were closed as he spoke. “Cause it’s warm, Sugu.” you were both laying on top of the covers, little to no clothing on because of the heat and the broken air conditioning that the school was still trying to fix. Nothing but an old fan swiveling side to side to create some sort of relief. Still, Suguru couldn’t sleep unless you were pressed flush to him, warm or not. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Oh it absolutely is.” you immediately countered, turning your head back to try and look at him. “It could be way worse.” he tried again, fingers thrumming against your side. “Yeah, it could, but it could also be better. Like if you let me go for example.” You wiggled a bit, trying to create space before he pulled you tightly to him again. “Nice try, it’s not happening.” You groaned, going limp in his arms as he began to laugh. “I could totally make it worse for you.” He added softly, lips ghosting your ear. Despite the heat, you shivered. 

“The weirdest things turn you on, Sugu.” 

“Hey, it’s not nice to call yourself weird.” 

You slapped his arm, earning another rumble of laughter as he moved to hover over you. “C’mon, if I make you sweat, it’ll make the breeze from the fan feel colder.” You rolled your eyes, studying his features as he looked down at you, hair framing his face and ghosting yours. “That’s counterproductive, you know.” Your hands were running up his biceps anyway, moving to wrap around his neck and pull him close to you. “Maybe it is, but you can’t say I’m wrong.” 

His head was lowering, giving into your pull with no hesitation. “You’re right, I can’t say you’re wrong. But… I want to.” You smile, pulling him further until your lips melt together. He was radiating warmth, his teeth grazing your bottom lip to ask for entrance. Your lips parted, hands snaking up into his hair and tugging at the strands until he groaned. Suguru braced himself on one hand, making the mattress dip just by your head. The rest of his weight was settled on his knees, caging your hips in so you truly couldn’t get away from him. Not that you wanted too now. 

You felt small beneath him, his bare skin radiating warmth as he used his free hand to push your shirt up. You could ignore the heat for the time being, more focused on the steady beating from between your thighs. “Sugu…” You parted with a gasp, watching him lean up and pull you with him, allowing him to drag your shirt over your head and toss it to the floor before pushing you down again. His lips didn’t return to yours, instead they moved to your neck, kissing along your pulse point until you were whining. “Quiet, baby, don’t forget we’re in my room.” 

Satoru was asleep next door, that realization set in like ice water being dumped over your head. “Suguru.” You choked as his head dipped lower, licking along your collarbone before moving to one of your breasts. He wasn’t going to answer you, and you knew that for a fact by the way his lips curled into a smirk against your skin. “You’re evil.” You gasped, hand fisting his hair tightly as he scraped his teeth along your breast, nipping at the soft skin. Your other hand found its home on his shoulder, nails scratching lightly as his muscles flexed under your grasp. 

You sunk your teeth into your cheek when his lips wrapped around your perked nipple, arousal making it pebble slightly as he sucked. Suguru’s tongue lavished your skin, flicking the bud until your back was arching into his touch. It wasn’t nearly enough, your breath coming out in short pants as you tried to pry him off and focus on your other breast. “These would look so pretty if they were full of milk.” You choked, eyes wide as he looked up at you through his lashes. “Don’t you think?” You couldn’t breathe for a moment, stunned into silence by his comment. 

“C’mon baby, don’t act so shocked.” He cooed softly, the tip of his tongue trailing up your sternum. He didn’t stop until he reached your lips, kissing them softly before dipping his head again. His hand toyed with the breast he had just teased endlessly, brown eyes observing the rate of your breathing before lowering onto your other breast. He repeated the same motions, nipping and sucking the senstive skin until you were squirming from the wetness between your legs.

“You haven't answered me, sweetheart.”

“B-because I don’t know how to answer that, Sugu.” You knew exactly what he was implying, but you couldn’t form a coherent response for him. “You just have to tell me if you agree, it’s pretty simple.” He chuckled, pushing himself up to look down at you. Your hands fell to your sides, his neck just out of your reach. “Just think about it, pretty girl.” You watched him, completely entranced as he pulled his briefs down and his erection sprang free. “Because I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” 

“You have?” You sat up a bit, fingers shakily pulling off your own underwear to save time. “I have.” He confirmed, cheeks turning a shade of red that you could see even in the moonlight. His hand slid along his length, spreading the precum drooling from his tip while his boxers rested at his mid-thigh. “Take those off, Sugu.” You smiled a bit, reaching for the waistband and pulling them taut before letting them snap back against his thigh. “So demanding.” He snorted, letting himself go to push the material off, tossing it to the floor just as you had done with your underwear. 

“So are you, demanding an answer for something so…so…” you couldn’t find the right words, not when his eyes were on you, devouring you whole. “…so what? How does it make you feel?” He redirected, pumping himself leisurely as your thighs fell open for him, still supporting yourself on your elbows as you waited. “How does what make me feel?” A stupid question but you were still reeling from the initial statement. Suguru laughed, hand still gliding over his length as he sat on his knees.

“How does it feel knowing I think about getting you pregnant… all the fucking time.” You couldn’t deny the thought made you feel hot, hotter than you felt from the heat and arousal mixing. Like molten lava was running its way through your bloodstream. “F-feels fucking…” you squirmed a bit, legs moving to close involuntarily until his hand shot out and stopped them. “Go on, pretty girl. Tell me.” You sat up, glaring at him with warm cheeks. “How about you fuck me. Then, maybe, I’ll tell you how I feel about your little fantasies.” Suguru groaned, head falling forward for a moment. 

“Sounds like a good deal to me.” He moved forward, pressing you back into the mattress as he pulled your thighs towards him. Your lips found his neck, sucking on it harshly as he ran the dull head of his cock between your slick folds. You let him move you however he pleased, your legs being pushed almost painfully to your chest as he pressed into you. You gasped in unison, his cock stretching you open easily despite no prep. “Shit…” his head fell forward again, nearly bumping yours as he bottomed out, no space left between the two of you. 

Suguru stayed in place, eyes shut as he focused on the way your walls fluttered and squeezed around him, unable to stay still. Your nails dug into his scalp, pulling a groan from his lips as you tried to relax but couldn’t. He was big, bigger than any fling or partner you had in the past. No matter how easily your cunt accepted him, it still stung for the first few seconds. You had grown to love the deep ache, the weight of him inside you, the way his tip would brush your cervix depending on the position. Like now, with your legs pressed so tightly to your body. 

“Can I move?” his voice was soft, eyes peering into your own once he gained his composure. “Y-yeah.” You breathed out, the feeling of his hands on your skin still sent shockwaves of arousal through you. Especially when his grip tightened, bracing himself on you as he drew his hips back half way before rolling into you again. You moaned, eyes squeezing shut as Suguru found his rhythm, hips meeting yours with a soft slap. “D-Don’t forget Satoru is…” You wailed softly, pleasure building quickly as he moved. “I know…” 

But the smirk on his face told you he no longer cared, he’d gladly listen to his white-haired best friend bitch and moan in the morning about being woken up by you. Suguru’s rhythm only sped up, hips angling perfectly to brush along that one particular spot as he thrust into you, cock head brushing your cervix every few thrusts until your vision was blurring. The pleasure ebbing through your body was more than enough to block out how uncomfortable your current position was. 

A wet squelch started to emit between your legs, loud enough to be heard over the drone of the fan as Suguru pounded into you. “So…” he started, voice strained as sweat dripped down his temple. “... can you tell me how it makes you feel now?” You blinked, awestruck that he was still hooked on getting an answer from you. “S-suguru…” you whined, head falling further into the pillows. “I’m not letting it go…ha… Tell me how it makes you feel.” he ground out, hips slowing just a bit. When you didn’t speak, he pressed more of his weight into you so one hand could break free. 

You moaned, loud and unrestrained as his fingers ghosted across your swollen clit, the sudden contact making you see stars. “Tell me how it makes you feel.” he repeated, watching your face go slack as his fingers and hips worked in tandem. “Makes me hot…” You admitted with a heavy breath, eyes struggling to focus on him. “I want you to do it, Sugu… fuck me till I’m pregnant.” The look on his face had you shrinking further into the mattress, an almost animalistic look taking over his eyes as he stopped moving all together. “Say it again.” 

“I want you to fuck me ‘til I’m pregnant, Suguru.”  

~

You woke up in a sweat, gasping for air as you stumbled out of bed and barreled to the bathroom. You couldn’t stop the nausea this time, knees hitting the tile floor with bruising force as you heaved into the toilet. You hadn’t even remembered falling asleep, but your dream was enough to send you into a death spiral. Tears burned your eyes as the little bit of breakfast you hadn’t digested came back up. Luckily for you, you had slept long enough that your food from this morning wasn’t a total loss. Nothing more than bile was left as you finally calmed down. 

You reached for toilet paper, wiping your tears and blowing your nose until you could at least breath without difficulty. Aching, you got up, flushing the toilet and washing your hands and face. You had no idea what time it was but you assumed it wasn’t late enough for dinner if Shoko never came to wake you up. At least that’s what you thought as you stumbled back into your dorm room slightly sweaty. That’s odd… The sun had begun to set just beyond your window, your eyes flickering to your alarm clock. 7:23pm stared back at you in big red numbers. 

I slept for over eight hours? You looked for your phone, seeing the missed text from Shoko. 

Shoko: I decided against waking you up, I figured you could use the sleep. Just text me when you’re awake and I can bring you dinner

You were partially grateful for her decision, your face still warm as your dream lingered in your mind. Dreaming of the past, how cliche. You sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed. You had woken up so suddenly, adrenaline blocking out the sleepiness at first. Now, your body seemed to thrum with a dull ache, the headrush coming back around to kick you while you were down. You reached over to turn on the small lap residing on your nightstand, eyes squinting for a moment as you adjusted. Your eyes focused on the brown bag from earlier, the one you discarded on your floor after coming back. 

You knew there was water in there still, so you got up and grabbed it, looking at the bag contents in disdain. You emptied it on your desk, nausea meds, barf bags and the box of pregnancy tests. You studied then as you gulped down some of the water, easing the burn in your throat. The pregnancy tests Shoko had insisted on were identical to the one you took this morning. Weirdly enough you wished she had grabbed the more expensive digital ones. That way you wouldn't have to strain yourself trying to figure out if a second line was present or not. 

“Fuck it.” you sighed, dropping the now empty water bottle in the small barrel you kept beside your desk. You still had one more test in the box from this morning, you’d take another one just because of the memories lingering on your mind. Your face felt warm as you recalled that particular night from a few months back. Suguru had been pretty adamant after that, fucking you raw and in ernest with every intention of knocking you up. You, stupidly, let him because you love him and loved the idea of having a family with him. “Idiot.” 

You scolded yourself again, ripping the foil wrapper and tossing it in your trash with the now empty box. You went through the same process as you did that morning, peeing into a cup and dipping the absorbent end into it for ten seconds before capping it and discarding the rest of the contents. You forced yourself to leave the bathroom this time, convinced it would make time go by faster. The text Shoko had sent was still left unanswered, you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel hungry at that moment in time. 

You’d text her in a little while though, or else she’d likely come breaking your door down thinking you had run away. Just then, your phone vibrated with the ringtone you had set for Satoru. You grabbed it, flipping it open to see what he had to say. On the screen there was a message from him, asking if you wanted to hang out on the rooftop to watch the stars later on. You smiled a bit, it was rare for Satoru to ask things so formally. You clicked out a message, telling him yes and that you could use some fresh air. 

It took him no time at all to send a happy emoticon, one that had you rolling your eyes as you typed back that you’d meet him at his dorm when you were ready. You backed out of the chat, eyes lingering on a particular contact, your message to him was naturally left unanswered. You had given up texting Suguru’s number when the messages no longer got delivered. You figured he’d discard his phone, throw away any direct contact he had with the three of you. You snapped your phone shut a moment later, you’d text Shoko after you got dressed.

Opening your closet was still proving to be a bit difficult, especially as your fingers trailed over the material of the clothing Suguru had kept in your room. They smelt like the laundry detergent he used as well as his cologne, it took your breath away for a moment. You forced yourself away, grabbing some comfortable clothes that were actually yours before shutting the door. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to discard his clothing, despite knowing he wasn’t coming back to you. 

You pulled his shirt over your head, grabbing your own and replacing it. You pulled on a pair of shorts after, rubbing your face with your hands as you looked at your appearance in the mirror. No amount of sleep seemed to help the dark circles under your eyes or the sickly look to your complexion. You could only hope Satoru was right, with time it would become more manageable. You glanced at your alarm clock, 7:48pm stared back at you now. The sky outside your window had turned indigo, the sun minutes away from being completely out of sight. The summer was coming to an end, filling your chest with melancholy.

You couldn’t stand being alone in that moment, grabbing your phone and shoving it in your pocket as you made a beeline for your door. You made your way down the hall, remembering as you passed Shoko’s dorm that you needed to text her. Stopping in your tracks, you figured it would just be easier to see her in person. “Shoko?” you called, fingers tapping the door softly because she hated when people knocked too loud. “Coming.” You heard her rustling around her room before the door opened, a half smoked cigarette hanging from her lips. 

“Thought Yaga told you no smoking inside.”  

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him, and my window is open.” 

You smiled, “I’m hanging out with Satoru on the roof if you wanna join us.” Shoko exhaled, puffing just a bit of smoke in your direction. “I’d love to but I spent the whole afternoon with him ‘cause you were sleeping.” You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck “my bad.” but Shoko was waving you off. “Don’t apologize, you need sleep… I’ll trust Satoru to feed you if you’re hungry.” She smiled as you rolled your eyes “Alright alright, enjoy the rest of your bad habit and I’ll take Satoru duty.” The look in Shoko’s eyes made your smile falter for just a moment. 

They looked oddly wistful, but it vanished just as quickly as your smile faltered. “Aye aye captain.” Shoko started to shut the door as you turned to leave, watching you go for just a moment before shutting it completely. “Satoru.” You drawled, banging on his door so you could be heard over the music he was playing. “Oi, keep it down!” the door swung open a moment later, a cheeky grin on his face as he looked at you. “Ready to go?” He looked cozy in an oversized black hoodie and sweats, sunglasses resting on top of his head. 

“Sure am.” you returned his smile, the ache in your chest easing just a bit. It was more bearable when you had someone who understood the pain you felt deeper than surface level. You watched him turn, shutting off his music and the lights before stepping into the hallway. “Are we going to take the normal way or are you going to test out your blue?” Satoru’s eyes seemed to sparkle as you suggested he use his curse technique. “If you insist on blue…” You couldn’t even make a sound as his arm wrapped around your waist, hauling you off of your feet. 

In the blink of an eye, you were exposed to the cooling night air. “Damn.” You laughed as he set you down, shuffling over to the small lock box you kept up here with spare blankets and, as Shoko claimed, “necessities”...Which were just two cartons of emergency cigarettes. “Didn’t disorient you, right?” Satoru was standing on the edge, observing the glow of the city in the distance. “Not even a little, you’ve improved a lot, Satoru.” your back was turned to him, so you missed the way his eyes widened slightly, cheeks turning pink. 

“Thanks” 

You turned back to him, blankets in hand. “So…” You walked over to where he was standing, taking a seat just before the edge and letting your legs dangle off. “...So?” Satoru looked down at you, watching you settle. “Why did you want to come up here… I’d love to gaze at the stars but it’s not like we’ll actually see any with all the light pollution.” Satoru sighed, dropping down to squat beside you. “I guess I just wanted your company… ya know since you’re probably the only other person that understands this.” his tone was awkward, it wasn’t often that you were sentimental… or serious for that matter… with each other. 

“Your welcome to have my company any time, Satoru. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you.” It was so heartfelt it made you feel strange. “Sorry.” You added, a bit meeker than before when he stiffened a bit. “Don’t be sorry, just not used to being so… serious with you.”  He sat fully now, shoulder brushing yours as a silent invitation for you to rest your head. You did, just as you always had, watching the lights of the city a few miles away. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” You spoke in a gentle tone, hoping he knew what you meant. 

“It is. Knowing he’s there, that he’s okay… while we’re sitting here sulking like idiots.” There was a small bite to his tone as he finished, one that quickly left when he exhaled. “It pisses me off.” It made you upset too, anger bubbling in the back of your mind like a pot of boiling water that was going to overflow at any second. “It pisses me off too, because I truly can’t understand it. I’ve killed myself over the last three weeks trying to understand, to make sense of it. I can’t and I don’t think I ever will. But it’s not my place to reason with it, you know?” 

Satoru was silent, waiting for you to continue. “It’s not my life, it’s his. I tried for months to get it out of him, I tried so goddamn hard to get him to open up and he never did. Always redirecting, always avoiding.” You sounded defeated by the end, blinking away the tears that blurred your vision so you could regain composure. “Why didn’t you come to me?” Satoru questioned softly, letting your words sink in like an anchor. 

“He gave you so many signs, Satoru. If you couldn’t see them, it wasn’t my place to assist.” 

Satoru felt like that should have made him angry, but it didn’t. Mostly because you were right, it had been obvious from the start but he had naively pushed them to the side, pretending it wasn’t true. He was just as much at fault, if anything he was willing to shoulder all of the blame. Because at least you tried. He couldn’t say the same, and he knew that far too well. “Suguru made up his mind the moment he entered that village. There is no stopping a man who is set in their resolve. You said it yourself, Satoru. He looked healthier, happier, content.” 

Satoru took in a shaky breath, leaning into you just as you leaned into him. “I just don’t get why he needed to kill his parents.” Your eyes closed, that was the thought weighing heaviest on your mind. “He needed to prove to himself that he was doing the right thing. That nobody, not even his parents, were an exception to his newfound ideology.” It killed you to say it, especially since you had met his parents last winter break. They were kind, at least his mother was. His father was a bit colder but there was still an undeniable love for his son. They had welcomed you so openly, they were proud of the son they had raised. 

Now they were gone, nobody but Suguru was to blame. 

“In a fucked up way, I don’t care that he killed those people.” The words felt bitter on your tongue, but his letter flashed through your mind and for a moment you understood him. Those two little girls, beaten and caged, scared and facing death for things they never did. Hell, had you gone on the mission with him, you may have encouraged his choices. That realization felt weird as it settled in your gut. “I… I don’t really care either.” Satoru admitted softly, thinking back over the last year, thinking about Amanai. He had been seconds away from doing the same thing. 

But Suguru had been his voice of reason, stopping him with a simple command. It should have been obvious then, that Suguru’s life was completely altered from that moment forward. “It was so obvious.” He hissed softly, head falling forward just a bit as anger squeezed his heart. “There is nothing we can do now, Satoru. Nothing we can do will reverse the damage that has been done.” You wished you could believe your own words, part of you wanted to catch a train into the city and barrel into that religious group he took over. 

You weren’t even sure what you’d do if you did. Hit him, yell at him? Crumple into his arms like the sucker you were. Maybe a mix of all three, no, it would definitely be a mix of all three. You couldn’t help but wonder how he would react if he saw you again. He made it clear in his letter that he loved you, he still loved you, he would always love you. If you made the choice to leave, would he welcome you in with open arms. Or was he resenting you already for not doing so sooner. Was he waiting for you? Or was it nothing more than sweet-talk. 

“You’re not breathing.” Satoru muttered softly, tilting his head just a bit to look down at you. “Oh…” You inhaled deeply, laughing a bit  as you exhaled “got lost in thought.” You felt Satoru relax again, head resting against yours. “I get it.” You fell into a comfortable silence, watching as the sky steadily turned from a deep blue to pitch black. There, if you squint hard enough, you could make out a couple of sparkling stars. 

You knew if you asked, Satoru could probably whisk you somewhere far away. Somewhere clear so you could actually see the stars with no obstructions. 

Yet you were too comfortable, too warm. 

Sitting where you were now was more than enough for the time being. That feeling of content actually took the air from your lungs for a moment, blinking steadily as you took in your surroundings. There was a fleeting moment where your heart felt light, that aching heaviness that had been plaguing it for the last three weeks wasn’t present. You wondered quietly if Satoru felt it too. Given the way his body seemed completely relaxed into yours, you assumed he did. 

~

You were stumbling down the hall like a drunkard. Your mind felt numb as you moved, head tilted down and expression blank. If anyone were to cross your path at that given moment, they probably would have been unsettled by the sight of you. A zombie moving on autopilot, your brain moving so quickly that it had reduced everything to a quiet, droning buzz. 

Murder. 112 people. His parents too. He’s gone. He snapped. He’s a murderer. Suguru is gone. 

Nothing made sense, not a single bit of the information you had received made any sense. The fact that Suguru wasn’t answering your frequent texts wasn't making sense. The fact that you had woken up to an empty bed wasn’t making sense. The fact that people were telling you Suguru, your Suguru, had taken over a hundred lives in the span of one night wasn’t making any fucking sense. 

Your knees nearly gave out the moment your hand met the wood of your door, pushing it open so quickly it slammed into the wall with a loud thud before coming back at you. Not that you cared, at that moment you could be set on fire and you wouldn’t blink an eye. 

You stood in the middle of your dorm room, eyes scanning the room as if it were something foreign. Nothing was making sense, not even your bed looked like your own. It was the pressure cracking down on you already, sinking its claws into your shoulders and forcing you to your knees as the weight of your new reality hit you like a freight train. You couldn’t even bring yourself to cry in that moment, too shell shocked over the report Yaga had read to you and Satoru. 

Satoru. 

You had stumbled away shortly after the report was finished, barely registering the way he had started to yell. You hadn’t looked back, but it wasn’t like either of them tried to stop you. Despite having just stumbled away from him, you found yourself moving to leave and find him again. At least you would have if your knees didn’t give out on you. You gasped, more out of surprise than pain as your legs made contact with the wooden floor. You sat there for a moment, arms feeling equally as weak as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. 

You felt your chest tighten, every breath felt strangled as you tried to inhale. A cold sweat seemed to cover your skin, fingers shaking slightly as you pushed your hair from your face. You couldn’t move, completely paralyzed by shock. It felt like your heart was shattering, every shaky inhale deepening the wound. Still, your tears would not come. Not even as black spots began to obstruct your vision, chest heaving as you began to hyperventilate. 

Despite your body vibrating in distress, you felt a nearly silent calm. Like someone had flicked off the switch and stole your ability to hear.

Nothing and everything all at once. 

~

“Hey? Y/N wake up…” You jumped a bit, hand coming up to touch the wetness on your cheeks. “You were crying in your sleep.” Satoru muttered softly, hand smoothing over your hair as he cradled you. “I-I was?” You didn’t even realize the change in position or the change in scenery. You were no longer sitting by the roof’s edge, instead you were sitting in Satoru’s lap, his arms holding you tightly as he looked at you with worry. 

“You were.” he confirmed, letting you go just as you woke up fully. “Sorry for worrying you, I was just thinking about him… it’s so strange. I’ve been having such intense dreams of the past… I've had dreamless sleep for the last three weeks… so why now?” Satoru sighed, watching you get up to stand and stretch your limbs. “I don’t know. I’ve been having odd dreams about him but I don’t really remember how most of them go by the time I wake up.”

“It’s the universe’s way of torturing us… as if we haven’t been tortured enough. Wait, how long have I been asleep?” The temperature had dropped significantly, the moon was shining high in the sky now. “About an hour or so, I was actually going to bring you back inside but you started to cry and… well here we are now.” Satoru got up, stretching dramatically as you sighed. “You’d think after sleeping for eight hours I wouldn't be tired.” 

You walked to the edge of the roof again, feet pressing firmly to the ledge as you looked down. “Being depressed will suck the soul out of you.” For some reason you couldn’t help but laugh. “You seem pretty wide awake, Satoru.” He joined you on the ledge, pushing you a bit to the side. Your training gave you quick reflexes so you didn’t flinch when he did it. “Oh please, you know I’m right.” You glanced at him, laughing softly. 

