#I'm THIS close to being burned to a crisp

[stars-in-a-jam-jar]

Moar Buddy Dawn Shit in relation to this post

Buddy was dead for about 10 to 15-maybe-20 minutes. Kristen and Gorgug at the top of Freshman Year were only dead about 3 to 5 minutes and they still got some form of time in the afterlife, (side note: Gorgug not knowing what Orc Heaven looks like and being Deeply Fucking Terrified and shellshocked by the entire experience is So Juicy To Me, like. Something that should by all rights be familiar to him being foreign. Of deep spiritual significance, but not in the way it was 'supposed to be'; he didn't even know how it was 'supposed to be' at the time or after he learned it, he's still not really sure if it was ever a 'supposed to'.) so I'm quite sure Buddy experienced Something beyond the grave and chose to leave it for this nameless aspect of Ankarna. The version of her which exists as a result of her complete death and incomplete resurrection/preservation.

In that 10 to 15 minutes, Buddy passed into the place he was going. Perhaps some cornfield out on the edge of Helio's domain where Helio figured 'I'll get to him or he'll find me sometime, there's literally infinite time here'. Perhaps as a petitioner on the Astral Sea- wait, no, I'm thinking about Rolling With Difficulty cosmology, the Astral Realm is not a sea in Fantasy High. (also go listen to Rolling With Difficulty) Regardless of if he went to the afterlife the adults all told him he'd go to if he'd been a good boy or to some more limbo-like place, he had just enough minutes for the reality to sink in that he's Dead. He's dead and the feeling of a hand gripping his shoulder as if to hoist his assailant high enough to slit his throat presses like a cold weight on his skin. As if this body has skin, no, he's just a solid soul given form in this place.

So jarring. Resting dead in some corner of the cosmos like finding the one empty room at a big loud party where you've mostly been taking things in, sticking close to people you know, not doing anything you're not supposed to. Sitting down on the unfamiliar furniture or swaying idly in place as you listen to the murmur of this foreign world around you. Only it's not like that, not truly at all. You're not at the party anymore, the echoes of your life aren't some thing you're taking a break from to rejoin or building up the nerve to excuse yourself from to get a proper change of scene. There is no going back or moving forward.

He's dead. Buddy Dawn is dead.

How many minutes did it take him to lose composure? Did he even? When the ultimatum was posed to him, did he harden his heart to any regrets about abandoning his original faith, or did he relax into knowing he could live again, in service of something that reached for him and he reached back towards?

Why was he so chipper saying 'Dang, y'all, I worship a nameless god of rage.'? He didn't sound horrified by his decision in much the same way he didn't sound in touch with reality when he said 'Sometimes I raise my hand and magic that burns folks to a crisp comes out, but that's just the lord Helio working through me.' His death didn't change him so much as it fixed his gaze onto something new.

He is still a Cleric. Through and through. His soul needs a divinity to latch onto. And this is the first time he has latched onto a divinity wholly and completely for himself. He was not taught how to live for himself. He was taught how to live and die for a cause. For Helio. He earns a nice afterlife via sacrificing his autonomy to whatever the church tells him is good and right.

But he doesn't want a nice afterlife.

He wants another life.

And he no longer has faith that Helio will deliver him from any hardship, because even after he's just barely grasped how dead he is and has been for the past 11 minutes, his soul is wrent into an ultimatum by a different power. Go back to his body and continue living under a new banner, or be trapped in a dark, solitary purgatory which his soul may never be free from.

It's an easy decision, really. Barely requires any thought, only following a feeling. He no longer wants to stand by the god who allowed him to die so unceremoniously and so unfairly. He honestly feels more betrayed by Helio than he does by Kipperlily. Kipperlily hardly made any promises to him, just asked for him to be the party's cleric. He never expected her to do that, sure, but... His whole life he was promised that every bad emotion he ever felt in response to every wrongness in his life would (should, must, has to) simply evaporate away in the golden light of the corn god. And it's been an eternal 12 minutes, but he only feels worse and worse.

And if all Helio could promise him was a flat expanse of farmland overseen by someone who didn't even properly greet him when he walked in (if the celestial bureaucracy were even doing their jobs and funneled the soul of Helio's cleric to Helio instead of some cosmic waiting room or other), but this nameless deity can promise him a life for himself? Then by god he's taking that ultimatum, come back to life, sit up with a slightly surprised little smile and announce to the world (as he has been taught is right to do when you are devoted to a god) 'I worship a nameless god of rage!'

And he'll be happy with this choice-that-is-not-a-choice which he was betrayed and coerced into. Because it truly feels self indulgent to choose anything. To choose ragefully living for himself instead of obediently dying for an unfulfilling promise. He'll choose the intensity and the darkness because the gentle constant pressure cooker of walking in the light gave him nothing but sunburns and a slit throat.

#fantasy high junior year #fantasy high junior year spoilers #i love him #buddy dawn #kristen applebees #gorgug thistlespring #fhjy #dimension 20

[lovebugism]

being with toxic people on Christmas eve, hurt/comfort with eddie + shy!reader, because this is my situation and I'm projecting 😔

i'm so sorry angel! i hope this makes you feel a wee bit better!! — when being around family gets too hard, eddie makes everything feel easy again (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, friends in love, tw for brief mentions of toxic family, 1.1k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

December is bitter, glittering, and terribly cold. 

The crisp chill takes your breath away when you storm out into it. It burns your lungs and scratches at your chest like a living thing with claws. When the initial shock of wintry dreariness fades, you take your first deep breath in all day.

You feel somehow less alone out here by yourself than you did inside your own house. The falling snow keeps you company in a way your family never could. The empty, faint pink sky drapes over you like a fuzzy blanket. 

You think you’d rather freeze out here — in the peaceful, early-winter melancholy — than step foot back home.

You walk down the gravel path of the trailer park with snow crunching beneath your feet. The sound is soft and hollow and pleasant. The piling crystalline dampens your sneakers as your legs move on their own. Muscle memory at its finest. 

You gravitate towards the Munson trailer without thinking twice ‘cause the safest thing you know is waiting for you there — standing on his snowy front porch, smoking a cigarette, and shivering under a thick flannel coat that’s obviously older than he is.

A quiet smile lifts the corners of your mouth when you see him. 

Eddie’s winter-kissed features twist in concern at the sight of you, all alone and in the dark. “The hell are you doing out here?” he asks in place of any real greeting, breath leaving his rosy, chapped lips in a thin white cloud. “It’s freezing!”

You know this. The cold is impossible to ignore. You were just too eager to get out of your house, too eager to get here, that you forgot to notice how much your frigid limbs were aching.

“I wanted to see you,” you confess in a tiny voice, as light as the falling snow sticking to your hair and sweater.

Eddie’s chest swirls with warmth. Suddenly it’s summer, and everything’s golden instead of navy blue and bitter. With a sudden longing to close the distance between you, he says, “Get up here before you freeze to death.”

You climb up the steps of his porch without a word of complaint from your mouth. You gravitate towards him like he’s the sun, a bright yellow thing that makes the winter seem less dreary. You ache to be near him just the same, to hold him with your frozen hands until you’re warm again.

He reaches for the lapel of his coat, and you think he might take it off for you — swaddle you in its warmth like they do in the movies. Despite the swarm of butterflies the thought stirs in your stomach, you’d rather him keep it on. You don’t want him to suffer just because you forgot to put on a jacket before rushing here.

Only Eddie doesn’t take it off. He keeps it on and ushers you closer with a silent nod of his wild head. He wraps you up in it with him — with his palm on your back, his curls tickling your forehead, and his heart against your heart. 

You bury a final sigh of relief into his Corroded Coffin tee, thankful to be in his arms. He soothes you with the familiar scent of his musky cologne, heals you with the kindness of his touch. He opens suns inside your heart and makes you forget how cold you used to be.

“What happened?” Eddie asks, chin bobbing against your head. He snuffs out his cigarette on the small ashtray on the wooden railing, then swipes a hand over your hair to brush off the snowflakes sticking to you. “Why aren’t you at home?”

You make a vague I don’t know sound, muffled into his chest. “I just needed to be outside for a second,” you say finally, so soft your words get buried in the whistling wind. In a strained and fragile voice, you tell him, “It’s so loud back home.”

Eddie knows that’s not totally the truth. You didn’t leave in such a hurry that you forgot to put on a coat just because it was loud. You decided it was more important to risk freezing on your way to him than stay where you were, so it must be more than you let on.

Eddie doesn’t pry, though. Just holds you tighter.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he says in a sympathetic sigh.

You can hear music playing from inside the trailer — Steve Miller Band, you think, or maybe Lynyrd Skynyrd. Uncle Wayne loves both, and their rhythmic guitar shakes the walls of the old house accordingly. The Munson clan’s closest friends and family manage to shout over it all, mixed with loud laughter and something warm. 

It doesn’t sound as mean as the shouting you’re most familiar with.

“How long do I have you before your folks start hunting me down?” Eddie asks, lips curled into a smile against your head.

“As long as you want,” you answer with a sad laugh. “No one’s coming to look for me.”

Eddie nods despite his stinging chest and sways you gently back and forth.

“Good. I wanted you all to myself— It’s what I asked for for Christmas, actually.”

You snort a disbelieving scoff.

“I’m serious!” he insists with a loud laugh. You feel the rumble of the boyish noise against the apple of your cheek. “I put the letter in the little Santa mailbox on Main Street and everything!”

“Well, I’m glad I could make your wish come true,” you joke with a conceding sigh. You pull slightly back from him, only enough to see his face. You find him smiling down at you, a pink grin that shows all his teeth. Beautiful. Warm. Sunlit.

You try to smile back. It’s a little too forced and ends up looking like a wince.

Eddie’s face twists in concern. Still smiling, just a little softer now. “You’re okay, right?”

You nod at first. ‘Cause you feel like that’s what you’re supposed to do. Then you realize it’s Eddie, and you shrug. “Now I am,” you answer finally, quiet in your subtle confession.

His rosy grin widens. “That is very cheesy,” he teases with a twinkle in his dark eyes. He squints them a second later. “You’re not flirting with me, are you?”

Your face burns hot as you laugh out loud. “No!”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he jokes, pouting now.

“Shut up.”

He shrugs. “I just thought we had something going here.”

“Are you flirting with me, Eddie Munson?”

“Of course I am!” he blurts with a laugh you can feel in your chest. “I’m surprised it took you this long to notice.”

You figure he must be joking, so you shove him away with a halfhearted hand. He pulls you back into him with gentle fingers wrapped around your arms, and you let him — resting your cheek against his shoulder with every intention of melting with him.

There’s something innately sweet about his presence. His warmth. This closeness. And this silent sense of understanding you share. 

You don’t want to think about what you’re running from anymore. 

You’re just glad you ended up here.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

[elaemae]

The premium version of human is here to wreak house, mfs.

Twst x Obey me!AFAB!reader

(Reader is Ob's MC)

CW:

•NO APPEARANCE SPECIFIED FOR READER.

•Poly.

•Cursing.

•Reader is referred to as "you" or they/them and even "he/him" because NRC boys refer to any living humanoid in the school as a male by default.

•Crowley.

•It's my first time writing a fanfiction, pls tell me if I should continue writing this.

(Random pic go brr—)

What will happen when a perpetually hungry-for-cuddles and tired-of-this-shit hooman gets kidnapped by a motherfucking horse and decides (kinda? Yeah nope. This wasn't by choice.) to enroll in a school full of problematic kids and their irresponsible af headmage?

Chaos. Pure and utter chaos with a lot of high-end simping in the mix (Along with the slightly unhinged urge to commit arson and burn a bitch to crisp)

So read as [y/n] tries to run away from the school-life while trying to just get back to their goddamn harem family (God saw this thought and decided that giving y/n more harem members is the appropriate course of action), all while juggling the harsh responsibilities of being a guardian, babysitter, therapist, healer, protector, local crush and celebrity for poor Yuu and the entirety of NRC.

("Pls send help" — y/n)

• • • • •

Disclaimer: You may have been kidnapped to a whole 'nother world and you may be on the verge of a mental breakdown, but you're sure as hell gonna look hot and serve cunt while you go through all your problems.

Prologue: 1

IMPORTANT: Mc will be referred to as they/them in this story, but in these beginning chapters a lot of people will refer to mc as a dude because y'know; NRC is an ALL BOYS school and nrc students came to expect that those in the school are all boys.(this'll change dw)

In order to avoid confusion, every time that the MC is addressed by others as he/him or more; I will color it blue. why blue? I find it easier to read.

Sample; 'He turned to them.'

The "He" in this passage is referring to MC because the character referring to them thinks that they're a guy.

REMINDER: This is Fanfiction! Not everything will be the same as canon because of this thing called the 'butterfly effect'.

• • • •

The Dorm Leaders + lilia were just about to call this Opening Ceremony over.

So close to getting out of this hall and finally being able to go on their merry ways to escort the new students back to their respective dorms before the hectic-ness of preparing for hours starts to catch up to them.

Though, things are never quite that easy in NRC.

A commotion with the students quite far from them leaves the majority of them annoyed/disgruntled. (Kalim is just confused and curious)

The headmaster rushes to check what was wrong only for a student to point out that there is an unopened coffin floating in a shadowy part of the hall.

Armed with the desire to get this shit over with and to avoid embarrassment from missing a coffin when he was going around opening them and also, with Yuu waiting near the mirror, the headmaster opens the coffin to wake the new student inside.

The dorm leaders walked closer to be able to quickly usher the new student to the dark mirror only to notice that the headmaster froze up.

"...Headmaster? Are you alright?" Azul "Boutta-do-sumthin-devious" Ashengrotto asked with faux concern.

"Ah– Ah yes! I'm alright Mr. Ashengrotto."

Crowley the bitch cleared his throat and reached inside the coffin to wake the student up.

"Hmm..."

The dorm leaders subconsciously or not, peaked inside the coffin before getting gobsmacked by the sleeping student.

Sure, the student looked quite cute ("New potential apple locked in" — Vil.) even with half of his face obstructed but what really drew their attention were the jewelries that he was wearing.

Three luxurious looking earrings on each of his ears, all unique from each other, all with a respective color and design except for that one earring with two gemstones engraved in it, orange and indigo. Seven gems, six earrings

An ornament on his forehead that looks to be a combination of a circlet and a Ferronnière made from gold, with intricate black bat-like wings surrounding the red gemstone in the middle.

And that's just the jewelry on his head.

There's also the sleek black choker with a golden sheen on his neck with a teal gemstone surrounded by small diamonds hanging in the middle.

They don't know if this guy has anymore but the jewels they can see for now is more than enough for them to make the deduction that this student has some alot of money on his hands.

No wonder the Headmaster froze up.

Azul subconsciously starts fixing up his appearance when he starts to wake up, wanting to make a good impression on a potential, rich victim client.

• • • •

"Mmh... What the hell.. Why is the bed so hard.."

You mumbled as you stirred, feeling someone lightly shaking you awake.

You opened your eyes, expecting maybe the brothers, solomon, dia, barbs, simeon or luke but you were instead met with a face obscured by a dark bird mask.

"..."

"..."

"You have two seconds to unhand me before you lose your hands." or your life. Depends on who I can summon first.

You made your voice as cold and unwelcoming as possible as the man with the bird mask squawked and backed away a bit in shock.

"H– How rude..! I'll have you know that I was only–"

"Where am I?"

You cut off the weird looking bird-man as you scanned your surroundings and moved to come out of the coffin why were you in a coffin? you were in, in fear of it closing and locking you inside.

You glance warily to the bird-man while keeping an eye on the huge number of robed individuals that you can see. are you in a cult? Damnit, did one of the Brothers' crazy cults decide to kidnap you out of jealousy again??

Especially the seven (reminder that lilia is there with the Housewardens) closest to you and bird-dude.

Some solomon-kinnie motherfucker is currently eyeing you down like he's about to sell your kidneys to the black market or something.. Hmm... Your fight or flight instincts are telling you to sell HIS kidneys instead.

*Ehem*

Burd-dude cleared his throat and addresses you.

"It seems that the teleportation magic has left you disoriented... No matter, I can forgive your offense of trying to threaten me for I am gracious!"

He then looked weirdly like a combination of preening peacock and a proud chicken.

"I repeat. Where in the unholy trinity of the three realms, am I?"

Now that raised a few eyebrows.

You feel for the necklace under your clothes that Thirteen gave you, filing the question of why you're also wearing the same robe as these people away, in your head.

While the guy that you now dub-thee as "bird-bitch" started gawking at you and going on a tangent of being disrespectful, you scan the big hall/room you're in looking for ways to escape.

• • • •

Hmm... This new student seems to be a knowledgeable individual.

Lilia kept his gaze on the student, studying how he took on a defensive stance the moment he got out of the coffin.

They need to calm this student quickly before something happens.

The student seems to be confused on why he's here and is looking for a way to get out.

If the way his eyes moved around the room in quick succession is any indicator.

Not the first time that something like this happens but add in the magicless student's appearance, he gets the feeling that something strange will happen once again.

Seeing him take out and grasp the palm-sized gemstone of a whole 'nother necklace hidden under his robe how many trinkets does this boy have??, Lilia got ready to jump in the fray should something happen.

There's a possibility that the student can use that necklace as a weapon if that was what he chose to hold in this situation and not his other shiny ornaments.

Lilia was proven right when the necklace and the gemstone glowed and formed into a fancy-looking staff that the student quickly pointed towards Crowley.

He looked at the dorm leaders around him to see if any of them will do something.

...

yeah no. If anything, they look like they're watching an amusing show. Especially Schoenheit and Kingscholar..

Though it seems more like Riddle is still assessing the situation before he brings out his infamous collar.

Haahh.. Youngsters these days..

Chapter list | → PROLOGUE 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

Elae: Sorry if my grammar is off, English isn't my first language.

Btw, Thanks for reading this far! Hope you enjoyed it😊

Srry if my format is also off, I've only been using tumblr for a few days now...

MOST IMPORTANTLY; Should I continue reading this fanfic? I wanna know if people still read Obey mexTwst stories here...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #polyamory #obey me satan x reader #x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphagor x reader #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me solomon x reader #Twst #obey me x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x obey me #Twisted wonderland x obey me #Should I continue this? #Help🥹 #obey me simeon x reader #obey me thirteen x reader #obey me mephisto x mc #obey me x mc

[curseddollfaye]

I'm wonderinggggg....could you write something where Suguru breaks up with his s/o and realises it was a mistake? Like how do you think he would try to win her over again?

“I wish you roses while you can still smell them”

ex boyfriend! suguru x reader

✩ listened to ‘I wish you roses’ by miss kali uchis while writing this :) pt 2?? hehehe , oh and if it wasn’t obvious. ANGST ALERT!✩

masterlist

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ੈ✩‧·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· *ੈ✩‧₊˚

You always swore ever since you were a teenager that you would never let a man make you cry. You would never sit and cry in front of a man. You practically cursed the idea of that ever happening to you. Images of your mother crying because of your father made their way into your head. How she loved him so much, and yet he still left. You remembered wondering how could a love like this turn so sour? Why are you bared the responsibility of witnessing a dying love?

Nothing could have prepared you for happiness to be given to you, and have it snatched from your fingers before you had a say.

Because truth be told, the way Suguru broke up with you, was the day clouds stormed the sky. Your shared room that he no longer slept in felt colder and darker. You had closed your eyes that night extra tight, gripping the pillow that he slept on. Wondering if you wanted to burn it to a crisp

Or maybe hold it close to your nose so the scent of him never goes away.

“Im sorry Y/N…I just…I don’t know if I feel the same way anymore”

Heartache wasn’t even the word for it. 4 years down the drain. With a stupid explanation that made no sense. The man that claimed to love you so much for the last four fucking years couldn’t even give you a decent reason? You were left to wonder if it was you.

4 years ago you would’ve punched yourself for even thinking that. Why is it that in the movies or book you’ve read the woman always thinks it’s their fault?

But the feeling isn’t realized until it happens to you. Insecurities, questions without answers. You swore you hated Suguru Getou. You hated him for leaving little things around your previously shared apartment that reminded you of him. His Marlboro red pack cigarettes, his dumb cologne lingered in the air, and you didn’t know if it scared you or relieved you when you no longer could smell it from how long it had been.

Suguru Getou was the first man to ever make you feel like you were less than. Maybe it wasn’t on purpose. Maybe it was the way he softly spoke to you even when he was breaking your heart. Holding his favorite snacks in a connivence store plastic bag. The contents of it dropping (dramatic yes, but true).

So what exactly do you do when said ex boyfriend shows up at your front door at 2 am on a Friday night? Your silk nightgown slipping past your shoulders. The slight breeze making you blink even more tiredly. Wanting to crawl back to bed and sleep. It’s been a lot of sleepless nights due to work. It wasn’t easy being a nail tech, you are usually booked months in advanced. So that means your days are always planned around around that. At least on the weekdays.

“Suguru?” You rub the sleep out of your eyes. Your door had been merely cracked open. You lived alone now, who knows what creep could be lurking around.

“Hey, I’m sorry…fuck I’m sorry baby I-“ Suguru’s voice sighed. Your eyes finally landed on him as you fully awoken.

He looked as good as ever. Not that you weren’t really shocked. It had only been 6 months since he broke up with you, 3 since you had last seen him. Since he came to pick up the last of his things. Which ended up in you coldly acknowledging him and retreating back to your room with a loud slam. You had made it quite clear that you wanted nothing to do with it.

He looked…tired? Which wasn’t that unusual for him after working or a long day. But 2 am on a Friday was a whole new level. His hair was held back in a hair tie. The black gauges in his ears didn’t look like the ones you had seen last. Making note to yourself that even now you could remember even the smallest details of the tall man standing in front of you.

“What are you doing here Suguru?” You snap at him. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Suguru offers you a weak smile. He knows he has no right to be knocking on your door.

“Im just…I don’t know” He said truthfully. Which led you to even more confusion. You didn’t want to play these games. You had been over it for 3 months now. You couldn’t wouldn’t let him ruin your progress.

You sighed, you were just tired.

“That doesn’t really help me with figuring out why you’re here…”

“I know, I know okay. I know I shouldn’t be here YN. I know I have no right to come here asking for any sort of time but I just need you to hear me out”

He doesn’t miss the sour and angry look on your face. Suguru is used to it by now, all your friends throw him the same look when they see him. It was the last look he remembers on your face. The one before that was angst and solemn. All because of him, and he has to keep reminding himself so.

“To hell with you. I’ve spent the last fucking 6 months feeling sorry for myself for a man that didn’t give a fuck about me in the end.” Even cussing him out you looked so beautiful. Your hair tied up holding your arms as the chill made its way in through t your opened door. Suguru swears- no, he knows he remembers every beauty mark, every blemish, and every birth mark on your body. Something he will probably never see again thanks to himself. Even angry you looked ethereal. Suguru would worship you given the chance again.

He wasn’t counting his luck though….

“Are you even listening to me?” You ask in disbelief. “Unbelievable, go home. You’re drunk probably” Your hand grabbed your doorknob tightly and quickly made it shut it. However a boot came to stop it. You felt anger course through your body now more than ever. Is this how it was going to be?

“Just..please”

“Is that all you can say to me? Please? Sorry? I shouldn’t be here? I told you the last time we talked that I wanted nothing to do with you, isn’t that what you wanted?” hurt crossed his features. For a moment you felt bad. But you quickly were to shrug the feeling off.

Why should you feel bad? You didn’t break his heart, you weren’t prancing around a new girlfriend four months after the breakup. You have to keep strong is what you keep reminding yourself. Over and over again. Crying for you nowhere.

Crying never made Suguru Getou come back. It never made him feel pity to you and be a man to apologize for his wrongdoings. He did you so dirty so why did it hurt seeing him so fragile?

Where was the empathy for you?

“That’s not true!” His voice boomed your quiet apartment.

“It might as well be!”

“Today’s was supposed to be our 5 year anniversary…”

You scoff. “Yeahhh I think it’s time for you to go”

“I had something I bought um, before everything” Suguru moves his left hand to move some stray pieces of hair that hung over his face. “I wanted to give it to you, it’s the least I can do. Plus, it’s something that you really wanted and I can’t…” Suguru pauses. Looking at you as if he’s studying you. Like he needs to, he knows you like the back of his hand and you were aware of that.

You look back at him. Feeling your emotions rush your body.

please don’t cry YN…don’t cry , don’t cry, don’t cry

“Listen…” You look up. Already feeling your eyes burn. God damnit.

I want to hate you Suguru Getou , damn you.

“I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, maybe you get off to watching me cry or something. But I need you to leave me alone please.” A whimper escapes your throat. You look around, anywhere but at him. To try and at least keep some of your dignity.

“You’ve done so much to me”

Suguru shifts, his hands in his pockets. You couldn’t see but he himself was holding on to tears. He had no right to cry in front of you. Not after the way he hurt you. “Im sorry..”

“I don’t need your sorry!” You yell at him. Yanking the door open and hearing it slam against the wall. “I don’t need anything from you Suguru Getou! Not after what you did, not after the way you stand there looking at me as if you love me so damn much. Like you used to, when I know and you know that it’s all a fabricated lie! You’ve been here for five minutes and I still don’t know what motivated you to come back here after 6 fucking months, but you know what? Truth is maybe I never really knew you. So maybe I cried for no damn reason. I cried over a stranger!”

“I never lied to you, when I told you I loved you I meant that shit so don’t say I didn’t”

You laugh bitterly. “What about when you said you didn’t?”

He didn’t have an answer for that one.

“Goodnight Suguru. I hope you find whatever the fuck it is you’re looking for.” You said more gently. You don’t know why. You just hated the way he still made you feel.

Because you didn’t hate Suguru Getou.

You loved him with every fiber of your being, and yet that still wasn’t enough for him.

The door closes softly, a click and a lock follow. This time he doesn’t stop you.

This time Suguru hang his head low and lets out a shaky breath.

His hand digging into his pocket to clutch what was meant for you.

A ring.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #getou suguru smut #geto suguru #suguru geto smut #getou x reader #geto smut #getou suguru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fanart #jujustu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru fic #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk getou #jujustu kaisen x reader

[norrisleclercf1]

Just Come Home To Us

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Female!Reader x Lando Norris

Rating: R

Words: 3.8K

Warnings: Angst, some fluff, Smut, oral (both receiving), p in v, wrap it before you tap it, I'm sure there is some other, also this smut not the best written but hey I finished it

Our Boy Series Masterlist/ Previous: Memories of Old and New / Next: They're My Future, You're The Past

Synopsis: Things are never easy, even when you want to come home.

A/n: One more chapter before the end of Our Boy Main Story!

4 months have passed since that morning after the Monaco Grand Prix. 4 months since your husband kicked you out of the house and their lives. Painful nights alone, filled with tears and nightmares, the only comfort has been talking to Elijah and Cecile every day. Elijah was the ever-good son, telling you Charles and Lando were far from okay. 

His Papa was back in therapy and felt he wasn't ready to see you, not because of the fight, but because he wanted to better himself first. You kept your mouth shut, refusing to let anger cloud your son's judgment of his Papa. Lando, Cecile told you that he was holding everyone together, but she worried no one was there for him. 

It made your heart clench. Lando was the younger of you 3 and always in the middle whenever you and Charles argued. Closing your eyes, you suck in the bone-chilling air of Finnish winter. "Eh, don't fall asleep on me!" With an ache in your neck, you see your father on his snowmobile, grinning. The same grin he'd give Uncle David or Michael before a race. 

"I'm not old man, just enjoying the fresh air." Words are falling off, and the blanket of white surrounding you has your eyes burning. "Just call," Mika whispers, knowing what you're thinking. He could always see those thoughts whirling in your head. An open book is what he liked to call you. "No," Your father mumbles something about how stubborn you are, kicking off the engine and leaving you as he goes through the private course again. 

Why should you have to call? Charles was the one who wouldn't let you explain, even listen to you. He did what he always did: reacted first. A defense mechanism you have experienced one too many times. And this was the last time you'd be subjected to it. Charles has ripped your family apart more than once; this may be the time he succeeded. 

Kicking your own engine, you follow your father to the top of the point, seeing him staring out. "He should be the one to call!" You yell, the wind whipping around you. It was a lashing you have missed, the cold turning your blood to ice and making your lungs expand to suck in the crisp air. "Why?" You hated when Mika did this. He wouldn't take your side. He said that while he loved you, that doesn't mean he'll always defend you. Sometimes, the child must fight their own battle to determine if the war is worth it. 

"Why?" You trudge through the snow, stopping next to your father. Memories of being a little girl, learning harsh lessons, and the screaming matches of forming your own path. "Because he kicked me out and told me to leave. And I did. He ripped this family apart, not me." Mika turns, and you shrink back. Even after the words left, you felt their poison seep in. "The truth is a paper cut, but the lies are the bullet wounds. You did not help your cause when you continued to lie to those men. Good men who have given you a wonderful family and two gorgeous children." Mika sighs, fixing his glasses. 

"You think I don't know this? What do you want me to say? That I lost sleep, sometimes sick to my own stomach, when I watched Elijah grow up? Or when Charles would whisper how much he loved Elijah and me? Because I did. I've hated myself for 16 years; for 16 years, I have lied to the greatest loves of my life. I thought Nico was my air, but he was sea. Swallowing me whole and drowning me. But Charles," You break off, swallowing your tears. "And Lando, they gave me air; for once, I remembered what breathing was like. FUCK!" You scream out into the mountain air. 

"When your mother died, I felt my world slip out from under me. When you started to act out, a part of me felt like I failed. You started to date Nico, and for once, I thought you were okay. Instead, you were slowly dying inside. If your mother was here, she'd kick my ass and then yours." You laugh, wiping your tears, the cold making them burn like acid. "I failed my babies," Mika shakes his head, facing you. 

"You didn't. You never failed those children, just yourself. And that's okay. Because no matter how old you get, you're still a child. My child and we Häkkinens don't make things easy. Just ask your Uncle David." You laugh, remembering how Uncle David would tell you stories about your father. "I miss them. I feel like I'm missing pieces of myself." You whisper. 

"I should hate Charles for the pain he caused me, but then I remember all the pain he's been through. We're both hurt, Daddy, so I fear we might harm Lando sometimes." Mika chuckles, still picturing you 3 as the 20-something-year-olds back in the 2020s. "He's stronger than you think, trust me." Nodding, the two of you drive back down to your cabin. Slowing, you see a blacked-out SUV. "Who is that?" Mika shrugs as he stalks to his own car. "Don't know! See you tomorrow for dinner!" Scrunching your eyebrows together, you open the front door, heat greeting you. 

"Hello?" Slowly entering your cabin, you stop seeing the familiar old, worn-out McLaren jacket. "Lando?" You call, boots pounding as you round the corner and stop seeing the mop of curls with little bits of grey now in them. He turns and stops, and both of you stare at one another. "Hey, gorgeous." Hearing that accent, those green-blue eyes stare at you, and everything comes crashing down. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry." You sob, crumbling to the floor. 

Whatever he was doing is forgotten as he rushes to you, falling to the floor with you as his arms circle around you. "Don't apologize, please don't." He whimpers, his beard tickling you, and you cry harder, hating how much you've missed that ridiculous beard. "You're here, you're here." You repeat and pull back, exchanging messy kisses and words. "Of course I am. It's been a horrible four months. We would've come sooner, but work and," You shut him up by kissing him deeply. 

Lando groans, hands digging into your snow jacket as he relaxes. Pulling apart, you take note of his words. "What do you mean, we?" "He means us." You give yourself whiplash with how fast you look up. Charles stands there, face taunt and glasses hanging onto the end of his nose. You and Lando always say Charles has aged with grace, but right now, he looks like his 26-year-old self again. And it still has your heart skip a beat. Standing, you two stare at one another as Lando looks between you. 

Without a second thought, you rush Charles, and with waiting arms, he accepts you into them. "I've missed you," Whisper of words pass between you two, but he swallows them with his mouth. "Don't talk," He groans, ripping your layers off as Lando whimpers, watching you two. "Come here, baby boy." Lando blushes and grumbles about how he isn't a baby anymore. "You're still our baby," Charles's fingers tug Lando's curls, which has him staggering into you two. 

"Where's the room?" Lando asks as Charles bites and sucks marks into his neck. "Down the hall to the left," You moan as Charles moves to your neck and leads you with a tangle of limbs to the bedroom. Shoving the door open, you three stagger in as they make work of your clothes. Charles stops, lifts you up by your legs, and drops you flat on your back. "Charlie," Lando whines as he lays Lando beside you. 

Your husband leans back, taking in the wreck messes that are you and Lando. "I haven't even fucked either of you, and you're both so wrecked for me." Lando rolls his eyes, and you do, too, with Charles smiling. "That was stupid, Charlie. We're not young anymore." Lando teases and leans up, pulling him down by his necklace. Their kiss is soft, filled with love and emotion, and you swear you feel that hurt grow again. 

Lando pulls away, gently pulling Charles's bottom lip. Leaning up, Lando whispers something to Charles, who has his eyes cut to you and grow dark. "You're right, baby." Charles presses a kiss to Lando's cheek and moves to you. His fingers brush your jaw and then cup it, pulling you up. "Still as breathtaking as the day I met you in the street." He places a soft kiss on your neck. 

"A wonderful mother," Another kiss, and with each praise, he places a kiss before he kisses your lips. "I've missed you more than air," Raising your arms, he helps you out of your shirt, and Lando removes your pants. "Don't leave me again, please." Charles doesn't let you answer as he swallows your words, straddling you on the bed. 

"Easy, Charles. You both need air." Lando reminds me of which has you breaking apart, chests raising and falling. He leans in, pecking you both on the lips. "I love you both so much," Lando whispers and pushes you down, smiling at you both. "Take off your clothes," Charles groans, hating that Lando is still fully clothed. "Who's needy for me now." Laughing, you help Lando out of his clothes. 

"Still a pretty cock, for an old man." Charles's fingers wrap around him, which makes Lando shiver. "Speak for yourself; you're older than me." Charles chuckles, gently jerking Lando off. But Lando doesn't ignore you as he leans down, kisses, licking, and biting his way down, but he stops looking up at you. "I love you," He mouths before closing his eyes as his lips have you gasping. 

"Oh, fuck." Arching your hips up, Lando's large hand pushes you back down and makes eye contact. "Does she still taste like heaven?" Charles rumbles, pulling his hand away from Lando, who whines at losing Charles's touch. Lando moans when your fingers tug at his curls each time he curls his tongue. "Mh, Lan-" You moan louder when Charles bites one of your nipples and ruts up into Lando's mouth. 

Lando pulls away, and you whimper as you are close, but he shakes his head. "Charles, come here. I think you owe our girl a perfect apology." Charles pulls off with a pop and smiles. "I think you're right." Charles moves and stands off the bed, and Lando bites his lip. "Kinda jealous," Charles laughs and pulls Lando into a searing kiss. "Don't worry, you're next." Your toes curl when you feel Charles nudge you as he gets comfortable between your legs. 

"Are you okay?" You stop and think this over. It probably wasn't wise to have sex before talking things through, but damn, you've missed them too much. "Yes, fuck yes, just," Charles moves and slides into you slowly, which has you whimpering. "Easy, you're okay," Charles whispers, dropping over you. His arms cage your head, taking deep breaths to calm himself. "See, old." Charles whips a hand out and twists Lando's nipple, which has him squeak. 

"Jesus, just fuck me, Charles." The two look at you and stop laughing. "Watch your tone." Charles pulls back and slams back into you, which pulls out a whimpering moan. "Lando, you can fuck my mouth." Lando whimpers, hearing that, and the boys move. Charles pulls you close, and he moves in slow thrusts, and Lando gets comfortable for you both. 

"I have missed this mouth. Charlie is good. But you're better." Lando whispers, peppering kisses all over your face. "Missed you too," Opening your mouth, Lando lets you swallow him as he whimpers, screwing his eyes shut. You don't know where your mind went, but every lousy thought has gone away with the two of them here. You've missed them both so much that having them close to you has made you fuzzy. 

"Fuck, baby." Charles groans and drops down, covering your body with his as Lando's hips and Charles's move faster. Lando whimpers pulls away, and wraps his hand around. Charles bats his hand away and takes Lando down his throat, which has you whimpering and clamping down on your husband coming. Lando gasps as Charles sucks him dry, pushing Charles off as he drops to the bed, panting. The three of you are a mess. 

"Don't leave me," Charles whispers as you tangle his hair with your fingers. Exhaustion seeps into your bones, and darkness takes you over. 

-----------------------------------

Charles doesn't know when he wakes; all he remembers is tensing and his eyes flying open. Warmth covers him front to back, and something soft is wrapped around the warmth. Scanning the room, he groans. Memories of the flight, Mika helping them into your cabin, you coming back, the sex. Fuck, he shouldn't have done that. But he missed you, having you wrapped around him as he pulled you apart. 

Eyes move up, taking in Lando's puffed cheeks and mushed curls. He loved watching you both sleep; it was when you were more at peace. Rolling over, he feels his body go rigid. You weren't there, fuck did you leave. Slipping out of his husband's hold, he places a few soft kisses over the marks he has left. "Be back," Lando whines but settles back down. 

Bending down, Charles slides on some sweatpants and follows the light. He stops when he sees you sitting by the low fire on the phone. "I know, baby. I'm glad you and Cecile are having fun with Uncle Carlos." Charles leans against the frame, watching. "Yes, Papa and Daddy are here," Elijah must say something because your face scrunches up. 

"I don't know, honey. Um, Pa...Charles said some stuff during our fight that hurt. So I don't know if we'll get back together." Charles loses his smile and stands up straight. "Elijah, I understand you want me to talk to him, but.....listen. You tell Cecile that I'm okay. Also, please don't give Carlos a hard time, alright. Also look after the twins, oh remember that Oscar's daughter is coming to visit. Yes, Victoria. No, Elijah, don't fight with her. Just, okay, yeah, bye." Hanging up the phone, Charles quickly bolts into the bedroom. 

Lying down, Lando immediately attaches himself to Charles. The door creaks open, and you slide into the bed. But you don't cuddle into Charles; instead, you roll onto your other side, back facing him. 

He was losing you. 

-----------------------------------

"But, it's snowing, and I think it would be nice," Lando begs, trying to get you and Charles to do something together. "Exactly, it's snowing, and we're in Finland. It's not exactly a British winter." Charles grumbles into his coffee. "Yn, pretty please. This is the first time we're in your home country. I want to see it." Lando makes his eyes big, and Charles looks away quickly. 

You groan as Lando starts to smirk, knowing he's got you. "Fine, there is a trail we can take that the locals use. It's about 2 hours, both ways." Lando cheers and rushes to the bedroom. The tension rolls off of you and Charles in thick waves. Putting down his mug, he stands and leaves you with no words or kisses. 

45 minutes later, with multiple layers of clothing, you trail behind Lando, who talks Charles's ear off. "Yes, Lando, I know that." Charles smiles, kissing him gently as Lando takes a picture of the snow-covered mountains. It's another 15 minutes before Lando gets tired of you two not talking. 

"Cecile was wondering if she came here and visited you," Charles staggers, but Lando catches him without a beat. "Really? I guess the kids could come here and visit." It never occurred to you that they could come out and visit. "Yeah, it's a great idea, don't you think?" Charles stops walking as you pass him, smiling. 

"You could come home," Charles whispers, cheeks dusted pink from the cold weather. The scuff you let out had Lando's shoulders tense. He could feel the fight coming a mile away, and this was one place he didn't want to get stuck in the middle. "Do I have a home to come back to? Or will you kick me out again?" The sneer on your lips has Charles's face pulled tighter. 

"Charlie, don't." Lando pleads, placing a hand on his chest, wanting him to calm down. "Your home is with us and our kids." Charles's voice was eerily calm, and Lando knew that all hell would break loose with one more comment. "I think you mean my kids. Or did you forget Elijah isn't yours?" It was a low blow, but all the hurt and anger you've felt over the past 4 months was too much. How dare he come here and demand you go home when he's why you're not home. 

"You're right, he isn't mine. I don't even think you're mine too." Charles snaps as Lando looks between the two of you. Fear in his eyes, as this could be the end. The end of his family. "You're right! I was never yours! And you know what? I should've divorced you after you kicked Lando out. How he can still stay with you is a fucking miracle." Charles's face goes neutral, the same look he had when Mattia told him off. His emotions are gone. 

"When you two get home, I hope Lando has the fucking mind to leave you and take the kids and let your worse fucking nightmare come true!" "ENOUGH!" 

Charles and you jump, turning to see Lando standing there, breathing hard. "Just enough. Please?" He begs the emotions and thoughts he's held together, snapping. "What the fuck is the matter with you? The both of you?" Charles has the mind to look ashamed, as do you. "How could you say those horrible things to one another? We're married! We have TWO gorgeous children and a wonderful life. I know I wasn't there initially, that Charles held you together. That you told a lie because you were hurt and trying to not let it all kill you, but fuck." 

"Y/n," Lando turns, looking at you, before taking a deep breath. "What you've done, said, it hurt. You manipulated us in a way that has cracked this marriage in a way we'll never recover from. But, you know what. I don't care. I don't; you're the love of my life and the mother of my two gorgeous, brilliant, talented children. You could kill me, and I'd forgive you. But you are holding onto such hate inside you for Nico that it's hurting us all. Nico, he," Lando sucks in a breath. "Lando, don't." "Shut up," The two of them stare at one another before Lando looks back at you. 

"Nico, he didn't leave you. He bought a new apartment and wrote that letter to tell you how excited he was and how much he loved you. But you never read the letter because you thought he left you. And that's okay because if you had read that letter, you'd have never fallen in love with us, and we wouldn't have Cecile. Y/n, you're not in your 20s anymore. Please, you need that closure when you come home. Because this is not your home, please talk to Nico. There is a piece of you that you're hiding from us because of him, and I have ignored it for 16 years, but no more." Reeling from his words, Lando turns his attention to Charles. 

"And you," He points his finger at Charles, who curls back like Lando has slapped him. "Grow up, get over it. She didn't cheat on us, she didn't fuck him while you two were together and then lie. She never told us who the father was; she moved the truth around. I know that losing your father and Jules was the worst pain imaginable and then losing Anthoine, and that was another person who left you. Charles, we're not leaving you, but we will if you keep shoving us away." 

Charles looks away as the silence surrounds you. "Charles, Charlie, look at me." Charles looks up, staring deep into Lando's eyes. "Elijah is yours, Cecile is yours. Y/n and I are yours. Never think that will change. Elijah is your little boy, the first person he goes to. Listen to me. We're all going to therapy because I refuse to let this relationship fail. If you two don't get your shit together, I'm taking the kids and leaving. Now, fucking TALK!" Lando screams and shoves past Charles and down the trail, leaving you two some peace. 

You two stare at one another; Charles opens his mouth to say something but keeps closing it, unable to say a word. 

"You didn't follow me," Charles snaps his eyes, shocked at your words. "For four months, Charlie. You didn't call, text, write, or even ask about me. Four months of hell, and you come here and then demand me to come home." Stepping closer, Charles takes a step back. 

"A part of me was scared that when I got here, you'd kick me out. And that terrified me. I don't care that Nico is Elijah's," Charles swallows the words and clears his throat. "I care that you didn't trust me for 16 years. Care enough to tell me the truth. After talking to Nico and reading the letters, I understand why. But, fuck," He rips his hand out of his jacket and wipes the tears away. 

"It's all my fault. I went back to therapy and realized that, but a part of it is your fault, too." You scuff, but stop thinking it all over. "He hurt me more than I want to admit. I just wanted to cause him pain, and by causing him pain, I hurt us both." Charles hiccups, wiping away the tears faster. "Four months, that's how long Cecile and you haven't talked to me. We need you home. We'll go to therapy. Hell, I'll stop racing if it means you stay. I'm going to fight for our family." You throw yourself into his arms as you two cry in the snow. 

"Also, Lando is ready to kill Nico on command, and so am I. Mika told us what he said to you, and I'll skin that fucker." You laugh as Charles pulls you back into his chest. "Oh, also, could you possibly call your Uncle David off. While commenting, he's destroyed Lando and me, and it's not fun." You laugh louder, but it stops when the crunch of snow has you facing the sound. 

"Thank god, can we please go home. I'm about to freeze my balls off, and I know you both love my balls." Lando whines; Charles and you share a look and smile. "Yeah, let's go home." 

---------------------------

taglist: @thomaslefteyebrow @a-stray-soul @formulas-bitch @mickslover @myescapefromthislife @glow-ish @kittyfluffypaws28 @ryntro @copper-boom @allabouthappiness @jaydaaasworld @christianpulisic10 @lyraleclerc @daddyslittlevillain @dreamerrosie @driveswiftly13 @harrysdimple05 @sueesstuff @why4anne @nataliambc @cwiphswmwasohmm @buckybarnessweetheart @makingmyway-downtown @elijahslover @kapsylia @zeusmyster @adalynneva @babyvinnie @80sloverry @janeholt3 @silscintilla @ersamn @fanboyluvr @erinnorris @shamelesspotatos @roseseraj @champomiel

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #our boy series #f1 fics #f1 fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris angst #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader

[strangerhottotties]

Mad Sounds - Part 2 - E.M.

Part 1

Summaries: You get Eddie's assignments back for the week and you have a meeting in his van to discuss...

Warnings: Horny shit. Minors fuck off. Mentions of masturbation, slight voyeurism, slight heavy petting and VERY brief grinding.

A/N: Just on my whore shit. I'm finally evening out after coming off birth control so the engine's warming for the first time all year. I share this with you at your own risk. My husband, ever my cheerleader picked out Eddie's test scores for the first couple weeks. Please enjoy.

Special thank you to my bestie who edited this and gave music recommendations: Taylor Swift's 'I Can See You' and 'Dress'.

All week Eddie hovered over you, never was he more than five minutes late to a study session. His newfound eagerness to study had turned more than a few heads. But ever the attention whore, he had turned his audience to you exclusively as much as he possibly could.

Every visit to your locker to retrieve books, he was right there to smile at you brazenly, eyes sliding over your form. It thrilled you. You had an incentive that no one else had ever offered, it fed your confidence. Eddie, ever the flirt, always held doors open for you, now insisted on being as gentlemanly as he possibly could.

All week he's been flashing a crisp red folder at you. Every time you see it, a tingle begins beneath your skin. The flat cardstock you always expect to warp, but the only distortion was the exaggerated hand drawn font across the front. Inside contained every assignment he'd received a grade for this week.

When the final bell rings on Friday afternoon, you make your way to your locker. Your eyes draw up towards your locker and catch a glimpse of Eddie leaning against the set of your lockers. He's a constant in the flow of bodies eager to leave the premises. His eyes as you approach are downright insidious, utterly wicked as he notices you. He fans himself that red folder.

"Hey, Honey," he hums, smile twisting with false sweetness like he was made of Aspartame. "I do hope you're prepared to pay up. I worked hard for these grades."

There were only three classes you were tutoring him in. The remaining classes he needed to graduate. Mr. Allen's Chemistry, Mrs. O'Donnel's Advanced Algebra, and Mr. Jones's Government class.

Thankfully your blush is minimal as you stop in front of the blocked lockers. "Hand 'em over," you hum, holding out your hand. He passes the folder into your hands and you're a little surprised by just how thick it feels in your hand.

He pushes off the wall and leans in close enough to your ear to taunt you that you can feel the heat of his breath fan across your cheek. "I even did the extra credit in Chem." You quirk an eyebrow at him as he holds you in an intense stare just inches from your face. You try to suppress your smile as you adjust the books in your arms to give it your full attention.

It'd be a lie to say that you weren't utterly feverish to discover exactly how good. How many times you thought of him tucked under you comforter at night, aching for his promises that he made last Friday. Aching to know how he tasted, what those talented fingers could do, and how much eagerly he wanted to touch you. Late nights filled with desperate, muffled whines for him. Keeping quiet as you squirm in the dark, wishing for the relief that his skin would give you, craving giving him anything he needed, being by Eddie Munson. 

He seemed pretty excited. "Extra credit, who are you and what have you done with Eddie?" You tease softly, your smile turning demure. Eddie's shoulders roll back as he tilts his head to the side, modeling his pretty neck for you. It reminds you of a brightly colored bird.

"What can I say, I really like my tutor." The hallways are beginning to clear as you flip open the folder and smile at the top page. His government test with a big, fat 'B-' on the top right corner. You flit your eyes over to his, where they burn with a darkness. He blows you a playful kiss.

"This is excellent Eddie!" You flip through his next couple assignments. "Two 'C's, a 'C+', 'B-', and a 'B', Extra credit..."

"I got full credit for it, does that count as an 'A+'." You flush as you consider. It certainly shouldn't go unrewarded if you wanted to encourage it. You draw out your consideration and his eyes light up with eagerness.

"I don't think this warrants that kind of reward," you answer honestly and he deflates, until you follow up with a... "but..." his head snaps up at that, "I kind of had a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" He asks. "Don't leave me in suspense, sweetheart." You glance around at the lingering student body.

"Can we go out to your van first?" You ask him quietly. His face goes blank and he snatches your hand to pull you towards the front doors. "Wait, wait, wait, Eddie!" you call and he halts as you dig the heels of your shoes into the tiled floor to yank him to a halt.

"What?"

"Let me get my bag first. It's in there." Eddie grins and turns around to sweep his hands at your locker. You smile and turn to open your locker, Eddie hanging over your shoulder.

"Do I get a hint?" he hums, but before you can answer, someone shouts his name from down the hall.

"Eddie, c'mon, what are you standing around for? We've got to set up!" You glance down the hall at Gareth and Jeff. Gareth is throwing his hands up in the air.

"Hold on!" He shouts and then turns his attention back to you.

"Do you need to go?"

"No, not even hellfire is getting between me and this surprise," he grins.

"Oh, you guys moved it to Friday?"

"Yeah, I figured we can tweak our schedule tomorrow. I can pick you up-"

"Hey, Eddie!" You giggle at the second interruption of the conversation. Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler's little brother, are jogging up to the irate metalhead. Eddie's mouth presses into a thin line as he regards the kids.

"What is it?" He sighs,

"What's up your ass?" Mike scoffs. You bite your lip to hold your laugh as you start filing through what books you'll need for weekend homework.

"Conversation, A," he points to himself, "B," he points to you, "see your way out of it!" You drag your bag out of your locker and close it. You hit him with an unimpressed look.

"Well, we wanted to ask," Dustin starts, "but I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Dustin, this is Mike." He holds his hand out with a toothy grin. You take his hand, shaking it with an introduction as Eddie slips up next to you.

"We're in Hellfire with Eddie and it's supposed to start in like, five minutes, would you like to join?" You blink with surprise.

"Oh, I don't know how to play D'n'D." You reply evenly. Eddie clears his throat softly.

"I could teach you," he offers, regarding you with playful eyes.

"Totally, it's actually super fun! It's based on strategy and there's a ton of different ways to play!" Mike encourages and receives a harsh look from the senior standing beside you. Eddie was being possessive of you, wanting your singular attention.

"Look, whatever this is..." He gestures between the two of them. "Lose it. I'll be in there. Give me... fifteen minutes?" He confirms with you.

"Be nice," you instruct him flatly before turning towards the two kids. "But fifteen minutes should do it." He rolls his eyes at the kids and grabs your hand to start dragging you away.

"Who'd have thought Eddie's girlfriend would be so nice?"

"Girlfriend?" You repeat in surprise to Eddie exclusively when he comes to a full stop at the word. The kids are walking away and thankfully don't hear your question.

"I never told them you were my girlfriend," he immediately discloses to you. You roll your eyes at him and continue you on, tugging at his hand but admiring the pretty blush that fans his cheeks.

"Come on, sweetiepea," you tease and he laughs awkwardly as you are both trotting into the parking lot.

"But, um," he rumbles in a far more sober tone, he pulls you to a stop, facing you directly. "I want to take you out." You tense as he says this.

"Oh." You sigh and glance around as you think. You shift on your feet as he tilts his face to the side. "You do?" You ask.

Eddie gives an awkward chuckle. "You don't?" He prompts. You teeter on your toes for a moment.

"I think it's more complicated than that, Eddie," you tell him softly, "but I'm... open to talking about it." He wets his lips and steps closer, eyes sliding across your eyes.

"Honey," he hums, "You don't have to go out with me, but... answer me this," he uses the knuckle of his free hand to nudge your chin up a bit, "Do you want... me?"