“You are, but so am I. We can be depressed morons together.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, earning another laugh as you punched his shoulder. “Touche, Gojo” 

“Yuck, never call me that again.” His face had morphed into a scowl as you used his last name. He never liked hearing you call him anything other than Satoru. “Fine.” you crossed your arms over your chest, inhaling the cool air. “I think I’m gonna go shower and maybe make something small for dinner… Just so Shoko doesn’t string the two of us up on a lamppost.” Satoru nodded, watching you step off the ledge and move about the roof to put the blankets away. 

“I’ll accompany you.” he jumped down, trailing behind you as you moved to open the door that would bring you downstairs. “In the shower? I’m flattered but–” the way his eyes rolled were enough to stop you mid-sentence. “Joking, Satoru.” he sighed out an “I know” closing the distance to haul you up. “Using the stairs is boring.” Within the blink of an eye, you were back inside and standing in front of your dorm room. 

“Text me when you’re done showering and we can go get food.” 

You nodded, one of the perks of attending school in Tokyo was the fact that the city never slept. You could go find a place to eat at three in the morning and they’d still serve you hot food. Your body sagged against the door of your dorm after shutting it. Flicking on the lights lit the room in a warm, golden glow. For the last three years you considered your room a sanctuary, it was your happy place after a long day of training. Now, it feels oddly cold. 

You walked over to your dresser, pulling the top drawer open to grab a fresh pair of underwear and pajamas for after. You tossed them on your bed, reaching down for your bottom drawer to grab a particular towel you liked. It didn’t take you long to put your hair up, not in the mood to wash it just yet, and head to the bathroom. You squinted a bit as the nearly white fluorescent lights filled the room, if you had your way you’d change them to something softer. 

It took all of five seconds for your world to come crashing down around you again, eyes zeroing in on the pregnancy test sitting on your counter. I fucking forgot about it…

You set your towel down on the counter, holding your breath as you took the step and reached for the test. You gave yourself no time to prepare, eyes scanning the results once before it hit you like a ton of bricks. You dropped it, letting it clatter on the porcelain counter as a jagged sob ruptured from your chest. Your hand came up to cover your mouth, the other resting on your chest, your heart thumping so wildly you were certain it would burst. 

There, on the test, were two lines. It was positive. 

You nearly fell forward, dropping down to the trash can beside your sink and rummaging through it without hesitation. Your fingers wrapped around the plastic test from this morning, yanking it up and looking at the results again. There, on the initial test from that morning, were two lines. You didn’t drop it this time, eyes staring at the results as if they’d change. Positive, this whole time it had been positive. You just hadn’t let the first test develop long enough. 

“When… How…” You uttered softly, the logical part of your brain screaming at you to be realistic for a second rather than acting so surprised. The irrational side of your brain was still reeling from the revelation. As if Suguru hadn’t been adamant in trying to knock you up for months. “You fucking bastard… you get your way and leave me with the aftermath.” You were struggling, there was no way you’d be able to pinpoint when it happened until you found out how far along you were. For some reason, that was what made reality really set in. 

Hot tears streaked your face, sobbing so harshly that it felt like your lungs would collapse on you. You moved in a blur, legs carrying you out of your dorm and down the hall until you were pushing open Satoru’s door. “Woah there, sounds like someone’s hun…” He looked up, the teasing tone in his voice dropping immediately when he saw the tears streaming down your face. “What the fuck happened? Are you hurt?” Satoru crossed the room in two long strides, hands cupping your face as your lips wobbled. 

You couldn’t get the words out, crying harder as he ran his hands over you searching for some type of wound. “C’mon, what happened?” His tone had more of a bite to it than he intended but you were causing panic to seep through his veins. You couldn’t breathe, legs nearly buckling under the weight of your reality. Satoru seemed to catch this, hands shooting out to support you as he brought both of you to the floor. “Y/N, please.” he urged you, throat feeling tight. 

You shook your head, still sobbing as you raised your hand meekly, the positive pregnancy test out in the open for him to see. Blue eyes widened significantly when he saw it, he didn’t even need to see the two lines to understand why you were so hysterical. “Oh…oh.” he swallowed, hand shakily taking the test from your hand to look at it. “Oh fuck.” it was just barely above a whisper, arm holding you just a little tighter as you cried into his chest. 

At least part of you was aware of the possibility, Satoru on the other hand felt completely blindsided. “You two didn’t use protection?” He uttered softly, rocking you slightly without thinking as your cries continued, you couldn’t think at that moment, unable to calm yourself down. You managed to shake your head in response, unable to feel embarrassed as you admitted to not using condoms when with Suguru. “Fuck… did you ever use protection with him?” 

He knew the answer, of course he fucking knew the answer. Suguru was utterly obsessed with you, so in love it was nearly nauseating. You shook your head again, confirming that you’d never once used protection with him. “Hey… c’mon…” he started softly when your body shook with the force of your cries but you were no longer making any sounds. He wanted to say it would be alright but he wasn’t sure if it would be. 

That answer relied on you. 

He couldn’t expect you to be alright, you had your heart broken three weeks prior by the man who often talked about proposing to you as soon as you all graduated. If those were the kind of conversations Suguru was having with him, he couldn’t imagine the conversations Suguru had been having with you. Well, that was a bit of a lie. Considering your reaction to the test results, it seemed this was a long sought after goal. Your cries were from heartbreak, not fear. 

~

“I’ve been looking at rings.” Satoru glanced up, noodles dangling half way from his lips. “Hah?” He watched Suguru grimace a bit, some broth splattering as Satoru questioned him. “I’ve been looking at rings for Y/N.” Suguru stated again, a little more cautiously now, watching Satoru slurp the rest of the noodles into his mouth. “Suguru, we haven’t even entered our third year.” 

“I know, but…” he shrugged, unable to formulate the right way to say it. “...But? You’re not even eighteen yet, neither is she.” It wasn’t that Satoru didn’t think it was okay, he just figured you were both way too young to even fathom those things. “I don’t intend on proposing to her until we’ve graduated. Listen I know it seems fast but…” Suguru's hands fidgeted with his utensils for a moment, eyes avoiding Satoru until he was ready.

“I love her, Satoru. I didn’t even think it was possible to love someone as much as I love her.” 

Satoru blinked, a bit taken back by such a bold declaration over a bowl of cheap ramen. “I’m not doubting that you love her, Suguru. I just think it’s a bit crazy to think about these things so young.” Suguru sighed, watching Satoru with weary eyes as he moved to eat more noodles. 

“We’re sourcers, Satoru. A long life isn’t guaranteed.” 

~

“Breathe, please. You’re going to pass out.” Satoru’s hand was slapping your back as you coughed, the tears had finally begun to slow but you still weren’t able to form a coherent sentence. “Please…” he tried again, watching you try your best to take a deep breath. It was followed by another, this time it wasn’t superficial. After a couple more, you were able to rub the tears from your eyes and look at him without blurry vision. 

“S-satoru I’m so so-sorry.” you hiccuped, your throat feeling raw from your crying. “You have nothing to apologize for, stop feeling like you have to apologize for everything you do.” he let you go a bit, motioning for you to get up with him and sit on his bed rather than the floor. He watched you crawl under his covers, curling up against his pillows, sniffling softly. Despite the weight of the conversation you were about to have, Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle. 

He crawled onto his bed as well, sitting beside you but above the covers. “So… I guess the best place to start is… how did this happen. By that I mean, was it intentional?” You sighed, toying with the end of his pillow case as you spoke. “Suguru had been trying to get me pregnant for months now.” You felt warmth flood your cheeks, it felt awkward admitting something like that. “I knew the bastard had a breeding kink.” Satoru said it more to himself than you, but that didn’t stop the shrill yell of his name as you slapped his arm. 

“I’m being honest! He just seemed like the type.” Satoru shrugged, holding back laughter as you rolled your eyes and settled back into sulking. “I shouldn’t be so blindsided by this, but it’s fucking ironic that he got what he wanted after he fucking left me… us.” you corrected softly, feeling selfish for being so focused on yourself when Satoru was hurting too. “The universe knows how to play cruel jokes, I’ve thought that my whole life. But, that’s beside the point. We can’t sit here and sulk over it, we need to talk about what to do next.” 

You looked up at Satoru, eyes red from crying. It hurt his heart, you looked like a kicked puppy. In that moment he realized how heavily he relied on Suguru, because even now he found himself itching to grab his phone and call him for advice. What was worse, you were now looking to him for help, when really he was just as scared as you. “The next logical step is I need to find a doctor who can run a blood test and confirm the store bought tests are accurate. After that, they need to tell me how far along I am so I can pinpoint when this happened.”

Satoru nodded, you’d both have to fill in Shoko in the morning, she’d be able to help with all the medical bits. “I… I know this seems a bit invasive so please don’t take offense… but are you going to keep it?” Satoru fidgeted a bit, eyes watching as you seemed to zone out and think. Your initial answer was yes, of course, but were you really capable of raising a baby on your own? Then again, you didn’t think you could stomach giving them away for adoption, and you certainly didn’t want to get rid of them. Not after you chased this goal for months, regardless of the way things were right now. “Yeah, as terrifying as it is, I want this baby, Satoru.” 

“Okay, so we got two of the biggest things out of the way. Now, the hardest…” you huffed as he trailed off, you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to answer the next question. “What do we do about Suguru, that’s what you’re going to say, right?” It was Satoru’s turn to huff now, nodding as he looked away from you to stare at his hands.

“He… he needs to know.” 

“No the fuck he doesn’t.” 

You both stared at each other, completely scandalized by the other’s response. “Satoru… He needs to know… he…he’s the fucking dad? How am I supposed to jus–” Satoru shook his head, hands coming up to rub his face before letting them fall back to his lap. “Suguru is a fucking criminal now, he murdered people. Hundreds of people I should fucking remind you and you just want to waltz back into his fucking life and tell him that shit?” You sat up now, eyes burning holes into his skull as you waited for him to at least look at you. “Do you hear yourself?” 

You were seething, that same anger you held for Suguru leaving was now bubbling at Satoru for uttering his name like it was pure filth. Satoru stiffened, eyes turning to glare at you. But, every ounce of anger seemed to drain from his body when he saw nothing but hurt glowing in your tired and puffy eyes. “I fucking get it, Satoru. I know what Suguru did but fuck, how am I supposed to just get over him? How am I supposed to carry his child for nine months and push it out of my body just to raise it on my fucking own and never tell him? He’s the one that wanted this in the first place!” Tears glossed your eyes over, hands shaking as they fisted in his sheets.

His mouth opened before closing again, eyes looking away from you because he knew he'd never be able to try and talk sense into you when you looked at him like that. “And what if the child is unable to see curses?” he sounded defeated. “What then, Y/N? What if you give birth to this baby and they lack the ability to see them? That baby would be the very thing Suguru hates.” You froze, it felt like someone had poured ice water down the back of your neck. “If he didn’t spare his own parents, he won’t spare his own child.” Satoru swallowed, looking like he wanted to say so much more but didn’t. He let the words hang there, heavy and dark. 

The silence stretched on between the two of you, mostly because you knew he was right. Just because both parents had the ability to see into the curse world and use curse energy, it didn’t guarantee that their offspring would also carry the same blessing. You blinked, hand subconsciously moving to rest over your stomach, as if it would do anything to protect them. “Suguru he… he wouldn’t…” Your words were weak and at that moment Satoru couldn’t bring himself to really fight with you. “But he would, y/n that’s the fucking issue, he would.” his voice was breaking, unsure if he should say what he wanted to say next. 

“Then what am I going to do?” You were going to dissolve, tears burning your eyes again as the harsh reality began to sink in. “Let me help you, let me help you raise the baby. I can easily provide for the two of you.” He turned to look at you now, eyes burning with such intensity it stole the air from your lungs. “What?” you hadn’t meant for it to sound offended, you were shocked to say the least, but still the hurt that flashed through his features made you feel the urge to reach out and hug him. “Satoru I didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh…” You moved forward, arms wrapping tightly around his neck and hugging him. 

It took a second but his arms came up to wrap around your middle, holding you tightly. “It’s okay, it was a bold statement to make so suddenly.” he soothed you when really you felt that you  should be the one soothing him. “No it’s fine, really it just caught me by surprise and…” you hugged him a little tighter, burying your face in his neck. For a moment you nearly stiffened, that was something you usually did to seek comfort from Suguru. In that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, finding comfort in Satoru’s reassuring embrace. “You don’t have to answer me tonight.” He hushed you, hand coming up to smooth your hair as he kept you close. “I doubt you have an appetite now, how about we just sleep?” 

“I still need to shower.” You pulled away, laughing softly when you remembered what you had been in the process of doing before your world flipped. “Okay, then go and shower but please come back to me when you’re done.” His tone was quiet, something in it held no room for you to disagree. So, you let go of him reluctantly, nodding as you crawled over him to stand. “Again, you don’t have to answer me tonight, or tomorrow, or even next week. But please, think about what I said.” He stayed on his bed, watching you shakily grab the pregnancy test before heading for his door. “I will, Satoru. Keep my spot warm.” you smiled at him over your shoulder, heart still heavy as you disappeared through the open door. 

The hot water on your skin wasn’t enough to wash away the dread growing in your chest. You found your hands absentmindedly running along your abdomen, still finding it hard to believe something was there, something that would grow into a living breathing human in a few months time. A mix of you and Suguru, how strange. This wasn’t how you imagined it would happen, nor were these the feelings you expected to experience when the time came. If anything, it made you more upset. You should be happy, you should be fucking estatic. You should be basking in the euphoric state of knowing you’d be having a child with the man you adored. 

Instead, you had sobbed in the arms of his best friend, completely hysterical. And the man you loved had no idea you were even pregnant, that the very thing he wanted had been achieved and he wouldn’t even get to know. At least not yet. You had taken Satoru’s words into consideration, of course you did. But in the back of your mind, you knew there was no way you’d be able to go on with your life without ever telling Suguru. He would know, he would know of his child, you were already set on that. You twisted the knob, the water turning off a second later as you got out and dried yourself off a bit before wrapping the towel around you. 

Your body was aching from the events of the last few hours. Returning to Satoru’s room and sleeping in his warm bed sounded like heaven to you. Sleeping next to someone again felt like heaven to you. You had to wonder what Suguru would think if he knew you were sharing his best friend’s bed – albeit nothing sexual was occuring between the two of you. And even then, Suguru had broken up with you in that letter, you were technically no longer his. The thought made you feel sick as you reached for the clothing you had laid on your bed. You pulled the shorts on first, reaching for the oversized shirt second, trying to ignore the nausea building in your gut. 

You moved around your room without thinking, flicking the lights off before heading out the door and back down the hall. Satoru had changed into his own pajamas, hair damp from the shower he must have taken while you went to take yours. He only had his bedside lamp on, the pace beside him vacant and waiting for you. “Are you sure you don’t want food?” he questioned softly as you shut the door behind you. “I’ll eat a good breakfast if my morning sickness allows.” Those words felt foreign, referring to your nausea as morning sickness felt so bizarre. “Alright but if you wake up in the middle of the night starving don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

You laughed softly, huffing out an “okay” as you crawled over him and under the covers once more. Satoru pulled the blankets up over both of you before reaching over and flicking off the light. “Goodnight.” he spoke softly, settling into his bed as you rolled onto your side to get comfortable. “Night, Satoru.” You whispered back, eyes already feeling heavy, the comfort his bed offered was no match for the gnawing reality you were facing. For now, you were thankful for it. 

~

“Think fast!” You laughed, hurtling one of the poles directly in Satoru’s direction. He turned, using infinity to block it just before it hit his face. “Nice! Your reflexes are getting faster.” You picked up another weapon, Suguru was watching you intently, an easy smile on his face. “Sugu!” You called, aiming to throw another pole. “Think fast.” you repeated, arm going back before using every ounce of strength to beeline it straight at him. Suguru smiled, summoning a curse easily to deflect it. “Not bad.” you winked, watching him roll his eyes as the curse disappeared.

“Y’all are gross.” Satoru drawled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “We didn’t even say anything?” Suguru countered, stepping out of the shade and into the sun. “You don’t need to say anything, the tension is almost unbearable.” Shoko chimed, twirling her lighter around her fingers as she watched the three of you. This time you couldn’t help but laugh, letting Suguru close the distance and wrap an arm around your waist. “See, gross!” Satoru sighed dramatically as you kissed Suguru’s cheek. “It’s called being in love, something you wouldn’t get, Satoru.” You stuck your tongue out at him, laughing as he rolled his eyes. 

“Well if you’re gonna be all gross and lovey with one another, go do it in private.” 

“Okay.” 

You and Suguru spoke in unison, a shrill laugh leaving you as he bent down and hauled you up and over his shoulder. Naturally Shoko faked a gagging noise, watching as he carried you away with a smile. “They’re so gross.” Satoru commented again, eyes following the two of you until you were completely out of sight. Though, he couldn't deny the small smile tugging at his lips. 

“Suguru.” you slapped his back lightly, he was still carrying you over his shoulder even after entering the dorm buildings. “Hmm?” he paid you no mind as he climbed the stairs, his end destination would be your dorm room… more specifically your bed. “You can put me down now.” You knew he wouldn’t, so you opted for running your hands along his back, feeling his steps falter for a moment before composing himself. “I’ll put you down when I’m good and ready.” 

You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting at his ass. “Alright, that's it. You’re getting punished.” His words were very matter-of-fact, so much so that you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Okay dad.” Suguru didn’t miss a beat, stalking down the hallway towards your dorm room. “Yeah, I’m trying to become one so it would help me out if you cooperated.” You made a strangled noise, it had been three weeks since Suguru admitted to wanting to get you pregnant. Needless to say, he wasn’t giving up any time soon. 

“You just want a reason to fuck me.” You tried to counter, jumping a bit as he pushed into your dorm room and kicked the door closed behind him. “I don’t need a reason to fuck you, baby.” You couldn't describe the noise you made, whiplash taking over as he tossed you onto your bed. “I guess that’s true…” You pushed up on your elbows, watching him pull his white shirt up and over his head, knocking his hair out of his bun in the process. “You’ll be good for me right?” He was dropping to his knees before you, a gentle plea of his name leaving your lips.

“Atta girl.” he murmured, warm fingers hooking in the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down. You watched him with parted lips, watching the way his eyes observed you. “Already wet? How fucking filthy.” his hands splayed along your thighs, pushing them wide open so he could really look at you. “Just because I picked you up? Or maybe it was from wrapping my arms around your waist?” He teased, pulling one hand from your thigh to spread your cunt open instead. “Tell me, pretty girl… what has you so worked up already?” 

“All of it.” You’re breathless as you look at him, no shame in your eyes as you admit how badly you want him. Suguru smiled, fingers keeping you spread as he watched the arousal pool at your entrance. “All of it, hmm? I make you that horny?” His tone was light but the look in his eyes was anything but. You could feel him devouring you whole. “Yeah, you fucking do.” You tried to keep your hips still, praying he’d do something other than watch you grow wetter by the second. “Tell me something, would you?” he pulled his eyes away to meet yours. 

“Anything.” You comment softly, waiting to hear what he had to say. Suguru smiled, fighting the urge to reach up and tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.” His voice was barely a whisper, pupils blown wide as he looked at you. You audibly groan, face feeling warm as your head falls back. “Eat me out, Suguru.” You drawl, no longer embarrassed by the things he makes you say. “As you wish.” He couldn’t even tease you for such an honest answer. Suguru’s head dipped lower, tongue licking up your inner thighs, teeth grazing the skin eagerly. 

“Sugu…” You whined out, his lips growing closer to your aching cunt. “... can I suck you off after?” 

Suguru’s whole body jolted as you uttered those words, mouth moving to lick and suck along your folds as his honest answer. You took that as a yes. You couldn’t help but squirm as his hands began kneading the flesh of your thighs, all the while his tongue was lapping at your cunt. Each movement sent electricity up your spine, one hand shakily reaching out to hold his head as his lips wrapped around your pulsating clit. “Oh fuck… Suguru…” you were embarrassed by how quickly he had learned to make you cum, the pressure already building in your gut. 

He didn’t slow, rather he slipped two fingers into your slick entrance and scissored them in time with his sucking. He loved to put on a show for you, going as far as to slurp your juices just so he could hear you cry out. You couldn’t think straight when his tongue was wiggling against your clit, stopping every few seconds to suck until your back arched. Suguru continued this until he felt your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling harsh as your moans turned into breathy gasps. He pulled away with a slick pop, smiling deviously as your head shot up to glare at him. “Suguru!” You wailed, letting go of his hair angrily. 

“Not yet, I don’t want you coming yet.”  

“No fucking fair!” you whined, head falling back against the mattress in defeat. “So selfish.” Suguru laughed as he pushed himself off the floor, now making a show of pulling the rest of his clothing off. “There goes your chances at getting head.” you chided, watching as that shit eating grin remained on his lips. “You think this is funny!” you whined again, the echoes of your denied orgasm making you close your thighs to try and alleviate the pressure. Suguru watched you, cock throbbing as he kicked his pants off the rest of the way and tossed them to the side. 

“I do think it’s funny, mostly because you look so cute when you’re so worked up.” his hands wrapped around himself, pumping languidly as you spread your thighs again, eager for more. Suguru smirked, always defiant until his cock was out. “Nah baby, I don’t think you deserve this right now.” he continued to stroke himself, head falling back just a bit as his own aching arousal was finally being relieved. “Sugu…” you choked out in a hushed whisper, mouth watering as he let out a breathy sigh, fingers toying with the sensitive tip. You were regretting your earlier statement. 

“Sugu…” you spoke softly, watching him lift one leg to plant his foot on the mattress, hand still gliding along his shaft as his jaw slackened. He ignored you, continuing to get himself off. He was waiting for you to do something, that realization had you pushing yourself up, pulling your shirt up and over your head and tossing it to the ground. You pulled your legs off the side of the bed, maneuvering yourself until you sat on your knees before him. “Let me suck you off.” breathless, hands folded neatly on your lap as you waited for his response. 

Suguru smiled at you, watching the mattress move as your hips squirmed. “I thought you said the chances of me getting head were gone.” he teased, hand massaging just before the head of his cock, making his own voice falter as he spoke to you. “I never said that.” which was kind of true, you didn’t say those exact words. Suguru cocked an eyebrow, unable to maintain his stern demeanor as your tongue moved to wet your lips, eyes completely focused on his fist. “Please, your hand is so boring Suguru, especially when you could have my mouth.” you tried again, eyes sliding up his torso, admiring the dips and plains of his muscles. 

“When you put it like that, it’s hard to say no.” he murmured softly, letting his cock go. You scooted closer, until your knees were nearly off the edge of the mattress. “Thank you.” You whispered softly, watching his face flush a shade of pink, eyes quickly looking away from you to try and regain some sort of composure. The first touch was always enough to make him weak in the knees, your tongue gliding gently over his weeping tip before lowering to the underside of his shaft. He met your eyes, face still flushed as you looked at him with such adoration. All the while your mouth was doing sinful things to him, your duality was enough to induce whiplash. 

His fingers came up to rake through your hair, guiding you as your jaw slackened, head moving to engulf him in the wet heat your mouth had to offer. “Oh fuck…” Suguru choked when you didn’t stop moving, throat constricting as your nose brushed the unruly mess of black hair at his base. You held yourself there, drool dripping down your chin as your cheeks hollowed. Slowly you dragged yourself back, watching the shiny coat of saliva covering his shaft in your wake. You repeated those motions, finding a comfortable place to bob your head at, his length heavy on your tongue. “So good for me… fuck you’re so good for me… I don’t know what I did to deserve you…” 

You merely hummed, ignoring the slow but steady ache building in your jaw as your hand moved along his shaft. You could tell he was starting to really feel it, his cock twitching every few motions, head tilted back as his eyes fluttered shut. You had to admit you were impressed he managed to stay on his feet. Most times, when Suguru dared to eat you out while you were standing, you were nearly a dead weight in his grasp by the end. The only thing keeping you up was the wall he stuffed you against and his shoulders because he tossed your legs over them. You stopped when you felt him twitching violently, jaw clenched tight as his head shot forward to look down at you.