The air smells earthy. A contradiction in itself as dead leaves skirt across the asphalt of the draining parking lot. Eddie was washing his vulnerability across your skin with the trial of his voice. It was braver than you had any right to enjoy, but after a moment of thought you feel the need to meet him on that level, to share in that vulnerability so it wouldn't be quite so scary.

Your free hand drifts across his jean vest, taking in the coarse fabric as you reach for the collar. You grasp it firmly before pulling him closer to you. You breathe deeply before sighing out, "Yes."

It's simple as he nods. "That's so stupid of you," he responds with a nervous smile.

"Only if you make it so," you reply with a warning and he breathes shakily. You release him by the collar and continue pulling him to his van. He rushes to get to the passenger side for you, swinging the door open. "Thank you," you chirp and climb in. He trots around to the other side and slides into the driver's seat.

There is a heavy moment of silence as you glance at each other. "So, when I had you teach me something," you start as he twists to face you in the seat, "I wanted to model the studying after how you teach. I figure that's the easiest way for you to learn."

Eddie's eyebrows tilt up. "What was your conclusion?"

"Kinesthetic mostly," he gives you a crumpled look. "Hands on. You need to be apart of it, to tinker."

"How do you learn?"

"Writing and visually. The four main groups are kinesthetic, writing, visual, and audio. You are more audio and kinesthetic, if you're learning to play songs by ear." He tilts his head at you with interest. "So, that being said, you've responded the best so far to... motivation and you get distracted when your bored so I was worried that the motivation might get boring for you."

Eddie barks a laugh at you, eyes glittering. "Jeez, your brain is like a supercomputer, I swear." Your face twists at that and you bite your lip as Eddie's smile fades. "Hey, it's a compliment. I swear," he urges.

"I..." you start and fade off.

Eddie takes a deep frustrated breath and looks out at the parking lot. "I know I try to get under your skin," he starts, "but I hate it when you make that face. It kind of makes me sick to my stomach. It's not as fun as I expect it to be. So what did I say, that's the second time now."

You fiddle with the strap on your bag for a moment, fighting the tears away. "'I’m not a robot, Eddie. I have emotions and thoughts and... I don't always get... what's said in between the words. Logic is easier... that doesn't make me less human." A hand skirts across to brace on your knee and your stomach jumps.

"If anything," he coaxes, "it makes you superhuman. Better than the rest of us." You spare a glance over at him and find soulful, brown eyes glittering at you. "I've never met anyone who just... understands. I watch and I see, but you, you watch and you understand. I see the gears turning in your head all of the time. I wish I had that setting."

"It's not a setting, it's all the time. I can't just switch it off. My brain never stops." Eddie smiles at you, eyes crinkling with empathy.

"I think I understand that better than most. It's like fighting nature itself. Never a quiet moment." You nod at him, sighing out with some relief that he understood. He could conceptualize how you operated.

"Exactly."

Eddie's smile widens. "So, do I still get my surprise?"

It's your turn to smile at the way he defuses your tension. "Of course," you reply as he gives you a gentle squeeze of your thigh. You draw the cardboard out of your bag to reveal a spinning dial, expertly color coded. You present it to him as he laughs. "We could fill in with little things that if you're sick of my cookies or something you can spin for a possible change."

"I get to pick things out?" He chirps.

"Sure, as long as we both agree." Eddie grins maliciously and his fingers pinch the tender skin on the inside of your thigh, making you squeak and swat at his hand. His eyes widen.

"Are you ticklish?" He rumbles playfully.

"Eddie, you've got like five more minutes..." you warn sternly, pushing his hand away with an embarrassed glare. He pouts and leans in towards your face, eyes lit up like a cat that's noticed a mouse.

"Okay, okay... is that long enough for me to get the reward for my 'B-'?" Your cheeks flush further and you glance into the back of his van. That could be secluded enough you think.

"Okay," you hum softly and his eyebrows raise with delight.

"Really?"

"Mhmm." You nod your head towards the back of his van and he darts, snatching your hand to pull you after him.

"Please tell me I can unwrap you like a present," he begs and the way he asks makes your knees tremble enough that you wobble and stumble down on them after you've barely made it past the front seats. Eddie's eyes go wide as he tries to soften your fall.

"Ah, sorry!" You chirp, a little frazzled as you attempt to give him an embarrassed smile.

His grin etched across his face, full of salacious cues. "What, that get you excited, pretty girl?"

Your cheeks flare with heat as your brain sparks out and he must see it written on your face because his laugh is out right evil. He's corrosive to your steely exterior and there was nothing you could do to stop that. The only thing rotating through your head was Eddie's voice saying pretty girl on repeat.

Was that really all it took to fry your circuits?

"Uh-huh," fell from your mouth before you could stop it.

Eddie's face freezes, too as you cave into him. It was an excellent example of just how easy you were to bend under the right circumstances. Eddie swallows before giving you a possibly nervous laugh and kneeling down with you.

"I-I mean... shit," you say, hands covering your face in horror. Your nervous break has Eddie grinning and pulling your hands away from your mouth. "I didn't... mean to-to say that-that." You squeeze your eyes shut and your lip wobbles because the repeating words begin.

Eddie sets your palms down in your lap as he gives you a chuckle, wetting his lips. "I think I could use a little more of your honesty," he rasps and your breath hitches as he reaches for your waist, untucking your shirt and sweater with a wiggling motion from where they are secured in the waistband of your jeans.

You don't trust yourself to speak, not when he's staring right at you with those endless eyes. He's barely (technically not even) touching you and your chest is expanding deeper and deeper with each breath.

If you could only see inside his head, every ounce of delicate nervousness would be washed away. Every conscious moment had you. He felt like he was fourteen all over again, springing erections at the very smell of you or the curl of your shy smiles, the ones that had lingering of heat at the edges. The idea of you giving yourself over to him so easily.

If it had been any other girl, he'd have been excited, sure. He was twenty and a pretty girl offering her services as a reward would have simply been a brag. But it was you. You who had seemed so immune to his ridiculous boyish crush for years. You who had been impervious to every flirt he'd attempted throughout the years. You who was smarter than anyone he'd ever met. You who didn't give a shit if you were a cheerleader or if you were dating a jock. You who'd actually had a sense of justice. You... who offered yourself to him ooohhh so sweetly in his bedroom after a tearfilled confession.

It was torture.

He'd had to fuck his fist three times after you left that night just to be able to get rid of the ever-returning erection. Hell, you'd given him more than enough to work with.

"Fuck," he groans as he peels the sweater up over your head and you happily help but lifting your arms. "You don't even know how hot you look right now."

It makes you whimper.

Eddie freezes as he stares at you, his own chest rising and falling heavily. His fingers tremble as they work your buttons loose. The sounds of shaky breathing and the soft press of fabric sliding on fabric is filling the inside of the enclosed space. It's a little too stuffy in here but that makes your heart pound harder as his fingers glide gently over the skin of your shoulders.

It hitches your breath, the heat of his palms as he pushes the open blouse off your shoulders. Your brain, as if to prove your earlier conversation wrong, melts in the heat of the moment until you can't think. Those eyes scorch your skin as he takes in the silky hold of your breasts. He hooks his index fingers through the straps and drags them slowly down, savoring unwrapping you.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, face crumbling in distress as you feel the fabric flip under your breasts. His face is twisted as his eyes take a moment to dart up to yours. He opens his mouth to say something, but all that falls out is another soft, "Jesus Christ."

He looks closer to tears than you've ever seen. It's what drives you to lift up onto your knees and push closer, cupping his head in your hands. He's so close you can feel his damp breath breeze across your breasts. His hands rise to cradle your waist, sliding up you until with a jerk you're in his lap and gasping.

Your sternum collides a bit with his forehead as his hands start to creep upward. You smack his hands and he jerks away to stare at you like a kicked puppy. It almost works.

"What?"

"'B+'," you reply. "You... you've earned the right to... see them, and to... a picture, but you-you haven't earned feeling them," you whisper, voice already fighting to come out. Eddie's gaze softens and he nods obediently.

"Look so good," he sighs. "So good." There is a mutual understanding, the dangling that if he really wanted to, he could. He was inches away from his fingers gliding up to caress you in the way you ached for. Barely a breath away from scooping up your nipple with his tongue to taste. “Did you touch yourself to the thought of my rewards?” He asks, fingers dancing sweetly over your waist again.

A shuddering sigh leaves you and you swallow the saliva building in your mouth. Your thumbs trace his cheek bones. “Every night since you offered to touch me,” you manage on the edge of a sigh, cheeks deepening with color. Your eyes float up to gauge his reaction, flutter with the desire to turn away. His fingers tighten and knead the skin of your waist.

His mouth goes slack with want, eyes boring into yours. “I love your honesty. You’re being so good,” he praises softly.

It felt kind of torturous but as he adjusts you feel something nudge your center and your eyes snap down to the shape at the front of his pants. "He doesn't lie, you know," he promises you.

"No?" You find yourself smiling with mild amusement. "It's not like Pinocchio?" Eddie grins nearly drunkenly at your poor joke.

"The polar opposite... save for being woody," he rumbles back and juts his chin in your direction. He's staring at your mouth, his hands finding purchase on your hips, thumbs rubbing little circles over your skin, sending tingles down your legs.

You sink curiously down into his lap and his eyes seal shut with a rather deep intake of his breath. Your heart is hammering at the sight as you feel yourself pulse against him. As he breathes out his eyes hood at you, mouth tilting towards yours.

You lean back with your shoulders, just barely out of reach of his kiss. A taunted groan rumbles in his chest. "No?" He hums.

You wet your lips, a demure smile spreading across your mouth as you shake your head at him. You find yourself biting your lower lips to keep you grounded.

"What do I have to do to earn that then?" He asks.

"Add it to the-the wheel?" You offer and his smile is stretching affectionately across his face. He sighs softly.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Eddie! You better get your ass out here!" Gareth roars as you're both scrambling in the back of the van.

Eddie launches you onto your back beside him as he scrambles up to the driver's seat and rolls the manual window down. It nearly knocks the adrenaline out of you as he grumbles about 'these friends cockblocking him'.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Eddie snarls as you're sliding your straps back in place and searching for your blouse.

"My problem? Dude, get out here! We're ready to start our campaign and you said 'fifteen minutes' twenty... two minutes ago."

"Gareth," Eddie seethes as you button the front of your shirt, not bothering with all of them before scrambling to put your sweater on.

"No- Eddie, get the fuck out here? What's more important than-" but then you're making contact with Gareth as you're tucking in your shirt, hair still tucked into both aspects of clothing. Eddie glances in the rear view mirror as you flush with embarrassment.

"Shit," Eddie sighs.

"You're really boning the valedictorian?" Gareth demands.

"No!" Eddie snaps. "We're not boning, okay?"

"Really?" His friend scoffs. "Just get in here!"

With that, Eddie gives a frustrated groan and rolls the window up, Gareth already left your slot of the window. When he twists around you give him a little wicked giggle that makes his eyebrows creep up his face.

"You think that's funny?" He accuses, eyes glinting as you giggle uncontrollably harder, hand covering your mouth as you shake your head at him. "Are you sure?" He teases creeping closer to you. Your giggles are getting more wicked until he's moving fast and you're all but tackled to the floor of his van.

Eddie pins your hands to the carpet, hovering directly in your face. "You better get your ass inside," you hum, "your subjects are waiting."

"But you see, there's one more nefarious thing that I must do."

"What's tha-ahmpf!" Eddie's mouth is on yours before you can finish your question, eyes widening as he intertwines your fingers. That heat you were feeling starts flooding your body back.

He's straddling you, and yet somehow his weight isn't enough. He's not resting against the one place you need it. But your mouth parts to mimic his hesitantly, regardless of your lower protests. You copy him, gasping quietly into his mouth, before he pulls back.

He sits back then, grinning down at you on the floor below him, flushed and pouting. "Had to steal a kiss from the princess in secret," he jokes, "don't pout, I'll earn my next one."

"I... want another one," you murmur and his eyes light up like a kid on Christmas. His warm laughter bounces off the walls of the van.

"Next time, we've got to go," he chirps and pulls you up.

"Do I... look decent?" You ask untucking your hair and fluttering your hands over it, hoping it's not too obvious what you were doing in the back of the van.

"You look stunning," he urges with a wink and climbs up front.

More pounding startles you from the wall of the van.

"Not what I meant and you know it!" You hiss but he opens the passenger door and you both file out. You snag your bag from the front seat, leaving the unfinished wheel on the passenger seat instead.

"Oh, and Eddie," you call, turning towards the two boys, you fish your hand into the front pocket of your bag. "For that 'B'... and the extra credit." His eyes widen as you draw two polaroids out of your bag. You'd prepared six... just in case. Six you thought looked good. There were more among the ash in your fireplace at home that were awkward angles (close to twenty more).

You can't look as you draw them out, too indecisive on which ones he'd like. He's in front of you like an obedient dog in an instant, taking them like it's gospel. 

"You were walking around all day with these in your locker?" He demands as Gareth tries to peek only to be met with a literal pushy Eddie. You grin, flushed deep pink, surely. His gaze goes gummy with heat again, melting under your soft seduction that you’re beginning to lean into. He was nothing but putty to your soft and genuine admiration of him. You’re finding how responsive he is to the warm and sticky center that he’s managed to find in the maze of your steel barricade.

"Bye, Eddie." You hum, thrilled with surprising and delighting him. 

"Bye, Honey," Eddie teases back, dazed as you turn on heel.

"Have fun with your board game club," you toss back and manage to get Gareth to snort. Eddie's eyes narrow on your own form retreating towards your car.

"What's that?" You hear his friend demand.

"I'll take your hand off. You’re not looking." You smile to yourself, stealing glances over your shoulder as the boys roughhouse.

Your first kiss stolen with the most delicious thievery you’ve ever tasted; the ghosting memory enchants your lips. You can still feel the heat of his calloused hands drifting over your thrumming skin. The scent of him, wearing on the day, still clinging to you as you settle into your car.

Again, I'm not doing a taglist for this currently. If you want to follow this short series hit the follow and turn on notifications.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fics #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #mad sounds

[kairiscorner]

meetcute.

pt. 1

💭 in which you meet one of your high school classmates at your favorite cafe.

the relaxing ambiance at this cozy little cafe by the corner down your street was simply a treasure to you, it wasn't that crowded, the staff were pretty friendly, and they brewed your drinks and served your favorite pastries just the way you liked them. indeed, this crisp morning was just... a perfect blend of calm, serene, and—surprising.

when you arrived by the counter to pick up your order, you noticed someone familiar ordering. the minute he turned around to meet your gaze, his dark purple eyes widened; instinctively, he put his hand up to the side of his face, not to disrespect you or say that he didn't want to see you, he just... he didn't really comb his hair this morning, nor did he plan on meeting you of all people today. "choso?" you recalled his name, with him flinching at the fact you remember who he is.

he slowly lowered his hand and moved out of line, still keeping his distance form you, though. "ah, hey..." he muttered out, unable to make eye contact with you out of embarrassment. you gave him a small smile and closed the distance between you two, complimenting his effortlessly put together look, including the barely tamed bedhead. he chuckled under his breath, which morphed into a sigh as he ran his veiny hand through his light brown hair. "had i known i'd meet you today, i'd've made smarter fashion choices." he murmured, making you laugh, which made his face burn up in embarrassment.

you invited him to sit at your table to just talk if he wanted, and he shyly accepted your invitation. after combing his hair in the cafe's restroom and receiving his order, you reminisced how you once did the same gesture for him in high school—offering you a seat at his secluded table, away from the crowds, in the corner of the cafeteria. he always took the seat next to the trashcans, offering you the best side of the otherwise neglected and shabby table.

choso sipped at his frappe, his mind wandering as he began to recall and remember all those moments during lunch time with you. "yeah, i... i'm sorry i couldn't really get you any of the good tables, not like with those popular kids that'd invite you to all the great hangout places around and outside of school." "no! no, you have nothing to be sorry for. if anything... it was those moments where it was just us two, a couple of awkward teens behind the whole crowd, just being in our own little world together that made my high school life memorable. thank you, cho." you declared, expressing your gratitude for his subtle gestures of hospitality and concern for you.

once again, choso's cheeks burned up at your thanks, and at the mention of his nickname that you constantly called him back then after you both became friends. he turned away from you, biting at his straw, a sneaky red hue tinting at his cheeks. "don't mention it." he mumbled, making you giggle under your breath at how adorable choso was. his habits of acting flustered really stayed the same, and you felt more and more attached to this man the more you meet him.

"uh... can we do this again? y'know, meet at this cafe, um, talk, and... i dunno, do whatever you wanna do together afterwards." he offered, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do to make this conversation seem less desperate for him to see you again next time on his part. you raised your eyebrows, and your lips curled into a soft grin. "of course! same time next week?" "ah y-yeah, same time next week." he told you with a nod.

"then it's settled..." you confirmed, a childish little smile on your face as you extended your raised pinky finger out to him. "i trust you'll seal this with one of my binding vows?" you chuckled, making choso break out into a smile and shaking his head lightly. he relented, and wrapped his pinky finger around yours; your 'binding vows' of pinky promises were unbreakable.

the morning hadn't even fully begun for the man, but... choso's already looking forward to the rest of it, and for next week, right here, at the same booth at this very cafe, for him to see you and be with you all over again, having that same moment that feels like a gentle fire in his cheeks, that feels like the calm after a storm, like being in a field full of new, fresh grass—like being a lovesick, edgy teenage boy whose world revolved around that one special someone, for even just one moment, when everything feels perfect and right.

#choso #choso kamo #kamo choso #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

[hacked-by-jake]

[MC (they-them) × Jake × fluff]

MC stepped out of the police station, relieved to have finally finished the last report on the Hannah case, feeling the warmth of the sun on their face and the crisp spring air filling their lungs. They glanced at their watch, already mentally mapping out their route to the next town where their expertise was needed. But before they could take another step, a mysterious figure clad in black approached them, sunglasses hiding his eyes, a hood obscuring his features.

"Are you MC?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

They nodded cautiously as he handed them a sealed envelope without another word. Without waiting for a response, the enigmatic figure vanished into the bustling street. Intrigued and slightly unnerved, MC tore open the letter, their curiosity piqued by the unexpected delivery, despite already having a premonition about the sender of this letter..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

𝘔𝘺 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘔𝘊,

I'm sending this letter to assure you of my safety.

As I sit here, penning these words to you, my heart races with both excitement and trepidation. The events that unfolded during our recent mission have left me both exhilarated and wounded, both physically and emotionally. But above all else, they've left me longing for your reassuring presence.

I write to you now, not from a place of despair, but from a place of hope and determination. Despite the close call and the injuries sustained, I want you to know that I am safe and on the path to recovery. The mine left me with several, light injuries. The burns may sting, but they are nothing compared to the ache in my heart from being away from you.

MC, our partnership has been nothing short of extraordinary. Together, we've faced challenges that most would shy away from, and emerged victorious against all odds. The way you fearlessly tackled every obstacle, with unwavering resolve, fills me with an indescribable pride. You are the true hero in this story.

Yet, amidst the chaos and danger, I can't shake the feeling of guilt for putting you in harm's way. Please know that it was never my intention to cause you worry or pain. If anything, I am in awe of your strength and resilience, and I am eternally grateful for your unwavering support.

As we embark on this temporary separation, I find solace in the knowledge that it is only a matter of time before we reunite. I've been informed about the City near Duskwood, where they requested your assistance. Moonvale awaits us with its mysteries and challenges, and I have no doubt that together, we will conquer whatever obstacles lie ahead.

Until then, my love, take comfort in the knowledge that I carry you with me always, in every beat of my heart and every thought that crosses my mind. Stay strong, stay safe, and know that I am counting down the moments until we can be together again.

I, too, will personally ensure your safety. Nymos and I are committed to clearing your path and doing whatever it takes to protect you. I've shared my vulnerability with you before, and in light of the recent events at Grim Rock, I find myself even more dependent and at your mercy.

I'm incredibly proud of you for cracking the case and saving my sister. The challenges you confronted, the horrors you endured, and the loss of Richy... I can only begin to fathom the emotional anguish you're experiencing, but I vow to be your unwavering support, concealed in the shadows, yet ever-present by your side, even if you cannot perceive me. I will never leave you alone.

MC, my love, I promise you, we will see each other again when the time comes.

With all my heart,

Jake

A/n: A little thing after the release of the date, just a little idea. Actually, I just wanted to post the letter, but decided to add the first part, just as an introduction. Letters from Jake are just great, aren’t they? :) I was a bit proud for the wording here. Even if the first part is pretty short and not so detailed. But well, writing Jake is a stress-lovely something. I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading and I hope you will have a fantastic day/evening/night! 💚

#duskwood #moonvale #duskwood fanfiction #moonvale fanfiction #<- wahhhh #duskwood x moonvale fanfiction #duskwood jake #duskwood hacker #everbyte studio #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #everbyte duskwood #iamjake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #everbyte game #duskwood jake x player #letters from jake #{hbj(dw)/writes;fanfiction}

[thatfreshi]

Not if You Collect Them Like Ex-lovers (Astarion x Reader)

Tw - couple arguing

Recommended Song: This Is Me Trying - Taylor Swift

Whenever you and Astarion fight, it gets ugly. Two extremely emotional people, two people who still aren't used to letting their guard down all the time, people with faults.

"I don't understand why it bothers you."

Usually, it starts with a misunderstanding, an attempt at love, a hand reaching out to simply ask a question.

"Because Astarion, it's my house too!"

Full names, no more sweets and doves. Throwing words around like rocks, glass bottles breaking on countertops, shards, shattering.

"Yes, our house, I thought that's what you wanted? Or was I mistaken when you pleaded with me, saying you wanted this forever."

Questions lose answers, no longer searching for love, just words to defend yourself with. When the friend becomes the enemy and your throat closes up with grief, what do you do other than fight back?

"I wanted a house that at least had some semblance of looking like a house, not just your shit everywhere!"

Wounds that run deep, that need to hold onto every little thing he finds, your home decorated with the most meaningless items, things that mean everything to him. To you they're knick-knacks, some of them even garbage, and that hoarder's mentality drives you mad. The argument was so incredibly stupid, easily solved, but it's impossible to be peaceful when you never get time apart.

"Well, why don't I just take my things and leave then?"

And there he goes, escalating when he feels cornered.

"Oh right, and go where Astarion? Go burn to a crisp in the sunlight, or maybe hide in an alleyway somewhere? I'm sure that'll be so much better than living with me!"

Poking the bear, as you do when you're stressed. You know he hates the fact that he's lost the sunlight, cursed to be in a wooden box with blackout curtains.

"I'm sure you'd love that, if I just disappeared right?"

Deflecting, but also wrapping himself in insecurity. It's a test, a trick question, a puzzle.

"At least I'd have some room in this fucking house to do anything without tripping over all your useless 'treasures.'"

From trying to understand to going on the prowl for hatred, you've reached a point of no return.

"Why do you even care Tav, I just like having things! Is that so much to ask? Are they not allowed to mean something to me?"

"Not if you collect them like ex-lovers!"

Astarion opens his mouth to say something else, but trembles. Now you've done it, gone too far. He scoffs, tears leaving his eyes.

"Well then perhaps I should have another."

It's late, the stars dotting the sky like scars from teeth, allowing the vampire to storm out of the house, slamming the door. You begin to cry as well, knowing you shouldn't have said that, knowing you didn't really mean it. You're just frustrated, the stuff scattered everywhere is overwhelming, and you just don't get why it matters.

When Astarion leaves, he knows he only has a couple of hours to cool off, to think things through. It's infuriating at times, being so chained to one place, after getting to explore the world for months on end. He wasn't allowed to have things with Cazador, not anything that was his own. After the nautiloid crash, he started grabbing everything he could get his hands on. Jewelry, pretty fabrics, anything that could possibly mean anything. Now he's stuck in one place again, but a place where he can finally store all those little finds, a nice-feeling rock, a bottle that reminds him of a night stroll the two of you took. It's a comfort in a scary transition, to be allowed to keep something, anything.

While you're thinking of where he's gone, you look around at all the things Astarion has piled up on the coffee table. A couple rolls of thread from the market, ones he hasn't even started to use, a stack of books he'll probably take forever to finally read. You go through these items forever, trying to organize all the little things he's left around the place, filling drawers with memories you didn't realize were important. After clearing out most of the things in the living room, you find a small, poorly crafted ring. It's heavily scratched, but has an inscription on the inside. Your mind floods with the magical feeling of the grove, and Astarion pocketing this ring after showing the young tiefling child a magic trick. Back then, his intentions were just to show the child that your things can get snatched up so easily, but he slowly began to believe it was lucky, just as the kid said. You meditate on the thought, realizing these items, they're all either moments or possibilities. The front door opens.

Somber steps, the sound of his dagger being placed on the nearby table. You turn around and walk towards him, wrapping your arms around each other.

"I'm sorry."

You manage to choke out.

"It's alright darling, I'm being ridiculous."

You shake your head, breaking the embrace.

"No, no you're not. I was going through all of this, all of this stuff, and you're right. It all means something."

"Stupid meanings though. It's all fear Tav, fear I'm going to forget, fear I'm going to lose everything I have."

"That's okay, it's okay to be scared."

You show him the tiefling's ring.

"But we don't have to be scared anymore. We have luck on our side, right?"

He laughs, fiddling with the silly scratched-up band.

"You remember this?"

You nod.

"Of course I remember. I still don't know how you did that trick."

"A magician never tells."

You both laugh, still crying

"Gods, I thought you were so annoying."

"Well apparently I still am if you had to take that heavy of a jab at my past."

You frown.

"I-"

"I know you didn't mean it love, but we can't just say things we don't mean to get a rise out of each other."

He's become better at being the voice of reason, growing, changing.

"It's just so overwhelming sometimes. I know you're new at this whole, living a domestic life thing, but I just want to have a say in our space. That's all."

"I know, I hear you and I respect that. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made our space my space."

"I'm fine with all your keepsakes, but can we just organize them? Have a space for all your little treasures and such?"

"We do still have that extra room upstairs."

You push him.

"That's supposed to be another guest room!"

"Do we really need that many guest rooms?"

The two of you giggle to yourselves.