“Gonna make me cum, pretty girl.” He choked out, hands cupping your cheeks to guide you as you moved your head again. Your hands shot out, holding his thighs tightly as you let him use your head how he pleased, guiding you to a pace that made your eyes water before he stilled all together. You forced yourself to relax as Suguru spilled down your throat, letting you greedily swallow all of it before pulling off of him with a lewd pop. “Fuck…” he nearly fell into the bed, dick still hard as he crawled onto the matress with you. “How about we do this…” he sounded breathless, laying on his side and guiding you to do the same. You knew what he wanted, swollen lips parting as you sighed, settling with your back just barely touching his front. 

You let Suguru grab one leg, lifting it up slowly to create enough space for himself. “Lazy boy…” You teased over your shoulder, letting his arm hook under your neck, large hand resting on your chest. “Maybe I am, but you fucking love it.” You couldn’t complain, not when he was angling his hips and pressing the weeping tip of his cock at your entrance. He pressed into you, adjusting both of your bodies until he found a comfortable position to properly rut his hips into you. All you could do is let him, whining loudly as he split you open, stuffing you full. “How’s that, hmm? Does it feel good?” Suguru whispered against your ear, panting as your walls constricted around him and tried to push him out at the very same time. “F-feels so good…so good…” You whined loudly. 

Suguru didn’t give you a verbal response after that, instead focusing all of his attention on finding a good rhythm to fuck you too. You couldn’t stop the noises that spilled past your lips, each drag of his cock in and out of your heat was enough to make your vision blurry. It took everything in you to at least keep your head up, tilted downwards to watch where he disappeared and reappeared between your legs.  “Suguru…” a breathless plea, one that turned into a steady mantra as all you could think about was him and what he was doing to you. Had you not been so overwhelmed you would have heard his quiet grunts of praise each time your bodies connected. 

Suguru watched a shaky hand slide down your front, in your whimpering daze you managed to slip two fingers down there to rub sloppy circles on your clit. “Gonna cum, aren’t ya?” Suguru gasped, his cock twitching violently as your cunt suctioned to him, nearly making his thrusts falter. “Y-yeah…” you managed to get out, no longer having the strength to keep your head up. You let it fall, resting snuggly in the crook of the arm he was using to support you. “Then come for me, pretty girl. I wanna feel you come all over my cock… then maybe I’ll fill you up, yeah? You’d love that…” you responded with a loud whine, walls fluttering around his length each time he pushed it back in. 

“There we go, come for me.” He encouraged again, warm breath ghosting the shell of your ear and earning a shiver in response. You could feel it, the aching build of a damn that was on the verge of breaking, every breath you made was nothing but a labored pant. Your heart was beating erratically, just as you were about to fall over the edge, Suguru gasped. You couldn’t help but gasp with him, his release pumping into you, hot and sticky. “F-fuck sorry…” he grounded out, his own orgasm sneaking up on him and completely catching you by surprise. Not that it mattered to you, that strained and embarrassed apology was all you needed before you felt yourself coming as well. 

You both essentially collapsed, Suguru holding you tightly as he angled himself to remain inside of you, to keep his cum inside of you. “You okay?” he mumbled softly, hand lazily reaching for the one you had used to rub your clit and bring it to your lips. You whined as he popped the shiny fingers in his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue. “Yeah, I'm good…great really.” You chuckled, eyelids feeling heavy as he hummed. “Good.” he mumbled softly, pulling your fingers from his mouth to kiss them gingerly. “You know I love you, right?” Suguru’s voice was tender, so tender it nearly pulled the air out of your lungs. “Yeah, of course I know that Sugu… you know I love you too, right?” 

“I know.” was all he said in reply, you had to wonder why he was suddenly so sentimental. Suguru was typically softer with you after sex, aftercare was one of his specialties. But something about his tone felt different, something about his question felt like there was more meaning behind it. You had been noticing the bags under his eyes for the last few weeks, but every time you asked he always brushed you off. “Is everything okay?” you tried to turn your head to look back at him, but the angle he had you in proved to make movement difficult. “Mmhmm, just want to make sure you’re okay.” but he hadn’t  been that rough with you. “Yeah, I’m okay… but you haven’t answered me.” He stopped kissing your hand, setting it down gently as he moved to kiss your shoulder. 

“I haven’t?” 

“I asked you if you were okay.”

“Well, I did answer you. I said yes.” he didn’t sound offended, more or less he sounded amused. “Mmhmm isn’t a yes, Suguru.” You, on the other hand, sounded a little less enthused. “I’m okay, baby. Is that better.” you couldn’t see it but you could hear the smile on his lips. “Yeah, that’s better.” But for some reason, you couldn’t shake the worry clinging to your heart. 

~

“Hey… hey…” you woke with a gasp, eyes wet as you tried to remember where you were. “You okay? You started crying in your sleep again.” A worried but groggy voice was speaking to you, one that was familiar but your brain couldn’t seem to catch up. “Y/N? It’s me, it’s Satoru.” There it was, you nearly fell back into the pillow with relief as he spoke. “Shit I’m sorry… I was dreaming and it just… fuck it felt so real. I couldn’t remember where I was…” you wiped your eyes, slowly adjusting to the dark room again. “It’s okay… you’ve been dreaming a lot.” Satoru sighed, he remembered you saying that your nights had been pretty dreamless for the last three weeks so why was that changing now? 

“I know… it just started happening too. Maybe it's because of the baby.”

Your hand lowered to your stomach, palm resting flatley against it. You still couldn’t process the fact that there was something in there, something that was growing, a mix of you and him. “Can pregnancy make you dream more?” Satoru chuckled, blue eyes shifting to read his alarm clock. It was just past four in the morning. You had slept pretty well until a few minutes ago. He had been watching you, woken up by your body growing restless. He woke you up the moment he heard you start to sniffle. “I dunno, maybe.” you sighed, eyes feeling heavy again. “Sorry for waking you, Toru.” You didn’t hear the way his breath hitched, your yawn effectively shutting it all out. 

You hadn’t called him by that nickname in weeks, he hadn’t really realized how much he missed it. “Don’t apologize, I told you to stop that.” Not stern, just tired, he wanted you to go back to normal but he knew that was impossible. Things would never go back to how they were. “Oh, yeah… I guess you have told me that.” You chuckle, turning on your side to face him in the dark. “I won’t apologize for forgetting this time, okay?” You grinned, eyes closing and unaware that he was able to see it in the dark. “Okay.” He sighed, a grin creeping up his own face as he let his eyes shut again. Hopefully you’d sleep through to his alarm at 8:30am, you had a busy day ahead. 

~END OF PART ONE~

Thank you for reading! I hope you look forward to part 2 <3333

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated ;3

#star dividers are from @benkeibear <3 #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen angst #suguru geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru angst #getou suguru smut #geto smut #geto suguru smut #getou suguru x you #geto x y/n #suguru imagine #geto suguru fanfiction #geto suguru imagines #jjk angst #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #May’s Pale Blue 🩵

[gloomwitchwrites]

Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (4 of 4)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: brief discussion of verbal, emotional, and physical injury canon-typical swearing, protective Simon, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

You might not be his anymore, but Ghost doesn't believe so. When you reach out to him, Ghost makes every excuse to come over, knowing that he can get you back if you just realize that you've always only been his.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist

Simon stands in the middle of your living room.

He is blood-drenched. Lead-hungry.

Full of venom. Full of fury.

His gaze sweeps over the busted television, the broken bookshelves, and the massive hole in the wall. There are bent picture frames empty of their glass. The photos within are either missing or partially torn. Whiskey stains the wall, running down from the impact point in little ribbons of amber.

Simon’s hands curl into fists.

This is so much fucking worse than what he originally thought. The living room doesn’t even scratch the surface. The kitchen is completely trashed, so is your bedroom where your boyfriend decided to shred up your clothes in anger.

Your… “boyfriend.”

That fucker should be grateful he isn’t here to face Simon. If he were, Simon would make him suffer. Make the prick eat his teeth.

On the phone, you were delirious, each word running together anger, frustration, and a fear that Simon felt in his gut. It sat heavy in his ears. That was enough for Simon to forget all responsibility and come to you.

Otherwise, Simon would not have come. You are not his woman anymore. That obligation to comfort doesn’t belong to him. It belongs to your boyfriend, but he’s the cause of all this suffering.

Why should you seek that bastard out?

No. Simon is glad you called him even though the circumstances turn his stomach and fill his veins with sludge.

He turns around and finds you lingering nearby. Your eyes are red with irritation, and your cheeks are puffy. Simon longs to pull you into his arms, yet hesitates only because you might push him away.

Simon unclenches his hands, flexing his fingers. “You’re breaking up with him.”

He’s not going to step around or sugar-coat this. Simon has always been blunt with his words, and this will be no different.

Your back straightens, hands clasped in front of you, fingers curled around the neckline of your sweater. “Simon—”

“It’s not a suggestion.” Simon lifts his arm, indicating the disaster of an apartment. “This is who he is. This will happen again.” He drops his arm.

Your chest expands. Deflates. “But—”

“Don’t defend him.”

“I’m not,” you snap.

Simon strides forward but you do not retreat. You stand tall, staring up into Simon’s face. Though your cheeks are stained with your tears, you’re beautiful.

“Next time it won’t be the wall or your television. It will be you he hurts.” Simon shakes his head. “And I won’t allow that.” You open your mouth as if to interrupt but Simon is having none of that. “I’ll kill him before that happens.”

“No. You won’t.”

“I will,” he growls. “I’ve never lied to you. Think I’m lying about this?”

Simon watches your throat bob as you swallow. He knows you understand. Fucking hell, he might be distant at times, even cold or blunt, but he never lies to you. Simon has always told you exactly what’s on his mind. Sometimes it has been to his detriment.

It is one of the reasons the two of you broke up. Simon didn’t want to end things. He respected your wishes, but even upon leaving, Simon still considered you his. The issue was with him and how he communicated with you about things. Emotionally, he was fucking distant. Not all the time, but enough that it seemed like he didn’t care.

That’s far from the truth, but Simon didn’t see any of it until you put it all out in front of him and decided to leave. Only then did he realize, and he did fucking everything to work on himself.

Fresh tears develop in the undersides of your eyelids. That’s it for him. It’s over.

Simon moves in, clasping the sides of your face with both hands. “Do you understand?” he asks softly, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

You don’t nod or even make a sound.

It’s not enough. Simon needs confirmation.

“He will escalate. He will get worse. You will be a target. Tell me you understand.”

There is a sniffle before you speak. “I know,” you whisper, voice cracking slightly.

Simon sighs and wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. You’re warm. A beacon of light in the disaster of a room. He leans in, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. He inhales and his lung fill with you.

With a final squeeze, Simon places a kiss to the crown of your head. He pulls back, but just enough to look at you. “I’ll clean up.”

“I can help.”

Simon shakes his head. “No. Sit. I want to do this for you.”

Your brow softens, arms falling away from him as you step back and glide to the sofa.

Simon tackles the bedroom first, shoving all your damaged clothes into trash bags. He organizes everything, making sure nothing is out of place, that it appears as it did before your boyfriend trashed it all. When he’s done, Simon returns to you, putting you to bed.

“Don’t leave,” you murmur, and Simon doesn’t. He curls up next to you, holds you until your breathing becomes shallow and slow.

Only then does Simon unfurl himself, slipping away. He doesn’t leave the flat. He shuts the bedroom door and gets to work, picking up the shattered glass, sending the television to the large rubbish bin. He orders you a new one and schedules it for delivery. He sweeps the floor and returns everything to your kitchen cabinets. Anything that is torn or broken gets trashed. Simon works through your clothes last. Sitting on the living room floor, Simon shifts through every one, trying to see if anything is salvageable. Most of it is, but there is plenty he has to toss.

Simon works until there is nothing left. It’s incredibly late, the time creeping close to the rising of the sun. Returning to the bedroom, Simon kicks off his shoes and removes the balaclava. You’ve seen his face countless times, and showing it now is normal.

When Simon slips into the bed beside you, and your body shifts, turning in his direction. He slides over into your reaching arms. The moment your bodies come together, you sigh with pleasure, and the noise goes straight to his groin.

But Simon won’t. He won’t push. This is not about him.

Sleep floods in, and it is your soft hands caressing his face that eventually wake him.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, voice harsh from dreaming.

“Morning, Simon,” you reply, resting your chin on his chest.

This is how mornings used to be. It sends Simon into memory and the days when he knew he was in love.

Was?

No.

Is. He still is. He still loves you utterly. That never stopped for him.

Your hands are not idle. After caressing his face, they move downward. The shift in your motions sends little shivers through his spine. They are visible and sharp. You inhale, and Simon begins to lean in. You mimic him but pause before your mouths can meet.

“Do you have to go?”

Simon captures one of your wrists with his hand, caressing the pulse point there with his thumb. “I can stay as long as you like.”

The smile that spreads across your face warms him everywhere. He wants to savor it forever. Your gaze drops from his eyes to his mouth. Then, your head shifts to glance at his chest and stomach. He might be wearing a shirt but Simon feels bare under your attention.

As your gaze returns to his face, Simon’s resolve melts away.

Fuck it. He’s doing this.

Grabbing the back of your neck, Simon closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours. There is no hesitation or resistance. You melt into him, and Simon has to hold back a moan. Every kiss is tender. Sweet. He’s missed this—missed you so fucking much it’s a raging inferno under his skin.

There is no part he leaves untouched. His hands roam everywhere, seeking closeness. Seeking your warmth.

“Simon,” you whimper against his mouth.

“I’m right here, love.”

You push upward, swinging your leg over his body, straddling him. Simon is momentarily stunned but you’re already returning to him, pressing you lips to his. He groans and grips your neck harder as your hips rolls against him.

“Simon,” you repeat, and his name on your lips is shifting him around, turning his insides out, revealing all his weaknesses.

His hands and your hands tug and pull. Moving clothing. Shoving bedding aside. When you start to sink down on him, Simon has to break the frantic kissing to breathe deep, to praise you in all the ways he knows how.

Your hands are solid against his chest. An anchor as you rock back and forth.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Fuck,” he repeats, elongated the vowel as your pussy lightly squeezes him.

Above him, the air from your lungs releases from you in little sighs that creep into his ears and burrow in the folds of his brain. They are collected there. Remembered.

Using his grip on the back of your neck, Simon pulls you right back in, claiming your mouth. You open for him perfectly, your hips momentarily stalling as all your attention shifts to this one connection.

But Simon needs that movement. He craves it like the birds need the wind.

Wrapping his free arm around your waist, Simon flips you onto your back. There is no pause between the time Simon flips you and when he starts to thrust. It is instant. An impulse. A driving force that overcomes him.

Your fingers claw at his back, your legs hooking around the backs of his thighs, drawing him closer. If that is what you want, Simon will do it. Happily.

Pressing his forehead to yours, the two of you exchange breaths. The bed strikes the wall in repeated thuds, pleasure pooling in the base of Simon’s spine.

“Don’t—” You inhale. Exhale. “Stop.”

Growling, Simon presses his mouth to your neck, his pace increasing until his thrusting becomes an erratic, desperate thing. He hears you moaning, feels your pussy clenching down to keep him inside.

It’s too fucking much.

Simon’s own release roils up from the depths. His hips grind forward, creating a seal as he comes. His entire body shivers as one of your hands cradles his cheek. The touch is so soft he almost doesn’t recognize it at first.

But then you curl your fingers under his chin, guiding his face away from your neck to stare into your eyes. He starts to pull away, but your feet stay locked over the back of his legs, keeping him inside you.

Simon smirks.

He has you.

It might not be perfect or even solid, but he has his way in.

You haven’t said it, but you don’t need to.

You are his.

taglist:

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[missmaywemeetagain]

Got a Lotta Lovin' to Do (A Scarf Universe Story) ❤️‍🔥

Okay, sooooo...this just came to me in a strange fit of inspiration this week. It's naughty but also a little sweet in concept. It may not be for everyone, so let's say it's currently canon adjacent for the Pink Scarf Universe...

This takes place a few months post A Pink Scarf Thanksgiving, in February of 1978. Yes, I know, we make it to '78 and there is something both heart wrenching but also wonderful in that, isn't there?

I wanted something that felt real but also a bit indulgent, and also wanted to bring our spitfire Sandy back into play. In fact, I made it from Sandy's perspective, which was a bit challenging considering the use of second person, but hopefully it makes sense!!

Premise is that Reader is in a fix, desperate to coax a very nervous Elvis back into her bed, and enlists her best friend Sandy to help in an unorthodox way. 

Anyway, I'm a bit nervous about this one 😬 and am just sort of testing the waters as a preview, so let me know if you like it and want me to continue it! (Also, the turnaround was fast, so please excuse the semi-rough edit/revision! 🙏🏼)

xoxoxox, Madi 💗

(listen, I know this pic is much earlier than '78, but the vibe is right and the hint of silver at his roots seems applicable and has me in a chokehold, so bear with me here...)

TW: sexy smutty stuff, heading towards a threesome (mff/fmf), mention of medical issues/trauma, sassy Sandy, silver fox Elvis!!🦊

Got a Lotta Lovin’ to Do

February 1978

“Darlin’, you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?” he asks you. Elvis’ eyebrow is halfway to his hairline and he sounds more incredulous than hopeful, but Sandy can see the twinkle in his eyes when they slide over to her. It’s more than a cursory glance, one filled with questions and a latent heat. She wrestles with the urge to fidget under his gaze, clenching and unclenching her fists instead of looking away from his scrutiny.

She’s certainly never been one to back down from a fight, not even with the enigma that is Elvis Presley.

Especially not with him, she thinks.

But Elvis has never looked at her like this before and even knowing him as long as she has, she isn’t unaffected. Despite everything he’s been through this past year, he still has the ability to level a woman with a look, she’ll give him that.

His eyes slide back over to you, and Sandy can breathe again. It’s gonna be a long night, she thinks, if a mere glance has her feeling so exposed.

You nod, biting your lip, and she knows how nervous you are, how desperate you are for this to work. She grabs your hand in solidarity and you squeeze it in return.

If it were anyone but you, she wouldn’t have agreed to this. It is much too messy, but extraordinary people and circumstances call for extraordinary measures, and being in Elvis’ world has always meant living in shades of gray.

Sandy knows she’s the only one you’ll trust with this. For as much shit as she gives Elvis, she loves and cares about you both deeply, more than she might voice in mixed company. And you know she understands why this is so important.

Now the two of you just need to convince Elvis of it, too. Though by the increasing level of tension in the room and the way he adjusts himself in his seat, Sandy doesn’t think it’ll take much persuading.

He cuts quite the figure, sitting there in the plush, golden, velvet chair with his bejeweled fingers tapping a slow and steady rhythm out on the arms. After what happened last summer, he’d finally let his hair grow out to its natural color, the salt-and-pepper combined with glinting silvery streaks. It’s incredibly striking, giving him an even more handsome and regal air than before, if that’s possible. With his new post-recovery regime, he is looking good and, according to you, feeling healthier than he had in years. The result is attractive, to say the least.

But while that side of things improved, the sexual piece apparently has not.

Sandy and you perch on the edge of the bed, sitting so close you are pressed against each other, facing him, waiting for his verdict. Elvis takes in the two of you closely before sliding his eyes back over to her.

“And you, Sandra? You agreed to this?” His voice is laden with curiosity and surprise. She doesn’t blame him.

“Yes, with conditions,” she says, willing her voice to stay steady and calm when she’s feeling anything but.

He chuckles darkly. “Of course. I’d expect nothin’ less from you, honey.”

The endearment, one he’s used with her a million times over the years, now comes out laden and warm, sliding through her veins like liquid heat. She’s not sure how she feels about it, to be honest, but it’s a little late to turn back now.

Sandy looks at you for permission to continue. You nod.

“Okay, first, this is a one-time deal,” she begins, forcing herself to look him straight in those endlessly blue eyes.

His lips curve up with the beginning of a smirk and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he’s thinking. She thinks it’s funny how he’s posturing, considering the whole reason she is here is to help bolster his confidence, but she supposes over twenty years of adoration from females makes his response a habit.

Honestly, it’s the stipulation she’s the least worried about, it being there more for your sake than hers, and it gives you all an out if this goes south. But boundaries are good for Elvis. So she quirks a brow back at him until he nods.

“Second, no one hears about this. It’s a nonstarter. No bragging to the guys, ever. No one outside this room can ever know…especially not Jerry.”

This is the one she is most worried about. While her marriage to Jerry ended over half a decade ago, on relatively decent terms considering the circumstances, she knows this would cut Jer to the core, and that is not why she’s here. Jerry isn’t in Elvis’ employ anymore, but they are still good friends, brothers even, and she doesn’t want to ruin their relationship.

A cloud of seriousness falls over Elvis’ face, banishing his earlier mirth, and that lets her know they are on the same page with this one, despite his terrible track record of secret keeping. “Done,” he says with finality.

“Good. Third, I reserve the right to bow out at any time,” she adds.

“Honey, I’d never force you to do somethin’ you din’t want to do. Ain’t never been like that and ain’t startin’ now,” he says with surprising gentleness.

She nods, expecting as much. Taking a deep breath, she pauses before the last request, mainly because she can’t believe she’s actually saying it out loud. Might as well just get it done.

“Finally, your dick stays out of my pussy.”

He chuckles at your frankness while you choke, coughing wildly—she hadn’t warned you about this one. It’s more the principle of the thing, really. She is along for the ride, sure, but in the end, she’s mostly here for your wellbeing. And by the way he looks at Sandy with something akin to respect and nods as she rubs his wife’s back, she knows he understands.

You eventually recover from Sandy’s bluntness, turning your attention back to your husband with a hopeful look in your eyes. “So, is this…I mean…do you want to do this, baby?”

For the first time, you see his trepidation, his overwhelm of the situation only barely covered by his mask of humor. This is what you’d been talking about, this reluctance and lack of self-assurance. When you’d come to her about the fact that Elvis hadn’t been intimate with you since the medical crisis that nearly killed him, it made perfect sense. Not only had he gone through something terrifying, but his surgeries also changed his body in ways that must have been uncomfortable. Coupled with extensive recovery and weaning off old medications and starting new ones, it was a recipe for disaster in the bedroom.

Sandy knew you had to be desperate for you to ask her for this kind of help. You knew it wasn’t because Elvis found you unattractive or didn’t love you anymore—he was afraid he couldn’t perform, afraid he couldn’t satisfy you, and you were afraid you’d hurt him somehow. It was obvious your sex life had been amazing in the past, though according to you, it had dwindled the sicker and more in denial about things he’d gotten. But for you to invite her into the bedroom to put the spark back in their marriage wasn’t something Sandy had expected.

Apparently, Elvis loved some girl-on-girl threesome action and had indulged in such things back before you and he had finally gotten together. You were never entirely comfortable with the idea when Elvis brought it up in the past—the idea of sharing him didn’t sit well and knowing Elvis, he’d make some poor woman fall in love with him or someone would talk and you’d be in a fix, so the idea had been nixed before it could take root.

But now you were frantic and willing to try almost anything, which apparently included asking your best friend to fool around with you and your husband.

It’s a matter of trust, you’d said, twiddling your fingers uncomfortably in Sandy’s kitchen, tears pooled in your eyes. You knew she’d never talk, knew she’d never betray you, and most importantly, knew she could separate sex from emotion and would never fall in love with your husband.

It was all true. How could she say no to you when you needed her help so badly? So, here she was, apprehensive but intrigued, waiting for Elvis to decide all of your fates.

“You can just watch, baby, if you want to, or whatever, it’s fine,” you encourage him when he seems frozen and unable to respond. Sandy can see you both floundering in indecision and fear and can’t stand it anymore. She’s never been one for patience or inaction, after all, so without further ado, she silences your pleas for your husband’s attention with her lips.

“Oh!” you exclaim in quiet surprise against her mouth, your hands flailing a bit in resistance.