"You know if we can't host all our friends at once, they will throw a fit."

"Well, I'll find some way to give you some more space. I never wanted to make you feel suffocated."

You look into each other's eyes for a moment, seeing that spark again, finding that love bubble back up. Saying things you don't mean, meaning things you don't say, it's all so new to both of you.

"I know my love, I know."

You hold each other by the doorway for a while, mumbling about how to make this space work for the both of you, how when you start raising your voices, you need to just step away and rethink it. Learning to love, to truly love, to exist as one, it's such a struggle, but a worthwhile cause. After all, there's no one else you'd rather fight with.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #angst #comfort

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Absolutely adored your last story!

If you don't mind, I'd like to request something too. What about Miguel's reaction to the reader telling him they are with child? 👀 Feel free to write this to your heart's content 🩷

Have a great day! x

I'm not usually a fan of writing pregnant scenes unless and until it is absolutely required. Given Miguel's backstory, it is definitely required haha. So hope I did your ask the due diligence.

Hope you like it 💖💖💖

---

Magic

The digits in the clock changed with a click. It was past midnight and somehow, you couldn’t sleep. You laid still, soaking in the silence and taking comfort in the soft pale light that filtered into the room.

Arguably with what you learnt yesterday, your mind should have been a warzone but instead it was a question paper staring back at you, waiting for you to choose the right answer. You preferred the battle field. You sighed, the warm hand that rested on the peak of your hip trailed up higher making your skin feel smooth as if you were made of butter.

He pulled you closer to him, even in his sleep he craved for you presence. You had been warned about him, to not marry him and yet you heeded to no one’s advice. Instead, only choosing him when any struggle arose. He was always the answer, you couldn’t be without him and with how he nuzzled into your neck seeking comfort, you knew you held some value in his life too.

So if you were going to choose him again, you were having to say goodbye to a different chapter in your life.

“You're still awake aren’t you?”, he asked you, his voice raspy as he stirred from his sleep.

“How could you tell?”, you asked still laying as you were.

“Reading you has always been a part of my reflex.”, he mumbled with pride as he placed a soft kiss on your exposed shoulder.

You let out a quiet chuckle, now turning towards him to hide deeper into the panes of his chest. Skin on skin, there was no telling where his limbs intertwined with yours. The steady rhythm of his heart only made your throat drier.

“A charmer, even in the dead of night.”, you traced your finger over his collarbone to tuck your hand beneath his arm in the end.

“My spells won’t work on anyone else.”, he spoke with his eyes closed, still caught in the in between.

You didn’t intend to wake him, he was tired as is and now you were keeping him up. It stung you, the one thought that had been on your mind since yesterday. You were failing, in being a wife and now, as a mother.

“Because you’re the magic.”, his words dripped like candle wax, beautiful and yet it burned your heart.

“Only you think so.”, you closed your eyes, hoping to fall asleep as his hand rubbed your back, the soft gesture easing you to relax.

“Puedo preguntarte algo?”, his words had a little slur to them as you hummed in response.

“Why did you hide you were sick this morning?”, the calm in his voice made your eyes pop open as you drew in a sharp breath, now with him holding you so close, he could read you like a book.

“There was nothing to hide, Miguel.”, you were digging a deeper hole.

“It wasn’t all too concerning to trouble you.”, you were now wide awake.

“Mi cielo.”, he murmured.

“Come to me with all your troubles, por favor.”, even as he spoke you could tell this had weighed him down.

You were still thinking it through when he prompted you again, “So?”, he was lulling you to give up the truth.

“Why did you then sneak off to the doctor’s?”, now he was awake too. There was a certain bite to his words, crisp with tension and worry.

You didn’t need to see his eyes to tell that he was afraid, you could feel it in the way his muscles stiffened. The thought propped up again. That you were failing, at being his lover and his wife by keeping things from him.

But was your guilt and fear more important than his feelings?

To have put him through the worry of fearing he was going to lose you too.

He was always the answer, he would give up everything for you if you asked and you would do the same. Selfless for eachother that it often put you in a spot to make decisions for him.

But what would he say?

Did you want to put him through the pain of his past by placing a child in his hands?

“Because,”, you looked up at him, to note his gaze was already on you, hooked on your every word.

“I’m carrying your child.”, you let the words slip from your tongue, like you were letting go out the helm of your ship towards what could be the point of it’s destruction.

You were sure, that having lost his daughter once, he wouldn’t want to put himself through that heartbreak again. You watched as he tensed up again, to slowly rise up to rest his back against the head board.

“Oh.”, he said, but you couldn’t tell from his sober tone.

“So nothing life threatening.”, he reached out to caress your cheek.

“No.”, you drew yourself close to him. Ironic, that many believed you lit up his world but he was the fire to your winter. You only found respite in his arms.

“When did you come to know?”, he rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone.

“Yesterday.”, you told him, to which he hummed taking in the information.

But his eyes slid to yours, “Why didn’t you tell me?”, the way his eyes looked pale in the dim light, you not confiding in him had hurt him.

“Miguel, you know the life I come from.”, you turned serious, that somehow in his presence you couldn’t continue to lie anymore.

“What if I’m not a good mother? What if instead of building this family, I wreck it instead?”, you asked, your blood turning cold with images of this fear manifesting in your mind.

“And it would result in you being heart broken, over the child you lost.”, you slumped into the cover like a little pebble, giving in to the pull of your panic.

“I love that you think of me always, mi ángel.”, he reached for your waist to pull you up over his torso such that you could meet his eyes.

“But in this circumstance, you’re wrong.”, his index finger smoothed the wrinkles on your forehead as you fought back tears.

“I can see it in your eyes, you will be an excellent mother. Your love is endless and patient, you made me believe in all this again.”, he gestured to the setting around you.

“So don’t let your fears destroy you.”, he wiped the tear as it landed on your cheek.

“As for me.”, he paused, his eyes turning distant for a second.

“As much as I loved Gabriella as my own,”, he ran his fingers through your long hair.

“She wasn’t.”, he pursed his lips.

“This variant of mine had everything I could only dream off. Replacing him meant I only enjoyed a life that was a lie.”, he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Which hurt more when I lost it.”, you could see the sadness in his eyes.

“Nothing was real from the beginning.”, he gave you a lopsided frown, which broke your heart as you felt his pain as your own.

“Almost as close to a figment of my imagination.”, he inhaled deeply to sigh.

“But you.”, the sadness vanished and in it’s place happiness restored his features.

“Our home.”, he looked up at the ceiling.

“It’s all real.”, he smiled, his eyes slowly trailing back to you.

“So no, this wouldn’t hurt me.”, he nudged your nose with his as though this was all you had to remember, to never forget that he was sure of this.

“I’ve wanted this, I want this next chapter for us. It's time.”, he confided in you as he closed his eyes to pull you closer, to rest your forehead on his and when you did, the question paper in you mind vanished. It didn’t have the answer you wanted to choose, because in this second you had both chosen to choose eachother.

“You surprise me in the best ways.”, you told him as you reached up to take his other hand.

Holding onto his fingers, you guided his hand over to place it over your womb and when he opened his eyes, there was a new passion in it. A new fervent resolution that what he had now, he would protect with his life, that his entire life was right here in the confines of his arms.

With that burning desire, he caught your lips with his. It was a sleepy kiss that was my no means perfect as the ones in the morning were but it was surely more important. You and him weren't going to be the only ones in this house anymore.

“Like I said.”, he spoke over your lips.

“You are magic.”, he said as he trailed his fingers over your lower abdomen.

So you kissed him again, softly, your hands scaling the incline of his back to hold his neck.

But he pulled away to catch his breath.

“Vamos, mami. You need to have a good sleep.”, he placed you into the side of your bed with a sudden air of discipline, as he had remembered what time it was.

“I’ll make you fresh lemonade in the morning to combat the sickness and also –

“You need your sleep too, papi.”, you cut him off before he began to panic and pulled his hand over your waist as he chuckled to settle into your covers.

“Bien, bien.”, he calmed down settling into the same lazy rhythm with his hand slung over you that finally made sleep arrive sooner than what you both had expected.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099

[lostfracturess]

【 ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ 】 ch. 03

"i hate this—i hate that i still need you, satoru." his arms tensed around you. "i know," he whispered. "but i'll always be here, even if you end up hating me for it."

x pairing gojo x f!reader (main), fushiguro x f!reader (jjk universe)

x summary you never wanted to become part of the world of jujutsu sorcerers, yet fate had other plans when the one and only satoru gojo took you under his wing at jujutsu high. but as the lines between student and teacher begin to blur, hidden powers surge to life, and a deadly target is set on your head.

x wc 13.9 k

x warnings [18+] this story contains abusive/possessive behavior, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, graphic depictions of violence/injury/combat, character death, suicidal thoughts. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note alright, here's the latest chapter! i'm always curious to hear your reactions—let me know what you think! (likes and reblogs are always appreciated!) ♡

series masterlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

Being friends with Satoru was fucking hard. 

His mere presence had the power to crumble the walls that protected your composure. Every encounter became a silent war—an inner struggle to choose distance over the alluring closeness his aura naturally demanded.

But keeping distance? 

Oh, it was a fierce, bitter, and relentless battle.

"Just a few more!" Satoru's voice, melodiously carefree, pierced through the chilly air. You forced your muscles into another agonizing push-up as your body teetered on the brink of collapse.

"Oh, how I adore him," Nobara whispered, her voice lingering beside you.

Autumn has subtly introduced itself. It bathed the world in warm amber and russet hues, gently wrapping the fading memories of summer's vibrancy under its soft blanket. The days began to cool. You could feel a gentle breeze on your skin.

"How much more?" You asked, your voice barely hiding the treacherous trembling of your arms.

"I'm going to throw up," Yuji declared. His face twisted in a strange mixture of effort and rebellion against his stomach's agenda. 

Nobara quietly muttered a series of creative curses.

"Hmmm," Satoru peered over his sunglasses. "—just another easy 50."

"Ha. Ha. Haaa?" Yuji's voice scaled up with each syllable.

"You're joking, right?" Nobara asked, her voice a sweet poison. 

You glanced over to Megumi for a split second. He seemed to suffer in silence.

The insidious muscle burn has found its way to your core. Ah, the betrayal of one's own body. You hate push-ups. And Satoru. But mostly push-ups, you thought.

And maybe, just maybe, you hated the way your heart still skipped a beat whenever he was near.

"Come on, only a few more. Push through it," Satoru cheered.

Meanwhile, Yuji, now completely horizontal on the ground, announced with dramatic flair, "Go on without me. Save yourselves. Remember me as I was—," his voice fading into an exaggerated death rattle.

Your visible exhale, clouds of warmth dissolving into the crisp air, as you exchanges a quick glance with Satoru. Your heart, that traitorous organ, fluttered at the unexpected sight. 

Damn it all.

—49—49—50—Your arms gave way, surrendering to the undeniable pull of the earth below. Your face hit the slightly damp grass, allowing yourself a moment to enjoy the earthy scent and the cool sensation on your overheated skin.

Perhaps this was where you would remain for the rest of eternity—a monument to the fallen, struck down in the prime of life by Satoru's cruel push-up regime.

A shadow fell upon you. You knew who it was without looking. "If you've come to gloat," you began, your voice muffled by the grass beneath, "know that I've already drawn up my revenge plan."

Instead of a witty retort, Satoru's voice was softer, flirtatious, closer, as he said, "You did well."

Friends, Satoru. Remember?

"I highly doubt that," you rolled your eyes, catching sight of Megumi, already rebounding to his feet, seemingly unfazed. "Are you even human?" you asked him, half-joking, half-awe.

A nonchalant shrug and a lean stretch were his only responses, further fueling your suspicions about his humanity.

"What was today's hellish training even for?" Yuji lamented.

"Do I need a reason to torment my students?" Satoru teased.

Nobara's expression crafted a visual soliloquy of disdain.

"Actually," Satoru corrected, "—you have a new mission tomorrow." His tone grew more serious. "There have been disturbing incidents reported from an abandoned hospital near Shizuoka."

Megumi interjected, "Don't they have their own sorcerers?"

"Not strong enough, it seems." Satoru's gaze hardened for a moment. "But I assure you, it will be an exciting adventure!"

You lifted your face from the grass, strands of green clinging to your cheeks. You cast a skeptical glance at Satoru. "Exciting adventure, he says," you murmured. "—last time it was a 'minor inconvenience' and we fought a special curse that almost made a snack out of Yuji."

Yuji, still stretched out beside you, nodded solemnly. "I still have nightmares about those teeth."

"Your definition of fun, Gojo, seriously needs a revision," Nobara added.

Satoru lowered himself to your level. His eyes met yours as a grin played around the corners of his lips. "You'll love this one, I promise."

Yuji mustered the strength to sit up. "What's so 'exciting' about this mission anyway?"

Satoru tilted his head slightly, silver strands of hair capturing the last rays of the day, shimmering in the receding sunlight. "That abandoned hospital in Shizuoka—it's notorious. Local sorcerers have been trying to deal with the anomalies there for months, but last week two of them went in and never came out."

Nobara perked up. "So you're sending us to a place where sorcerers have gone missing?"

Satoru nodded. "Exactly. The hospital was a place of pain, suffering and numerous unexplained deaths even before it was abandoned. Now, it seems to have become a breeding ground for curses. The incidents are escalating and they can't contain it anymore. We must find out what's going on there, save the sorcerers, and cleanse the place."

Your heart raced. You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, grass and soil clinging to your sweat-soaked shirt. "Sounds more dangerous than exciting."

"Sure, there's a risk, but we've got this. As long as we stick together," Megumi said.

"The power of friendship saves the day, huh?" you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Satoru stood up and held out a hand to help you to your feet. As you accepted the gesture, a familiar electric charge ran through you. He pulled you up with ease, his voice a soft whisper meant only for you, "Be careful. I'd hate to lose my favorite student."

FRIENDS, SATORU. REMEMBER?

****

"Wasn't this supposed to be fun?" Nobara hollered. 

Her voice sliced through the eerie silence of the abandoned hospital's hauntingly empty hallways, as all four of you sprinted, hearts thundering in your chests.

The distant, hollow groans of curses echoed through the deserted corridors. Each groan sent shivers down your spine and fueled your legs to push you forward with even greater urgency.

Megumi summoned his divine dog. It charged forward, fighting the cascade of curses that flowed like a nightmarish tide through the crumbling, cavernous passageways to buy you more time to escape.

"That's Gojo's version of fun, remember?" Yuji retorted, his words punctuated by ragged breaths. 

Shadows seemed to reach for you, elongating as the dimming twilight outside filtered through the cracked windows, creating unsettling, contorting forms upon the walls. 

Skidding around a corner, Nobara sent a cascade of cursed nails spiraling into an oncoming threat. The curses dissipated upon impact. But the brief respite was soon shattered by the oppressive feeling of more malevolent presences converging upon your location.

The hospital itself seemed to warp and twist with cursed energy. Halls elongated, and rooms reshaped into grotesque shapes. The walls themselves seemed to breathe, inhaling and exhaling a suffocating, eerie energy that enveloped everything within.

"How the fuck did we end up in this creepy horror show all of a sudden?" You yelled as you sprinted ahead.

"We must find the core of this energy—destroy it or we'll be overrun," Megumi shouted.

The scene was a total mess, no way around it. 

The chaotic atmosphere, swirling with malevolent energy and the agonized screams of curses, pressed in from all sides. Shadows reached out and twisted around the group, the outlines of lurking creatures barely discernible in the pitch-black darkness, as an immense curse appeared, radiating an aura of fear so deep it seemed to suck the life from its surroundings.

Shadows reached out and twisted around the group, stopping you in your tracks. Then curses appeared, their outlines barely visible in the pitch-black darkness. Agonized screams echoed from all sides. 

Suddenly, a massive curse appeared, radiating an aura of fear so deep it seemed to suck the life from its surroundings.

Satoru's voice crackled over your communicators, his voice tense. "I sense a tremendous amount of cursed energy. Get out of there now!"

But his warning came too late. With a bone-rattling roar, the curse lunged forward. 

Everything fell into chaos.

Megumi's shikigami dimmed and flickered as the curse descended upon you all. Nobara and Yuji tried their best to fight back, but the monstrous creature effortlessly tossed them aside as if they were nothing. Their battered forms crashed to the debris-strewn ground with a sickening thud.

Satoru's voice again. "Everyone, retreat, now!"

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You were paralyzed.

Move, you yelled at your own muscles. 

Move, goddamn it. But they refused your command.

The curse twisted its grotesque form towards you. Its eyes completely devoid of light or life. Your heart raced as it advanced.

You had to do something.

In an instant, the curse closed in on you, its dark, oily fingers stretching towards you. Time appeared to crawl as its hand loomed closer. Your heart froze. Then an inexplicable sensation surged from deep within you, like a taut thread snapping.

The air shifted around you. The curse stopped.

Its grotesque form convulsed as the cursed energy surrounding it twisted and contorted. Its scream echoed through the cavernous decay of the hospital as its own malevolent aura recoiled upon it.

The curse transformed, changed into something else entirely.

Something you wanted it to be.

You could feel the curse, feel its fear, feel its evil. All of it.

With a trembling hand, you reached out, deflecting the cursed energy of the curse onto itself. The curse convulsed and writhed. Its form disintegrated under the crushing weight of its own malevolent energy. Then it simply dissolved into nothingness.

But it didn't stop. The fear didn't stop. You still felt its fear. Its evil. Everything.

It coursed through you, too overwhelming to bear. It threatened to consume you entirely as your own cursed energy spiralled out of control, creating a maelstrom of chaos around you. 

Suddenly, Satoru's voice cut through the chaos. "Suppress it! You must suppress your cursed energy!"

But your consciousness was adrift in the maelstrom. The uncontrolled energy threatened to consume your very being. Then, for a fleeting moment, you saw Satoru's face as he ran towards you. Time stood still for a moment as your gaze locked with his. 

Satoru.

In that moment, you found yourself ensnared in the depths of his terror-stricken eyes. All noise ceased, and sensations dulled. The chaos that had enveloped the surroundings was quelled, its frenetic energy pulled back, forcibly contained within.

Silence replaced the chaotic energy that had suffocated the room, and the swirling vortex of curses collapsed into a singularity within you. 

An explosion of blinding light illuminated the decimated hospital before it was once again plunged into an unsettling silence, now without the oppressive presence of the curses.

You crumpled to your knees. A sudden sensation of decay washed over you. You leaned forward and coughed up a painful spurt of blood. Satoru ran towards your crumpling form. His arms carefully enveloped you, before you hit the ground.

"You're such a stubborn woman," he whispered. His voice barely audible, eyes locked with yours, shining with a depth that spoke volumes.

Friends, Satoru... Remember?

****

"Do you have any idea how damn reckless that was?" Satoru's voice now a sharpened blade slicing through the thick air.

"I did what I had to, Satoru. We're all still standing here, ain't we?"

He took a step closer, his voice low and lethal. "You gambled with something you don't understand, something you can't control. Next time, you might not be so lucky."

A bitter laugh escaped you. "Concern, is it? You're a fine one to talk about understanding and control!"

His jaw clenched, a battle raged in his eyes.

Nobara chimed in. "Both of you, maybe we should talk about this when—"

"No," Satoru interrupted, his eyes never leaving yours. "You can't just run around and do shit that might kill you."

"And you think I want to die?" Your voice cracked, "Satoru, I felt that power. I felt it trying to consume me! But would you rather I did nothing and let us all die instead?"

A pained silence followed your words, interrupted only by the strained breathing shared between you and Satoru. 

"She's right. She saved us back then." Megumi pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against. "—wouldn't the better question be, what the hell this cursed technique was?"

You took a deep breath. "I don't know what that was—it just came all of the sudden."

Satoru's expression shifted and he let out a frustrated exhale. The silence that followed even more painful than the arguing.

After a beat, Megumi chimed in. "That cursed technique you unleashed back there? It's like nothing I've ever seen before." His gaze darted between you and Satoru, assessing the situation. "It kinda reminded me of Mahito's Idle Transfiguration, but it's not quite the same. Yours is more like—"

"—manipulating the very essence of the cursed energy, changing its nature, its intent," Satoru claimed in. "It's massively powerful."

"—and dangerous," Nobara added.

Satoru turned to you again. "You need to learn to control it. You hear me?"

"Oh, you think I don't know that?"

He stepped closer, his voice a whisper yet charged with intensity. "You know nothing."

Your gaze locked with his. Behind the layer of frustration and anger, there was a palpable fear in his eyes—a fear of losing something precious. But the stubborn part of you pushed forward, your voice tense. "What's your problem, Gojo?"

He raised an eyebrow as you called him Gojo. He was silenced. 

"It's more than just control over her cursed technique. It's also about the consequences of that power," Megumi interjected cautiously midst of the strained silence. His eyes carried a grave seriousness that flickered between you and Satoru.

"I know," Satoru murmured, his stance still rigid, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Explaining for the ones, that don't get it?" Yuji said.

"Think about it. If this power can manipulate cursed energy to such a degree, it's going to draw attention. Not just from curses, but potentially from other jujutsu sorcerers as well," Megumi continued. "If it's that powerful, it's likely that others want to exploit it—or eliminate it."

You flinched at his words. 

Eliminate?

Yuji's eyes widened. "So what do we do now? We can't just wait for someone—or something—to come after her, right?"

"No. We protect her, we train her, and we figure this out. Together. But for now it might be safest to keep a low profile," Megumi said.

Satoru inched dangerously close as he towered over you. "I won't leave your side," he declared, "—not until you can control it."

"What?"

"I will not let anything happen to you."

"You can't shadow me every single second of the day!"

His lips curved into a wry smile. "You'd be surprised by what I can do." 

Did he even hear himself?

The room seemed to pulse with a charged silence as you stood your ground, anger glinting in your eyes. Then, a small smirk played on your lips. "Megumi can do this as well," you threw in, surprising not only Satoru but also Megumi, whose eyes widened slightly.

Caught off guard but still managing to maintain a calm exterior, Megumi shifted, opening his mouth to possibly rebuff or agree. But he was cut off by Yuji's enthusiastic, "Count me in, I'll protect her too!"

"Alright, Megumi it is," Nobara said with a playful wave of her hand.

"You're not even giving me a chance!"

The atmosphere shifted just enough to give space for easier breaths and softened expressions. But Satoru didn't let his guard down. He leaned in close, his voice low and hoarse. The words were for your ears only. "You're really pushing my limits, love."

Your pulse quickened. There was a hint of flirtation in his tone, but the fury in his eyes as they met yours stole your breath. You might regret this later, you thought.

****

Your fingers moved with gentle precision.

You maneuvered the sterilized cloth, dipping it in antiseptic before turning to Megumi. Positioned on the edge of the hospital bed, he offered a silent profile. His eyes deliberately avoided yours. 

The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air. In the distance you could hear the echoes of footsteps and muffled conversations from the corridor beyond.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, subtly luring his eyes to meet yours, "—,for earlier. I shouldn't have put you in that position—with Satoru."

His eyes met yours briefly. "It's alright."

"It's just—," you leaned in closer, the distance between the two of you closing as your fingers gently dabbed at his wound. He flinched slightly. "—Satoru's arrogance is wearing me thin."

He was silent for a breath, his gaze lingering on the way your fingers delicately tended to his injury. "He wants to keep you safe."

"We all do," he added.

You looked up to him, and somehow you thought he wanted to say more. But the words were trapped.

"I know I am safe with you," you whispered.

For a split second, Megumi's face turned red. He quickly averted his gaze.

"Where did you learn to treat such wounds?" He asked after a while.

A heavy exhale escaped your lips. "Before Satoru found me, I was on my own—fighting curses and all." You paused. "I had to learn self-preservation, in every sense."

You guided the needle through Megumi's skin to close his wound, an unwavering focus narrowing your gaze. The sterile light of the hospital room cast a soft glow over the surgical instruments nearby, your fingers skillfully dancing between them with learned grace.

He watched, the slightest flinch barely revealing the sting of each pass of the needle. "You're quite good at this."

"Survival breeds skill, sometimes," you replied, carefully threading the needle despite the close proximity, "I suppose most sorcerers have a troubled past." 

A faint smile played on your lips. "It's probably that struggle that pushes us into this dangerous career path, don't you think?"

"I wish circumstances were different for you—that your path wasn't so hard."

Your breath caught. You had to stop stitching him up for a second as you processed his words.

"Perhaps," you replied, gently placing the needle down and giving him your full attention. "But it's that path that led me here—so I'm glad it was."

Yes. Your past has been one of scars and bruises.

But it also led you to this very point. Even in the wreckage left by Satoru's heartbreak, there was a light, a silver lining. You'd found something unique, something precious—a home among friends who felt like family.

As your eyes lingered on Megumi's, an unspoken understanding bridged the space between you. In that quiet moment, between the antiseptic scent and the distant hum of other people, you found a trace of calm, a whisper of what might be amidst the remnants of what once was.

But reality, as it often does, shattered the serenity with a sharp crack.

****

Your whole body ached.

Every muscle screamed in rebellion. Frozen tendrils of breath dissolved into the frigid air as you fought to catch your breath. You were on the ground. Drenched in sweat. Shrouded in fatigue. You had reached your limits. Every sense was screaming at you to stop. 

But as you looked up to meet Satoru's gaze, you knew he wouldn't let you stop. His face was a fortress of stern determination. It made the cold autumn air seem almost warm in comparison.

"Again," he demanded sharply, the word cutting through the silence that enveloped the training grounds.

You exhaled shakily, fists clenched. Weary limbs pushed you to your feet. You had to stifle a cry of pain as you did so. You couldn't fail. You had to do this. So you forced yourself into another attempt to control the unbridled surge of your cursed energy.

It lashed out rebelliously, ignoring your feeble attempts at containment. The result was a frustrated growl that escaped between your clenched teeth.

"They're not concentrating. Again. Channel your energy. Don't let it control you."

He acted like you weren't even trying. Like you hadn't been giving it your all to get a grip on this fucking cursed energy of yours. Like you weren't on the verge of tears because of your own failure.

"I am trying, Satoru!"

"Trying isn't enough!" His distance decreased as he approached you, his voice rising, "—trying will get you killed!" 

Somehow, all fatigue was suddenly replaced by fury.

"You think I don't know that that?"

"If you truly understood, your efforts would show it!"

You parted your lips, ready to fight back, but he wasn't done yet. 

"You can't always rely on physical strength alone," he continued. "You have to control your cursed technique, or die in vain."

The audacity.

Your fists clenched at your sides. "Not everyone can be a miracle child like you, you arrogant—"

All of a sudden, he appeared, standing so close before you that it sent a jolt of electricity through you. Your heart raced, beating violently against your chest, you were sure he must have heard it.

"You're leaving yourself exposed here," Satoru's voice, barely above a whisper, sank into the cold air as his finger traced a gentle, almost teasing path along your side, pointing to a flaw in your guard. Your skin burned under the subtle touch, a heat that consumed your resolve, already shaky with fatigue and frustration.

He stepped around you, his movements predatory, eyes meticulously scanned you, evaluating—appraising. Fingers brushed upward, caressing the line of your arm with a touch so light it was almost torturous. "And here, your energy leaks, untamed and wasteful."

His proximity was a palpable pressure, both comforting and intensely unsettling, wrapping around you like an impenetrable fog. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that bordered on intrusive. Yet you found yourself unwilling—unable—to break away.

He circled you. His footsteps silent against the training ground's cold earth. "Every point of weakness, an invitation."

When he circled to your front, those blazing blue eyes, locked onto yours. And then, ever so subtly, his gaze drifted downward, lingering on your lips, parted ever so slightly. 

The air between you crackled, charged with a different kind of energy, intensifying the trembling of your cursed energy as it flailed uncontrollably in the ether around you.

"Every weakness is a door begging to be opened." He cupped your chin, forcing your gaze to lift and meet his. "But you, you've always been a fortress, haven't you? Yet even the sturdiest walls find themselves crumbling under the right—pressure."

"You're testing your limits, Satoru." 

Friends. Satoru.

He leaned infinitely closer. His eyes glowed with seductive danger. "Am I?"

"I won't crumble, Satoru. Not under your touch." 

"I guess we'll see." 

THE AUDACITY.

The confrontation, the exhaustion, it all came together in a violent burst of cursed energy. It rippled through the air and made the surrounding vegetation tremble. 

Satoru didn't flinch an inch. His eyes locked on yours.

You gritted your teeth. "We're done for today," you said and turned on your heel.

But he was faster In one fluid motion, he seized your arm, forcing you to face him once more. "Running from your problems now? That doesn't sound like you."

RUNNING?

Your blood began to boil. Jerking your arm away, you met his gaze with fiery defiance, "I'm not running. But maybe you should rethink your teaching strategy, Satoru."

His expression flickered for a moment before an amused grin touched his lips, "And what, pray tell, would your enlightened approach be, oh wise student?"

"For starters, a bit of faith would be nice," you shot back, "—and maybe some actual constructive guidance instead of theatrical yelling?"

"Faith, you say?"

"And maybe throw in a 'good job' once in a while. Positive reinforcement, ever heard of it?"

A reluctant smirk twitched at the corners of his mouth. "I'll take it under advisement."

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Enough theory, then. How about we find a curse and test your control in a practical scenario?"

You blinked, aghast. "What?"

****

The crisp autumn air rustled through the vibrant foliage above as you as Satoru ventured deeper into the dense forest. Leaves of fiery reds and vibrant oranges fell gently, creating a colorful carpet beneath your feet. A slight chill whispered through the trees, accompanied by the sound of leaves crunching underfoot.

Satoru's hand was clenched around a mysterious, shivering object. His sharp eyes glanced your way, reflecting the cascade of autumn colors around, yet somehow colder. 

Without warning, he unfolded his hand, revealing a squirming curse bound skillfully within his grasp. "Well then, let's see if my 'crappy' training has paid off at all, shall we?"

Huh?

"Think fast," he stated, almost too casually, unleashing the curse before you could voice a protest.

A nauseating squelch perforated the silence of the secluded woodlands. Emerging from the ooze, a curse materialized, its form an unsettling amalgamation of rot and despair. Its flesh, a sickly purulent yellow, hung grotesquely from its misshapen skeleton, numerous bulbous eyes blinking asynchronously from various points on its body.

Appendages, far too numerous and articulated in ways that defied logical anatomy, clawed at the air while a cacophony of guttural moans and shrieks emanated from a mouth that stretched far too far across its form.

You're kidding right?

As it lunged towards you, the sickening stench of decay overwhelmed your senses. Your cursed energy pulsated, thrashing wildly as you sought to harness it, direct it. Yet, the memory of previous failures and the haunting echo of Satoru's reprimands hindered your resolve.

The curse's limbs crashed against the barrier you'd mustered, shuddering vibrations rippling through you as it strained, contorted, and assailed your defenses. Its grotesque features contorted further, if possible, in malevolent delight. With a piercing shriek, it shattered through, the collision sending you sprawling amidst the dead leaves.

Trembling amidst the fallen leaves, you forcefully pulled yourself to your feet, icy resolve coating your veins as you stared down the grotesque curse once more.

You closed your eyes momentarily, attempting to steady the maelstrom of cursed energy swirling chaotically within you, sought to envision the energy as a tangible entity, something you could mold, control, and wield as your own.

Yet, as you opened your eyes, meeting the myriad of malevolent gazes affixed upon you, the cursed energy spiked wildly, lashing out without form or direction. It seared through your veins like molten metal, scorching from the inside, its potency overwhelming yet infuriatingly insubordinate.

"Focus!" Satoru's voice, distant yet piercing.

Your palms slick with a cold sweat, a sharp breath in, and your focus narrowed, eyes locked onto the pulsating monstrosity of the curse. Its form, a mangled amalgamation of despair and hatred, seethed under your gaze, eyes like voids staring back, challenging, defying.

Drawing from deep within, you reached out with your own cursed energy, a delicate thread connecting to the roiling mass before you. In that instant, a cacophony of emotions—fear, anger, sorrow—cascaded through the link, the curse's chaotic energy surging against your influence.

Within your mind's eye, you visualized the flow of its cursed energy, a violent torrent that you sought to redirect. Subtle adjustments, gentle nudges—that was all it should take. Your intention was to invert the energy back upon the curse itself, turning its own power into its undoing.

However, the energy resisted, reflecting and amplifying back through the conduit you'd created. The feedback was instantaneous and brutal, your own cursed energy rebelling against you, a visceral explosion that sent shockwaves through your being.

Pain seared through your veins, a scream tearing from your throat as your knees buckled, the earth rushing up to meet you. Yet even as darkness flirted with the edges of your consciousness, you could sense it—the curse, despite the misdirection, had been affected, its energy convulsing wildly, a grotesque dance of agony mirroring your own.

"Enough!" Satoru's voice cut through the maelstrom, his technique dissolving, sending the curse, now a writhing, shrieking mass, hurtling into the abyss from whence it came.

"Again!"

In the waning light of the chilly autumn day, the scene played out again and again—a cyclic nightmare. The curse, a vile creature of misshapen limbs and hollow, gouged-out eyes, was repeatedly brought forth by Satoru, its guttural roars clawing at the peaceful serenity of the woods.

Attempt after attempt, your technique faltered. Energy recoiled, backfiring with a vengeance that physically pained you.

"Again," your voice, once firm, now trembled with the strain.

Satoru nodded silently, releasing the curse yet again. His eyes, however, betrayed a flicker of something akin to anguish, watching you struggle, witnessing the physical toll each failed attempt exacted upon you.

Energy surged, collided, and once more rejected your influence, the backlash sending tremors of pain through your being. Collapsing to your knees, a pained cry escaped your lips, yet stubbornly, you rose again, your gaze meeting Satoru's, a silent plea for another chance.

"That's enough for today."

Your legs gave way beneath you. Your form, crumpled upon the forest floor, was eerily still, save for the shallow breaths that whispered through clenched teeth. "No—again!" A rancid taste clawed its way up your throat, your body convulsing forward as you retched, the aftereffects of the curses' chaotic energy polluting your being. 

Hunched over the damp forest floor, each spasm was a brutal reminder of your failure, haunting every recess of your mind—Weak—ghostly whispers of failure that entwined the very air around you.

"I'm too weak," your voice barely pierced through, a low, despairing murmur, interspersed with harsh, ragged breaths. "I can't—I can't control it, Satoru. What use am I if I can't even master my own cursed technique?"

Satoru crouched down beside you, his fingers gently tipping your chin up, silently begging your eyes to find solace in his. "Don't."

"I'm still too weak, Satoru," your voice, raw, broken, shattered the haunting silence.

Weak. So pitifully weak. Never, ever enough. It twisted through your thoughts, an insidious vine, ensnaring every hope, every fragment of self-assurance that dared to surface.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

"You're not." Satoru's voice pierced the enveloping darkness.

"I can't save anyone like this," you choked out, near a scream, desperation snaking through every word.

"That's not true, and you know it. You've saved others many times!"

Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak.

"I'm not enough, Satoru!" It was a scream this time, a raw, visceral sound that erupted from the core of your being and tore through the silence of the surrounding forest.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to his chest. "Enough," he said firmly.

Within the secure embrace of Satoru's arms, a war waged within you. The sound of your ragged breaths and the rhythmic thumping of his heart formed a painful symphony, an agonizing reminder of what had been lost. It was in that moment, amidst the chaos of your emotions and the haunting echoes of your insecurities, that you truly crumbled.

Salty trails ran down your cheeks, mingling with the dirt and sweat from the torment you'd endured, as sobs shook your entire being.

You didn't want to be just friends. Damn it. You needed him desperately. You cursed yourself for it. All you wanted was for him to take the weightoff your shoulders, if only for a moment—you didn't want to be yourself. Just his.

"I hate this," you managed to say between trembling breaths, "—I hate that I still need you, Satoru."

His arms tensed around you. "I know," he whispered, voice scarcely audible amidst the rustling leaves. "But I'll always be here, even if you end up hating me for it."

His breath, warm and steady, grazed the crown of your head, igniting a bittersweet ache deep within. But in that moment, you allowed yourself to be enveloped in the memory of his warmth, the safety that once lay in the curve of his arm. Cruel. It was a cruel reminder of a time where love and pain were not such closely intertwined companions.

His arms became both sanctuary and prison.

****

The sound of shallow, fraught breaths filled the empty training room, your form collapsed on the mat, eyes shimmering with unshed tears and resolve broken under the weight of your own failure. This pattern was all too familiar, a rhythm that played out predictably, yet agonizingly. Megumi, a silent witness to your struggle, observing the relentless cycle unfold time and time again.

Fall. Rise. Inhale. Exhale. Rise. Fall. Silence. Scream.

It was a torturous play, a ceaseless descent into a seemingly impenetrable abyss. Your body, a silhouette strained to the brink, collapses, only to be compelled upward again by a tenacity that is both heartbreaking and awe-inspiring.

Fall. Rise. Scream. Silence. Rise. Fall. Silence. Cry.

Megumi watched as your eyes, once filled with unwavering determination, flickered between determination and a desolation that threatens to consume their fire. Your form, a vessel visibly marred by the incessant tempests of your trials, convulses with exertion and a despair that seems to claw insidiously from within.

Rise. Fall. Scream. Silence. Scream. Silence. Cry.

With each descent, Megumi felt a physical ache. Each scream from your lips, each shudder that wracked your body, kindled an impotent anger within him, simmering beneath the surface of silent solidarity. Your torment became his own.

"Gojo, we need to talk. Now," Megumi's voice broke the silence, marking the shattering of his observation. In his words linger the ghosts of your silent cries, your whispered pleas to the unyielding darkness, beckoning a reckoning long festering.

Satoru, perpetually enigmatic behind his blindfold, managed to maintain his typical composed exterior, but an almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw was visible. Without uttering a word, he simply tilted his head slightly, silently inviting the brewing tempest. The moment the door slid shut behind them, Megumi whirled around, his eyes ablaze with fury.

"What the hell do you think you're doing to her in there, Gojo?!"

"Training her." Satoru's blindfolded eyes giving away nothing of his thoughts.

"That's not training!" Megumi snapped, his voice echoing through the empty hall, "You're not training her, Satoru—you're breaking her!"

"She's strong. She can handle it."

"She doesn't! You're pushing her beyond her limits and for what, Satoru?! For your own damn peace of mind?" Megumi's words were sharp, the blade of protective rage slicing through the tense air.

"You of all people should understand, Fushiguro. Our world doesn't pull punches. Neither can we."

"How can you, of all people, not see that you're breaking her?"

"Think I don't know that? I'm damn aware. I know she might hate me for it. But I can't—" His voice trailed off, a momentary lapse that unmasked a shadow of vulnerability.

Satoru's silence was telling.

Megumi's eyes, fixed upon Satoru, discerning the unsaid. "It's because she reminds you of him, is it?"

Satoru's voice, when it surfaced, was barely more than a whisper yet laden with the echoes of past specters. "I can't let her—."

"—she's not Geto."

A visible tension cinched Satoru's features as the name hovered between them, evoking entombed memories and spectral pain.

"Your fear, Satoru—it's blinding you. You're gonna hate yourself if you don't stop now."

Taking a breath, Megumi continued, adamant, "I'm taking over her training, Gojo. I won't stand by while you tear her down."

A prolonged silence stretched, before Satoru, his voice nearly lost amidst the echoes, conceded, "You're right—Maybe I'm not what she needs right now."

****

The subtle rustle of pages being turned was the only sound that dared to pierce the stillness of the library in the midnight silence. Illuminated only by the gentle glow of a solitary lamp, you sat there, shoulders hunched, eyes scanning line after line of ancient texts and forgotten lore, desperately seeking something, anything, that might offer a glimmer of understanding regarding your elusive cursed technique.

Your eyes burned, flickering over words that began to blur and merge. The subtle creaking of the library door echoed through the vast chamber, heralding the arrival of another. Your weary gaze lifted, landing upon Megumi, his silhouette framed by the soft light filtering through the doorway. He approached, steps soundless, yet your tired eyes tracked him until he stood before you.

"You're overdoing it."

A bitter laugh escaped your parched lips, your gaze returning to the open book before you. "Overdoing it is all I've got left, Megumi."

He gently closed the book, forcing your eyes upward to meet his concern. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I know what you're trying to do." Your hand deflected his, reopening the tome with a determined flick.

"You look like shit."

"Oh, charming."

Choosing a chair, Megumi straddled it backward, facing you with an unyielding gaze.

A sigh, wearied and long, drifted from your lips. "What did you say to Satoru earlier?" You flipped a page, eyes scanning yet not truly absorbing the words.

"Do you really want to know?"

You looked up to him for a fleeting moment. "Probably not." You flipped a page, eyes scanning yet not truly absorbing the words "But I know you don't agree with his methods."

"That's putting it mildly," Megumi's exhale carried a weight of restrained emotion. "—Satoru might be okay with throwing you into the abyss in hopes you'll learn to climb out, but I'm not."

"That's not what he's doing."

"It's exactly that. You're just turning a blind eye to it."

Megumi's words hung suspended in the library's age-old air, intertwining with the scent of dusty pages and bound leather. Silence stretched between you two.

"Remember what you said to me? That I would be the one to protect you until you figured it all out?" For a moment, a sheer vulnerability flickered in Megumi's eyes, barely perceptible, yet achingly palpable, before it was sheathed again behind a veil of stoic resolve. "Let me be that person."

A lump formed in your throat, stubborn and obstructive. Despite the desperate tug of fatigue on your senses, Megumi's words seemed to pierce through the haze, demanding to be heard, felt, and acknowledged.

You stared at him, the intensity in his dark eyes sending shivers down your spine. The silent library, now seeming more like an observer, awaited your response, its shelves heavy with knowledge and stories of epochs gone by, of struggles and victories, losses and finds.

"Megumi—" Your voice was barely audible.

He leaned in, the space between you shrinking until it was a blur.

"Let me help you."

The simplicity of his request, his words echoed in your mind, honest and unembellished. Your heart raced as you felt his unwavering gaze upon you, his pure presence so close, and in that moment a heat wave cascaded through your body. Maybe it was time to release the grip on your pride, to accept that vulnerability did not equate to weakness. 

For so long, you had carried the weight of your burdens alone, believing that independence was your only salvation. But now, as you gazed into his eyes, you saw something different—a genuine offer of support and understanding.

"Ok, but don't complain later," you said, a smile gracing your features.

Megumi nodded solemnly, though his eyes twinkled with gentle amusement. "I won't. I promise."

"But you know, there's one condition."

Your eyebrows arched upwards. "Condition?"

He straightened, adopting a stern expression that seemed almost comically out of place given his generally reserved demeanor. "You have to promise to stop sneaking out to the library in the middle of the night and depriving yourself of sleep. That's non-negotiable."

"What if I find a different place to sneak off to? Like the kitchen?"

Megumi's stern façade cracked, revealing a soft chuckle that warmed the room with its genuine timbre. "Well, at least in the kitchen, you might be compelled to eat something, so it's a step in the right direction."

"Ok, deal!"

Leaning back in your chair, you stretched your arms, attempting to ease the stiffness that clung to your weary muscles. A slight smile lingered on your lips, basking in the gentle relationship that had subtly unfolded between you.

You hadn't realised how much you'd needed it—this connection, his support, always unwavering no matter what, ease amidst the chaos. It was a gentle reminder that you weren't alone on this journey, and perhaps, accepting help wasn't a concession of defeat, but rather a brave step.

Wait

"—but you have to tell Satoru."

Megumi's expression changed to an unusually mischievous grin. "I think we will be fine."

****

In the hushed azure glow of early dawn, a veil of calmess blanketed the training grounds. Megumi and you stood amidst this tranquility, the silence punctuated only by the soft rustling of leaves under a gentle breeze, and your synchronized breaths, clouding in the brisk morning air. At this early hour, you were far from prying eyes and the scrutinising gaze of Satoru.

"Ready?"

You nodded slightly, your hand tightly gripping the hilt of a katana, its blade gleaming faintly in the dim light. Megumi, standing at a cautious distance, observed intently, his demeanour radiating a reassuring calm.

You took a deep, stabilising breath, centering yourself amidst the tumultuous tide of cursed energy within you. The katana served not as a weapon in this moment, but as a conduit, an extension of your being through which you sought to channel and regulate the wild stream of your power.

Your eyes fluttered shut, focusing inward on the tempestuous sea of cursed energy, feeling it churn and rage against your control. Subtly, you began to coax it, guiding it gently towards your arm and into the blade of the katana. The metal seemed to hum softly, vibrating faintly under the influx of energy. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead as you tried to control the flow of your cursed energy.

Megumi, his eyes reflecting the quiet strength that always seemed to surround him, spoke in a soft, steady tone, "Breathe. Let it flow through you, not against you."

Your breath hitched, then steadied, aligning with the subtle ebb and flow of the energy as it streamed through you, into the katana. The blade quivered slightly, resonating with the pulsations of your power. 

The connection held—a gleaming conduit of cursed energy seamlessly bridging you and the weapon, steadfast and enduring. With an exhale, eyelids fluttered open, and your gaze met Megumi's, his eyes shimmering with unvoiced encouragement and proudness.

Triumph, at long last! 

The preceding days had been a tapestry of rigorous trials, but control just out of reach, until now. Your attempts to master your cursed technique had always resulted in being consumed by its overwhelming surge, until Megumi proposed a theory that a cursed object might facilitate in channeling your erratic power. And indeed, it had.

Today marked the culmination of countless early morning training sessions with Megumi, where sweat and perseverance were your constant companions. Adrenaline coursed through you as your eyes flickered.

With a fluid, decisive motion, you elevated the katana, allowing it to slice through the air before it cascaded down, severing the scarecrow before you with an effortless ease. A shockwave rippled through the training ground, emanating from the blade with a tangible ferocity. It disrupted the stillness of the early morning, causing the foliage to shudder and the very earth beneath to quiver in its wake. 

Megumi's eyes widened, astonishment flashing through them. Not only had the scarecrow been cut in half—but the wall behind it and the earthbeneath it bore the undeniable marks of your strike. An indomitable rush of cursed energy coursed through you, yet, it did not seek to devour you as it once did. Instead, it yielded to your will, becoming an instrument of your focused intent.

"You did it!" Megumi hastened toward you, his hand tenderly encompassing yours on the katana, signalling a gentle reassurance to relax your taut grip, which had whitened your knuckles.

You nodded, a cascade of fatigue intertwining with the residual adrenaline. "Thanks to you."

He gently shook his head, a soft smile blooming upon his features. "This was all you. Your strength. Your determination."

Megumi, his fingers still gently encircling yours, guided your trembling hands—and the katana they clutched—downwards with tender care, allowing you to disengage from the weapon, both metaphorically and physically.

As the blade met the ground with a melodic chime, its reverberation through the still air was nearly drowned by the frantic beating of your heart. The tangible warmth from his touch enveloped your hand, contradicting the chill of the metal beneath your fingers and soothing the quivers that shuddered through you.

"I couldn't have done it without you."

Indeed. Megumi, with his unwavering gaze and constant support, had become an unwavering pillar during your tumultuous journey. He embodied a home in the midst of chaos. Your soul ached with the longing for him to see you in a similar light, to recognise in you the same home and friendship he so generously gave you.

He countered softly, "I merely observed. You did the effort."

"Will you just accept a compliment for once, Megumi?"

A genuine chuckle bubbled from your lips, a lightness that you hadn't felt in so long time. And then, Yuji and Nobara entered, dressed in their school uniforms, and broke the serenity with their cheerful urgency. "Time's ticking, let's roll!"

Their gazes flickered to the subtle intertwinement of your hands with Megumi's, before being irresistibly drawn to the pronounced remnants of destruction adorning the training area. Nobara's mouth agape, she mustered, "I'm guessing you got the hang of it?"

"It seems so!" you beamed.

Yuji's eyes, alight with unbridled admiration and shimmering like distant stars, gazed upon you as if you had adorned a cape and mask, emerging as a beloved superhero from a realm of dreams and tales. "I need to hear all about this!"

"Class first," Megumi interjected.

But your only contribution to the day's class was the harmonious symphony of your steady breathing, intertwined with Megumi's, as slumber swiftly claimed you both. Sitting side by side, shoulders nearly touching, you allowed the gentle cadence of his breaths, subtly syncing with yours, to lull you into a well-deserved rest amidst the crowded classroom. 

Megumi, despite the stoic facade he often wore, succumbed to the fatigue as well, his proximity providing a sense of tranquility that allowed the both of you a moment of peaceful respite. The rest of the class might be whispering, speculating, but in this shared tranquility, the world outside ceased to matter.

****

Sunlight dappled through the leaves overhead, casting a mottled shadow upon the café table where you all sat. The air was animated with the pleasant hum of conversation and the occasional clink of cutlery against plates.

A gentle breeze wafted through, carrying with it the sweet scent of autumn, an easy familiarity enveloping the group as you all enjoyed a brief respite from the rigours of your responsibilities as Jujutsu sorcerers—a rare moment of peace away from curses and training.

Yuji's hands fluttered about as he spoke, acting out the scene for added dramatic effect. "Picture this: I spot an old lady, seemingly distressed, and I'm thinking—convinced—that she's being plagued by a curse. I was all geared up, ready for a tussle," he paused, eyes gleaming with a mischievous, yet slightly embarrassed twinkle, "—only to discover it was just a super ugly dog!"

Nobara's laughter exploded in the tranquil outdoor space, a hand hastily dabbing at the laughter-induced tear meandering down her cheek. "Yuji, seriously? Only you could get into such a mess!"

Chuckling, you playfully chided him, "Of all the crazy things you've done, Yuji, mistaking a dog for a curse might top the list."

"In my defense—," he began, puffing his chest out with a brazen grin painted across his face, "—it was gigantic and emanated this bizarre, sorta eerie aura, okay?"

Megumi fought back a burgeoning grin. "None of that explains why you're 20 minutes late though, does it?"

"It does!" Yuji insisted, nodding vehemently. "I was primed to attack, right? But the grandma thought I was a mugger or something, and started assaulting me with her purse!"

Nobara nearly spit out her drink, gasping between her laughter. "She did what? Yuji, you're an absolute catastrophe!"

Yuji shrugged, unabashed. "You have no idea—I was legitimately fighting for my life out there!"

You leaned back in your chair, your laughter mingling with that of your friends, relishing the lightness of the moment. It was these times—times when you could forget the darkness, the curses, and the constant looming threat that shadowed your existence as Jujutsu sorcerers—that felt like a balm to your weary soul.

In the midst of the lively chatter and laughter, your phone vibrated subtly against the tabletop. Unnoticed by the others, its screen lit up, an unread message blinking in the upper corner. Satoru.

Your eyes flicked down, momentarily drawn away from Yuji's animated recounting, but you resisted the urge to pick up the device. The moment was too precious, too infused with a rare lightness that you were reluctant to shatter with the encroachment of him.

So, you allowed yourself to be swept back into the narratives of bizarre encounters and near-miss adventures your friends so lively shared.

Several minutes ticked by, but eventually, curiosity coerced your attention back to the device. Your fingers hesitated, then gently swiped the message open.

"Pack your bags. We leave in an hour".

HA?

Indignation flickered through you, a spark of rebellion against his presumptive demand. Why, exactly, should you jump at his command? Satoru was hardly one to require assistance, a point he'd demonstrated time and again. Thus, you opted to dismiss his message, submerging yourself back into the cheerful flow of your friends' banter.

However, your screen flickered once more.

"Playing hard to get, are we?"

HAAA?

Your jaw tightened. His audacity, it seemed, knew no bounds. Your fingers danced across the display with a fierce intensity. "Handle it yourself, you jerk."

The digital space enveloped in silence, your bold words lingered unanswered, suspended in a virtual abyss for an agonizingly elongated thirty minutes. Then, starkly and without warning, a shadow—imposing and uninvited—unfolded across the table.

"Time to go." Satoru's voice cut through the chatter, his eyes lingering on yours.

You must be kidding me.

Your eyes narrowed, a rebellion burning in your gaze. "I told you, Satoru, I'm not—"

But before the sentence could fully form on your lips, a swift, well-practiced movement from him had you lifted over his shoulder, the world tilting as you were hoisted over his broad shoulder with a grace that belied his strength.

"SATORU!" Your voice came out as an outraged scream, flustered and completely confused by the audacious maneuver. Your hands beat against his back in a futile protest, legs kicking air as he strolled—all too casually—toward his car.