Talking about something like this and doing it are two different things, Sandy knows, but she persists, kissing you gently, hands cupping your cheeks, until you relax enough to kiss her back. She can’t help but feel a little gratification when you sigh softly and yield to her, your hands flitting to the curve of her hips.

It would be stupid to say she didn’t find both you and Elvis attractive, but never in her wildest dreams had it been in the cards to have either of you, so she’d never dwelled much on it. But now, feeling the weight of his gaze as she laps her tongue between your lips, testing your willingness to do this, her body lights on fire.

She pushes through the foreign feeling of being watched so intimately, knowing this is just as much about putting on a good show than anything else, but she didn’t expect it to be quite so tantalizing. Something about being the one to take charge sends a thrill down her spine. Dragging her lips down your neck to your collarbone, she knows she’s not imagining the rapid fluttering of your pulse under her lips or the way you lean back to give her more access.

You’ve never been with a woman, but she knows it’s been a long time since you’ve had attention of this sort from your man, either so when Sandy trails her fingers down over your breast, she feels the jolt go through you. Her moves are deliberate but slow, allowing you to acclimate, allowing Elvis to take in every movement.

She can’t help the warmth pooling in her belly when she palms the heaviness of your breast, pinching your clothed nipple and you gasp, arching into her with genuine willingness.

“Lord have mercy,” Elvis huffs quietly, and you both know you have him.

It’s much too easy, then, to unbutton your blouse, exposing the white lace bra underneath before pulling hers up over her head to reveal her own. You’d been clear about the white—apparently he gets all kinds of excited about little white underthings—and far be it for her to ignore such a titillating detail.

Sandy takes it upon herself to continue the play, pressing her lips to the soft skin of your décolletage, following the soft rise of your breasts before nuzzling and nipping at the dusky areola peek-a-booing through the lace. Mewling and pawing at her head, you are strung so tight Sandy thinks you’re not acting in the least.

It’s a little strange, this softness of your curves against her own, but pleasant. Moreover is the deep satisfaction in her belly at drawing little whimpers out of you as she kisses and reveals more of your skin. Even more surprising is the gratification of bringing something out of both you and your husband that has been out of reach for much too long.

Your fingers cart through her hair, manicured nails tickling her scalp in a way that makes her vibrate. She arches at the contact and looks up at you with a coy smile, sliding a hand up your smooth leg and under the hem of your skirt.

Elvis clears his throat, interrupting them. “Be good lil’ girls f’me and s-strip down to your panties,” he says in a gravelly voice Sandy has never been privy to hearing. A shiver runs down her spine, melting and churning with all the new feelings the evening is bringing. His tone is halfway between a need and a command and neither of you need to be asked twice.

Her inhibitions fall to the floor in a heap along with pants and skirts and bras. Never once in her life did she expect to feel Elvis’ heavy, heated gaze turned on her nearly naked form but now that it’s happening, she can’t help but squirm a little. She has nothing to prove and is usually confident in her skin, but she’s certainly not a young woman anymore, her body soft and curvy with the changes age brings. Her only consolation is at least the three of you are in relatively the same boat in that regard.

Sneaking a glance at Elvis, she is bit relieved to find his examination admiring rather than turned off. Though, considering he has two naked women ready to do his bidding, it seems the natural response.

“Don’t be shy, Satnin. I’m sure Sandra won’t bite toohard if you touch her,” he muses, those bedroom eyes of his flickering with lust. You giggle nervously and then look to Sandy for permission, which she gives with a nod and a reassuring smile.

Your caress is timid at first, then more exploratory of her body than she expects. Maybe it’s the resounding hum of encouragement from your husband giving you more confidence or just pure sexual energy and curiosity, but whatever it is has Sandy feeling delightful. A tweak of a nipple here. A soft tongue there. Hands and mouths finding a rhythm of pleasure.

Sandy palms your bottom, running her fingertips down along the seam of your white underwear, when Elvis cuts in, his voice thick with desire:

“Play with her an’ make her feel good, Sandra.”

Tingles erupt over her skin. She follows orders, sliding her hand down into your panties and through your soft curls until she reaches your hooded clit. She rubs gently, like she would do to herself, and you gasp in her mouth, body bowing to get more friction.

After a few moments, the unmistakable sound of a zipper clicks through the air. Her body suddenly burns with the scandalous nature of it all, and her excitement surprises her.

“Is she wet?” he asks Sandy.

Sliding her fingers down, she can feel the slick of your arousal on her fingertips.

“Yes,” she says unabashedly.

A pause.

“Are you?” His voice is low and dripping with honey.

A pulse of heat starts throbbing in her core, and for the first time tonight, she stumbles over her words, suddenly breathless. “I…I think so?”

“Honey, see if you’re makin’ Sandra excited,” he commands you, then with humor adds, “She apparently doesn’t know.”

Sandy throws a glare Elvis’ way but then your fingers are cold against the blazing heat of her muff, a sensation which makes her jump as you glide your fingers over sensitive, slick skin.

“She’s soaked,” you relay demurely, and all at once Sandy feels like the tables have turned in this little tableau.

“Show me. Both of you.”

His demand makes her stomach drop, like she’s on a roller coaster.

She feels disappointed when you pull your hand away, and the sentiment feels mutual. Both of you display your shining fingers in the dim light.

Elvis crooks his finger and beckons you both closer.

There’s no helping the curious way her eyes drift down and land on his dusky pink cock, the head peeking out from his foreskin, dripping and standing at full attention now he’s been released from the confines of his black pants. Sandy’s mouth goes dry when she realizes just how much nature has blessed him in ways other than his talent.

Is it wrong that she wants to touch it, to feel the heavy heat of him in her palm? To make him shudder underneath her touch? Perhaps so. The itch to torture him with her body just a little for every cunning remark and every dumbass selfish move he’s made in the last 15 years is strong and it makes her tingle just to think of.

He must read the look on her face because his eyes go a bit wide with something unreadable before narrowing with laser focus.

Her heart starts thudding against her ribcage, all the blood rushing out of her head when he wraps his large hand around her wrist, dwarfing it, and pulls her between his spread muscular thighs. Then he draws those glistening fingers of hers right into his mouth.

She gasps. Every nerve in her body is set alight with fireworks as he sucks her fingers clean of his wife’s arousal, his tongue warm and soft and oh-so thorough.

It’s her whimpering now as he pins her with his flaming eyes. Her breath catches. His mouth pops off her digits.

“Mmm…sweet as a sundae. You’ll see, Sandra Dee.” A slow, sly grin spreads across his handsome face as he releases her wrist.

Being on the other end of that devastating smile, especially in a situation like this, has her trembling. It pisses her off a little, actually, that he’s having this effect, and by the glint in his eye, he knows it.

Like he’s saying, Game on.

Then, he looks to you, pulling you close. His mischievousness softens slightly. Sandy is glad to see under the red flush of pleasure on your cheeks there is also a look of relief on your face, as if you are thinking, “Oh, thank heavens, it’s working.”

Sandy steps back, happy to give the couple space, but Elvis’ hand shoots out, latching onto her arm.

“Nuh uh, now where d’ya think you’re goin’?” It’s husky and playful but also fraught with an undercurrent of tension, as though he’s not quite ready and maybe a little nervous about being alone with his wife. He keeps his hand on her arm but turns his attention to you.

“Haven’t sampled another pussy in a loooong time, lil’ mama,” he drawls up at you, “Ya sure you wanna give daddy a taste?” His brow quirks, asking for permission, making sure you’re still comfortable with this arrangement you’ve surprised him with. The words are confident, but Sandy can hear the gravity behind them.

You nod encouragingly. “Yes.”

“Mm’kay then,” and then he sucks your fingers right into his mouth.

Sandy can’t help but blush wildly as she watches him savor her off his wife’s hand. And it’s positively obscene the way he opens his eyes and stares into hers brazenly as he does it.

Never has she felt quite so exposed. Arousal swirls in her core, betraying all her sensibilities.

Elvis runs his tongue under his upper lip after he’s done, where he lets it peek out at the corner of his mouth with a smirk. “Now ain’t that jus’ the cherry on top,” he purrs, eyes sparkling.

Sandy hates how she goes a bit weak in the knees at that. God, this man infuriates her, always has in that loving way of his, but this is a whole different level of understanding and intimacy she’s not accustomed to with him.

But whether she likes it or not, her body is absolutely buzzing with anticipation for the both of you, as evidenced by the way she clenches her thighs and the way her panties get just a little bit more ruined.

The motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Elvis, and his gaze darkens.

Oh, it’s gonna be a long night, alright.

A long night, indeed.

*

As always, I love and live for your reactions, comments, asks, and reblogs, so thank you in advance for both reading and giving another one of my stories a chance! 

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

 @littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

 @precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog  @xenaspace3-blog 

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

#got a lotta lovin' to do #a scarf universe story #pink scarf #pink scarf universe #elvis presley #elvis #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presely smut

[tennessoui]

more hunger games au anyone?

(first snippet) (1.6k) (dark. hunger games. canon typical violence for both sw and thg) The cannon rings out over the arena. It’s a sound Anakin has heard so many times before that he hardly even registers it now.

The Anakin on the television screen does not recognize the sound either nor does he seem to understand what it means. From an outsider’s perspective, he looks wild, eyes flashing, nostrils flared from his heavy breathing as he stabs the hunting knife again and again into the chest of the tribute from District Two, long past the time he has died. 

So long in fact, that even members of the Capitol audience turn away during this replay, looking vaguely sick. 

Anakin watches though. Anakin knows what’s coming. 

Anakin had not lost his mind at all, but from an outsider’s perspective, he can see how this must have looked as though he had. 

But everything had been calculated. Every stab had been with intent. Anakin had been in control the entire time.

He wonders if that would make the citizens of the Capitol more scared of him, if they knew that. If they knew how in control Anakin was then and is now. 

On the screen, a girl screams for the fallen Tribute. Anakin makes sure to deaden his eyes, to straighten his posture, to flinch at the noise. 

On the screen, the girl reaches out to clasp at Anakin’s shoulder. She probably thought she could out-manipulate him. She probably thought he would never kill her outright. After all, his entire strategy had been to convince everyone he was hopelessly in love with her. He couldn’t just kill her after weeks of loving her. Hell, maybe she even bought his act. Maybe she thought he really loved her. 

She should have just stabbed him in the back.

On the stage, the couch, Anakin watches as the girl’s hand falls onto his shoulder. He watches as the Anakin in the Games turns around and stabs her in the throat. 

The hunting knife goes clean through. She is dead in seconds. 

The audience sobs as one. There are screams, though this is just a rerun. Anakin wonders about their reactions during the live showing. Did they faint? Did they care? Did they care so much they thought they would die? Was he a tragic character? Was he a villain? 

After all, they just watched him kill the love of his life.

Obviously, he had not meant to. Anakin on the screen recoils in horror. He pulls out the knife and watchs his fellow district 4 tribute drop to the ground.

Dead. 

The cannon goes off at the same time he begins to scream, eyes wide and mouth wider, bloody hands scrabbling useless at her open throat. He is still screaming, dry sobs leaving his parted lips as he tries to repair what can never be fixed.

Anakin on the victor’s couch watches his breakdown dispassionately. He should have cried, he decides. And right as he puts his face down to muzzle into her hair, the cameras pick up a hint of a smile.

Amateurish.

“Anakin,” the host says, as the screen fades to black. His tone is commiserating, sympathetic, pitying. He leans across the space between his seat and Anakin’s couch and puts a hand on his knee. Anakin does not have to pretend to flinch away. He is sick of people touching him. There is only one person in the entire world he wants touching him right now, and that man is in the audience watching. 

Anakin wonders suddenly if Obi-Wan had screamed when he watched him kill the girl. If he had cried out. If he had been relieved.

Anakin had been relieved, but he makes sure to hide that relief now. 

“Anakin,” the host says again. “I am so very sorry that I had to show that to you.”

Anakin turns his head away. He clenches and unclenches his jaw. He makes fists with his hands and then uncurls his fingers. “You watch it,” he says. “I have to live with it.”

The audience makes appropriate noises of sympathy. There are a few jeers, some boos. The girl from his district had been some people’s favorites to win. He knows this now. 

He bites back the urge to call them all idiots. Every last one of them who thought she could win. She never could have. Not when Anakin was there. Not when Obi-Wan told him shakily, that last night before the arena, lips pressed to his forehead and face wet: come home to me.

“What was going through your mind, Anakin?” The host asks, still in that same sympathetic tone. “You’d just killed your sixteenth tribute. It was just you and Robin remaining as soon as Diamond died. We were all so worried for the pair of you, weren’t we?”

He turns to the audience and the audience screams back. Anakin sits there. Anakin thinks. 

“I know more than a few of us were hoping the Gamemakers would create a rule change, just for the two of you. What I would have given, to see you and your beloved go home together.” The host shakes his head, hand on his chest. His eyes remind Anakin of the sea predators he pulled from the ocean in his district. He has shark eyes.

Anakin has killed and gutted a hundred sharks. Anakin is still in control.

What the host does not know is that he will go home with his beloved. And no one in the Capitol will ever bother them again.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Anakin says emotionlessly. “It was instinct. It—”

He swallows and shifts on the couch. From the pocket of his pants, he pulls out a thin slip of paper. It’s dotted in blood. It had come to him in a silver parachute, folded neatly within a thick blanket: his only gift from his mentor.

ROBIN. is all it says. 

But it’s in Obi-Wan’s handwriting. And Anakin knows what it means. He’d pulled it out countless times during his days in the arena, rubbing his thumb over the ink. To an outsider, it must have looked like he was worrying over the girl’s name, a token of his affections, visible proof of who he was thinking about at night when he stared out into the manufactured desert instead of sleeping.

Only he and Obi-Wan knew who he was really thinking of. Only Obi-Wan knew he would forget the girl’s name without a concrete reminder in his hands.

He runs his thumb over the word in Obi-Wan’s handwriting once more. He must get this right. They are so close to being able to live forever happily undisturbed. He just needs to lie for another few hours. Then he will get his reward.

“It changes you, the arena,” he says quietly. “I felt…entirely like a different person. And I was always on my guard. I had no allies—” he had killed all his allies— “and I was alone. I cared only for one thing. One person.” This isn’t a lie. “And then—it’s so hard to keep count. When—” he glances down at the paper in his hand. “Robin touched me, I thought I had counted wrong. That there was another tribute, not her and not me. It was…instinct. I thought I was eliminating a threat.”

“I am so sorry,” the host says with his cold, dead eyes. “I cannot imagine killing the love of your life.” Neither can Anakin, of course. He’d chew off his own arm before he hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi. Instead of saying this, he looks down. He needs to cry, but the tears won’t come.

“It feels like it was someone else,” he mutters. The microphone attached to him will pick it up. “Someone else’s hands.” “But they were yours,” the host presses against the perceived bruise in what Anakin can only describe as restrained glee. “They were your hands.”

“Yes,” Anakin agrees. He looks out into the audience. He cannot see Obi-Wan, but he knows the man is there. He had been the first to hug him once he exited the arena. He had hardly been more than five steps away from him since then.

He keeps shooting Anakin looks, as if afraid that he will suddenly collapse into tears and shatter apart. After all, he just killed seventeen people in the span of one week. Obi-Wan had made it through his games with only three kills under his belt, and each one haunted him to this day.

But Anakin is fine. Anakin won. Anakin was back. Anakin had Obi-Wan, and so Anakin is fine. 

His hands start to shake when he thinks about losing Obi-Wan, and tears of fury gather in the corners of his eyes. He would burn the world down if they were to try and take Obi-Wan away from him. Seventeen people would be nothing.

“And what do you have to say to the people who think you planned to always kill Robin?” the host asks. “That you never wanted her to win the Games?”

Anakin shakes his head and then rubs at his eyes, brushing the tears away. “I loved her,” he lies. His thumb rubs over Obi-Wan’s handwriting once more, the swoop of the ‘o’, the slant of the ‘b’. “When you love someone the way I loved her, you’d do anything for them. It makes you crazy. To love like that. You’d do anything for them.”

“Are you saying you thought that you would die in the arena so she could live?” the host prompts, hands folded neatly into his lap.

Anakin shakes his head and then nods. And then he shakes his head again. The host takes pity on him. “Now that you’ve won your Games, Anakin, what will you do?”

Anakin’s thumb swipes once more over the writing on the paper. “I just want to go home,” he says. And this time, it’s the truth. 

#obikin #hunger games au #literally tho i love writing this anakin #he is so insane #so on brand tho #he's suitless vader this entire snippet #the host is like haha did you go insane and kill her by accident #and hes like i was already? insane? #anyway i do think that if 'catching fire' premise happened in this au #aka victors are made to go back into the game #obi-wan would literally tell anakin he would break up with him/maybe even kill himself #f anakin volunteered for obi-wan if hs name is drawn #and anakin grudgingly promises not to volunteer #only for anakin's name to be drawn #and obi-wan to volunteer in a heartbeat #so anakin has to be the mentor and watch obi-wan go through the arena again #singlehandedly starts a revolution to get him out

[wangxianficrecs]

💙 as i stumble homewards by the_pretzel

💙 as i stumble homewards

by the_pretzel (@the-pretzel)

T, 27k, Wangxian

Part of the MXTX Mini Bang

Summary: Six years after the siege at the Burial Mounds, the Jiang Sect looks to Yiling once more as rumors of a young demonic cultivator and the restless spirit which trails behind him reach their ears. Luckily for the two in question, Hanguang-jun has heard the same rumors, and comes trailing behind. A-Yuan, in the meanwhile, is not pleased at having his life disrupted, especially by a man who has mysterious intentions towards his Xian-gege. Kay's comments: You know, I'm always here for stories where A-Yuan is a little bit (a lot) of a strange kid after his time in the Burial Mounds and in this one, he's a certified weirdo in the best way possible. Here, he doesn't get found my Lan Wangji and instead, Wei Wuxian looks for him, at least until Jiang Cheng notices him on his hunt for demonic cultivators... Ah, this story doesn't really pull any punches and I like this exploration of what could have happened to A-Yuan, it feel very true to the story. And of course, Lan Wangji discovers soon enough that A-Yuan is talking to Wei Wuxian and Wangxian can't help each other but gravitate towards each other. Excerpt: Fine, Wei Wuxian tells him, reassuringly, sounding as though he’s back in the present. I’m just fine. Don’t worry about your Xian-gege, he’s very resilient! Lan Wangji is still looking at him, so he does not react, but his stomach unclenches a little. Then-- “You are talking to someone,” Lan Wangji says, and A-Yuan’s stomach clenches right back up again. “What? No,” he hedges, too quickly. It’s a lie so bad Lan Wangji does not even deign to acknowledge it. “What is his name?” “None of your business,” A-Yuan snaps, curling his hands into fists. Lan Wangji only keeps going. “Wei Wuxian?” He rears back. It’s as good as an answer, because Lan Wangji stills, staring at him as though he is somehow surprised to have it confirmed. It doesn’t do anything to comfort A-Yuan. Uh-oh, Wei Wuxian murmurs, tone uncertain. “Come to the jingshi,” Lan Wangji says abruptly, and walks away. For lack of any better options, A-Yuan follows.

pov lan sizhui, canon-divergence, burial mounds settlement days, post-first siege of the burial mounds, canonical character death - wei wuxian, ghost wei wuxian, families of choice, food issues, trauma, fluff, angst with a happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, demonic cultivator lan sizhui, getting together, mutual pining

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

#Wangxian Fic Rec #The Untamed #wangxian #MDZS #Kay's Favorite #Kay's Rec #September 2023 #as i stumble homewards #the_pretzel #medium fic 15k-49k #Teen #pov lan sizhui #canon-divergence #burial mounds settlement days #post-first siege of the burial mounds #canonical character death - wei wuxian #ghost wei wuxian #families of choice #food issues #trauma #fluff #angst with a happy ending #emotional hurt/comfort #demonic cultivator lan sizhui #getting together #mutual pining

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Immortal Beloved - Chapter One.

Oh guys, when I tell you I was touched beyond words at how this was received by you all. I have been sitting here squeaking with joy at your lovely reviews! If I have missed anybody out in my thank you notes, please take my humble apology and know that I appreciate you so much for taking the time to both read and offer feedback.

Okay, so on with the first chapter, then. You'll notice here that my imagination weaves with canon to make some slight changes, such as giving the boy's (and Ada's) mother a name, also I wrote John only to have one child with his late wife. It made sense to me, not having to pull focus from the plot too much by having to characterise four little ones on top of everything else.

So yes, here we are, then. I think I'm going to choose Thursday as our update day and keep it to once a week posting. Those who know me of old know that I often like to throw in a little surprise update sometimes, though! Once again, thank you so much for the feedback, and I truly hope you continue to enjoy it :)

Previous chapters - Prologue

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,057

Warnings - Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

“John?”  

He was still in a daze as he entered the back room, seeing Polly lift her gaze from the paper she read in front of the crackling hearth, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re bloody white as a sheet. If you’re about to be sick, go back outside. I’ve neither the desire nor patience for mopping up the contents of your stomach.”  

“Nah, I’m... I’m alright, Pol,” he began, his voice just as vacant as the expression upon his face, the toothpick between his lips practically dangling.  

She wasn’t convinced by his statement, placing the paper upon the arm of the chair and rising to her feet. “John, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, and you...” She sniffed his breath, her mouth down turning as she scoffed, “and you stink like a brewery floor. What did Tommy say, eh, about getting in this state. Look at you!”  

Her admonishment barely even landed; John still in a state of shock at what he’d witnessed, his eyes flitting to the table. Whiskey. Yes.  

Polly’s gaze followed. “No. There’ll be no more of that. You’ve had enough.”  

Finally, he moved, side stepping his aunt as he reached for the bottle, uncorking it rapidly and drinking from it directly. “Believe me, Pol. After what I just saw, all the fucking whiskey in Ireland ain’t enough.”  

She folded her arms, watching as he crashed down in the chair opposite the one she’d been comfortably sitting in. “Well, you don’t look hurt. Whatever it was, it can’t have been that bad.” 

“Not for me, but...” he began, taking another swig of the golden liquid within his grasp, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve as his eyes found hers, “for the fella outside missing his head, I can’t say the same.”  

“You bloody what, John Shelby?” Her voice rose like a siren, Polly’s authoritative boom filling the space. “A Rasmussen, I take it? And since when have you been in the habit of lopping off heads and leaving the evidence all over the bloody street? Holy shit, you boys will be the death of me!”  

She then studied him a little closer. No blood. He'd have been covered in more than just a fine misting of crimson, should he have removed somebody of their head. It also wasn’t John’s style, as far as despatching of an enemy went. He was a gangster, not a barbarian. She wouldn’t have even pegged his elder brothers for such acts, and their bloodlust far exceeded John’s. Her statement was about to be recanted when her nephew offered his reply.  

“No, not me. I didn’t do fuck all!” he corrected, gulping back more whiskey, the shock starting to soften as his muscles began to unclench, one by one. “It weren’t me, but you wouldn’t believe me if I told you what I’ve just seen out there.”  

“Is that so?” she charged, moving swiftly to stand beside his chair. “Try me.”  

He pointed his index finger towards the door, his eyes rounding once more as he relived it in his mind. “A woman, a fucking woman in a white dress, covered in blood, moving faster than I could see. She fucking... grabbed this fella, right, like he was a kiddie’s doll, bit into his neck, and then ripped his fucking head off. I ain’t lying to ya. I swear on my soul, that’s what I saw. She had these teeth, teeth like a fucking wolf.” 

Polly lifted her chin, a wave of cold dread sloshing through her insides. She knew exactly what John had seen, but could scarcely believe it. They were back. “You’re drunk. Go to bed.”  

His eyes narrowed, leaning forward in his seat. Her answer, it had been a little too swiftly delivered. “You believe me, don’t you? You know what she was.” 

“I said go to bed.” 

“I ain’t going nowhere until you tell me what the fuck that thing outside was.” Yes, Polly could be firm, but so could her nephew. It was a trait that ran strongly through the Shelby blood. She sighed, her shoulders dropping, striding to the cabinet and fetching two glasses.  