"Feisty as ever, my love," he retorted, a playful smirk curling along his lips, entirely undisturbed by your vehement protestations.

"Put me down, you asshole!"

Satoru's voice, low and for your ears only, murmured against your skin, "You have a unique talent for testing my patience with your stubbornness, you know".

****

Your fingers glided across your phone's screen, crafting a brief message to Megumi: "I'm okay. Probably." Exhaling deeply, you could feel your shoulders gently relent their tension, sinking a little more into the car seat.

Your eyes wandered towards Satoru, stopping at his unexpected, but undeniably attractive, casual attire. The fabric of his white shirt, unexpectedly sheer against his skin, clung to the sculpted curves of his muscular arms, the sleeves mischievously forced upwards, stopping just below his elbows.

Dark, meticulously tailored dress trousers adorned his legs, providing a stark contrast and a subtle edge to the otherwise relaxed ensemble. It was such a departure from his typical attire that it was enough to make your stomach clench.

Your thoughts fluttered, curiously picking at the threads of his unexpected choice of clothing. Sensing your silent scrutiny, a flicker of mischief flashed in Satoru's eyes.

"Not gonna ask?"

"Is there a way out if I do?"

With an amused curve of his mouth, he simply said, "Nope."

You sank even deeper into your seat. "Alright, guess I'll just roll with it."

Your gaze lingered on him a moment longer, silently tracing the contours of his frame. Watching him drive was an unfamiliar sight. His control over the vehicle, his hand steady on the wheel. You didn't even know he had a licence.

Your fingers unconsciously moved to your mouth, nibbling lightly on your nails. "Logically, there's no reason I should accompany you on a mission."

His response was almost too nonchalant, "Maybe I get lonely without you."

"We both know that's far from the truth."

"Is it?" His eyes lingered on you, perhaps a tad too long for your comfort. Silence sprawled out between you, a tangible tension weaving through it.

"I told you I wouldn't leave your side," he spoke, his jaw visibly tightening, "—so, if I must leave for a mission, you're coming with me."

"That's ridiculous, Satoru. I've been doing just fine these past few weeks without your protection."

His tone carried a weight that feathered across your skin. "You really have no idea, do you?"

Your brow quirked. "Huh?"

His voice dropped, low and sore. "You think I wasn't watching your every step these last weeks? Observing every early morning training with Megumi, every single time his hands dared to graze your skin, every dinner you had in town, and every second you slept soundly through the night?"

And then, it hit you—Satoru looked tired. Not the usual 'I've had a long day' kind of tired, but something deeper, something that maybe only you could spot in that moment. His eyes flickered with a subtle fatigue that crinkled softly at their edges. A kind of weariness you hadn't seen before, tiredness that made your heart ache.

His defenses momentarily quelled, Satoru, for once, was laid bare before you—not as the unassailable figure he perennially projected, but simply as a man who wanted to protect the one he loved.

"I didn't ask you to."

His muscles tensed, eyes hard yet a flicker of something softer lingered within them. "You don't have to. I'm protecting what's mine."

The atmosphere thickened, tension hanging palpable between you, your senses acutely aware of every detail: the slightly too tight grip of his fingers on the steering wheel, the subtle frown marking his brows, the rhythm of his breath, even the pulsing of his steady heartbeat. Your own, meanwhile, stuttered erratically.

Your response was a mere breath, barely trespassing upon the charged air. "We're friends, Satoru."

He glanced at you, a slow, deliberate move, his eyes, in that brief, fleeting moment, bared a vulnerability that you'd never seen—or perhaps never noticed—before.

"Yes, Friends," he murmured, turning his focus back to the road, a subtle shiver threading through his words.

The remainder of the drive was bathed in an uncomfortable silence. Each passing mile seemed to stretch on indefinitely, the only accompaniment being the low hum of the car's engine and the gentle rhythm of tires rolling over the asphalt.

The landscape outside shifted, transitioning from urban sprawl to open countryside, yet its beauty went largely unnoticed. For your part, you gazed out of the window, eyes unfocused, taking in the world without truly seeing it.

Every so often, you'd steel yourself to steal a glance in Satoru's direction. But each time, you were met with that same guarded expression, that same set jawline that spoke of a man grappling with thoughts. The defeated look in his eyes behind the glasses unbearable.

It hurt. Even after all this time.

****

The car eased into a secluded area, obscured by looming trees and doused in the tranquil blanket of the nighttime. The destination, it seemed, was far removed from the bustling life and inherent dangers that typically accompanied Satoru's missions.

As the engine hummed to a stop, a tranquil silence enveloped the surroundings, providing a stark contrast to the tempest of emotions swirling within the car's confines.

You exhaled, a slow release of breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, as you unbuckled the seatbelt and gently pushed the car door open, the night's cool air softly caressing your skin.

Satoru exited the car, opened the trunk, revealing an array of bags and equipment. Drawn closer, your eyes were captured by a bag distinctly familiar—indubitably yours. "You packed for me?" You blinked in veiled surprise, a playful undertone weaving through your words, "And you ventured into my room?"

His eyes met yours, a boyish grin playing effortlessly on his lips. "Nothing I haven't seen before".

Privacy—a potential discussion, yet now shelved for a later debrief. Your intent to claim the bag was thwarted by his swift procurement of both yours and his own, fluidly securing them as he shut the trunk. His form began its progression towards the lodge, barely visible in the shadows of this remote area.

"Satoru?" Your voice gently perforated the night as you followed him. "What the hell is this mission all about?"

He exhaled, the faintest hint of hesitation coloring his admission. "They needed someone strong for this curse," his words, though hushed and contemplative, held an edge, "—it's a bit more complex than the usual."

Alarm flickered through you, eyes instinctively darting towards him. "So, is it really smart for me to be here, especially with a strong curse floating around?"

He paused, swiveling toward you, the stupid smile still lingering on his lips. "With me around, you'll probably be fine."

"Your God Complex is showing, Satoru."

You approached the lodge, a cozy albeit slightly worn-down building nestled in the heart of the remote area. As they stepped inside the lodge, the decor screamed of a charmingly rustic aesthetic, making you chuckle.

There was a quaint charm in its dated wallpaper and the creaky wooden floors beneath your feet. You glanced around, noting the relatively vacant environment, save for an elderly gentleman behind the counter.

Satoru approached the front desk. "Reservation for Gojo," he declared, a confident smirk etched onto his features.

The elderly man peered at you both over his spectacles, a curious twinkle in his eyes, before glancing down at the reservation book. "Ah, yes. The honeymoon suite. Quite a popular choice for young couples."

You choked on the air, "Honeymoon what?"

Satoru simply flashed a dazzling smile your way, ignoring the disbelief painted across your face. "That's right."

"But we're not—" you began, only to be cut off by Satoru's arm snaking around your waist, pulling you slightly closer.

He leaned in, his voice taking on a saccharine-sweet tone, "Love, you know it's silly to book separate rooms now that we're married."

"Married?!" You barely managed to keep your voice steady, throwing him a mock glare. "In what universe, Satoru?"

"In this one, apparently," he whispered, mischief lighting up his eyes.

What's wrong with his man.

As the gentleman handed Satoru a key with an approving nod, you turned to the gentleman, offering an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry about him. We're not really—"

"Sweetheart, don't apologize. Let's not make a scene," Satoru interjected, shooting you a sly wink as he gently tugged you away from the counter, key in hand.

Finding yourself weaving through a corridor, guided by his assertive yet gentle touch on your back. Satoru's fingers enveloped the quaint, antique key, turning it in the lock with a soft click. The door gently swung open, revealing a room awash in the gentle glow of ambient lighting, the delicate scent of roses permeating the air.

You blinked at the sight that unfolded before you. The room, undeniably beautiful, was adorned in what could only be described as quintessential honeymoon décor. A lavish bed, blanketed in delicate rose petals, stood as the room's focal point, while a scattering of softly flickering candles cast a gentle, romantic light across the space.

You could only stare, a combination of disbelief and amusement dancing in your eyes as you took in the careful, romantic arrangement that had clearly been made with a newlywed couple in mind.

Turning toward Satoru, you caught the barely-contained chuckle in his throat, his eyes shimmering with an undeniable joy.

"Satoru, what on earth—"

Carelessly, he strolled into the room, carefully setting down the bags before theatrically collapsing onto the petal-strewn bed with a contented sigh. "I know what you're thinking," he began, his words slightly muffled by the plush bedding, "but this was the best room they had."

"And it didn't occur to you to mention that we aren't married?"

He propped himself up on his elbows, a smirk curling at his lips. "The look on your face? Absolutely worth it."

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" you parried, leaning against the doorframe, "Didn't it cross your mind to book two rooms?"

He sat up, meeting your gaze steadily. "You think I'd let you sleep alone in another room when there's a strong curse lurking around?"

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You didn't have any ulterior motives in mind?"

He raised a hand, palm facing forward in a gesture of innocence. "I swear."

Sure.

But it was there—a subtle flicker in his eyes, and you found yourself inexorably drawn towards him despite your resolve. Your heart pulsed with a gentle yearning, fluttering softly against the protective walls you'd so carefully built. To be drawn to him, to be seduced by his unspoken words, and at the same time to fight to protect yourself from his potential pain—that was torture.

His allure was not simply physical but an emotional, magnetic pull that tugged at something deep within you, something that perhaps, you weren't entirely ready to acknowledge or explore. Every soft smile he shared, every lingering look, they pricked at your defenses, causing minuscule fractures in the fortress safeguarding your heart.

"We're friends, Satoru."

His expression sobered, the playful gleam now subdued, "I'm trying my best to remember that."

You stepped into the room, your footsteps soft against the lush carpet. Rose petals were scattered across the white duvet, and a bottle of champagne chilled in a silver bucket beside a small bouquet of flowers on a table near the window.

Struggling to maintain a serious demeanor amidst the clearly romantic setup, a playful smirk teased at your lips.

"Should I start calling you 'husband' then, if we're playing the part?"

But the levity of your comment seemed to falter in the air, as you noticed the subtle catch in his throat and the way his jaw clenched for a moment. "Forget it," you quickly amended, reaching for the champagne, eager to introduce a new focus. "We should get this open."

He offered a half-smile, a shadow of his earlier mischief lingering. "I'm not much of a drinker."

"Fantastic," you returned, easing the cork from the bottle, "more for me, then."

Oh, it was going to take a fair amount of alcohol to get through this night.

****

The gentle hum of inebriation softened the edges of the world around you as you lounged languidly in an armchair, a half-empty bottle of champagne cradled in your hand. Satoru, with all his languorous grace, sprawled across the bed, an inscrutable gaze fastened intently upon you.

"And then—then, Yuji, he—he looked at this giant poodle, right? And he was so sure, Satoru, so sure that it was a curse!"

A guffaw erupted from Satoru, his form undulating with the force of his laughter, the sound a warm, vibrant echo in the romantically adorned room. But his eyes, oh, those eyes, never veered from you. A simmering intensity, an emotion undefinable yet visceral, lingered within them, caressing you with a tenderness that teetered on the brink of too much.

In your tipsy state, the narrative continued to weave through flares of hilarity and absurdity, "—he was so ready to exorcise that poor dog! Had his stance and everything!"

But even amid the mirth, you were wholly aware of Satoru's gaze, the steady beam of his attention, undeterred and unyielding. It was almost too potent, the way his eyes seared into you, both exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.

As the echoes of your laughter dwindled, replaced by the palpable silence burgeoning with unspoken words, you shifted in your seat, a meek defense against the onslaught of his unrelenting gaze.

Heart raced, yet you found your voice, albeit wobbly, "Don't—don't look at me like that, Satoru."

He propped himself up on his elbows, the soft glow of the room's ambient lighting gilding his form with a tender, almost magical aura. His voice, smooth and laced with a sincerity that pierced through the alcoholic haze. "Like what?"

"Like—," a pause lingered, a fragile thing suspended amidst the serenity and the storm both threatening and promising to engulf you, "—like I'm your everything."

His eyes softened, yet the intensity within them did not wane, merely transmuting into something even more intense.

"You are—," he whispered, a simple confession, yet laced with an undertone of bitterness, "You are everything to me."

And there it lingered, suspended amidst the petals and the soft glow of the room.

"Don't say that."

"Don't ask then."

"That's not fair."

"Maybe." He began to stand, each deliberate step towards you echoing in the charged silence, "But here, we don't have to hide," he murmured, closing the diminishing gap between you, "—here, we're just a man and a woman, a married couple far from Tokyo."

"I hate you," the words, a tender contradiction, drifted into the delicate space separating your lips from his.

"I know," he breathed, his arms coming to rest on either side of your chair, imprisoning yet protective, "—I can accept that, as long as you'resafe."

His proximity was a furnace igniting every nerve ending into a frenzied state of awareness. Retreat was a tempting illusion, his nearness a siren's call inviting surrender, stirring a turmoil of restrained desires. He lingered on the precipice, an intricate dance of restraint and desire reflected in eyes that quietly pleaded and promised all in a single glance.

"We should get some rest," though his voice was steady, his eyes, drowning in restrained longing, told an entirely different story.

"Satoru—," your voice wavered, trembling against the temptation mere breaths away. Your neck arched so sharply to maintain that intoxicating proximity to his lips, you almost winced. Every exhale of his brushed warmly against your lips, every shaky inhale felt like it was drawing you in further, until you were both just teetering on that razor-sharp edge between giving in and holding back.

"I know," his breath, shaky, warm, against your lips, "I hate it too."

Your whole body was practically screaming under the strain, your neck pulled tight in a delicate arch to stay that close to him, muscles trembling with the effort. Your breaths mingled in the tiny space between you, hitched and ragged, a testament to the sheer restraint being exercised in maintaining that fragile distance.

It was like an invisible force field held you apart, despite the fact your entire being seemed to magnetically pull towards him.

In his gaze, the world beyond seemed to dissolve, its warnings rendered moot, every ounce of attention fixed on the gentle caress of breath against skin, and eyes that held worlds of silent pleas and promises. And there you lingered, a breath away from falling, from surrender, lost in a gaze that bore the weight of emotions unvoiced, yet palpably felt in every charged particle of the air around you.

With a shuddering breath, Satoru turned away, creating an immediate, almost tangible void where the warmth of his proximity once lingered. The room seemed to shrink around you, every rose petal, every softly glowing light now feeling impossibly distant and blurred by the sudden pain in your veins.

In that instant, a bitter realization came, more profound and cutting than any epiphany before—there wasn't a place on this Earth where you could flee to escape him, the deep-seated pain that his mere presence elicited within you.

Inside you, longing wove a tapestry of pain, wrapping tightly around every thought and emotion until you were bound by it, held captive by the silent cries of a heart pushed to its limit.

****

A harsh splash of water against tiles jolted you from your precarious perch between wakefulness and the somber sanctuary of sleep. Dazed, you blinked into the semi-darkness, the remnants of last night's melancholy wrapping itself around you like a shroud, heavy and all too familiar.

Your head throbbed, the remnants of alcohol-induced haze still coursing through your veins and the fragmented memories of the night before slowly knitting themselves back together in your consciousness. Satoru. The tenderness in his eyes, the tangible yearning that hovered in the space between you, and the impassable wall that came crashing down.

You pushed yourself into a sitting position, a hand gently massaging your temple as you tried to steady the world that seemed to be insisting on tipping off its axis.

The romantic ambiance was gone, every candle extinguished, every rose petal swept away.

Moments later, the bathroom door creaked open, unleashing a waft of steam that lazily swirled into the bedroom. Satoru emerged, a single towel slung low around his hips, droplets of water tracing paths down his defined torso.

His hair, darker when wet, clung to his forehead in damp tendrils. His eyes shining as always as they met yours, without sunglasses or a blindfold clouding them.

"Good morning."

Satoru's voice broke through your haze, his signature cockiness more comforting than you'd like to admit. Your eyes narrowed slightly, though the effect was somewhat lost given your state.

"Is it?" you replied, groaning as you held a hand to your aching head.

Without a word, he flipped an aspirin in your direction. "—for the headache."

One won't be enough, probably.

Your eyes tracked him, watching as he ambled around the room, gathering his clothes. The low-slung towel from earlier had been replaced, but the image remained, and you couldn't help but sneak a glance or two.

"That's sexual harassment, you know?"

You smirked, echoing his words from the night before. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you padded over to your bag, sifting through for something to wear after your impending shower.

From the bathroom, his voice echoed slightly, muffled by the walls. "What do you want for breakfast?"

The thought of food made your stomach flip. "Just coffee."

He reappeared in the doorway, now fully dressed, shooting you an incredulous look. "Coffee isn't breakfast."

"It is."

"You're something else, you know that?"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Navigating the space, you drew closer to him. The room felt smaller, charged. As you reached the bathroom door, he made way for you. There was a moment, a fleeting brush of shoulders, a shared breath. The memories of last night heavily in the air.

Not now, you thought, not today. But in the depths of your heart, you wondered if there'd ever be a day when he wouldn't affect you quite this way.

Chilled air grazed your bare skin as you exited the bathroom, a cascade of water trailing down from your damp hair. Clad only in underwear and pants, you aimed an exasperated yell into the calm ambiance of the room, "Satoru, where did you put all my tops?!"

He barely glanced up from his phone, unbothered by the urgency in your voice, or the semi-exposed state he found you in. "Maybe I put them in my bag," he responded, a casual lilt to his voice that only slightly betrayed his intrigue.

Your feet padded softly on the floor, moving towards his bag. The brief journey across the room felt extensive under his subtle scrutiny.

"Here they are," you mumbled, mostly to yourself, feeling a strange twinge in your stomach at the unintentional intimacy of mingled belongings.

Retreating back to the bathroom, a soft inquiry tethered you in place. "Does it still hurt?"

You paused, instinctually knowing his eyes traced the rugged line of the scar that blazed a path down your back. "It doesn't."

"You know Shoko could fix that."

Facing him, your eyes locked onto his. "I don't want her to fix it. It's a reminder that this world is not fair."

"You're just torturing yourself."

Sardonic laughter barely crept into your voice as you met his accusation, "Takes one to know one, huh?"

Silence settled between you, perforated only by the soft drips of water from your hair to the floor. He averted his eyes from yours as he rose, a newfound stiffness in his posture. "I'll wait outside," he mumbled, sidestepping the invisible barrier that had grown between you. Wrapping yourself in a top, you exhaled a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding, the fabric gently brushing against the scar.

Heading Downstairs, the murmur of the morning crowd in the dining room was a soothing hum, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air, providing a semblance of normalcy. Through the window, Satoru's form etched against the emerging light of the day on the terrace.

The crisp breeze kissed your skin with its autumn chill as you stepped outside, hastily pulling on your jacket. His eyes lifted to meet yours, his wet hair grazing his forehead, providing a fleeting distraction from the intensity of his gaze.

"Black coffee, your 'breakfast'," he said softly, a warm cup extending towards you.

Accepting the cup, your fingers fluttered momentarily against his. "Thank you."

His eyes, devoid of their usual shield, met yours with a nakedness that was almost too raw to behold. "Skipping the sunglasses today?"

A part of you missed the familiar shield that his sunglasses provided, granting you a reprieve from the depth of his gaze, that seemed to always see too much, feel too much.

He sighed, eyes briefly diverting towards the distant horizon, "Something's amiss today."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't place it," he mused, bringing the cup to his lips, "—but I want to be prepared, especially with you here."

Satoru. Stop.

"And the curse we're hunting?"

A momentary stillness enveloped him before he spoke, "It's already here." His stance subtly shifted as he eased away from the railing.

Huh?

"Stay back," his eyebrows knitting together even as a cynical smile played upon his lips. "—we're dealing with a special grade cursed spirit."

HUH?

Satoru's piercing eyes flickered a mere second before chaos erupted, an immense force shattering the serenity of the morning. With an almost imperceptible movement, he was before you, his shimmering, vast, cursed energy unfolding with devastating beauty. The cursed spirit, grotesque and dripping with malevolent energy, lunged with astonishing speed, aiming directly at you.

Just as the malevolent force was about to collide, Satoru parried, an invisible barrier of his own cursed energy deflecting most of the blow. Still, the residual shockwave was devastating, bursting outward, a storm of shattered timber and screaming metal splitting the once-silent dawn.

The lodge behind you was violently engulfed, splinters of wood and shards of glass scattered, suspended as if time itself had been torn apart. For a second you stood, frozen in the midst of the devastation, a stage set of wreckage all around you.

"Help the people escape!" His voice, amidst the chaos, was an unwavering command.

Your limbs, though trembling, pushed you backward, the adrenaline sharpening your senses. As you pulled away, the fight between Satoru and the cursed spirit intensified, their movements almost too fast and brutal to discern, intertwined flashes of cursed energy colliding and recoiling with devastating effect.

Panic. Chaos.

Sirens wail in the depths of your ears as shrapnel from the once idyllic lodge sprays across the landscape, razor sharp and merciless. No time. No time to process the hellish scene as your body moved on an instinctive impulse, hurtling through the carnage.

Smoke and dust clogged your lungs, your eyes, and yet through the sting you saw them—a huddled mass of terrified faces, trapped beneath a grotesque sculpture of shattered wood and twisted metal.

Adrenaline drove you forward, hands working with feverish precision, tossing aside the wreckage, clutching desperately at the shivering bodies beneath. The child's tear-streaked face is etched in your memory, wide eyes piercing through the chaos, seeing salvation in your outstretched hand.

"Move!" you shouted, your voice a whip that cut through the chaos, sending the child sprinting towards the tree line.

Behind you, an unholy thunder, a tempest of cursed energy and malevolence that blackened the sky, twisted and turned, the battle between specters and the spectral, unseen but felt in every thunderous crash, every shockwave that rattled through the splintering earth. 

The child—stumbling, crying—disappeared into the embrace of the forest, its safety a cold comfort against the war raging behind you. A fleeting glance towards Satoru, you saw him, a symphony of power and finesse, every strike, every dodge a testament to his immense skill.

But the cursed spirit was relentless, an embodiment of pure malevolence, unleashing wave after wave of harrowing attacks, each one threatening to dismantle the very earth on which they fought.

Why doesn't he lure the curse away? If he continues to fight so close they will kill these people here. But there was no time to think.

Another trapped, another to save.

In the rubble, a man cried out, blood streaking down his face, his leg trapped by a massive beam, splintered and impaled on the shattered floor. The acrid stench of charred wood burned your nostrils as you rushed toward him, dodging the remains of a once sturdy structure now reduced to a death trap.

You grabbed the beam, muscles screaming, splinters embedded in your palms as you heaved with every ounce of your strength. The wood groaned but stubbornly held, the man's screams growing louder, cutting through the din of the ongoing battle.

"Hang on!" You screamed through clenched teeth, your veins pulsing as your eyes desperately scanned the wreckage for something, anything, to use as leverage.

The man's hand gripped your ankle, his eyes, wide and terrified, locked with yours, a silent plea etched into every crease of his pain-stricken face. A fresh explosion detonated behind you, a sinister crescendo of cursed energy that sent shadows dancing wildly through the chaos.

Debris, relentless and indiscriminate, rained down as the remains of the lodge groaned ominously, threatening imminent collapse. In this perilous moment, the bitter taste of despair clawed at your throat, every second a taunt against the relentless march of time.

Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak.

Swallowing hard, your eyes traced the cruel angle of the beam, down to where it impaled flesh and bone, understanding, reluctant and horrified, blooming in your chest. Your hands, slick with sweat and stained with his blood, trembled.

"We have to," you began, voice barely a whisper, your words choked by a thick knot in your throat, "I have to—your leg, I..."

His eyes, already dulling with agony, flickered with an understanding just as terrible. "Do it," he breathed, a single tear escaping to trail down his cheek, "please."

Shuddering, you reached to your side, your fingers closing around the hilt of your blade. Its familiar, cool touch offered no comfort as you lifted it, the steel glinting ominously amidst the wreckage. You steadied your hand, whispered a hoarse apology into the desperate silence, and lowered the blade.

A scream, raw and soul-shattering, tore through the air, intertwining with a sound you hadn't realized was your own sobbing until your vision blurred with tears. You turned away, the sight of his newly freed, mutilated form too much, but the haunting echo of his agony remained, an indelible stain on your conscience.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you tightly wrapped your jacket around the man's bleeding stump, trying to staunch the flow.

"Stay with me," you whispered, voice barely steady, hands shaking as you worked, nothing left of your usual surgical precision.

Then a sudden, intense presence emerged behind you. "Found you."

Panic struck as the malevolent presence loomed, its aura sickeningly oppressive, instantly suffocating the area. Your heart raced, pulsing violently against your ribs as the enormous curse lunged forward, a sinister grin distorting its hideous features.

Your hand wrapped around the hilt of your blade, instinctively positioning your body between the injured man and the approaching curse.

No time. No options.

You thrust your katana up, deflecting his hideous blow with a guttural scream, the impact reverberating violently through your bones. Your name, a tortured scream, echoed from afar—Satoru, fighting, reaching, his eyes burning with fear.

But he was bound, more curses leaping into his path, sneering, cackling, weaving a sinister barricade between you. His blows were deadly, precise, but for every curse he struck, another rose, an endless tide of malevolence keeping him at bay.

It was a trap.

But you would not fall here.

Not today.

The wind screamed through broken windows, carrying shards of splintered wood and glass. The hollow, menacing gaze of the curse pierced into you, an abyss of malevolence that saw you, saw through you. With a swift, voracious energy, it lunged again. 

Your legs tensed, foot slammed forward. The curse was sent sliding back across a minefield of shattered remains. Without hesitation, your katana was a silver flash, striking, aiming to extinguish the threat in an instant.

The curse howled, agony and rage intertwining in its grotesque features. Yet, in a mere heartbeat, the curse was back on its feet, lunging into another assault.

Your breath hitched as the curse's claws barely missed your torso, grazing your arm instead. Blood, vivid and scarlet, sprayed into the cold air, staining your clothing and grounding the pain in reality. Stumbling backwards, you fought against the fog of agony that tried to cloud your vision, gritting your teeth to keep a scream behind them. Memories, ghosts of Satoru's words, haunted the chaos of your mind.

You can't always rely on physical strength alone.

Sweat trickled down your forehead and mingled with the blood that now traced a warm path down your limb. Fingers, slick with your own blood, clenched around your katana as you forced coherence through the throbbing pain.