“Pour.” John met her instruction wordlessly, tipping the whiskey into the glasses she held, taking the other from her. Polly sank into her seat, sipping her whiskey and pulling a cigarette from the case beside her, lighting up. “Your great-grandmother used to call them the shadow walkers, but it’s only since that Bram Stoker fellow wrote his novel that there’s been a commonly known name for them. That woman you saw, John, she wasn’t human. She was a vampire.”  

John was baffled, and his face showed it. “But they ain’t real. I’ve heard of that book you’re on about, Dracula, isn’t it? They... they’re fiction.” 

A light snort sounded from Polly’s nose, her cigarette glowing as she took a fierce drag upon it. “Most people think that they are. They think of them as nothing more than monsters of make-believe, dreamed into existence by the imagination of a brilliant novelist.” Pausing, she smirked darkly, sighing through her nose. “I wish to god above I was one of those people. They keep themselves very well hidden, the vampires. And who would believe it, that these blood sucking creatures of the night truly exist, eh? Seeing is believing, though, and by god, John. I wish you hadn’t seen her. Those things, they’re evil incarnate.” 

“She saved me life,” he admitted, eyebrows rising a fraction. “That man, and apparently three mates of his, they were all waiting for me. The one missing his head was Samuel Rasmussen. She knew him by name.”  

Polly cocked her head slightly. “What did she say to you?”  

“Not much,” he sniffed, sipping his drink. “Said what I’ve just told you, then said my blood smelled like earth and fire, other things an’ all but I forget what. Oh, and that I was the most beautiful creature she’d seen in a long time.” 

She smiled, nodding slightly. “Well, she got that part right. You take after your mother in that respect.” It never ceased to amaze her, just how much John resembled Thora, her late sister-in-law. His blue eyes, lily skin and auburn hair came straight from her. “I’m warning you now, though. What she did for you won’t have been out of sheer magnanimity, oh no. There’ll be a reason behind it, and whatever that reason is, I am telling you, John, you’ll want for no part in it.” 

He smirked, feeling a little more himself. “What if the reason is that she just wants to fuck me?” 

Immediately, he found his ear clipped. “Fucking hell, Pol!” 

“Take something seriously for once in your fucking life!” 

He rubbed the side of his head, chewing aggressively on his toothpick. “I bloody am.” 

Her snort dripped in sarcasm “Like fuck, you are. You’d want throwing right into the loony bin if you even contemplated that, you bloody daft boy!” She remained forward in her seat, her dark eyes fixing him in an unbreakable stare. “Don’t trust her, not even for a second, or it’ll be your head ripped off your shoulders and left out for the coppers to find next. You hear me?” 

“You make it sound like I’m going to see her again,” he mused, swirling the whiskey around within the glass tumbler before sinking it.  

“You will,” she assured, her tone bitter. “You will see her again, because like I said, they don’t do anything without good reason to, those creatures. But you’ll be prepared. Carry a silver knife and get up to the church sharpish, fill a little bottle with holy water from the font. When weaponised, silver will kill her and the water will burn. And whatever you do, John, never, ever invite her into this house. She can’t get in unless she’s invited.”  

He had to wonder how, exactly, Polly had such a wealth of knowledge over them. “Have you ever met one before? You talk like you know them of old.” 

“No, thank god, but your great-grandmother Boswell, she had. Those campfire stories she told us as babes, we knew they weren’t fibs. We heeded her warnings. They’re drawn to gypsy blood, you see, something about it being palatable.” 

“She didn’t bite me, though,” John reasoned, Polly scoffing lightly. 

“If she’d just taken out four other fellas, she probably wasn’t hungry. That’s what they need to survive, the blood of the living. Trust me, she’ll be back, but you’ll be prepared. Stab her in her cold, dead heart and forget you ever met her. Don’t even think twice about it. We’ve got enough to be reckoning with, what with these fucking Rasmussen’s and the pile of shit they’re throwing our way. I don’t need the worry that you’re being stalked by the bloody undead on top of that.”  

“Why didn’t you mention any of this to us before?” 

Sinking her drink, she cleared her throat, reaching for the bottle. “And have you think I’d gone loopy?” Her snorted words brought a smile to John, Polly continuing. “We just don’t speak of them any longer. They’re rare, not an everyday threat. I’ve never heard hide nor hair of them since hearing nana’s stories, since I was just a young girl.”  

As the lie fell from her lips, Polly felt conflicted. She had to protect him, though. Keep the details scant. Besides, he was too drunk to take on anything else. Indeed, there was more she could have explained. She decided against it, clamping her lips between her teeth for a moment. 

“Hang on,” he spoke, frowning a little. “What did you mean, when you said undead?” 

“They aren’t alive anymore, John.” She paused, picking a little fleck of tobacco from her lip. “They walk and talk, but they’re not really living. Something about how they’re made, I don’t know the details, but yes. Undead. An enchanted corpse, basically.” 

“I dunno about enchanted, but she was enchanting,” he began, the corner of his mouth upturning. “She was bloody beautiful.” His face further softened as he remembered that feeling of magic lingering in the air between he and her, the pull to her, her essence shining like the brightest star within a pitch-black sky.  

“John, no. Absolutely fucking not.” Her pointed finger only momentarily wiped the growing smirk from his handsome features. “I mean it, do not even consider a fucking dalliance with a bloody vampire!”  

He shrugged slightly. “I’ve took worse to bed.” 

“John!” Her acerbic bite of his name had him in soft fits, the whiskey seeming to do the trick in placating the fear he’d felt at the time, now he was no longer in peril. “Your fucking face when you walked in here not ten minutes ago, looking like you’d seen a ghost. I was surprised your trousers were still dry, you looked that afraid!” 

“Bloody hell, Pol. I was only pulling your leg,” he laughed, rising from his seat. “Don’t worry, I ain’t stupid. I’m going to bed. Maybe all of this is just a drunken dream, I dunno.” Suddenly, her foot shot out, kicking him in the shin. “Ow, what the fuck?” 

“Did that feel like a dream to you?” 

“No, it feels like it’s gonna be a whacking great bruise on me leg!” 

She smirked, entertained at herself. “Good, might have knocked a bit of sense into you. Goodnight, love.” 

“Yeah, night, Pol.” 

He departed for the stairs, ambling up quietly so as not to wake Finn, entering his room and shivering upon the removal of his coat. His stripping of clothes into long johns and a vest was done at speed, diving under the bed covers and burrowing beneath the many woollen blankets. He hated that his room was the farthest from the chimney breast, meaning the heat didn’t ever reach the room where he could see his breath clouding through the darkness, it was so bitterly chilly.  

The knocking through of the three houses that allowed for their once illegal bookmaking endeavours to be run from the Watery Lane properties meant one large communal home, Tommy and Arthur’s abodes flanking the three, John remaining within the house he’d been born in twenty-eight years previously. It was the home he and his late wife had lived in, before he’d sadly lost her four years previously. 

Closing his eyes, he felt the pull of sleep tug at him, drifting off into dreamless slumber, awoken the following morning by the sound of the milkman’s cart doing the morning deliveries. Oh, his head. He needed tea and jam slathered toast, and quickly. Heading downstairs, he warmed enough water to have a wash and shave, combing his hair and returning to pull on a suit, opening the front door to take the milk in off the front step.  

“Morning, Mr Shelby.” 

“Morning, Jack,” he called back to the milkman, his cart paused, John turning to see a throng of people gathered a little further down the lane. “What’s all that about?”  

“Some kids found a headless body down by number six, so I’ve been told. The bobbies are on their way. Shocking business for a Wednesday morning, I can tell you!”  

John’s heart skipped on a beat as the night before rushed back over his neurons. He truly hadn’t been dreaming. “Blimey,” he began, feigning something as close to shock as he could, craning his neck a little further, able to make out the figures of his elder brother’s there surveying the scene, the local constabulary appearing right at the bottom of the lane. “Wonder how he ended up headless?”  

Jack lit a cigarette, his chest tightening as he coughed. “Might be best not to know, eh?” He paused, John seeing it, the unspoken statement there upon the milkman’s face. Grim discoveries close to a Shelby dwelling. Of course, he suspected it had something to do with him or his brothers, but Jack was much too cautious to speak it. Their reputation preceded them, after all.  

“I’ll be moving along now, Mr Shelby.” He flicked the reins, clicking his tongue. “C’mon, Beamish. Walk on.” The giant, bay shire horse snorted before continuing to the next house, Jack’s lad jumping off the back of the cart to lay the required bottles next to each door, both getting a good look at the grizzly scene as they passed it by, Tommy and Arthur having a brief chat with Sergeant Moss before walking back to meet John on the doorstep.  

The former cocked his head back in the direction of the small crowd. “Know anything about that, John? How one of our adversaries came to be missing his head almost right outside our front doors?” He’d recognised Samuel’s face as it lay wide-eyed upon the cobbles ten feet from his body, remembering him from the race meet. 

Tommy watched as his younger brother stepped back into the house, his mouth thinning. “I think we need a family meeting.” With the elders of the Shelby family assembled, cups of tea poured and cigarettes lit, John recounted the events of the night before to his brother’s, Polly interjecting with details that backed up his story. Tommy listened passively, but Arthur, well... 

His gruff laughter sounded through the air, sweeping a hand through his hair. His laughter was not mocking, though. It carried with it all the hollowness of fear. “A bloody what?”  

“Arthur, you know he’s telling the truth,” Polly stated defiantly, her eldest nephew still laughing, laughing to stop himself beginning to shake with fright. 

“What a pile of old shit! A bloody vampire, eh? Fucking hell, you two have lost your faculties if you’re expecting us to believe that!” Turning to his brother, Arthur was surprised to see Tommy completely unmoved by the story, his face unflinching, taking another drag of his cigarette.  

“Come on, Arthur,” he spoke evenly, sipping his tea. “Nobody is having you on, and you know it.” Turning to John, he placed his tea down. “This woman, John. Long, dark hair with a tattooed throat and chest?” 

He nodded a little dumbly. “Yeah, that’s her.”  

Tommy sat back again, flicking ash into the nearby ashtray with a sniff. “She’s been watching the house for a couple of weeks now.”  

“And you didn’t feel the need to mention that to anyone?” Polly charged him with, a deep frown settling between her eyebrows.  

“Speak not of the shadow walkers, lest ye bring them into the light. That’s what our dad used to say,” he revealed, Arthur scoffing immediately as he threw himself to his feet. 

“I ain’t listening to this load of old cobblers! Fucking mad, the lot of ya!”  

“Arthur, you know it’s true. You saw what I did on that night,” he reasoned softly, Arthur’s agitation winding tighter by the second as he paced the flagstones. “It’s time to face up to what happened.” 

“What night?” John demanded lightly, looking between them. Silence followed. “One of you better give me a fucking answer.”  

Tommy paused, bringing his cigarette to his lips once more. “I’ve thought about that night here and there over the years, but never mentioned it. Dad told us not to breathe a word to anyone,” he began, Arthur making a start for the door, almost throwing it off its hinges and slamming it behind him.  

Jerking his head in his wake he raised his eyebrows a fraction. “Terrified the life out of Arthur, so much so that he pissed himself. He’s never come to terms with that he witnessed, refuses to acknowledge it ever happened at all. He can’t comprehend what he saw, what we saw on that night, when dad took us up to the Black Patch when we were nippers to visit family. Now, I don’t know how much Polly revealed to you, but they aren’t spoken about, the shadow walkers as our gypsy kin always referred to them as, but for centuries, they had a pact.  

“Gypsy blood to a vampire is what a fine wine or whiskey is to us, so for hundreds of years, vampires would guard the camps in exchange for feeding upon that blood. That was, at least, until the pact was broken. I don’t know why, and neither did our dad, but one night they returned, to hand out the punishment they felt befitting of that broken pact.  

“Our dad did perhaps the only honourable thing he ever has as a father, and got on a horse, riding us out of there to the nearest church where he hid us away until the dawn. Vampires cannot walk upon hallowed ground, nor can they stand in the daylight, lest they burn to ashes. The rest of the camp weren’t so lucky. People were attacked, only very few surviving, but in a state of dread that one day, they’d be back. I suppose that day was last night, for I highly doubt she’s acting alone.” 

John immediately stared at Polly. “Did you know all of this?” 

She nodded in confirmation. “I did.” 

“So why the fuck didn’t you tell me last night?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing. 

“Because you were drunk as a lord, John. What I said was enough explanation without going into the finer details, of which I wasn’t sure you’d be able to absorb. I’m fucking surprised you comprehended even half of what I told you, to be frank.” 

John’s puzzlement was clear as it ghosted across his face, sighing as he rubbed his brow. “But it don’t make no sense. If she was here because she wanted us dead, some kind of further punishment for our kin breaking the pact, then why am I still alive? She could have had me head off, just the same as she did to Samuel fucking Rasmussen, but she didn’t.” He felt his heart flutter as he remembered how fondly she’d gazed upon him. God, she was such a beauty. 

Tommy shrugged lightly. “At a guess, I’d say she wants to rekindle the blood pact. Why she’d choose us and not one of the other families out there, well, I can’t answer that.” 

“Which means she probably wants something else from us, something greater,” a frowning Polly mused, the dread in her voice quite clear. It was a distinct change to her usual confident, self-assured tone. 

“And we’re not about to give her the chance to even broach it.” Tommy then turned to John, his eyes wide. “You’ll carry a silver knife upon your person from now on, as we all will. Her kind are not to be trusted. Killing that man, I suspect was to lure you into a false sense of security. Vampires are immortal; they have all the fucking time in the world to exact a plan. She’s biding her time.” 

“She didn’t only kill him,” John snorted, jerking his head to the right. “Coppers will find another three bodies somewhere out there soon enough.” 

Tommy rose to his feet, keen to move to his office and begin the day. “All the more reason not to trust her when she returns. Mark my words, John boy. She’ll be back. She’ll be back, I tell you, and it won’t lead to anything good.”  

All talk of vampires, blood pacts and a family history unknown to John meant that he could forget his pounding head for a short time. After his refuelling with toast and tea, he walked through to the offices, grasping the ledger and beginning to write, the space soon filling, the usual loud chaos abounding.  

Hangovers and mysterious, vampiric women aside, John’s day ended certainly more favourably than the previous. The favourite at Epson, Shamrock Pride pulled up lame in the fifth race, just as he was intended to. This netted a very tidy profit for them, John finishing his day with a spring in his step because of it.  

The Garrison for a whiskey or three? Whyever not.  

“Daddy?”  

The soft grasp of a tiny hand curled his little finger, John pausing from pulling on his overcoat to look down into the big, green eyes of his daughter, Katie carrying a book within her grasp.  

“You should be in bed, pige.” Pige. Short for pigeon, the fond pet name for his only child from his short marriage to Martha, his wife taken from him by the cruel clutches of consumption when Katie was mere baby in arms.  

Poking out her bottom lip, she proffered the book forth. The Velveteen Rabbit. It had to have been their fourth read through at that point, the book only published six months before. “Please?” 

He sighed softly through his nose. “Go on,” he spoke to his brother, “I’ll catch up with you.”  

Arthur nodded, leaving John to place his coat over the back of the fireside armchair there in the front room, adjusting his trousers as he sat, Katie scrambling onto his lap. “Right, where were we?”  

Opening the book, the cloth binding soft and velvety against his fingers, John laid the well-worn leather bookmark across Katie’s legs, stroking her strawberry blonde curls as he began to read. Ten minutes, give or take, and she would nod off with her little rosy cheeked face nestled against his chest.  

Eleven and a half minutes later, and the soft little piglet snorts of a babe in slumber filled the space, John smiling down at her. “Let’s get you up them stairs, eh, pige?” Once he’d placed her into her bed and covered her in blankets, he laid a kiss to her forehead, whispering his love before creeping out, overcoat thrown on and a cigarette lit before stepping out into the frigid night.  

Snowflakes fluttered down over the streets of Small Heath, John feeling winter tingle as his cheeks, the flames of the blast furnaces offering a roar of warmth as he passed them by, the lights of The Garrison twinkling through the inky gloom.  

“John.” 

The whisper of his name echoed through his ears, John turning, his eyes scanning for the source. Nobody. On he walked.  

“John.” 

It was louder than before this time as once again he halted, turning, looking for the female to whom the voice belonged. He almost dived out of his skin when upon his turn back, there she was.  

The vampire looked even more breathtaking to him than she had the night before. 

#john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #john shelby x ofc #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic

[mystic-writings]

emergency contact | jack hodgins

pairing — jack hodgins x fem!booth!reader

summary — hodgins hasn’t heard from you in over six months, after you broke up with him and disappeared. until he gets an alarming phone call in the middle of the night

warnings — angst, canon-typical violence, mentions of death

word count — 2,528

notes — a few things: i wrote this back in january, and it was rushed and poorly done but im being self-indulgent for this one | also im not tagging anyone bc i wanna see how far this will get on its own (except for my beloved @shmaptainwrites who indulged me ily mimi)

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2:47am

Despite his many years working for the Jeffersonian, Hodgins had yet to get used to his phone ringing at odd hours. With a groan and a stretch, his palm landed where his phone lay on the nightstand table. Without checking the caller ID, he picked up the phone and slurred out a tired greeting to the caller on the other line.

“Hello, Dr. Hodgins, I’m Marie, calling from the George Washington University Hospital.” Why was a hospital calling him so late at night? “You’re listed as the emergency contact for Y/n Booth, correct?”

Your name sent a shock through Jack’s body. “I— I guess so, yeah. Why? Is she okay?”

“Your fiancée was shot on duty, sir. She’s in surgery right now. We suggest you be with her when she wakes up.”

Without a second thought, Jack hung up the phone and flung out of bed. He didn’t care how things ended between the two of you, good or bad, but he knew one thing for certain: he needed to make sure you were okay. After scrambling for a decent set of clothing and his car keys, Jack rushed out of the house and down the near-empty streets to the hospital you were taken to. 

Even though his mind was running at a mile a minute, Jack managed to recall what the nurse had told him. Shot on duty. You took a sabbatical seven months ago, were you back in town? Surely Booth must’ve known, he was your brother and co-worker, he had to have. Did he spare telling Jack to avoid the inevitable turmoil? Obviously you’d been back long enough to take a case, so it wasn’t like you had decided to come back out of the blue. 

By the time he found parking, it was half past 3 in the morning, and Jack’s heart refused to stop beating out of his chest, his palms sweating rivers as he clenched and unclenched them. Despite all of this, though, he approached the front desk with a cracking resolve, trying his best to be put together for the sake of not distressing the night staff and lingering patient family members. 

“Could you tell me where Y/n Booth is?”

The nurse behind the counter glanced up at him. “Connection to the patient?”

“I’m her-” he stumbled on the words. “Her, uh, fiancé. Emergency contact.” 

She typed a few things into the computer when a voice from behind caught Jack’s attention. 

“Hodgins.” Booth called, approaching with a weary face and a cup of likely burnt coffee.

Jack nearly sprinted over to the man, blue eyes frantically searching for answers in his features. “What’s up, man? I mean, what the hell happened?”

Booth took Hodgins by the arm and led him down a hallway, over to the elevators. “We were going after a perp. I told her not to go in first, that I’d handle the hard part. She didn’t listen, the bastard got her from behind, shot out one of her kidneys. Been in surgery for almost,” he checked his watch, “three hours now.” 

Jack deflated just as the elevator doors dinged open. The pair stepped inside, the space empty apart from themselves. “I just— I don’t get it. Yesterday, she was somewhere even I didn’t know, taking some damn sabbatical. Yesterday, I was still pissed at her. Now? She’s in surgery because she was on a case. Because some asshole shot her. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do with that, Booth?”

Unable to provide any kind of emotional support or response, Booth remained quiet as his friend tried his best not to break down in the elevator. 

When the doors opened, Jack attempted to regain his composure as best as he could while Booth led him down the hall. There was a separate waiting room here, for family members who had someone in surgery. He sat opposite Booth, next to a sleeping little girl and her obviously exhausted mother. 

He had no bearing of the passage of time, and felt as though there was no energy left within him to check the watch on his wrist. All he did was sit with his hands on his knees, head tilted to the sky, one leg bouncing like an infinite rubber ball. At some point, a doctor came out to notify the mother of her husband’s successful surgery — his tumor was gone, he’d told her, and there was little chance of it coming back. 

It wasn’t until the sun started to peek in through the waiting room windows that a surgeon called out your name. Booth had been asleep in the chair across from Jack, but he was wide awake. The pair jumped up and approached the doctor, throwing questions at him rapidly. 

“Y/n is okay. Surgery went well, though we’ll have to keep her here for longer than expected.”

“Why? What happened?” Booth asked. 

The doctor sighed. “Due to the location of the entry wound, the bullet caused too much damage to her right kidney. For now, she’ll only be functioning with one until we can find a donor match. She’ll be on dialysis weekly and some medication to assist the working kidney, but otherwise, she’ll be just fine in a week or so. The bullet did puncture the liver and small intestine, but the speed of the bullet slowed enough to only cause minor damage, nothing we couldn’t fix up.” He told them, and a wave of relief crashed over the pair. “She’s being brought up to her room now, if you’d like to go wait with her.”

Jack only nodded, Booth trailing him as the doctor led them up one more floor, where you were being transferred to the ICU. It was painful, seeing you after so  long, only for you to be hooked up to so many machines, laying nearly helpless in a bed. He pulled a chair up to your right side, reaching for your limp hand to hold, hoping you could feel him. 

Hoping you knew he was there. That you knew he always would be.

Booth leaned against the door frame, watching everything with anguish. After you left for California, you kept in constant contact with your older brother. But even in those months, you never explained why you broke off the engagement so suddenly. Why you took a surprise sabbatical, why you went to California specifically. Why you became so closed off, so cold to everyone, even to Parker. 

After a while, Booth left Jack alone to go pick up Parker from his mother’s house. He promised to be back later, your nephew in tow, and pressed a featherlight kiss to your forehead before he left. 

Jack, swimming in an ocean’s worth of thought, barely noticed the sun coming over the horizon in the window opposite him. All he could do was process the emotions flowing through him. Anger, that you left him so suddenly and without explanation. Despair, that you’d come back so long ago and didn’t come to see him, to work things out. Worry, that despite your life-saving surgery, you wouldn’t get a new kidney, or that you’d never be the same again. Anger again, but at the bastard who shot you. Triumph, that he was rotting in a cell right now. 

 Jack’s only comfort in the sterile, whitewashed room was the steady beeping emanating from the heart monitor, a small assurance that you were okay. His hand remained clasped over yours for hours, thumb stroking the smooth skin on the back of your hand. Partly as a comfort to himself that you were still there, but mostly, he believed, a comfort to you. He hoped you could feel it; that you could feel his presence. He hoped his presence comforted you. 

By the time you woke up, all the worry had faded from Jack’s body and exhaustion had taken its place. He was asleep, head supported by his arm on the side of the chair, when he heard the sheets rustle in the bed. 

Somehow, in all your years of work, this was the first time you ended up in the hospital due to a job-related injury. It wasn’t the first time you woke up dazed after a surgery with little memory of how you got there, though. 

The sheets, despite being thin, weighed down your legs and torso, providing warmth and comfort. You could feel the leads for the heart monitor stuck to your chest, irritating your skin in the slightest bit. There was a cannula feeding oxygen into your system, though it rubbed the skin on the back of your ears uncomfortably. The main thing, though, was that your torso hurt. 

Despite that, you managed to notice something weighing down your right hand. It was warm, warmer than the blankets. And heavier. Garnering the courage to open your eyes, you blinked to adjust to the sunlight and fluorescent lights, trying to shift yourself upward, wincing when it pulled on your wound. Instead, you glanced over at your hand, only to find another on top of it. Following the arm connected to it, your heart stuttered and cracked when you found a sleeping Hodgins sitting next to your bed. Emotion swelled within your chest and tear ducts just at the sight of him, sleeping so peacefully next to you, his hand over yours in a firm grasp, as if that was the only thing that assured him that you were really here. 

Slowly, quietly, you tried to pull your hand out from under Jack’s, only for the movement to wake him up. He stretched with a deep inhale, blinking rapidly as he took in his surroundings. It wasn’t until he noticed you were awake that he seemed to come to his senses. 

“Hey,” he nearly whispered. “How’re you feeling?”

You bit back a scoff. “Terrible. First job back and of course I had to get myself shot.” 

Jack fought a smile, scooting forward to raise the bed up for you to sit properly. “They said they got all the fragments of the bullet during surgery. You’re down a kidney for now, though.”

You only nodded, allowing yourself some time to gather your thoughts. “Why are you here, Hodgins?”

“Apparently, I’m still your emergency contact.” He told you, sitting back down and resting his elbows on his knees. “And apparently, I still care about you enough to show up.” 

“Don’t put that on me.” You whispered, chest restricting as tears fought their way back to your waterline. “You can’t say that to me. Not after what I did to you. You should hate me. I mean, really hate me. Like, praying for my downfall, kind of hate. You shouldn’t still care about me.”

“Well, apparently I do. I thought I hated you, for a long time. But I guess I don’t.” Jack sighed,  taking your hand. You wanted to protest, to pull away, but you let him. “I guess this was a wakeup call for me. Literally. They called me at 3 in the morning to tell me you were in surgery.”

You laughed, a wet sound underlined with sadness. “I’m sorry, Jack. Really, I am. I just…”

“What, don’t love me? It’s okay. I’ve learned to live with it.” 

Even when he should hate you, Jack still understood, and even worse, he still loved you. He was, somehow, the world’s most understanding man. God, you love him. 

“No, no I don’t hate you. Actually, it’s the opposite. I just wish things could’ve gone differently.” 

Now Jack was just confused. “What d’you mean? You broke up with me for a reason, right? You told me you didn’t love me anymore.”

“It’s too complicated, Jack. I want to explain it all to you, really, but it’s not safe. I don’t know if or when it will be, and I won’t blame you if you want to find someone else, or if you already have. You deserve to be happy, Jack. You should move on from me.” 

“I don’t want anyone else.” Jack said, emphasizing each word and squeezing your hand. “I just want you. From the moment I met you, I knew you were it for me, Y/n. Even with your brother breathing down my neck to not even think about pursuing our relationship. It was terrifying, but I ignored it. Because you were too important to have in my life. I couldn’t risk passing you up. I just don’t understand why you ended things so suddenly.”

The tears that you had been attempting to keep at bay for this entire conversation now flowed freely down your cheeks, the emotions you’d kept close to your chest for nearly a year now breaking free. Jack, like the gentleman he was, gently tilted your head toward him, reaching up and using the pads of his thumbs to brush them from your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, daring to look him in the eye. 

“Don’t be.” He whispered. 

“I have to be. I hurt you. I ruined everything. And it wasn’t even worth it. It  didn’t change anything.”

Despite his confusion, Jack said nothing. He simply stood to his full height and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his chest — minding your wounds and stroking your hair. “It’s okay. You’re home now. We can fix this.”

“No we can’t.” You shook your head, looking up at him. “Jack, there’s nothing left to fix. Because if we fix it, you’ll die.” 

After what felt like an eternity of swirling, spiraling thoughts, Jack found his voice. “What?”

“That’s why I left.” You said. “I was ordered to. I was working on a case, some underground organized crime syndicate. I found out some stuff I shouldn’t have. My hands were tied, I had no choice.” Choking back a sob, you wiped the tears from your face and took a breath. “It was either break up with you, call off the wedding, and leave, or everyone I loved would die. They were gonna kill you, kill Seeley and Parker, and drain your accounts. There was nothing I could do.” 

Jack pulled you in tighter, his whole worldview shifting and turning on an axis. He couldn’t speak — hell, he could barely even think right now. Jack had spent months grieving your relationship, questioning why you broke things off, harboring a ruthless anger at what his life had become, and all of it faded to dust in an instant. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, pulling Jack back to the present. “I work with these people, Jack. They could ruin me in an instant.” 

“We’ll fix this, I promise.” Jack declared, and despite the fear that had overridden your senses for the past few months, you couldn’t help but believe him. 

You only nodded, curling further into him as best as you could with your incisions. Fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie, you listened to the beat of his heart beneath you and took a deep breath. 

Soon enough, you were drifting off to sleep with the firm belief that soon enough, with the help of your family, somehow, everything would be okay. 

if you want more jack fics, please feel free to comment and let me know!! writing for smaller characters is always a gamble but if people read this i’d be more than happy to do so!

#jack hodgins #jack hodgins x reader #jack hodgins x y/n #jack hodgins x you #jack hodgins angst #bones fanfiction

[twig-tea]

Last Twilight Finale Thoughts

Had to go back to my clown checkpoint from ep 10, which I originally wrote in response to a conversation between @lurkingshan and @my-rose-tinted-glasses! How did the Last Twilight finale stack against my wishlist?

We got 6/8:

Mork opens that $@#&&#&# glove compartment (ie finally process his grief around Rung)

Mork speaks to Rung at her grave

Mork has workplace satisfaction and stability (ie we get something on canon to show that he's not afraid of being fired at any moment, and enjoys his new career) ['m counting the way he's shown trying out new recipes after the second timeskip towards this]

Day making plans for his future and acting towards them (enrolling in university or courses of some kind, most likely)--this is necessary whether or not he can see in future

Day's mom unclenches (we see her proactively stepping away from controlling Day's life)

We get Day's mom's perspective on what happened with Day's dad [honestly at this point this is a nice to have]

Night is perceived and happy (by Porjai most likely but I'm flexible)

Porjai feels safe and cared for (by Night most likely but I'm flexible)

And yet I was unsatisfied by this episode. Why? Because it did so many other things that I didn't even think I'd have to guard against in my wishlist, and the execution of what we did get was muddled!

I'm so mad about the glove compartment. They mentioned that thing at least three times, it was teased that Rung used it a lot and kept all kinds of stuff in there, and the last time it was mentioned, we heard that it had been fixed, and yet. AND YET. The glove compartment stayed closed and unseen.

This is how I feel about all of the important growth that happened for these characters. Mork's processing his grief for Rung, Day's building his life as a blind person (including using his cane), Day's mom moving past her internalized ableism, Mork learning how to be a partner rather than a caretaker, Day's father realizing he needs to be a better dad, Day and Mork learning how to navigate their social class difference in their relationship; we didn't really get to see any of that. We were just told it had been fixed now, off screen, like the glove compartment.

We did get to see the brothers reconcile and work on being brothers again, I will give the show that.

Also just to say, wow this aged poorly (from the same post linked above, written after ep10):

Mork, in contrast to Day's mother, has always been interested in encouraging Day to learn independence from him, even though Mork's situation in Day's life is potentially so much more precarious than Day's mom is.

I'll say the same thing I said after the ep 11 fight--it isn't the plot points themselves in the latter part of this series I have a problem with, it's how they've been executed. Characters don't feel consistent, what the show tells us happened doesn't seem to reflect what we saw in the show itself, and what the show says is important is then retconned or not addressed.

TL;DR even though the finale hit the bulk of my wishlist it still fumbled the execution and so I found it unsatisfying despite giving me most of what I asked for.

#last twilight #last twilight the series #bl meta #typed so that i can stop thinking it

[sunwarmed-ash]

🔥Sinful Sunday🔥

Ch 13: Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Ships: Hankconvin, Hankvin, Convin, Hankcon, Connor/V, some KamCon Rating: Explicit-sexual content, canon typical violence Ch Tags: angst, androids experience anxiety, hankconvin drAMMMAA, some Kamcon smut, sex toys, wire play, edge play, breath play? Ch preview:

Hank exploded out of the front doors of the station, a panicked stricken Gavin hot on his heels. 

“Anderson! Wait! Shit, HANK!”

“FUCK OFF REED!” Hank’s shouting back, and Gavin grimaces. An explosive Hank was never good for anyone, and Gavin needs to calm him down before he brought all that rage into the club. To Connor. 

“Hank please, I need you to listen to me!” Gavin begs but it's still not enough to slow the larger man’s pace a step. 

“I SAID! FUCK! OFF!”

Gavin wants to scream. He knows he's going to regret this, but it has to come out. 

“IT'S ABOUT CONNOR!”

Evidently, he uttered the magic phrase, because that had Hank stopping in place. At least before turning 180 degrees and peddling that fury back in Gavin's direction. 

“What the fuck do you know, huh?” 

Hank’s fuming and Gavin’s hands go up in surrender fast. 

Gavin’s heart is pounding so loud he’s sure Hank can hear it. He offers himself up as the pound of flesh Hank so obviously needs. 

“Take it out on me if you have to, but at least let me talk first.”

That diffused some of Hank's anger. At least enough for Hank to straighten up and unclench, a little. 

“I ain’t gonna fucking hit ya,” Hank promises, almost sounding offended. 

Gavin still feels the need to clarify. 

“You sure? You almost took Reynold’s out back there.”

Hank scoffed. 

“He deserved it.”

“Yeah, he did,” Gavin agrees, but then Gavin deserves a worse fate. “He's a phcking idiot. Your dick’s legendary. He's just pissed he’s never been offered a chance to sit on it.”

Hank rakes his hands through his long, silver hair, obviously distressed out of his mind, but the comment at least makes him laugh. It's not everything, but it's something. 

Gavin can feel the secret burning at the tip of his tongue. Hank’s talking before he can say anything else. 

“Is it true though? ‘Bout Connor? Or is he just, ya know, being an asshole?”

Gavin bites so hard into his cheek that he tastes blood. Technically, Reynolds already told Hank, so Gavin wouldn't really be breaking any promises by confirming it, right? It was a good enough loophole for Gavin to say, 

“Yeah, okay it is-”

👀😈👀

#sinful sunday #the eden club #hankconvin #detroit become human #hank x connor x gavin #hankvin #convin #hankcon #connor x hank x gavin #hankvin800 #connor x hank #connor x gavin #im so sorry in advance #dbh hank #dbh gavin #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #hank anderson #gavin reed #connor rk800 #elijah kamski #sunwarmed ash #find me on ao3 #buy me a coffee? #links in bio #reblogs are free ways to support me! #i post new stuff every sunday

[lucienarcheron]

Till the Darkness Dies [ Nessian ]

Prompt: Nesta’s battle against her inner demons. Inspired by this post. This was supposed to be humorous and ended up with lots of feels instead. | Originally posted on 10.23.2017.

Pairing: Nesta x Cassian (Nessian) Genre: Angst and fluff Rating: SFW Recommended Listen: OneRepublic’s Let’s Hurt Tonight & Something I Need Author’s note: I identify with Nesta in many ways and I just love reading about her coming to terms with the way she feels about things so here’s my spin on it. This was obviously pre-ACOSF and looking back now, I love seeing how I pictured this happening vs how it played out in canon!

Nesta clenched and unclenched her fists several times as she stood in the archway of the dining room in the House of Wind. A while had gone by since the end of the war and yet...she was still having a difficult time adjusting.

She had planned to ask Feyre for a place today but everyone else was there. Everyone was constantly there after the war; the panic of them on the brink of death had them always together. But Nesta...she hated the way she still didn’t feel like she fit in with them.

More significantly, she hated that he would be there and they had yet to discuss that moment in the battle and all the aftermath of it.

She didn’t want to deal with it today.  She just wanted some peace.

Sighing, Nesta stepped into the dining room.

“Hello.” she greeted and everyone down the table expressed their greeting in return. Elain and Lucien seated next to each other and because of Elain’s flushed cheeks and wide smile that matched Lucien’s, she didn’t narrow her eyes at the sight. Azriel nodded and Mor gave her a small smile then resumed their conversation. Amren gave her a wink and Rhys a dip of his head.

Feyre patted the seat next to her and Nesta moved. She didn’t see if he had greeted her and told herself that she didn’t care if he did or not. She didn't want to look at him and yet — Nesta's eyes betrayed her as she took her seat and found that he was staring at her.

She flushed and quickly lowered her eyes to her plate, hating that he could see how she felt and the look he had given her.

Confusion. Longing.

He had no right to look at her that way.

Nesta gripped the fork and swallowed. She really didn’t want to be angry today. She was tired of being angry. All she wanted was a peaceful evening with the group. For once.

“You look nice, Nesta. The color suits you.”

Feyre’s voice shook her out of her thoughts and she flushed again, looking at her younger sister who was smiling at her.

“Oh. Thank you.” Nesta answered quietly, aware that his eyes were still on her. So, Nesta turned to look her sister over. “You look nice as well...you always do.”

Feyre’s smile widened and she reached out to Nesta’s free hand and squeezed. “Thanks, Nes.” she replied and Nesta gave her a small smile. “But I have to say, out of us sisters, you bring out something special in everything that you wear.”

Nesta chuckled. “Is this High Lady sweet talk?”

“Maybe.” Feyre said with a laugh. “I mean it though!”

“Guess Rhys really has influenced you in every way.”

“Oh no, sister in law,” Rhysand interrupted, leaning close enough to nudge Feyre with his shoulder. “Your sister’s mouth was always wicked. You should hear the things she says behind closed doors.”

“I most definitely don’t want to hear about that.” Nesta replied with a snort as Feyre shoved Rhys with a huff, causing him to laugh.

Conversation resumed around the table as the food was served but Nesta’s eyes turned back to the High Lord and Lady and her gaze softened. They have been through hell and back and Feyre — it hit Nesta again how young Feyre had been when everything had happened...her youngest sister deserved all the happiness in the world. She deserved a love like this and the life she dreamed of.

Nesta took a small bite from her meal as her eyes drifted to her other sister and her mate. It had taken Elain a bit to adjust to Lucien in her life but he had been patient and kind in every way. Nesta would always give him credit for that despite her reservations. The two were wrapped up in each other, deep in conversation and though Nesta had been very wary of him, she couldn’t deny how well they matched. How well they got along. Elain had been looking for the sun and found it in Lucien. This, of course, didn’t stop Nesta from calling him names but she was nicer to him — for Elain’s sake.

She let her eyes fall back to her plate and held back a sigh. Her sisters were well adjusted and moving forward with themselves. But she? She didn’t fit any mold. She couldn’t adjust.

Her fingers tightened around the fork again and she knew why she couldn’t adjust. The reason was sitting at this table.

The powers that the Cauldron had given her had stopped bothering her. She was able to take baths without trouble now and she was getting used to her body, happy with it. Nesta had fallen in love with Velaris and had even started volunteering at the library because she loved it so much but connecting with others? That had been more difficult.

After everything had settled down postwar, Nesta had pulled both her sisters in a room and the three finally talked. About everything. They had let it all out. It had resulted in yelling and a lot of tears but when the three of them lay in bed together that night, a reminder of the one other time they had, a large weight had been lifted off each of their shoulders, especially Nesta’s. It had been a chance for her to start over with the others. And she had.

Rhysand was easier to talk to then she had previously expected. Azriel’s presence was more comforting. Mor’s personality bright and warm though a little awkwardness still remained. Amren was still her favorite just because she put up with everyone just about as much as Nesta did. She and Lucien had even found common ground.

But him.

Him.

He was a problem.

Nesta’s gut tightened and she placed her fork back on the table. It was getting harder and harder to be around him. They hadn’t talked. If anything, they danced around each other; sometimes he avoided her and sometimes she avoided him

She found herself torn in two directions with him. One that shouted Why should I care? He means nothing to me. While the other shouted back, He does matter to you. You were going to die with him. He means more to you than you think.

Nesta shook her and picked up her fork again. She’d try to act normal. At least until she figured out when she could find a place to hide away in for a while.

“Nesta, you alright?”

Nesta turned to look at Feyre, who was giving her a concerned look and Nesta gave her another small smile.

“I’m okay. Just thinking.” she replied. “But I want to ask you something when you have a minute.”

“Of course.”

~

Once dinner had finally ended and Nesta and Cassian tiptoed around each other to the point of pain, she was practically begging Feyre to move away from the group.

“I...want out for a bit.”

Feyre blinked at her statement. “Alright. What...did you have in mind?”

Nesta bit her lip then held out her hands with a shrug. “I don’t know. Somewhere where I can just think.” she said, her tone clipped. “Somewhere where I can just…”

Not feel so lonely.

Not have to see him.

“I just...is there a place? To...gather myself?” Nesta finished quietly and Feyre gave her a soft smile.

“I know just the place.”

~

Nesta stepped into the cabin and her gaze was drawn right to the eyes painted above her. She swallowed when they reached the hazel ones she knew were meant to be his.

She turned back to Feyre who watched her quietly. “What is this place?”

Feyre chuckled then took a seat on the couch. “This cabin has been a refuge for us all at some point.” she said, smiling fondly as she glanced around at all the paintings she had done. “It’s a place to be ourselves.”

Nesta nodded then pointed to the eyes painted above the archway. “I’m assuming this is your work.”

“Yes.” she replied and stood up, walking over to her sister. “I came here the day I found out that Rhys was my mate. He knew. Mor and Amren knew but he hadn’t told me and I...freaked out.”

Nesta’s eyes shifted from the hazel ones on the wall to her sister, who was running a hand through her hair.

“I was here for some time, figuring myself out before he came and we talked.” Feyre continued. “Then I accepted the bond and...here we are.”

Nesta’s lip twitched. “I’m assuming every surface here has been violated by you and Rhys?”

Feyre gave her sister a look and then rolled her eyes. “While you’re here, this place is spelled to provide you with all your needs. All you have to do is think it.”

“Anything?” Nesta asked with a raised brow.

“I believe so.” Feyre replied with a identical brow raise.

Nesta’s lips twitched again as she thought about how much she just absolutely needed a box of chocolates at this very moment. Her eyes widened in delight as a box materialized on the table and Feyre laughed.

“You know, I hadn’t thought of chocolate.”

Nesta just shook her head and smiled. “Chocolate, sister, is always a priority.”

“I’ll check on you after three days?” Feyre asked with a smile and Nesta shook her head.

“Seven.”

“A week? You sure?”

“Positive...Thank you, Feyre.”

Feyre only gave her a smile then walked over to Nesta and gave her a tight hug that she gently returned, squeezing her little sister. “If you need me before, the cabin will provide you with a paper and pen that’ll send me a message. Enjoy.”

Nesta turned to look over the cabin again as the door closed and Feyre left. Her eyes fell back on the hazel ones painted above and she let out a sigh.

Maybe she should’ve talked to him sooner. But now there was too much time between them. Maybe the distance would be a good thing.

No matter. She thought to herself as she explored, box of chocolates in her hand. I’ve come to just enjoy myself. I won’t think about him.

The first two days, that mindset worked. She spent it dipped in a glorious bubble bath with water that stayed warm, reading. She read in the tub, she read in the bed, she read in front of the fire. She had sat in different flowy and soft dresses with her hair hanging loosely down her back for the first time in years.

By the third day, it got a little trickier. Her eyes kept flickering back to his hazel ones on the wall and she huffed, annoyed. She didn’t want to think of him. It had been too long since she’d had peace and quiet to herself where she can just enjoy her time. She read her books, watched the snow fall through the window with her cups of hot cocoa and chocolate then soaked in the bath some more. She wondered if he thought of her.

Nesta’s face flushed, thinking of him while lying in a bath. Naked. She wondered if he had ever thought of her that way.

He’s a pig. Of course he has. She thought to herself. Then said it out loud since no one could hear her. This caused her to scowl. He wasn’t a pig but he was a male. And she was beautiful.

“Why am I even having this argument with myself?” she muttered, later that day as she wrapped a blanket around herself, trying to sleep. “I don’t need him.”

~

“I need wine.”

Sure enough, a soft thud on the table told her her needs had been met on the fourth day of her retreat and she grinned in delight.

“Thank you, oh wondrous cabin.”

Grabbing the bottle, she padded to the couch by the window and sat, curling her legs underneath her. She had opted for just the leggings and a sweater instead of her usual dresses and Nesta felt absolutely scandalous. Popping the cork, she took a swing straight from the bottle and held it in front of her.

“You have indeed unleashed yourself, Nesta.” she spoke aloud to herself after she drained half the bottle. “Leggings...wine straight from the bottle...boxes and boxes of chocolate...and hair not once in a braid. You uncivilized swine.”

Then she burst into giggles. Oh she was enjoying herself. And not once, had she thought of him.

She scowled as her eyes instantly went to his hazel ones painted above.

“Well now I’m thinking of you, you stupid brute.”

Nesta downed the rest of the bottle and then stood up as another appeared on the table.

“You stupid, dumb, handsome bat.” she hissed, pointing a finger at his hazel eyes before grabbing the second bottle and popping it open. “I let you kiss me. I saved your life! I was going to die for you!”

She took another swing and shuddered gently. “I was going to die for you and you couldn’t even talk to me afterwards.” she whispered.

Nesta spent the rest of that day, wrapped in the bed, wine and chocolate in hand. Thinking about all the ways the two of them had failed each other.

~

The morning of the fifth day, Nesta woke slowly. She washed her face, her mouth, and ran her fingers through her loose hair. Maybe she would wear it down more often. It looked so nice.

She made herself some breakfast and as she sat down to eat, her eyes once again flickering to his hazel ones.

“I don’t hate you.” she said, after she had swallowed her first bite. “I just wish we didn’t have to be so awkward. I wish we could talk things through without feeling like I’m doing to die.”

That day was spent between the pages of a book, with more chocolate and wine but Nesta was distracted, her thoughts from the previous night haunting her.

Maybe she did need him. A lot more than she would want to admit.

She was terrified. When had he grown to be this important to her? When?

One moment they were going to throttle each other and the next, they were going to walk through death together.

Nesta wanted to be wrapped in his arms and never let go but she also wanted to punch him in the face. She wanted to talk to him but what if he didn’t want to talk to her?

She thought of the look he had given her a few days ago at dinner. What did that mean if he didn’t follow up with action?

Why was he longing for her when he couldn’t even speak to her?

Nesta had tried. But he always ran off.

To Mor. To Azriel. To Rhys. To Feyre.

Which was fine. They were his friends and family, after all.

But he never came to her.

And why did it bother her so much?

“Because I love him and I hate that he might not love me back.” she whispered into the night, curled on her side in a ball, blinking back tears that were threatening to escape.

She was used to feeling unwanted and disliked. What if it was just that one thing driving him? Like it drives all males? Like Thomas.

Nesta sniffled then rolled her eyes at her own thoughts. Cassian was nothing like that heaping pile of trash. Cassian was ten times the man that Thomas could ever hope to be.

And yet. Doubt drowned her. Why? Why would he be attracted to her? She wasn’t the most likable person and Nesta was fine with that. So why was he attracted to her? Was it because they were meant to be more and that was it?

She fell asleep, her dreams bringing out all the things she didn’t dare voice aloud to anyone, especially herself.

Cassian was the biggest need of all.

~

She jolted awake at the loud thud that came from the front door. Quickly, she washed her face and mouth and smoothed her hair as she cautiously approached the door.

Had Feyre come early?

Slowly, she opened the door, half hiding behind it and her eyes widened as she took in Cassian, standing in front of her, a confused look on his face.

The walls she had let down the past few days came rising back up instantly and Nesta narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I...don’t know.” he answered, scratching his head. “One minute I’m eating breakfast in the townhouse and the next I’m here.”

Nesta stared him down. She could invite him in and they could talk...but she could also invite him in and then he wouldn’t talk and it’ll make everything worse and then —

Fear won and Nesta snarled at him, “Well, go away! I don’t want you here!”

He glared at her then spat, “Fine.” Launching himself into the sky and far, far away from her.

She shut the door and stood against it, breathing in and out.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” she mumbled and paced around for a few minutes. That had been so stupid of her. Why hadn’t she just let him in? They needed to talk.  Cassian wasn’t a bad person. He wouldn’t try to hurt her on purpose.

“But your feelings have been hurt by him multiple times.” she said, convincing herself and then paused. “But you also hurt his feelings.”