You can't always rely on physical strength alone.

Again. And again. Every muscle screamed, echoing the haunting refrain.

You can't always rely on physical strength alone.

Another slash. Another barely dodged blow from the curse as your muscles began to betray you, weakening with each passing moment. All that remained through the chaos was the distant, pained echo of your name, haunting your ears.

You can't always rely on physical strength alone.

The curse unleashed a assault, nearly driving you to your knees. With every ounce of your remaining strength, you parried its vicious claws with your blade, barely preventing your own beheading.

You can't always rely on physical strength alone.

I will not fall here.

You can't always rely on physical strength alone.

Not today.

You can't always rely on physical strength alone.

Satoru's distant screams, calling your name, echoed through the chaos.

You can't always rely on physical strength alone.

You can't always rely on physical strength alone.

You can't always rely on physical strength alone.

NOT TODAY.

Cursed energy. Your own cursed energy. Dark, powerful, consuming, it tore through you, an infernal storm that threatened to swallow you whole. Fury and pain. Your katana sank into the curse, this dark, roiling energy rippling outward, contaminating everything it touched with devastating precision. But even as the creature before you disintegrated into the abyss, the torrent of cursed power refused to dissipate.

Your whole being throbbed with it, wild, uncontrolled, an explosion held back only by the fragile remnants of your sanity. It screamed through your veins, a cataclysmic tide that threatened to pull you under and tear apart everything left in its wake.

"Suppress it!" Satoru's voice, once a distant echo, now pierced through the chaos, frighteningly close, yet muffled beneath the tumult.

Satoru was there, appearing like a ghost through the remaining mist of the extinguished curse, his eyes wide, reflecting the chaos that enveloped you. His voice cracked with rawness as he shouted your name, fear running through every syllable.

"Stop it! It's over!" His words pierced the howling in your ears, desperate, pleading. But the maelstrom within resisted, rebelled against the confines of control, searing through you with a malevolence that burned every nerve, every fiber of your being.

Satoru, despair etched into every line of his face, lunged forward, arms wrapping you in a protective shell as the cursed energy writhed, seeking escape, seeking destruction. His voice, a soothing sound amidst the chaos, whispered pleas in your ear. "It's over."

And there, wrapped within the sanctuary of his arms, something inside you quivered, flickered beneath the storm. His warmth seeped through, a sharp contrast against the biting cold of the cursed power that still surged around you.

But the cursed energy of yours, began to snake through him, his infinity struggling, wavering beneath its cruel, insidious touch. You could feel it, hear the choked gasp that escaped him as it clawed at his defenses, his body tensing against the unexpected assault.

He didn't release you, didn't retreat from the danger that now bled through you into him. Instead, he clung tighter, his words a lighthouse in the tempest's fury. "It's over. You can let it go."

And in that moment, with the scent of him surrounding you, his voice a desperate lifeline, something within you clenched, teetering on the precipice between control and catastrophe. The tidal wave of energy trembled, hanging suspended in that eternal instant, its devastating potential balanced against the fragile thread of your regained composure.

Suddenly, the torrent of cursed energy ceased as abruptly as it had been unleashed, as if snuffed out by some unseen force. It was a sudden silence, an eerie calm that replaced the maelstrom that had threatened to engulf everything in its path only moments before.

Your body, deprived of the storm that had raged through it, faded, all strength drained in the aftermath of the catastrophic tide.

Satoru, still holding you in the fortress of his arms, staggered slightly under your sudden weight, the exhale that escaped him something between relief and lingering fear. Your body was a limp entity in his embrace, your consciousness flickering.

Gently, carefully, he lowered you to the ground, his hands cupping your head, fingers brushing away strands of hair that clung to your sweat-soaked forehead. His voice, though calmer now, still trembled with the remnants of terror, his words a soft murmur against the silence that now pervaded the scene.

"Stay with me, love."

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

#gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x female reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut

[shadowdaddies]

May I humbly request another Eris x reader? Autumn's Eden was so sweet and I had read it a countless amount of times already. Still with the secret mate element and something abou how she is a cat person and Eris is evidently a dog person with cat person energy

ahh I'm so glad you liked it!! 💜 lol as a dog person with cat person energy myself, I really feel Eris here

Bramble

Eris x Reader fluff

It was by the edge of the woods, far away from the Forest House, that you were meeting your mate in secret for time together when you were almost discovered. Eris had winnowed you to a place that was far from everyone else, where the two of you could be yourselves without anyone finding you. It was a high risk any time that you met with Eris - the both of you knew the dangers if his father or brothers discovered you, because you would not be an approved wife for him. But Eris was your mate, and it was worth any risk to be able to spend time with him, the other half of your soul.

It was a perfect afternoon, the sun shining through the crisp Autumn breeze creating the perfect weather for a picnic together. Eris had made his way on top of you, the sexual tension between you two escalating when he suddenly looked up, scanning the tree line. You could hear his brothers in the distance, apparently on a hunt as the sounds of their horses’ hooves approached you at an alarming rate. 

Eris was able to winnow you away just in time, burning anything you touched to eliminate your scent. After that scare, you decided that you needed to stay away from Eris as well as busier places in town for awhile until any possible suspicions died down.

After two weeks passed, you found yourself lonely. You were missing your mate, and needed someone to keep you company while you were forced to keep your distance from him. One day while buying groceries in the square, you discovered a black and white kitten trailing you down the street. Stopping at a cart to buy some fruit, you giggled at the feeling of the kitten winding its way through your legs, purring as it looked up at you.