She groaned then let out a growl of frustration. “You hurt everyone’s feelings, Nesta!”

“Nes?”

Her head whipped towards the door and the muffled voice that called her name.

He was back.

Why?

Slowly, she went to the door again and opened it slightly. “What?” she asked quietly and Cassian crossed his arms, giving her a smirk.

“You do know this house is spelled to provide you with whatever you need, right?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes, cheeks flushing, catching onto what he meant. “Yes. What I need is peace and quiet. You will provide me with neither. So go away.”

The two stared at each other for a few minutes before Cassian sighed.

“I can’t.” he said softly. “We need to talk.”

“Do we now?” she snarled softly. “What changed your mind?”

He rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here unless you needed me. And I’ve been looking for some way for us to talk for weeks. I need you too...Can I come in? Please?”

She stared at him and bit her lip. A few minutes ago she was yelling about pushing him away...maybe this time…

“Fine.”

Nesta moved away from the door and Cassian let himself in, surveying the room and Nesta felt how his eyes fell on her — her leggings — the hair —

“Shit, Nes.”

Her cheeks flushed again and she self-consciously started braiding her hair again but he gently reached out to stop her. “I — I didn’t have time to change...I just woke up.” she said lamely but he continued to stare.

“I...You look beautiful in everything but…,” he started, taking in the lower half of her body that was usually hidden by her dresses. “I love the casual on you.”

She scowled, more at herself for enjoying the compliment than at him for giving her one. “Thank you.” she said stiffly.

The two stood awkwardly staring at each other and Nesta willed herself not to huff as his hand fell from hers.

“So…” Cassian said, lightly tapping his fist to his side as he scanned the room and she flushed as his eyes fell towards the many wine bottles and boxes of chocolate she had stacked in a neat pile of trash.

“So.”

“Did you have breakfast yet?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting at her clipped tone.

“No.”

“Good. I’ll make us some since someone interrupted my breakfast.” he said with a grin and moved past her.  She instantly curled her fists and glared at him.

“That wasn’t my fault. This stupid cabin doesn’t know what I meant.”

Cassian turned to look at her from his spot behind the counter with a raised brow. “And what exactly did you mean, sweetheart?”

Her glare remained as she took a seat, watching him move about as if he did this every day.

“You know how to cook?”

Cassian looked over his shoulder and chuckled. “Yes. I enjoy it.” he replied. “Answer my question.”

Nesta pursed her lips. “I was just thinking about everyone else eating breakfast. I didn’t expect anyone to actually come here.”

Cassian grinned and Nesta couldn’t decide if she wanted to kiss his mouth or punch it.

“Now, now, Nesta. You don’t have to lie. It’s okay to say you missed me and wanted my company.”

She snorted and her anger flared up. “We’ve ignored each other completely for the past few weeks. Why would I miss you?”

This made Cassian pause and she watched his expression fall before turning back to his kitchen duty.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Nesta’s anger died down at those words and she watched him, biting her lip. This was why she should stay away. She didn’t really know how to be nice. Or how to be soft. She wouldn’t even know how to try and be that for him if she wanted to. If he wanted her to.

Cassian turned and his eyes met hers, taking in her expression and Nesta quickly looked away. She didn’t want him to know how badly she was battling herself. But it was like he knew. He always knew.

“You know, I learned how to cook from Rhys’s mom.” he said into the silence that followed his previous statement and Nesta looked up at him as he shuffled around the small kitchen. “She taught me all the basic things. As a bastard little nobody, you took every learning opportunity you could get. Never know when it’ll benefit you.”

He gave her a half smile at that and Nesta bit back her own.

“When I got older and had my own place, I took it upon myself to learn how to cook as many things as I could.” He continued and she watched him. “It became a way for me to relax. I’ve had a lot of fun with it.”

And because she scared he would see how endearing she found him in this moment, she cleared her throat and said, “Are you actually any good?”

He laughed softly then turned to give her a wink. “I guess we’ll find out in a little bit, won’t we?”

She glared at him again until he turned back around then Nesta let her eyes soften, drinking in his every movement.

I could get used to this.

No you can’t, Nesta. Shut up.

But he knows how to cook...and he looks so good doing it.

So? You can’t even talk to him properly.

We don’t have to talk. We can just be.

That’s stupid, Nesta. Get it together. He’s been here for two minutes.

But he’s so handsome. And he’s actually kind.

He’s stupid.

No he’s not.

Shut up, please.

You like him.

Shut up.

You love him.

Shut. Up. Nesta.

“You don’t need to tell yourself to shut up, Nes. I could do that for you.”

Nesta’s cheeks burned as she realized the last part of her inner monologue had been blurted out.

“Shut your fat mouth.” she hissed at him and he just gave her his shit-eating grin as he started to set the table.

“Was that directed towards you or me this time?”

“You, you annoying bat.” she snapped and he had the audacity to chuckle.

Cassian rolled his eyes as he paused and leaned against the table. “Tell me, Nesta, have you been talking to yourself the whole time you’ve been here? That’s not a good sign.”

It was Nesta’s turn to roll her eyes. “Mind your business.”

“That’s what happens when your diet consists of wine and chocolate. You start to lose it.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Don’t worry, Cassian is here to give you the good stuff.”

“Nothing good comes from you.”

“Can’t decide that till you’ve actually tried it, Nes.”

“Don’t make me throw something at you.”

“I’ll even let you decide which good stuff you want first, my body or the food.”

She snorted and glared at him yet again, as he laughed.

“Am I starting to annoy you, Nesta? You know you’re being really mean to me. I’m being a good person and making you breakfast but you’re not being nice.”

“I’m not nice.”

“Yes, you are.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know you more than you think.”

Nesta scoffed. “You know nothing.”

Cassian pursed his lips then turned from her, settling the food on two plates and it was then, with his back to her that she let herself frown.

She was so fucken scared. Nesta was so scared to be nice for one moment and the worst to come from it. She was awful to him. Awful to everyone. Why would he stay? What could he possibly want?

She blinked when a plate full of delicious looking food was placed in front of her and Nesta almost groaned in delight at the smell.

“Thank you.” she said quietly, her eyes on the plate. She heard Cassian’s chair shuffle and then him as he settled himself, his eyes glued on her.

“You’re welcome.”

A silence fell between them again, neither one of them touching their plates.

What would she say? She had thought about all the things she would or could say to him the past few days and yet, here he was in front of her and all the words had abandoned her.

“Nesta, look at me.”

She bit her lip and blinked rapidly. It was so damn hard to resist him, especially when he spoke to her like that. Softly, tenderly, with such care.

“Why?” she whispered to him, meeting his gaze. “Why are you here? Why do you care?”

“Because I love you.”

He said it so simply. As if it wouldn’t tear her in two. As if they were the easiest words to fall off his lips.

“Why?” she managed to choke out and he gave her a small smile.

“Because you drive me crazy.” he replied, again, simply. As if he was just stating the obvious truth.

Nesta felt the tears building up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

“You just like the challenge.” she said, her tone tight. “The chase.”

“Yes, that’s true. I do like those.” he said with a nod and she shot him an incredulous look.

“So that’s what it is? A game?” she hissed, hating herself that her walls were so thin her bottom lip was trembling, even as her hands curled into fists on the table. “A game to see if you could win over the ice queen? The bitchy, vicious Nesta?”

His hand quickly crossed the table to grip hers but she pulled back, shooting up from her seat as though she’d been burned.

“I — I — we were going to die together!” she snarled, her eyes wild. “I wanted to sacrifice myself for you and you — you — all this is just because you want what doesn’t want you!”

“That’s not true.” he growled at her, shooting up from his own seat and making his way to her. “I wasn’t finished.”

“I don’t care!”

“But I do!” and his snarl shook the mountains around them and rendered her silent as she watched him. Nesta watched as he glanced at her with pain and panic in his eyes, his hands running through his hair, eyes darting all over the room as if trying to find a place to settle.

“I love you. I love you to the point — I have a hard time breathing when I’m away from you, Nesta.” he said quietly. “I love that you challenge me. You keep me on my toes. You’re smart, beautiful, and powerful. You’re blunt and honest. You don’t take shit from anyone and I love that about you.”

He ran a hand through his hair again and met her eyes this time.

“I see you. All of you. I see how this scares you. The idea of us.” he continued and shuddered. “I know you felt something between us the moment we met. When you were still human. I couldn’t stay away from you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was awful.”

“No, you weren’t.” he replied, moving closer to her. “You love fiercely and that makes you a force to be reckoned with. You feel everything so much to the point that you think it’s too much and then deny anyone else from seeing you feel those things. But I see you, Nesta. I see it all. And I want you to share that with me. Let me in, Nesta.”

Nesta glanced at him and let the words he was saying sink in. She hadn’t realized tears had started streaming down her face till then and she furiously wiped them away.

“But you stopped talking to me.” she whispered, looking at him angrily through her tears. “I — I wanted this. I wanted you! But you...you made it clear you didn’t want me.”

He shook his head and moved even closer to her, till his hands came up to cup her face. “No...I was scared and embarrassed. I thought you would be better off without me.”

She scoffed and pulled away, wiping the fresh tears on her face. “Why would you think that?”

“I failed you. Multiple times. I failed you.” he whispered and Nesta saw the haunted look in his face. “Every promise I made you, I broke it. I couldn’t save you, I couldn’t protect you. What would you want with me?”

“I want everything with you, you stupid brute!” she snarled. “You’re my mate!”

Cassian froze and Nesta took that time to try and control her heavy breathing.

“You know?” he asked hoarsely.

“Of course.” she spat. “The moment right before the meeting with the High Lords. You felt it too. I know you did.”

“I...wasn’t sure you had. I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“You idiot.” she snapped and started punching every bit of him she could find. “That’s — when — everything — changed! We became more!”

Cassian took her punches like a champ; felt like nothing to him. He glanced at her in her fury then quickly grabbed her hands, halting her attack.

They locked eyes, the intensity between them hot enough, it could’ve melted the snow surrounding them. And for all her wrath, for all her anger and spite — it all died down when he looked at her that way.

Softly, tenderly, so full of love.

“I’m sorry.” he said again. “I’m sorry that I was a misguided coward, choosing to think that staying away from you would be easier for us both.”

She froze and he continued.

“I’m sorry that I let you think for one moment, that I wasn’t deeply and hopelessly in love with you. Because I am.” he said. “I see all of you. All your rage and all your love. I see your heart, Nesta. And I want it all. I love you and would be honored to be your mate till the darkness dies. If you’ll have me.”

Nesta stared at him and felt her whole body trembling, her composure crumbling. She shook her head.

“I...I — ” she took a deep breath and looked at him. “I’m sorry that I was a coward too...and I’m sorry for all the awful things I said. I — I don’t know how to do this. I want it all. I want it with you. But I’m scared — I’m terrified — I —”

Cassian cut her off, taking both her hands in his again, his wings fluttering behind him. “I’m scared too. But we’ll figure it out together.” he said so softly and silver lined her eyes again.

It took her a moment to speak and when she did, her voice was barely a whisper.

“Will you be patient with me?” she asked, sniffling. “You won’t...leave?”

Cassian smiled at her tenderly, curling a hair behind her ear. He leaned down and kissed away at her tears, causing Nesta to shudder.

“We’ll go as slow as you need, love.” he said gently. “I’m here with you, Nesta. I want it all. They could drag my body away in pieces and I’d still try to find my way back to you.”

Nesta pulled back and looked Cassian over. This was real. He was here. He was her mate. And he wanted to stay. Her eyes drank him in and he watched her with a small smile on his face.

“I love you.” she said quietly and she felt him melt in her hands.

Cassian wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her close to him and before she knew it, his lips were on hers. Their kiss was everything she had wanted and dreamed about since the moment his lips were on her neck all that time ago. Her fingers fisted around the front of his tunic and gripped, not wanting to let him go as she deepened the kiss. One of Cassian’s hands came up to the back of her neck as he dipped her back lightly, their kiss becoming all tongue and light bites and Nesta fought back a moan.

When Cassian’s lips moved to her neck, goosebumps erupted on her body and a soft whimper escaped her lips.

“Cassian.” she whispered and slowly — very slowly, Cassian came to a stop and pulled her back upright, their hands still firmly wrapped around each other.

He gave her a smirk. “Guess you picked which good stuff you wanted to try first, huh Nes?”

She narrowed her eyes at him causing his smirk to turn into a grin. “Don’t make me smack you senseless, you intolerable bat.”

“You’ve already knocked me off my feet, oh mighty Nesta. Go for it.” he challenged and a small smile found its way to her lips. Nesta stared at him again and he gave her a sweet smile in return.

Leaning up, she cupped his face gently then placed a soft kiss on his lips, then another, and then another.

“Till the darkness dies?” she repeated to him and he leaned down to give her a tender kiss.

“Till the darkness dies, sweetheart.”

#nessian #nessian fanfic #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar fanfiction #gfics #fic: till the darkness dies

[shinakkyo]

wednesday x tyler canon-divergence au wip

i wanted to write my own version of “what if wednesday managed to get out of jericho in ep. 01” fic, mostly as an excuse to write about tyler getting to be actually weird and the addams mansion (my beloved). i also wanted to try writing a multi-chaptered fic again instead of a long one-shot, to like reeeeeally explore the slow burn and to devote time to write about the house as a proper character (did i mention i love her?).

this fic will probably be rated M or E, but it starts pretty tame :)

please lmk your thoughts!!

cw: derogatory language, torture, death (canon typical, not overly graphic)

In some other reality, one that is bloodier in that teenage-drama-show way, Wednesday bumps into someone while scurrying through the Harvest Festival with the sheriff’s son, and it triggers a vision that makes her change her goals of Getting Out of Jericho to Preventing a Killing, and, instead of leaving behind this town threaded with her parent’s memories, she lives out her own murder mystery story, with enough twists and plot holes that any publisher would delight in turning into a full trilogy, under a signed contract that made sure the author died in obscurity and full of debt. 

Wouldn’t that be a dream come true. 

But as it stands, she is on Tyler Galpin’s passenger seat, watching the city’s lights fade amidst the trees as they drive to the nearest train station, with Thing attempting to play hangman with her on the condensation building on the window. She is only paying attention to him halfheartedly, losing on purpose even though she knew at first glance the word was “fratricide”; there are things mildly more pressing at the moment, like the anxious clenching and unclenching of Tyler’s hands on the steering wheel that looks calculated to make Wednesday demand him to stop that. And thus start a conversation.

Just when she thought the uncomfortable silence between them was getting to the good part.

He sighs an apology and takes a big breath to calm his nerves down, relaxing his posture, and Wednesday thinks that will be the end of his little show as the resident Anguished Small Town Boy, but she catches him sneaking a glance at her, and really, it was dreadfully naïve of her to expect anything else; she knows that she might as well be the equivalent to a haunted paperback edition of a Ripley’s Believe It or Not! anthology to someone like him. 

“Can I ask you something? Yes, other than this.”  There is a hint of a smirk on his lips when he catches the way Wednesday’s eyes shift from capricious antagonism to quiet amusement at his quick amendment. She nods, and he looks back at the road, the cliché maneuver to feign nonchalance that Wednesday didn’t think she’d see in person so soon.

“Was Nevermore that bad? I mean, I get wanting to leave Jericho as soon as you arrive in that town, but… I don’t know, the students there seem happy. Like it’s worth it all.”  There’s curiosity in his voice, but also something that sounds a little like envy, a feeling that Wednesday finds difficult to comprehend when she thinks of what in that school he could be envious of. 

She decides to entertain him, given his puzzling generosity that so far is working to her benefit. “I suppose, all high school experiences considered, it’s not quite as vexing.”  She pauses, focusing her look on his profile so their eyes meet, and holds a stare contest that he, naturally, loses. “The student body was just full of your common American high school clichés, though. Teenagehood is the same whether you’re a normie or a gorgon, after all.” 

Tyler frowns in confusion, mouthing to himself what the fuck is a gorgon while looking at the road, and it makes the corner of Wednesday’s lips twitch minutely in what only an Addams could tell was a smile, her expression remaining neutral to anyone else. The time she spent in Jericho was enough to have her thinking like a simple minded girl when she observes that there was something about this boy that made him feel more deserving of her attention than most, enough to prompt her to ask a question to keep the conversation going.

“And you? Why is that the sheriff’s son is so angst-filled over his provincial hometown that he would aid an outcast in her escape, but not go away himself?”  The question apparently surprises him, his eyes widening as his hands clench around the steering wheel once again. Wednesday waits for his answer but she’s getting bored by the minute with this, there’s not much he could say that would be actually interesting, and she doesn’t really care about the mundane day-to-day drama of small towns built on racist history. 

He relaxes again after they pass a sign with the directions to the train station, some miles away from them still. “There’s not much to it, really. I spent a year at a boot camp for… misguided behavior, now I guess I’m repenting. It’s hard to just leave when your dad is the sheriff, too.”  Wednesday catches him glancing at her, searching for a reaction, probably wanting to see shock or surprise on her face. There’s a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes when he doesn’t find it, and Wednesday takes pity on him just for her own continued amusement, taking the bait.

“What exactly was your misguided behavior? Did you kill someone?”  Another car passes by them at that moment, and for a second there’s an unnatural flash of red on Tyler’s eyes, but his expression is relaxed and amused, like he thinks Wednesday’s question was a joke and he didn’t think she was capable of those, so she dismisses the red in his eyes as a reflection of light. “No, actually… I destroyed a Nevermore student’s mural and beat him up, for no reason other than being stupid, I guess.” His self-deprecating tone takes a bitter turn when he continues: “There were others with me, those guys bothering you at the Weathervane, but I was the one who got blamed for everything.” 

That was exactly the kind of meaningless misdeed Wednesday expected to hear, something so completely abecedarian when it came to the typical activities of a high school boy that she couldn’t help but huff in amusement. At least her short stay in Jericho entertained her with its microcosmic banality, as if she had spent her week at a theme park of stale white bread americana, reminiscent of that summer camp she went to as a child. 

They could see the signs pointing towards the train station now, more lights coming into view the closer they got, and as Tyler was doing a right turn to get to the station’s parking lot, his phone flashed with a notification from where it was sitting inside the cup holder. “Can you check what that was for me? If it’s a text just tell me who the sender is.”  He looked worried, and Wednesday supposed that maybe they were already past his curfew, she wasn't paying attention to the time.

She reached out to pick up his phone at the same time he reached out to change gears, and in that fraction of a second where their hands touched, an electric current replaced the blood in her veins, lighting her up like her least favorite electric chair, and the last thing she felt before her vision went black was Thing, running up her arm trying to keep her head upright as she passed out.

She doesn’t recognize this place.

Rough stone walls with unnatural scratch marks, the putrid-sweet smell of decay, specks of dust glittering in the air when she looks around and hears before she sees a figure— curled up against a corner, heavy chains around its neck, ankles and wrists, breathing erratically.

She gets closer to it, the sound of her footsteps echoing loudly in this cave-like place, as if she was trying to make herself noticed and intimidating at the same time, and the figure against the wall curls up even more, making himself smaller. She's close enough now to see it’s a boy, naked and covered in a thin veil of sweat, with red distressed marks where the chains are rough against his skin, and needle-like punctures on his arms. 

Wednesday stands right in front of him and lifts his face up with the toe of her boot, a bright red that makes her want to itch with allergies, and Tyler Galpin looks back at her, hair disheveled and eyes red from tears but hollow with fear, his pupils dilated as if he was high. She doesn’t understand—

“Well, you were useless after all. I should’ve known, and yet I put my trust in you—” She gets interrupted by a slurred mantra of “sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry” from Tyler, his voice small and hoarse, and kicks him on his throat, making him choke and gasp when the chains pull against his neck with the impact. 

Why is she saying these things? That was not her voice, but she knows it, she—

“Did I give you permission to speak? Like this you’re no better than any of those other freaks, did you know that? I’m so disappointed, honey.” Her tone is deceptively sweet but her words are cold, cutting, and Tyler looks up at her with hope and then confusion, like a trained dog thinking he’ll be taken for a walk, only to find himself at the veterinarian to get neutered. 

She thinks she sees a reflection of copper hair in his eyes, but she can’t remember—

There’s a syringe in her hand now, and she can actually smell the fear and panic in Tyler’s sweat, acidic and salty mixed with the distinctive iron of the blood now dripping from where the chains cut into his skin. He’s shaking like a cornered animal, and Wednesday feels her mouth curl in a saccharine smile when she gets close to him.

There’s no way her face could pull such an expression, she’s physically incapable of it, no way, no—

“In the end that girl left you, didn’t she? See how nobody wants you close? How you’re only good as a tool, as a toy? And yet you had the audacity to betray me. Honestly, baby boy, you did this to yourself.” 

She holds him by his chin, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone in mocking tenderness, catching a tear in her manicured nail, while her other hand pushes the needle deep into his neck, and his eyes go from wet and pleading to a dull emptiness in a matter of seconds.

Wednesday chuckles as she sees his wrists falling limp to his sides, and a hint of blue tinging his lips.

The sound of a body slamming down on the ground and the rattling of chains echo in the cave.

#fic writing #wyler wip #wyler fanfiction #weyler fanfiction #wednesday x tyler #wyler #weyler #wiawy #whenever i'm alone with you

[hanasnx]

chronicles | "pieces."

WC: 0.8k | CHARACTERS: anakin skywalker SUMMARY: anakin skywalker must face his greatest trial in order to advance in his spiritual journey. WARNINGS: no x-reader | angst no comfort | canon divergent

Only the dead know true peace. Corpses described as “peaceful” once they’ve been laid to rest on the funeral pyre. At a time, all he wished for was to know peace. Yet, cruelly, it remains out of his reach. No matter how he stretches and writhes, how he calls out to it, it will not falter. It cannot bend to his will. Nary an enemy he’s faced that did not yield, that did not pay the ultimate price for opposing him. A titan among ants, squashed underneath the heel of his boot. Perhaps, this is his punishment. Eternal darkness that spreads farther than the ends of the universe.

And he, at the lonely center of it.

There’s no sense of time here. None that he can recall or calculate. His memories coil and dissipate like smoke, a distant dream. He holds on tight. Has he been here eons?

Who are you?

Like a clap of thunder, those words echo and rumble. A wave of anger surges and washes over him, swept up in a current that he can’t ground. Where is his body? Where is his flesh? It feels as though he is going everywhere all at once.

“Who’s there?” he demands, whirling around as he hastily gathers his wits. An enemy, an enemy is here. A task to focus on, a stranger to burn. “Answer me. I have been waiting and now you choose to reveal yourself to me? Do you cower? Answer me!”

Who are you?

Louder than before, the question is repeated, and his frustrations rise. The red heat inside him scorches to charcoal as he widens himself, flaring up to appear larger than life, indomitable. “Hear me before it is too late, why am I here?”

He waits. The presence he felt mere seconds ago recedes and he unclenches.

“Wait,”

A plea, softer than a whisper. Too weak to kick up the ashy remnants of his initial hate.

“Wait, come back. I don’t want to be alone!” He moves in the direction he believes the source to be. It can’t have gotten far, and it is his only path to discovering more about where he’s been imprisoned.

Who are you?

It rings again, but in a level voice he recognizes. Someone calm and collected. He can’t place it. Yet it compels him to speak before he can stop himself, lest it abandon him again.

“I don’t know.” he answers.

He doesn’t know? He doesn’t know. How can he not know? Has he retreated that far into himself? He doesn’t know.

He looks above him, turning in his stead as he hears a thousand murmuring noises deliberate over him.

He lies.

Paralyzed, it’s as though he cannot defend himself as they hiss their disapproval. It slinks and slithers into his ears. He doubts his company once again. Gravely reminding him all of those who stood above him in his waking life.

Deceit. The broken promises of a true Sith Lord. Your name, what’s your name? Give me your name, Sith Lord. Tell me your name.

The commands grow in volume, and he can sense their discontent. How restlessly they push him out, pressure on all sides of him as he fights to stay standing.

Your name! Your name! Tell me your name! incessant and unbearable pestering.

Strength gradually manifests, fanned by their maddening demands. “I can’t!” he shouts. It is deathly quiet.

Then prove yourself. Face him. Yes, yes, face him. You must face him.

“Who?”

Face him, face him. You must face him. a chant that is nothing short of alarming, cold fire licking at the soles of his feet at the prickling realization of who they summon.

“I can’t!” he pleas.

We don’t trust you.

“Please.”

You must face him. Face him. Face him. Do it now. Vanquish him, vanquish evil. Restore balance and vanquish—

“You put too much faith in me, I cannot!”

You will! You must. Do it now.

Their orders build louder and louder, amplifying to resound in his skull even while he covers his ears. “Enough!” he begs, sharp pain shooting through him as he recoils, collapsing within himself. The space around him filling as he’s overpowered.

Silence. The wretched noise of a familiar breath. He’s stunned.

Therein lies the physical accumulation of a being so powerful it runs him cold. Fear, tepid and staggering fear grips him as a silhouette comes into focus and he stumbles backwards.

“I’m not afraid of you!” he chokes out, an invisible force against his neck, closing up his throat.

He lies. He lies again. The liar. Liar.

Liar. Liar. Liar.

He drops to his knees. The smooth surface hard against him as he throws himself to the ground, applying his forehead to it in his grovel. Sobs, violent sobs wrack him. Spit spews as he desperately interjects, “My name is Anakin—! The name my mother called me, my name is Anakin.”

The form slows to a stop in front of him. Darth Vader draws his weapon, and it bleeds red.

“We meet again, Anakin Skywalker.”

#indy: drabbles #ch: anakin #anakin skywalker drabble #sw #star wars #anakin skywalker fanfiction #darth vader #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker #anakin angst #anakin skywalker angst #anakin #angst no comfort #anakin fic #anakin skywalker fanfic #force ghost anakin #anakin fanfiction #dv #anakin fanfic #darth vader drabble #darth vader fic #not ship #darth vader fanfiction #darth vader fanfic #not x reader #sw fanfiction #star wars fanfic #sw fanfic #darth vader angst #darth vader imagine

[myers-meadow]

Jason Voorhees x reader: A Strawberry Summer

Summary: You've always dreamed of having your own little fruit and vegetable garden, and now that Camp Crystal Lake is no longer open for visitors the time seemed perfect. When a disturbance comes to the Camp, it is dealth with, but not without cost.

Or: In which you and Jason build a fence.

My first and only Jason fic, written for a friend.

Content/warnings: implied canon-typical violence. Fluff. No warnings.

Wordcount: 1594

Ao3 link.

Divider by @/firefly-graphics.

June, and already humid. Dew rested on blades of grass in the space around the cabin. During earlier years, the first tourists would have arrived by now to pester the legend of Jason. But the blades of grass laid undisturbed and Camp Crystal Lake was peaceful. You swung your legs over the wooden bedframe with a good feeling. All effort of this winter was paying off, and you looked to see your dearest Jason next to you, still snoring softly, face uncovered. With half a mind to wake him, you dressed.

Months ago, when the snowdrops were still blooming, Jason and you set out to build a fence and a gate, to keep out any intruders. He carried you on his shoulders, as you nailed the planks to the sturdy frame so high even Jason couldn’t reach. You could see so far, yet felt safe with Jason’s hand holding your thighs steadily whenever you reached down to pick up another plank. The chubby grey squirrels startled from their spots in the trees as you hammered away. Later they grew used to the new noises of the works the both of you did to ensure the safety and secluded nature of the Camp.

Reminiscing on the effort you put in together made you smile as you set out to check on the small garden you cultivated. Birds chirped happily, seeking mates for the summer, and the fresh greenery was delightful. The air in Camp Crystal Lake always seemed just that bit cleaner than anywhere you lived before. It was earthy, floral, and the breeze was warm. The strawberries were growing steadily, having multiplied like weeds in the early spring. You didn’t expect to find much, since each time the plants grew a fruit, the slugs were ahead of you. That day you were instead faced with a small fence of planks, knee height, and a deep gutter before it. A few sad slugs had given up their pursuit to the fruits and gnawed on some fallen leaves instead. Jason must have noticed your little war with the pesky creatures and decided to help. A warmth came over you and you clenched, unclenched your fists. You stepped over the wooden divide and crouched to see your plants. And yes! One of them had a big one, still white and unripe, but with the sun shining through the trees, that would not be long now. Elated, you set out to find your colossal partner.

            There he was, in one of the sheds behind the cabin. He was working on a fishing net, repairing little rips in the thin rope. You greeted him softly by the door, not wanting to startle him and he turned around to you. The shirt he was wearing dirty with mud and his pants were stained with algae from the lake. With sure strides and a wide smile, you walked into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his chest. He smelled of mud and of him, and immediately he tangled his hand in your hair, pressing your cheek against his chest.

“Thank you,” you said, quietly, even though you knew you didn’t need to. The longer the two of you lived like this, the more you felt the need for words slip away from you. The consideration behind his actions didn’t need words either. You hugged him tighter.

.

That summer, a month later, and you woke up in a similar fashion, once again grateful for the tall fence around the Camp. Seeing Jason so relaxed meant the world. Of course not every day was as blissful as that morning, but feeling secure at home was different, pleasant, compared to how it felt a year earlier. This season would normally be the most touristy, with visitors almost every weekend, especially when the college kids were off school. Strawberries for breakfast, to wake your lover up?

            And so you stepped over the plank, pushing down a single slug brave enough to climb the plank with the tip of your shoe, and survey the harvest. A few big ones needed a little more time in the sun and you arranged them so. Two low-hanging ones had rotted from the ground, and you picked them to throw them away, as a hopeful distraction to any more brave slugs. They never minded a little sand or rot. You almost gasped as you lifted a few leaves, because they hid more ripe fruits. Unable to stop your excitement, you plucked them one by one, letting them fall gently in the basket. With all these, you could make a cake, a classic one, with strawberries on top and jam as filling. Or slice them in two and feed them to Jason, with just a sprinkle of sugar. A strawberry jam sounded even better, but that would require even more fruit, but that would still come in August. Your mouth watered at the sight of them.

.

            The sound of voices. With a jolt, your righted your back and looked in the direction of the sound. People arguing. How could this happen? You needed to get there, to warn them off, to be there before Jason was.

It was a family of five, a heterosexual couple and three teenagers. You approached but could hear their bantering from afar. The teenagers were scattered around the parents. The youngest, a boy, kicked a rock. The elder two looked bored.

“What do you mean the map was wrong? It said so right on that sign we saw before,” said the dad.

You broke your silence, voice croaking, but you cleared your throat and started over. “Hello, can I help you?”

The family turned towards you.

“Ah, finally,” said the father, stepping towards you with solid strides. “We’re looking for the Camp that’s supposed to be around here?”

“Camp Crystal Lake?” you asked, before gesturing around you. “It used to be here, but it’s private property now. That’s what the fence is for.”

“Oh, we had no idea,” the woman said, clasping her husbands arm. “Do you know anywhere to stay the night? We came a long way, and we already have our gear with us.”

“I advise you-“

“Hey, there’s strawberries here!” one of the kids called. You must’ve lost sight of them, they were behind the bushes. When you went over to check, horrified, you saw them stuffing their faces with the small fruits, having trampled all over the fragile plants.

“That’s- that’s my garden,” you stammered, feeling tears well up at seeing your hard word disrespected like that.

After that, the day was a blur. You promptly turned around and went back to the cabin, seeking your Jason for comfort, his warm arms around you.

.

It was during the night that your partner returned to the hut, bloodied, treading heavy on the old floorboards. Immediately you knew what happened, and started the process of undressing him for a bath. It hurt to see him in pain, and the shock of discovering a large cut across his chest and arm was enough to wake you right up.

With your hand, you checked the temperature of the bath water. Jason sank down, water sloshing around, before it settled. Patiently, he sat up, not fully relaxed, so you could tend to him. There were the usual scrapes, bruises waiting to form, but that gash leaked blood like an open faucet. The first aid kit was running low in supplies, but you’d make do tonight. He never flinched when you dabbed the cotton with disinfectant on the wound, even though you were sure it would sting. Sewing him up made him uneasy, but you soothed him with sweet words, promises of a nice breakfast, of being able to rest all day tomorrow, how much you love him.

He signed, you leaned back, wiping stray hair from your face, so he had the space, “I love your voice. Please keep talking.”

It wasn’t often that he gave such clear indications of his mood, and it made you smile, happy to be the one to cheer him up. A final snip of the scissors and he was all bandaged up.

.

Jason, who could tell you weren’t feeling alright even after he was all stitched up, took you out to the lake, rather than to bed. You took a blanket to sit on.

“How did you know,” you started, “that we had visitors?”

He signed his response, “Unwanted visitors,” he corrected. “They were loud.”

“I was trying to make them leave,” you sighed. A heavy hand rested on your shoulder as you both stared out over the still lake. Crickets chirped loudly, and the frogs responded in kind, not accepting the other to have the last word. The noises of the camp were by long familiar to you, comforting even, especially on such warm summer nights as these, where there the evening breeze was refreshing. It was almost tempting to go swimming, but Jason wouldn’t come, and you’d rather stay by his side tonight.

He tapped your shoulder to make you look at him, and he signed, “Look at the moon.”

It was beautiful indeed. A large silver crescent, glowing and bathing the lake in an ethereal gleam. The reflection in the water was even larger, undisturbed and still.

Another sigh, but one of relief. Both of you were here. You clasped his hand, rubbing your thumb over the worn skin of his knuckles. Here and safe, and together. There was always next year for strawberries.

In the morning there were five fresh graves at the edge of the property.

#jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees x you #jason voorhees fluff #jason voorhees fanfic #friday the 13th #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #slasher community #jason voorhees imagine #jason voorhees drabble #friday the 13th fanfic #friday the thirteenth

[fellthemarvelous]

Aziraphale and Angel Crowley

Aziraphale was a cherub before he was a principality.

Crowley was at least a throne, dominion, or above when he was an angel.

There are several lists of angelic hierarchies, but I'm choosing to use this one because it has the ones listed in Good Omens to this point.

I know that Neil Gaiman has said that in the GO universe, there are Archangels (at the top) and there are archangels (which is honestly really confusing but it is what it is).

This page and this page provide a little more detailed information about the angelic hierarchy that I'm using for this post.

This page provides information on the angelic hierarchies for Judaism, Christianity and Islam if you want to see the differences. (Note: I'm an atheist who grew up Christian.)

Archangel Raphael was also a cherub, and I think that Aziraphale is Good Omens' version of Raphael. (I used to think Crowley was Raphael pre-fall but I have since changed my mind completely on that one, especially since Neil has said Crowley was not Raphael.)

As a cherub, Aziraphale would have been able to speak to God directly.

He was one of God's guardians as a cherub, and then God made him a guardian of humanity after Adam and Eve were cast out of Eden. He helped God with the creation of Earth and people, so it makes sense God would assign him to protect those things.

It makes sense that Aziraphale works so hard to contact God directly since he had the ability to communicate with her as a cherub.

If Crowley was a dominion (I still think he was Baraqiel whose name means Lightning of God), he would not have had the same access to God that Aziraphale had. He said he worked closely with the higher-ups, but I get the impression that Aziraphale actually outranked him.

It makes sense that Crowley would think Aziraphale's plan to talk to God wouldn't work because Crowley never got the chance to speak directly to God when he was still an angel. He never got to ask the questions he wanted to ask.

Aziraphale can do that though. We've seen Aziraphale communicate with God before, so he's going to try again.

I think we are going to find out that everyone underestimates Aziraphale, except for God. I think God put Aziraphale on Earth for a reason. Aziraphale never lost faith in God. I think he lost faith in Heaven because of the leadership. I think he intends to ask the questions Crowley never got to ask. I think he wanted to give Crowley the opportunity to ask those questions when he asked Crowley to go back to Heaven with him.

I think Crowley will finally get answers to the questions he wanted to ask before he fell.

If you're one of those people offended by theories or speculation, unclench your buttcheeks. This is just my opinion, and I generally expect to be proven wrong by canon anyway. I write these for fun because my brain won't shut up. At all. And this isn't as coherent as I would like it to be, but it is what it is.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens theories #crowley #aziraphale #if bitching about my opinion gives you some sense of joy or whatever then knock yourselves out #like i said i never expect the things i say to be remotely close to accurate for canon #i'm in a mood at the moment

[mareenavee]

WIP Whenever~

Good Wednesday, my friends! I had no idea what day it was until Winter posted lol. I love that. <3

I was tagged to do this by the lovely @thequeenofthewinter, @nuwanders and @ladytanithia! I tag the most esteemed @paraparadigm, @polypolymorph, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @elfinismsarts, @gilgamish, @kookaburra1701, @snippetsrus, @saltymaplesyrup, @dirty-bosmer, @orfeoarte, @archangelsunited, @inquisition-dragonborn, @tallmatcha, @rainpebble3 and YOU. Yes. If your tag is invisible, I still did tag you, so feel free to tag me back (: I'd love to see what you come up with!

Below the cut for some UNTITLED WIP stuff! This is a prompt fill for a prompt challenge I've got going with a handful of mutuals. This one will be for Para when I'm done.

More Ondolemar (and Varlais) this time. The story is fic-universe canon and occurs before A Heavy Truth, sometime early on in The World on Our Shoulders.

CW: Implied accident involving the Jarl of Markarth's pets.

Below the cut!

“Don’t touch anything, Varlais,” Ondolemar hissed. The fool had got himself chased into the ruins by the Jarl’s dogs and, of course, he had to be pulled from the rubble, so to speak. There was nothing else for it. Though, of course, Mother would have words about this situation – none of them good. The dogs were, at the moment, nowhere to be found. It was tough to say if Varlais had run through Nimhe’s chamber with them close behind on purpose. He’d come away with only a mild poisoning and a few new scars to add to his immense collection. The dogs… Well, he didn’t have to put two and two together and upset himself again.

Varlais had kept his hand on the Dwemer metal plate anyway and was doubled over between two pipes. The loud exhale of steam from a nearby vent blessedly muted the sound of his illness. Ondolemar didn’t have anything on hand to help with that, so he’d just have to suffer until it passed. He himself had only barely managed to kill the wretched spider, only narrowly escaping a similar fate. It had been hours before he’d been able to discover where Varlais had stashed himself away, and longer still to Heal him. They were thoroughly lost in the depths of Nchuand-Zel, his absolute favorite place on all of Nirn. And the Falmer – everywhere! Like vermin. As if the day couldn’t get any worse.

Varlais was looking sorrier by the second. Had they not both fallen through a rusted grate and between all this metalwork, they’d have a clue of where they’d ended up. Calcemo’s expedition team had mapped this place up through a certain point, before the Falmer attacks, the deaths and then, of course, the resulting need to seal off the inner chambers. Leave it to the nitwit to burst through locked doors. If only his magic worked reliably for other, more important tasks. There was no longer a way to tell how far down they were.

“Ondolemar, I’m going to die here,” Varlais complained. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. True, he was pale, the gilding almost gone from him in his misery. But it was just frostbite spider venom – and only a single bite, now healed. The pain and nausea would be a bit much, come to think of it. It’d been a while since he’d had to deal with the poison. And it had been a much smaller specimen.

“You’ll be fine,” Ondolemar said. He walked over with a Calm spell in hand. “Let go for a second.” Varlais obliged and closed his eyes, breathing as steadily as he could through flared nostrils. Ondolemar rolled his eyes. He sighed and passed the spell over the back of Varlais’s head and down over his shoulders. It wasn’t taking quite as easily, hackles up as they were at the moment. It took some doing – and more Magicka than he’d have otherwise wasted – until the spell settled into the crevices of Varlais’s mind. His shoulders relaxed; his jaw unclenched. He still looked like hell. Ondolemar almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“We have to find – ” Varlais started, pausing to turn away and retch. He sighed and steadied himself on Ondolemar’s forearm. “We have to find a way out of here.” 

“No kidding,” Ondolemar said through gritted teeth, perhaps more icy than he had originally intended. He rolled his sore shoulder where he’d landed hard on the stonework. He’d need a real healer whenever they managed to get out of this place. They both would.

Varlais dragged himself along behind Ondolemar as they moved through the crumbling stonework, littered now and again with sharp fragments from the damaged grates above their heads. Acid from the pollution of the city above had seeped into this ruin through the cracks over untold centuries and ate away at the metalwork. Pipes had broken, machines had seized up. It reflected the state of things topside, really. Apt he was caught in this place like a fly in a web. Every waking hour already felt like that, and this was no better. He frowned in dismay. At least it wasn’t cold down here. Thank Mara for small miracles.

They walked through great gates of jagged filigree, bent and warped with age, hanging precariously off hinges green with patina. The corridor opened into a wide, dimly lit area, the stench of fungus and mold wafting over from somewhere deep in the darkness. Along the way, Ondolemar had taken out a few more Falmer with Shock magic. He was no good with a bow, and Varlais was hardly in any condition to aim, let alone keep from drawing attention to themselves. This place seemed to be far flung even from the hive located in these ruins. The sound of gears echoed through the chamber, which was cut through with flowing water, contaminated by slicks of oil and the putrescent miasma of rot – likely bodies of Falmer or chaurus, or worse. There would be no point in thinking about it. He pulled the edge of his silk undershirt up from under his standard issue robes to settle it over his nose and tried to concentrate on anything else at all.

The lighting was rather odd the further they walked into the dimness. A green-blue glow emanated from what appeared to be rather large mushrooms, which seemed almost purposefully cultivated, towering and casting odd half-lit shadows across mountains of rubble as far as the eye could see. Which, admittedly, was not very far. Ondolemar’s attention shifted as Varlais stumbled behind him leaning into one such pile; the action sent a cascade of ceramic tile and other debris crashing down toward them. Without thinking twice, he yanked his friend out of the way just in time. Varlais coughed as thousands of years worth of dust choked the air.

“Do try to be less of an idiot,” Ondolemar sighed.

#MareenaWrites #WIP Whenever #WIP Wednesday #Untitled Varlais and Ondolemar Nonsense #Varlais #Linare Varlais #Ondolemar #skyrim #skyrim fic #tes #tesblr #fanficblr #writblr #writeblr #The World on Our Shoulders #Dragonborn and Far-Star Marked

[pinkierre]

piarles teen wolf au | drabble (? it’s 1016 words) for beloved @wolfiemcwolferson​ 

short introduction before you dive in, this drabble takes place in a sort of ‘canon divergence’ situation in s2 where derek is building his own pack and scott has got his ‘pack’. i don’t think you need to know teen wolf to follow the vibes, but it’ll help

Derek had told him nothing good could come of challenging the newest McCall beta.

The two packs had just reached a semi sort of peace, after months of taunting each other back and forth. Derek and Scott had agreed on terms and they had, tried to, stayed out of each others way.

However, there was something in the young werewolf’s eyes that was intoxicating to Pierre.

The last fight they had was when Pierre nearly lost himself in those eyes, nearly got defeated right then and there by the newly turned wolf. It’s odd. Even if their eyes glow yellow in their wolf form, this guy’s eyes still show green and orange swirls behind the luminescence of his iris’.

Charles.

Pierre knows he shouldn’t be walking down the street, his hands packed tightly in his leather jacket, a few good paces behind the guy. It’s weird. Creepy. All of the adjectives. However he cannot be faulted for wanting to make sure that the other guy arrives at his destination safely, right?

Charles hasn’t been turned all that long ago, and doesn’t always seem to have a grip on his new powers. It’s the only reason Pierre eventually got the better of him in their last fight, because Charles retracted his claws accidentally.

Pierre is just here to watch his back, that’s all.

It has nothing to do with the fact that Isaac told him that some kid from the Lacrosse team had asked Charles out on a date and Charles had accepted.

Nothing of the sorts.

But the guy in question is a douchebag and everyone knows that. Pierre would’ve thought that even if Charles himself didn’t know, Scott would, and that he would protect his precious new beta. Pierre was wrong in that regard, he found  that out when he heard that Charles was going through with the date, and Scott was letting it happen.

Pierre has no idea where they’re going or how long it will take, but he keeps his distance from Charles. He’s pretty sure Charles’ senses aren’t developed well enough to being able to identify Pierre purely by scent, but he stays out of the wind as much as possible anyway, just to be sure.

The feud between the two packs is immature and dumb, especially with all the other deathly threats they have to deal with on a daily basis, but Derek has made it pretty clear that he should stay away.

The problem is, Pierre doesn’t want to.

-

It isn’t until he reaches the middle of the Lacrosse pitch that Charles stops walking. Pierre is half under the bleachers, trying to keep out of sight. There’s lights illuminating the pitch. Not in the way like during a game, but certain parts are definitely lit up. Charles stills for a second, his hands are on each side of his body, the tension clearly in him.

Pierre watches as he turns his head to look over his shoulder.

“I know you’re there, Pierre.”

The words are whispered, but his wolf hearing makes them loud and clear for him, tingling his spine as his ears pick up the husky vibrations from Charles’ voice.

Pierre debates whether or not he needs to turn around and leave, but a feeling he’s got tells him to engage. To join Charles on the pitch and find out what he wants.

Pierre knows what he wants.

He emerges from the bleachers and takes the steps towards the pitch, and most importantly, towards Charles. He watches as Charles keeps his position, though he clenches and unclenches his hands continuously.

Pierre doesn’t know if he’s angry or-

He train of thoughts get cut of by the look on Charles’ face as he turns around to face Pierre. There is anger, yes, but there is also…

“You were following me.” Charles starts, Pierre wants to object but Charles puts his hand up. “No need to deny it, we both know it’s true.” Pierre nods in agreement, knowing he doesn’t need to lie right now.

“Now the question I’m left with is, why?”

Pierre could’ve expected that question, could’ve come up with a plausible answer a mile or two back, yet, he didn’t. So now here he is, in the middle of the Lacrosse field -he doesn’t even play Lacrosse, damnit- with Charles, of all people, staring him down. Charles. Sweet, innocent, gorgeous Charles. He says the only thing that’s swirling through is mind.

“To protect you.” Pierre says, simply.

Charles moves his hand in front of Pierre’s face and lets his claws fly.

“I can protect myself.” The other man answers, about as curtly as Pierre’s statement.

That unwinds something within Pierre. He smirks. “Oh, can you, now?”

Pierre throws up his arm, in an attempt to strike Charles.

Charles blocks it.

“Prove it.” Pierre taunts.

Charles grits his teeth in response.

With that, they’re throwing and blocking punches back and forth, sparring in the unnatural yellow lighting of the sports field. It isn’t long until they tumble onto the ground, which is wet and cold beneath them. Pierre is 100% pulling his punches, and he’s about 94% sure that Charles is doing the same. It’s as if they’re sparring. No, as if they’re performing.

Or, it’s foreplay.

Every time Pierre catches a glance of Charles eyes, flickering between the bright, wolf yellow and his human green eyes, his heart skips a beat and his blood rushes into a certain direction that isn’t helping him focus on the fighting at hand. It takes about another minute for Charles to get Pierre on his back in the dirt, Charles on top of him, pinning Pierre’s wrists next to his head. Charles’ eyes are still flickering, as if he’s fighting for control of himself, with himself.

Pierre smirks again while Charles is panting and catching his breath, tightening his grip on Pierre’s wrists.

“Good.” Pierre rasps.

“I think, you need to learn to shut your mouth.” Charles replies, still gasping for air a little bit. He couldn’t have given Pierre a better opening into asking for what he really wants.

“Make me.”

Logan! You asked for smut in the week of your birthday. You menace. I still don’t write smut but you can fill in the blanks ;) Happy birthday, my love! I hope you have the loveliest day, and that you’re going to be swallowed by all the love we’re sending your way. I love you! I hope you enjoyed this little thingie I wrote for you. xxxx

#happy birthday logan! #werewolfierre :blurry-eyes: #ficlets