You maneuvered your way out of the kitten’s hold, heading back to your apartment when you heard a small “meow,” and turned to see the kitten still at your heels. You bent down to pet it, heart melting at how it purred and pushed its head further into your hand. You grabbed a blackberry from your grocery basket, holding it out to the kitten. The animal sniffed it tentatively before chomping the fruit aggressively, nicking your finger in the process. “You’re a hungry thing, aren’t you?” you asked the cat as you watched it rub against your ankle, meowing for more food. Holding out another blackberry - more careful to avoid being bitten this time - you watched the kitten devour the fruit. “I bet you could eat a whole bramble of berries.”

~~~

It was about a month later when you came home, growing concerned when you didn’t see your cat, Bramble, come up to greet you as she usually did. Setting down your bags, you cautiously called out, “Bramble?” Peering around the corner, you nearly wept with relief as you took in the sight of Bramble curled around Eris’s neck, purring as she licked his ear. Eris’s lip curled at the cat’s show of affection, leaning away from the animal as he looked to you. You giggled at his expression - an attempt to appear annoyed by Bramble - but the mirthful look in his eyes proved otherwise. 

You practically ran to him, carefully lifting Bramble from where she rested on Eris’s shoulders and setting her down as he pulled you in for a kiss. You could feel the passion from him, so many words unspoken as you were finally reunited with your love. Eris pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as silver lined his eyes. “I’ve missed you so much, my dearest love.” You sniffled, twining your fingers in his brilliant red hair as you held him as close as you possibly could, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

Bramble chose that moment to jump on Eris’s leg, her claws digging into his skin drawing a hiss from him as he looked down at her and sighed. He brushed your hair behind your ear, pressing a kiss to your nose as he teased, “you couldn’t have gotten a dog?”

#acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar eris #eris x reader fluff #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris fluff #acotar fluff #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #acosf

[algea]

Ghoul School (pt 2)

prompt: when you get out of the hospital, Lars has put it onto himself to take care of you until you're healed. I can confirm that there is a big chuck of text where you're really pissed off at him before he gets his shit together!

warnings: tbh i literally dont even know. umm yeah your shin is broken and you're concussed so. things may or may not get a little steamy...cussing duh

a/n: im super mega surprised all my Lars stuff has gotten popular; i think it’s very insanely unhealthy how much i love James Acaster.

~ there are a LOT of little secret references to James in here, comment what you picked out ;)

~ also this is probably longer than the first part idk, but its officially the longest post ive written @jesssuperwholock03

~requested by @thestralluvr

Lars visited you everyday. Every morning, every evening after work, sometimes even over his lunch breaks, like clockwork. You were beginning to think it was seriously unhealthy. You were lying in the hospital bed, 4 days after the incident, with your eyes closed. You heard a soft click of the door and you cracked your eyes slightly. You, being oh-so-surprised, were met with the tired face of your crush colleague and work partner. He wore his jumper tied around his waist, a dark colored button up adorning his body. His hair looked disheveled, which could only mean he had just finished a job. He looked so tired, more tired than you've ever seen him be. It was annoying, honestly. Annoying how attractive he was without even trying. 'Why can't I look like that' you thought to yourself, mentally frowning. You decided to acknowledge his presence, seeing how he took time, again, out of his day to come and visit you.

"Lars." You stated, turning your head look over at him. Lars froze, gazing down at your solemn face. You started to reach out to him, but thought otherwise and rested your hand back on the crisp sheets. You watched as he pushed his glasses up and pulled a chair to sit beside you. Lars rested his forearms on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped.

"I was told that you'll be able to get out of here today." He whispered, his tired eyes searching your face. He was desperate for you to come back, back to how things used to be, where he would tease you, and you would always find witty comeback. But he knew you couldn't, not for a while at least. Lars was so scared you weren't going to be able to work for Ghost Corps anymore, especially since the concussion you got really fucked up your head. Not to mention your shin, which was a huge impact on you.

Lars let out a shaky breath. He unclasped his hands and ran one through his hair. You reached out, more confidently this time, and rested your hand on his. He didn't move his hand; he was scared if you let go, you'd disappear.

"Lars." You said again, your face flashing with worry. Your other hand softly touched his chin, holding his face so delicately.

"I'm scared that you're not going to come back." Lars stated, grimacing at the words that flew out of his mouth.

"Why wouldn't I come back? What made you think this?" You asked, your eyebrows drawing together in a sad furrow.

"I want things to be the same, I don't want things to change." He whispered quietly, his eyes cast down.

"I think you and I both know that it won't be the same, neither of us want to admit it. Normally, you don't go around kissing people and pretend like you hate each other for the rest of your life." You explained, searching his eyes for an answer. His eyes glanced back at you as his cheeks burned with pink. You tipped his head to the side ever so slightly, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

"That's unfair, Lars. You can't expect me to leave you alone after that." You pleaded.

"Can we just drop it? It really doesn't fucking matter right now.” Lars snapped. You drew your hand away from his face, hurt flashing across your face.

“What I meant was that we should focus on getting you out of here.” He frantically explained. He reached for your hand, but you pulled away again. Lars had never felt an emotion like this. His ears were ringing and his brain was hazy. It could’ve only been described as embarrassment. He wouldn't cry, no, that's not what he wanted to do. He wanted to apologize over and over again until you'd forget he ever did anything or said anything.

“I think it's maybe time for you to go. When I get out, do me a favor and send Lucky and Pheebs to get me.” You muttered, looking down at your hands. Lars sat there for a few moments, his jaw clenched. He wanted to say something, anything, to make you understand how he felt. Instead, he got up and, with a longing gaze down at you, left.

You felt hot tears sting your eyes, which you allowed to fall down your cheeks. If he wanted to play that dumbass game again, you could do it, just not like you used to. You didn't realize that you were holding your breath until he walked out of the door, not looking back. You slammed your hand down on the bed in a fit of rage, which turned into a soft cry. You wished that you could make better sense of it all, but your wishes never came true.

It was only 2 hours after that you were discharged. Lucky and Phoebe, just as you had requested, rushed in to see you as soon as they could.

"Y/N!" Phoebe exclaimed, running to you and giving you a big hug. You smiled and hugged her back, or at least as much as you could with your crutches. Lucky joined in on the hug before you parted and started making your way to the car.

"Everyone is so happy you're coming home! We've all been super worried." Phoebe smiled, giving you a big smile.

"I'm so happy I get to see you guys again, Pheebs." You grinned back, ruffling her hair. Your mind wandered to Lars as you crutched your way to the car.

"Has um..." You started, realizing that the words were harder to get out of your mouth than you thought.

"He's not here. I haven't seen him since we went out this morning." Lucky explained, catching on to what you were about to ask. You looked down and nodded. 'Of course, how could I be so goddamn stupid.' You thought. Phoebe helped you into the car while Lucky set your crutches next to you. Trevor was driving, which was a whole other risk to be taking.

"Since when did they let you drive?" You asked, grinning at Trevor.

"Since Lars bailed at the last minute. I'm a great driver, so I have no idea what you're even talking about." Trevor bragged. 'He bailed at last minute? He never does that...' You thought sadly. He could've just been working really hard on whatever science thing he was studying. You really didn't know, but it did cut a little.

You didn't know you were carsick until you let Trevor drive you home. You thought Lars was a bad driver, but you quickly realized that Trevor was on the list of 'Never-Ever Drive Me Again,' along with Gary and Ray. You made a mental note of that as you struggled to stand to get out of the car. Trevor quickly rushed to your side to help you, easily pulling you up. You casted your gaze up, which fell on the Firehouse. 'Oh good, he won't be here.' You thought, as a feeling of relief washed over you. You hobbled in next to Phoebe and Trevor with Lucky trailing in not far behind. Callie and Gary stood right after the door, waiting for your arrival. As soon as you entered the Firehouse they were by your side, giving you warm 'hello's' and 'I'm so happy you're back and ok.' You were quick to hug them, hoping to talk to them about your situation with Lars.

"Alright kiddos, time to let the adults talk." Gary clapped, shooing away the smaller kids.

"Hey but I'm not-!" Trevor started, but was dragged away by Lucky. You three sat down around a table. It was silent for a moment as you tried to say what was on your mind.

"Did he come see you?" Callie asked, leaning in close.

"He came and saw me everyday. Sometimes up to three times." You whispered, your hands clasped together. Callie and Gary looked at each other.

"But when he came and saw me this morning, he was different. He was super moody, and got upset when I tried to confront him about kissing me like you said for me to do. I don't know if he doesn't like confrontation or if he, yknow, might be seeing someone else." You went on, nervously biting your nails.

"Y/N, I seriously doubt that there's many women who actually like Lars, much less want to even date him." Gary said, using his left hand to talk. 'Is he right? But I'm sure women think Lars is attractive.' You thought, scrunching your eyebrows together.

"I'm pretty certain that you're like the only woman he's ever talked to in a romantic way, probably even the only woman he’s ever even talked to." Callie confirmed.

"Either way, he likes you. We all know that." Gary finished. You were really hoping he was right, otherwise you were a fool being played.

You chatted for a little while longer, mostly about anything and everything that came to mind. After a while, you told them that you were ready to head home.

"I'll drive you home." Callie said, standing up and grabbing the keys. The ride home was filled with you and Callie singing awful 80's songs, the vast majority of them by Tears for Fears. That was something that cleaned your soul and freed your mind a while. Callie helped you into your apartment before she left with a hug and a warm 'see you soon.' You were seriously hoping that your torture would end.

After a day, you got restless. So restless that you decided to go back to the lab and start working again. Yes, it was idiotically stupid. No, you weren't going to listen to anyone and take a break. Honestly it was going to happen anyways. You walked into the lab the first day, partially hoping that Lars was going to be there, but alas he wasn't. You felt disappointment but you were hopeful that you'd see him tomorrow. Except you didn't. More days past by and you hadn't seen any sign of Lars in the lab at all. You were starting to get more and more worried.

It had been more than a week and you hadn’t seen Lars since. Concern was growing and you were growing weary waiting for him to return. It was extremely hard taking care of yourself, especially since you had to trek a long ways to get yourself to your car outside of your apartment. Finally, you decided it was time to go see Lars. It pissed you off so much that you were running to him, instead of him coming to you. You knew his place, mostly because you, Phoebe, Trevor, and Lucky would sometimes prank him by doing something so absurd he would tremble with anger. That was back when you had your little schoolgirl crush on him, before you realized that you loved him.

You decided to walk, opting for the fact that he knows your car all too well. You weren’t even sure if he was there, you really didn’t even bother checking to see in your group FindMy. You didn’t even bother use your crutches because they were stupid anyways, you could walk just find even though you had a little limp. God you just wanted to fucking punch his stupidly handsome face. He made your blood boil so much.

You were only a few blocks from from his house when it started to rain. Not just a light rain, but a pour. You grew a little worried for your cast, but continued on. You were completely drenched by the time you were on his doorstep. Even worse, it was cold out. You stood on his doorstep for a minute before you started to knock on his door. You breathed out, seeing your own breath in the air. You were so cold. No one answered, which was pretty typical for Lars. He was probably standing in the kitchen, not going to open the door.

"Lars!!" You yelled, knocking on the door some more. Water dripped from your face and you shivered again. The door still didn't open. You sighed and started walking away, the pouring rain drenching you again. You started to tread back to your apartment when you heard a loud bang and turned your head. There Lars was, standing in the doorway, eyes wide as he stared at you.

"Y/N!" Lars yelled back, meeting you in the rain. He craned his head to look down at you, his hands flying to meet your face.

"What are you doing here?" He said, his thumb swiping at your cheek.

"I came to see you. Where the fuck have you been, Lars Pinfield?!" You boomed, your right hand gripping the front of his shirt. His head dropped and he closed his eyes.

"I...I couldn't face you after that dumb shit I pulled. I wanted to apologize, really I did, but I couldn't bring myself to face you." Lars explained, his breath creating a misty cloud. All that either of you could do was stare at each other incredulously.

“Are you fucking stupid? I’ve wanted to see you all week, but your dumbass wouldn’t show up. Jesus Christ Lars, do you have any clue how much I’ve missed you? You’re so goddamn unfair you know that?!” You screamed, pounding on his chest. Lars’ hands moved from your face to your waist, holding you steady while you angrily punched him. He could only see you through his hair, which now stuck to his forehead, and his rain covered glasses which were fogging up. He was freezing, but all he could ever think about was you. How cold were you? Why would you sacrifice your time, hell, your health to come see him. He really couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t comprehend why someone would ever do that for someone. You would think with him being such a genius he would figure it out, however some people can be dense. But he realized that you were giving up all your time to invest in him. So, he decided that he needed to do the same.

"Do you think, maybe, that you'd want to spend the rest of your life, with me, maybe not just hating each other. And maybe not while hating each other, you'd like to be with me, y'know, for a long while?" Lars whispered, causing you to stop throwing punches. You looked up at him, in all his rain drenched glory. God, he looked so beautiful. You began to tremble, your hands lifting to capture his face with them. Lars breath quickened, his large hands gripping your waist. His hazy blue eyes captured yours, holding you in his everlasting gaze.

"Lars..." You murmured, swiping your thumb across his bottom lip. It was soft, softer than you thought it would've been. You found yourself daydreaming again about kissing him, though you'd never let him know how many times you've done it. You realized how close you were after you felt his breath against your cheek. You leaned in closer, pressing your chest against his. It was like something out of a movie, the way time stopped then. When your lips pressed against his, your body shuddered. It was like fireworks went off inside of you, making you all jittery and excited. Lars' hands slipped from your waist to your ass, softly gripping the flesh there. You slipped your fingers into his blond locks, tugging lightly. You heard a light groan rumble from his chest as he pressed into you further.

You weren't sure if the rain mixed with the cold had made you delirious, but after Lars had pulled away, it made him look even hotter. His tousled, wet hair, his lips that were red after the kiss, the ruby flush that adorned his cheeks and ears, and his half-lidded eyes made him even more beautiful. You found yourself feeling heat creep up through your neck to your cheeks as he stared down at you.

“Shit, right, you need to get inside, now.” Lars commanded, dragging you towards the door.

“Lars—!” You exclaimed, eyes widening as he basically picked you up. Your hands fly to grip the shirt on his back as you hoists you over his shoulder. He muttered a few things under his breath as he strolled to the door, obviously not caring that the rain was coming down harder. Lars opened the door, set you down, and shut the door with the heel of his shoe.

“Give me a second.” He commanded, leaving you standing in the foyer. You shivered and looked around, noticing some things that seemed quite out of place. Lars had multiple different band posters framed and hung up around the house, most of them signed. You could pick out a few like Pindrop, Temps, and the Timewasters. You also found multiple different movie titles like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and other things. ‘Interesting’ You thought as you took in your surroundings. Lars appeared again with a towel and some sort of clothes he had found for you to wear.

“If you fuck up my good clothes, I’m kicking your ass to the curb again.” Lars sighed, throwing the towel at you.

“Whatever, brainiac.” You bit back, trying to hold back your grin as you shoved past him. That earned a scoff and an eye roll from Lars.

“Washroom is down the right hall, second door to the left.” He called, peaking down at you as you went to change.

Lars had never had a girl in his house before. Other than the times his mother and sister had come over from Britain, obviously. His “outside” friends insisted that he bring a girl home, but he couldn’t ever bring himself to when he could only think of you. It made him a little giddy knowing that you were here with him. It was like a fever dream, if he woke up it all would be gone. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure that there was a way to prove that this was real. Lars found himself wondering if you liked how his house was decorated, the clothes he brought you, even the way the house smelt. At the thought of these, he began to worry that you didn’t like it here. Those thoughts were denied when you waddled back from the bathroom, furiously rubbing at your hair to dry it. It was silly, really. Lars thought you looked a little too good in his clothes. His Temps T-shirt was too big for you, and his plaid pj pants were rolled a few times to even try and fit you.

“You look stupid in that.” Lars scoffed once more, looking anywhere but your face.

“Hey man, you picked this out. Don’t blame me for your shit style.” You tried back. A hint of a smile could be found dawning his face. You smirked and poked his cheek.

“Is that a smile I see? Is the Lars Pinfield smiling in my presence?” You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand to fake gasp.

“No, it isn’t.” He replied, the smile growing wider on his face.

“It so totally is!!! Lars Pinfield is literally smiling right in front of me!” You exclaimed. He shook his head.

“Shut up. Anyways, I’m getting changed, don’t fucking break anything.” Lars sighed, sliding past you.

“You can put on anything, just as long as it’s not some stupid BritCom.” He added, shutting the door to his room.

“Who even watches BritComs…” You muttered to yourself. Walking back into the main foyer, you sat down on the sofa, which was surprisingly nice compared to how you thought your scientist boyfriend colleague lived. You sat down and flicked through the channels, stopping on whatever stupid romcom movie was on. You sighed and put your chin in your hand, anticipating the snappy response of ‘this is the shittiest movie I’ve ever seen.’

“Hey.” You heard from above you. Looking up, you saw Lars resting his elbows on the top of the sofa next to you.

“Hi.” You peeped back. Secretly, you were gawking at him. Lars wore a pair of white sweatpants and a black shirt. You’ve never seen him in casual wear, but you were absolutely loving it right now. His glasses weren’t pushed up, loosely sitting below the bridge of his nose, and his hair was still damp. If this wasn’t heaven, you didn’t know what was.

“What’re we watching?” He asked, glancing down at you. You shivered when his eyes locked on to yours.

“Some stupid romcom, you probably won’t like it anyways.” You answered.

“You’re right, I’ll probably think it’s super shitty, but I’ll watch it anyways.” He sighed, tipping his head towards you. You reached up and placed a kiss on his lips. Lars scrunched his eyebrows and sighed. After you pulled away, you patted the seat beside you, beckoning him to sit down. He all but scrambled to get next to you, plopping down with another big sigh.

“How’s your leg?” Lars asked once more, motioning to it with his eyes.

“It has definitely seen better days.” You replied earnestly. He nodded in sincerity, then turned his attention back to whatever you were watching. You looked over at him again before reaching over and slipping your hand into his. He didn't move, so you considered it a win. Taking matters into your hands again, you slid closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder. Lars' head rested on top of yours immediately and you smiled as he snuggled in closer. You could smell whatever cologne he was wearing, a citrusy, vanilla smell.

"You smell good." You muttered, looking up at him through your lashes. Lars didn't reply, but you could definitely imagine the look on his face. That little embarrassed smile with a scarlet blush dusting his cheeks. You found yourself becoming a little sleepy as you settled in. Blinking a few times, you tried to wake yourself up, but that only made you even more sleepy. Unintentionally, you started to fall asleep. As you drifted off to sleep, you could hear Lars mutter something to you, but you didn't respond.

Somehow, in the middle of the night, you had moved from the sofa, to Lars' bed. Now you only had 2 options as to how you got there. 1. You sleep walked to the bed and magically laid down, or 2. Lars had carried you there. You groaned and opened your eyes, lifting a hand to rub them. You blinked a couple times and sat up. No, Lars wasn't in here. So then, where was he? You slipped out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen, finding that he wasn't there either. A cup of coffee and some breakfast was left on the counter, along with a note saying,

'I'll be back later, got a couple things I need to work on at the lab. I left you some breakfast and I'm sure you can fend for yourself for lunch. Please don't burn the house down. - Lars' You smiled and picked up the coffee, finding that it was still steaming. You noticed that Lars had made the coffee the way you liked it, which meant he definitely paid attention whenever you ordered it.

After basically spending the whole day exploring Lars' house, you settled into the sofa once more with a random book you had picked out of his bookcase. Hearing keys jingle, you lifted your head from the book and saw Lars venture in. You slowly got up, minding both your head and leg, and made your way over to him.

"Hi handsome, how did work go?" You smiled at him, leaning against the doorway.

"It was...eventful. I got thrown up on by pukey." Lars sighed. You laughed and patted his shoulder.

"That was probably hilarious. I'll make dinner while you take a shower." You said, pushing him along to the bathroom.

"Mmmm, fine. But..." He started before he swooped down and kissed you. Your hand flew to his hair, giving it a nice tug. With that came a loud groan. Lars' gripped your waist and pushed you against the wall. His tongue swiped at your lips, which you gladly accepted. You snatched his glasses and tossed them away, squirming slightly as his nails dug your waist. When he pulled away he grinned,

"Looks like I'm not getting my shower in tonight."

#lars pinfield #lars pinfield x you #lars pinfield x reader #ghostbusters #ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters x reader #james acaster #james acaster x reader

[bludrogue]

Another Random Headcanon About Jason Todd

This is another weird experience I have had, but this is due to a personal experience. If I slam on my breaks too hard, witness a car accident in front of me, or bash the back of my head against the driver's seat (or any seat in the car for the matter), I tend to have the scent of burning oil fill my nostrils.

I don't know if that's normal, and sure, I'm projecting myself onto the headcanon, but I think it's an interesting experience. With that said, here's headcanon #3:

Headcanon #3: Phantosmia

-- Every time Jason has bashed his head against a hard surface, whether it be a wooden table, a brick wall, a lamp post, the concrete streets, a car door - honestly, the list is so long he can't even remember what he's smashed his head against -- the first sense to kick in was his olfactory.

-- Now he wouldn't care if this was just a physical response in general, but his nose always picks up on a scent that's never there. He's not entirely certain why his nose fills up with nonexistent fumes, this has been the case for as long as he can remember.

-- You'd think the scent of bourbon would remind him of Willis, the man always had one in his hand or in the cup holder of his arm chair. Jason can still recall the scent to this day - oak dipped in smoke, tinted in caramel, and saturated with vanilla. And as much as his mind can recognize the smell like he can recite a Shakespearen play off the back off his hand - that's not the scent his body would use to recall Willis.

-- No matter how many times Willis got close enough to burn his nostrils with his breath, it's never been the whiskey either.

-- Instead, it's fucking drywall.

-- Of all the scents in the world, it's fucking drywall. Because of course it is.

-- When he was a kid, it was this putrid scent of a heavy dose of rotten eggs nearing sulfur with a hint of chalk dust. And maybe those particular remnants are from a memory where Willis probably bashed his head hard enough into their shabby walls that he made a hole. Not that Jason remembers aside from the egregious smell - whether that's a side effect of the pit or straight up trauma, Jason is not would willingly attempt to recall any shared memories with his biological dad by choice.

-- If he could, he'd bury those memories deeper than when his body was trapped in the earth and surrounded by an ocean of soil.

-- But it's not just before being Robin.

-- During his time spent as Robin, if he hit his head hard enough, Scarecrow gave off a musty odor with a tinge of the world's worst garbage dumpster. Peguin, oddly enough, reeked of spoiled milk. And don't get him started on the Riddler -- that one he can't even describe with just words. (He weirdly gives off the scent of nail polish remover, do not ask him why.)

-- But the Joker?

-- The Joker's scent was nothing what he expected.

-- His sense of smell doesn't go toward the crisp and suffocating scent of smoke, the one that clogged his lungs so much that he wondered if that was the final straw to lead him marching towards death's door. Nor was it the smattering metallic smell emitted from the crowbar that bashed him over and over and over and - And his nose does not recall the Joker with the lead heavy scent of blood, no matter how much of his own spilled the day he died.

-- No, instead the monster carries the scent of fucking bubble gum.

-- Sweet, fruity, pink chewing gum.

-- Because of course the universe just has to ruin the little things, those simplicities of enjoyment. Like the birds chirping in the morning become screeching alarm clocks, his coffee mug always being chipped, a hole in his favorite pair of pants, just anything to ruin his day. He wonders whoever the fuck is in charge of mapping out his life is relishing in the misery he endures every fucking day. When he fucking gets his hands on -

-- Did you know it took him a solid year to even so much as spare a glance at a pack of the most basic, minty chewing gum again after his spent training with the League of Assassins? Did you know that it was until two years after his whole war between him and the bats he was finally able to even hold a stick in his palm without gagging? Did you know that only four years after all the bullshit he went through, he could finally place one stick of ice peppermint gum in his mouth for a solid ten minutes without throwing up immediately after?

-- He still can't handle the fruity flavor gum - no sour apple, no watermelon, no strawberry, no cinnamon, and especially no bubble gum flavored shit - without the dreadful urge to vomit lingering after.

-- And before Jason mended his relationship with the bats (or is still trying to, he has plenty of ups and downs with Bruce that he's getting dizzy from the ride.) Bruce's scent was ruined.

-- When he was Robin, Bruce carried the redolence of leather and a warm campfire. There was just something that screamed safety in his scent that he couldn't explain. The every time he woke up in the gurney from a concussion, the smell would hit before he would open his eyes and he knew Bruce was there.

-- But everything changed the night Bruce chose the Joker.

-- Bruce had hit his head hard enough against a porcelain toilet seat that his nose was bashed with the scent of leather instantly. He thought he had picked on his own jacket, but once the campfire wood wafted into the air he knew that was his designated scent for Bruce.

-- The emotional side was then crying for his dad, begging him to keep him safe from the monster in the closet, pleading to just let him come home, to choose him - his son - please - But the logical side was louder, especially when he aimed the gun at the Joker's head and gave Bruce a choice to make.

-- He had a job to complete and Bruce had a choice to make.

-- And Bruce decided and his scent was tainted.

-- Now, when there's a meeting held in the bat cave, or the only company he shares is with Bruce, he has to resist the urge to rub the scar on his neck to reassure himself he's not bleeding. To remind himself that his nose is just playing tricks to get himself to believe his throat is sliced open again.

-- But he never minded his olfactory any attention about these scents. Honestly, it was more subconscious than anything else, so why pay any attention to the matter? Plus, it wasn't like the matter was giving him any issues or disrupting his routine in any sort of way. He was still able to patrol and function to his usual capabilities -- which was not the standard, but still... functional.

-- And that meant had nothing to be concerned about. That these phantom scents had to be normal, right?

-- Maybe this was just another secret human function nobody spoke about. Kind of how the American education system fails to explain safety for sex because of the desire to keep a 'puritan' image.

-- But, as usual, he was proven wrong.

-- According to Tim, phantom smells were not a normal human function. Because, 'No, Jason. People do not have specific scents when you hit your head too hard,' and 'No, Jason. It is not common when you hit your head hard enough to smell a person or smell a nonexistent scent.' And blah, blah, blah.

-- He stopped paying attention after the third no.

-- But how did this conversation come about? Allow Jason to draw the scene for you:

-- Jason 'allowed' himself to be dragged to the manor by Bruce due to the severe concussion he received due to an Arkham breakout, followed by the orders of mandatory bed rest. And so, he was trapped under one roof with his siblings, who were piled into his room to force him to remain awake for the required hours necessary to be deemed safe from a coma.

-- He knew Dick was besides him, and the head massage he was receiving was not helpful in keeping him awake. But the others were somewhere in the room, he didn't need to open his eyes to know. He could tell by their scents.

-- The only person who wasn't in the room was Tim, who claimed he'd come right back without another word. (He's positive Tim went to go refill his coffee mug for the seventh time, and someone needs to get a handle on this kid's caffeine addiction.) But when Tim returned, he heavily smelled of apples - he always did when he was anxious.

-- Not that Jason usually minds if he hits his head, but this time the pounding was an incessant bitch who brought a drill to ram against his skull, so he couldn't handle the heavy scent at the time.

-- Jason immediately scrunched up his nose the moment Tim entered the room the moment he caught a waft of green apples. He rolled onto his side to have his back face the door, followed by a groan of, "Dude, Timbo, you fucking reek."

-- If Jason hits his head, sometimes he can practically smell Tim's potent and eternal state of anxiety. It's just as bad as Bruce's paranoia (but no one can ever beat that man in his levels of anxiety). However, when Tim is anxious, he carries the particular scent of green apples.

-- He hears Tim scoff, and there's a dip of weight at the corner of the bed. Jason lightly kicks Tim to shove him further away, only for the asshole to scoot closer.

-- "Hey, I took a mandatory after-patrol shower," Tim retorts, and he lifts his mug up to his lips and sips his coffee.

-- "No, you smell like fucking green apples," Jason hisses, burrowing his face into the pillow. If Tim gets any closer, his churning stomach might aim at Tim as his puke bucket. "You always do when you're fucking anxious about something, but Jesus fucking Christ, tone down the scent or, fuck, go sit in the arm chair."

-- "Green apples?" Dick mumbles, pausing in the movement of his hand. Jason almost whines at the loss of movement and he taps Dick's wrist. The moment Dick's hand continues those soothing circular movements, he relaxes.

-- What Jason doesn't see - or decides to blatantly ignore -- is the wide - eye stares everyone is glaring into his head. If Jason were to look, he would find a 'what the fuck' expression on each of their faces.

-- "Are you positive you're not smelling one of Tim's scented shampoos, tough guy?" Steph asks with curiosity lacing her tone. Tim has an array of scented shampoos and unscented ones -- the kid may be shit at self-care, but he certainly knows how to tend to his hair -- ranging from pomegranate to coconut to lavendar to oaky to vanilla, etc. (The list could go on.) But he certainly does not have a single apple scented shampoo.

-- "I'm positive," Jason replies. "He has a scent, you have a scent, everyone has a scent. Especially when I hit my head, it's normal."

-- People having individual scents is totally normal. He's positive of it. Plus, he's hit his head a multitude of times that the phantom scents kind of linger.

-- Tim taps the side of his coffee mug with his nails. "Jason... that's not- that's not normal."

-- Jason lifts his head from the pillow, the combination of scents burning his nostrils, but he ignores the hot twinge in favor of glaring at Tim. "It's fucking normal, Tim. I fucking experience it every time I hit my head."

-- "May I implore that none of your human experiences are what is considered 'normal', Todd?" Damian raises an eyebrow. He's settled on the ottoman by the end of the bed.

-- Jason opens his mouth to argue, but quickly clenches his jaw shut. As much as he hates to admit... the demon-brat has a point. Not that he needs to elaborate.

-- 'Is this a side effect from the lazarus pit?' Cas signs, tilting her head at a slight angle. Her eyebrows furrow together and the corner of lips curl - just as she always does when she's curious about a topic she doesn't understand.

-- "No." Jason whispers, keeping his tone gentle and crossing his arms over his chest. These phantom senses have always been around for him, even before the pit.

-- "So," Tim drawls, shifting the weight in the bed as he crosses his legs and holds his coffee mug. "When did this start?"

-- Jason narrows his gaze at Tim. "Fuck you, you're not my therapist."

-- Besides, he'll see his therapist next Wednesday, and he'll snitch on Bruce to his therapist. (And yes, his therapist is Harley.) He's not clinically insane - yet - but if this another 'Jason Todd anomaly', then why does he have phantom scents that hit his nose at random times? Especially when he hits his head?

-- "Wait, Lil' Wing," Dick pipes up, and Jason finds a cheeky grin on his face that warns Jason that Dick is about to ask a question he won't want to answer. "What do I smell like to you?"

-- "Yeah! I want to know too." Steph chimes in, resting her head in her hands as she places her elbows on the bed. There's a doe-eye look in her eyes that screams 'Pretty Please' as she flutters her lashes.

-- Heat crawls across Jason's face and spreads across his cheeks. He should have just kept his mouth shut, but he just had to go and whine about Tim reeking of fucking apples. It's not that he's embarrassed - not that he'd admit the truth out loud - but he's now more nervous than anything to reveal their scents. Especially now that he's more aware that having phantom scents isn't a typical human function.

-- Jason releases a breath, and decides to tell each one of them their identifying scent.

-- He has to admit, there are some positives to this phantom scents.

-- Dick carries the scent of sugar coated, blue cotton candy and mouthwatering salted popcorn. It reminds Jason of the one chance he took to sneak into the circus tent and hide under the bleachers as he watched the performance of the graceful Flying Graysons. He's always transported back to that memory when the scent hits his nose. But there's always a hint of hyacinth, and Jason has no idea where that comes from.

-- Tim may smell like apples when he's anxious, but he always carries a different scent of a different apple depending on his mood. If Tim is anxious or afraid, he reminds Jason of the odious redolence of a green apple. If Tim is mildly annoyed, enraged, or upset, he carries the scent of red apple. If Tim carries the scent of a yellow apple, it's an indicator that Tim is in a good mood.

-- Jason likes the yellow apple the most because A) That means Tim is in a good mood, and B) the smell of a yellow apple is a piquant flavor he has added on to his list of good scents. He doesn't feel has to avoid that apple without a specific reminder which is nice.

-- Steph smells zesty and sweet and reminds him of pop rocks candy, specifically the grape flavored kind. This could be due to her vivacious nature, but he nose tingles every time her scent appears. That could sometimes lead him to sneezing - which he doesn't admit to her.

-- Cas smells like Jasmine and sandal wood with a hint of roses.

-- Damian smells like paprika and cinnamon.

-- Duke smells like honey (and a part of him wonders if that's just because of the suit or the bee meme that his nose decided to join on the bandwagon.)

-- Alfred smells like his homemade chocolate chip cookies and hibiscus tea.

-- "And what about Bruce?" Dick's question is hanging in the air as Jason is drifting off to sleep. And Jason will never speak the truth of how Bruce smells now.

-- But he can always bend the truth.

-- "Used to smell like leather and campfire wood," Jason yawns into his pillow. "Used to smell safe."

-- "Used to?" Tim's question remains unanswered as Jason finally falls asleep.

-- When Jason wakes up, he notes that everyone is asleep except for Tim, who's claimed his spot in the armchair and curled around his laptop. His mug rests on top of the coffee table, his fingers are rapidly yet quietly typing away on the keyboard, and his focus is so honed in on the screen in front of him that he's caught off guard when Tim abruptly states, "Phantosmia."

-- Jason rubs the sleep out of his face. "Phanto-what?"

-- "Phantosmia," Tim repeats, adjusting his body weight on the arm chair and his eyes remain on the computer screen. "Or more known as a phantom smell, meaning you'll smell something that isn't there. Most people typically smell metal, burnt toast, or chemicals. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, just what occurs with either strokes or severe head trauma."

-- "Well, that explains a lot." Jason huffs, a smirk teasing his lips.

-- Even though he has an answer - which is pretty rare considering his medical history puts Santa's naughty list to shame - he doesn't believe having phantom smells is necessarily a horrible thing to have.

-- If the wind blows in just the right direction, he'll have scent of his mom follow him. Not his birth giver, Shelia, but Catherine. His mom carried the luscious scent of marshmallows, lilac flowers, and lit vanilla candles. And in his mind, it's still like his mom is there, still with him. Oddly, that was the last scent he remembers before he died in the warehouse and it's the safest he ever felt in years despite all the surrounding chaos.

-- "Thanks for researching, Timbo." Jason whispers.

-- Tim turns his head to Jason, and his lips lift into a grin. "Sure thing, Jay."

-- Phantosmia, while there are aspects of it he despises, he thinks there's a bit of a blessing buried in it too.

Hey guys! It's been a solid few days (I got super busy this week), but I thought I'd produce another headcanon. I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! I'll post another head canon soon!

Other headcanons:

Head canon 1

Head canon 2

#batfam headcanons #batfamily #batfam #jason todd headcanon #jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #stephanie brown #dc spoiler #cassandra cain #orphan #damian wayne #damian al ghul #dc robin #tim drake #red robin #bruce wayne #batman #alfred pennyworth #dc comics #dc universe #dc headcanon

[khihi]

i'm not gonna be able to put my thoughts on this into the kind of wording they deserve because my brain is burned to a crisp at the moment, but now we've got all the chapters i'm sort of piecing together a narrative...

the story starts with kris, whose photos are very tender and exposing – they seem to be about him learning to being comfortable in himself, letting himself be soft and let out his emotions in a healthy way (the shower that washes away the black and white to reveal the gold).

there's comfort and relief in the solitude of his photos – it feels like he's embracing a fresh start for himself – the first new chapter. his nudity isn't for show as much as it is in the others' chapters; it feels more like an innocent "naked as you were born" kind of situation.

then you get bojan, who is the opposite of kris; instead of water, we have fire as the main element, and also a lot more focus on props and costume to tell the story of this guy who finds himself being close to burnout so much. but also perhaps to hide and protect himself.

unlike kris, we're seeing someone who finds little relief or healing in the loneliness of his images; in fact, he never really feels alone in most of his images — he stares down the lens with such intensity it's making it clear to us that he's up there in the spotlight surrounded by an audience. unlike kris, any of his nudity's all for show.

then chapters four and five; jan and nace both expressing a turmoil of emotions in their own shoots – nace's internal stress and strain being put on show, paired with jan's determination to keep the messiness of his own emotions in the dark as much as he can – they're both uncomfortable with themsleves in some way on their own...

but then they come together, and there's happiness and love and support. they look at the audience, but there's no fear or worry there like there is in bojan's shoots; just a silent determination that they're there to protect and care for each other.

then, finally, we've got jure's pictures. which are clearly meant to be sexy as fuck. i think it's interesting how the story began with kris being comfortable and unbothered by any potential onlookers while half naked, then progressed to bojan putting on an uncomfortable show of his half-naked body for any spectators, then on to jan and nace not really showing off much of their bodies at all, and now the story concludes with jure very much putting on a show for the audience but feeling totally comfortable in doing so. he's lounging around in most of the photos – hell, he's got the goddamn baby boo socks on, he seems very comfortable, even playful about letting us look.

so the arc – one of the arcs, at least – i'm reading into this story is finding a healthy balance between showing yourself off - giving the intimate parts of yourself away, if you like - and hiding yourself away from all the discomfort too many eyes on you leads to. it's being confident and comfortable in yourself enough to have fun in revealing enough of yourself without letting it burn you out.

at the end of a good story, the protagonist is usually changed to the point of no return. there's no going back to the innocent, relaxed state that we began with in kris' photos, not after having gone through bojan and jan and nace's photos. but we can find a happy ending within jure's photos, even if changed.

the relief and comfort found in jan and nace's photos together leads us very nicely to the reason behind this happy ending, i think; they feel safest and most supported when together. and that goes, i think, for all of them. while jure might be on his own here, he's surrounded by images of his bandmates. he can be comfortable and confident in himself because he's got his friends behind him. art intertwined.

#joker out #jure maček #kris guštin #bojan cvjetićanin #nace jordan #jan peteh #disclaimer im almost certain damon and or the boys didnt have this in mind when making these images #but art is subjective and you can extrapolate whatever the hell you want from it and this is what im extrapolating so. there. #also this is way longer than i thought it was going to be when i started typing #not rereading or double checking this i'm just gonna post it #it is what it is even if it doesnt make much sense

[therealdisneyfan2319]

The Spider and The Witch Chapter 5: The Last Day and The Apology

Summary: When the mission goes wrong, Y/N makes a choice about his future as an Avenger.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.7K

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: I'm back from depression cave. I'm going to be more intentional in continuing this story and writing fanfic in general. Please enjoy :)

The timing of the scene in front of you was impeccable.  The grenade exploded at precisely the right moment.  The pressurization of the building coupled with the spark made an incredibly loud boom as the explosion caused the building to collapse in fire and brimstone.  Debris fell around you as you flew back from the sheer force of the concussion.  You hit the concrete with a thud, coughing and sputtering as the wind was knocked out of you.  Every inch of your body hurt: a high-pitched screech echoed through your ears and completely dulled your sense of time and space.  Groaning, you tried to roll over and push yourself up, but before you realized what was happening you felt yourself once again being whipped into the air.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” an anguished voice cried out from the dust and ashes.  “WHAT DID YOU DO?”  

Wanda wrapped her magical tendrils around you, throwing you up in the air as she flew towards you.  While dust and ashes clouded your vision, her scarlet eyes were undeniably clear.  There was no denying Wanda’s anger.  She had just seen her brother blow up in front of her.  

“Wanda, put Y/N down!” Steve shouted as he sprinted toward the burning debris.

“HE KILLED PIETRO, I’LL KILL HIM!” she screamed, her voice raw with anger.  Everything suddenly became unbearably hot as the world closed in around you.  Yet just as soon as you realized you were levitating in midair you found yourself abruptly crashing back to earth.  The shock of hitting the ground knocked the wind from your lungs and you fell on your knees, coughing and sputtering for breath.

“That’s enough, Maximoff,” Tony scolded as he lowered his sonic wrist propulser.  “I promised May I’d get him back to New York in one piece.”

Wanda heaved heavily on her hands and knees, her gasps interspersed with sobs.  Natasha sprinted over to her.  She wrapped her arms around her as Wanda sobbed into her shoulder.  Steve and Bucky worked their way toward the burning building while Rhodey and Sam flew overhead searching for any signs of Pietro.

Clouds of dust settled over the chaotic war scene.  Your entire body shook as a wave of guilt washed over you.  The last thing you remember seeing before everything went black was Pietro opening the door to the building.  The next memory was a blinding flash of light, the sound of a thousand cannons, and the putrid stench of sulfur.

Oh no, you thought as everything started to add up.  Fear coursed through your veins, the thought of having killed Pietro tying your stomach into knots.

“When I said you could shoot a few webs at the bad guys, this isn’t what I meant,” Tony said as he trudged toward you over the field of debris.  “What happened?”

“I…I dunno.  You guys went after the six that I saw, but then Karen spotted three more and I didn’t think you could get to them in time so I went after them myself.  I thought I got them but…” you trailed off, staring at the burning building in front of you.  “Where’s Pietro?”

“They’re looking for him right now,” Tony explained.  “Redwing’s scanning the area.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.  There was no way that a simple apology would be enough to make up for the mess you made.

“I know, kid.  I know,” Tony sighed.  

Before you could muster another apology, Steve jogged over toward you and Tony.  He was sweaty and dirty, his crisp blue and white uniform covered in blood and dust.  A sense of trepidation hung in the air as he approached Tony, who subtly flinched at Steve’s appearance.  

“Sam found him.  Call Cho.  Let her know we’re on our way back.  We need her ready and waiting when we get back.”  He turned to look at Tony, casting an icy glare in his direction.  “I told you the kid wasn’t ready,” he replied coolly.   Steve was right: Tony threw you into a completely unpredictable situation and expected that you’d know how to react.  

“Try not to be too hard on yourself.  We got Speedy.  That’s all that matters,” Tony told you as Steve walked away.

“I put the whole mission at risk,” you answered.  It took every ounce of strength left to push yourself up from the ground.  It felt like you’d been run over by a truck and then some.

“Y/N-”

“Steve was right.  You should’ve left me back at the compound.”

******

“What do you mean you quit?!” Tony looked at you with an expression of shocked contempt as you dropped your suit on his desk.

“I quit,” you reaffirmed.  “It’s my fault that Pietro got blown up-”

“He’s got all his limbs.  Dr. Cho’s printing the sheets of tissue for the burns. He’ll be back up in speedster shape in no time.”

“That’s not the point, Mr. Stark.  The point is my mistake nearly got someone killed.  I don’t know if I could live with it if he died, and if it happens again…I don’t think I could spend the rest of my life with that weighing on me, you know?”

Tony stared at you as his mind moved at a thousand miles a minute trying to process what exactly you were saying.  The gears in his mind cranked and squeaked while he struggled to figure out the right thing to say.  He stroked his goatee, twisting around in his overstuffed chair while he thought of what to say.  Finally he stopped, tapping his fingers on the armrest as he cocked an eyebrow.  

“Don’t you want to be a doctor?”

“What?”

“That’s what you told me the first time we met.  You want to go to med school, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Doctors lose patients all the time.  You gonna quit the first time one of your patients bites the dust?”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”  Tony stumped you with that question.  

“Well-”

“You do everything by the book, a perfect surgery, and for whatever reason your patient doesn’t wake up.  You just gonna quit then, kid?”

“But that’s different.  That’s not my fault if a patient doesn’t wake up.  Pietro getting blown up is my fault.  I don’t want anyone’s blood on my hands.”

“Loss is a part of the job, Y/N.  Hell, it’s part of life.  All of us here accept that.”

“Being a doctor and being a superhero are two different things in my mind.  I can’t…look Mr. Stark, I appreciate the opportunity to come and train with you and the rest of the team.  It’s been a really eye opening experience, but this isn’t for me.  I’m sorry about what happened to Pietro.  I really am.  I know Wanda’s, umm, I know she’s pretty angry with me and I know she has every right to be.  I mean I almost killed her brother.  I don’t want to mess up the team’s dynamic any more than I already have.  I’d rather go out on top, you know?  No one else can get hurt if I leave.  I’m sorry, but I’m not going to change my mind on this one.”

The tension between you and Tony was palpable.  Anxiety twisted your stomach in knots as you felt him bearing into your soul.  

“Fine,” he finally relented, pushing his chair away from the desk.  “You’re a big boy.  I can’t make you stay if you don’t want to.  So I’ll just take that then if you’re sure…you are sure you don’t want to do this, right?”  You nodded emphatically as Tony sighed and rubbed his temples.  “Did you call May yet?”

“I was gonna shoot her a text-”

“I’ll call her.  Never pass up an opportunity to talk to that woman,” he chuckled.  “Look, I get that everything’s a bit raw now, but the offer still stands.  If you ever feel the urge to swing around in spandex again just give me a call.  Or if you need an internship or a reference for med school or something.  I’ve got some pull with the Harvard-MIT Program.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.  Really.  It means a lot to me.”  He shook your sweaty hand firmly.

“You pack your things already?”

“Not yet.”

“Alright, you go pack, I’ll call May.  Should be good to go in a couple of hours.”  You turned around, reaching for the doorknob.  “Shut the door on your way out, will you?” Tony hollered from behind the desk.

******

May was only a half hour or so out from the compound by the time you finished packing up the last of your stuff.  You would’ve been done sooner had Vision not phased through the wall to confirm the validity of the rumor that you were indeed leaving the Avengers.  He proceeded to talk your ear off, philosophizing something fierce about the ideas of moral duty and responsibility.  It wasn’t quite clear what the point of the conversation was.  Still, you thanked him for his advice and awkwardly stared as he once again phased out of the room. 

You took one final sweep around the room for anything you might’ve left behind.  Once you were sure it was clear, you made your way through the maze of hallways and staircases to, not the main entrance, but the infirmary.  Pietro was still undergoing daily treatment at the hands of Dr. Cho.  While it looked like he would pull through, it was going to be a long road to recovery.  He suffered from burns all over his body, broken bones, and a concussion amongst a myriad of injuries.  The thought of leaving without apologizing to him made you sick to your stomach.  So instead of waiting for May in the bitter January wind, you decided that your time would be better spent trying to make amends for your mistake.

The infirmary was a dark, cold space.  It didn’t promote any sense of healing or comfort in your opinion.  The hallways were dark, the furniture was dark, the Stark Tech that filled every room was buzzing with excitement but was also dark.  This was definitely not the way to run any sort of hospital wing.  

Your stomach tied itself in knots the closer you got to Pietro’s room.  There was no way to predict how he’d react to seeing you for the first time since the moment before he got blown up.  For a split second you thought about turning around.  Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.  Yet deep down you now you’d never get a good night’s sleep unless you apologized for your major goof up.

Taking a deep breath, you exhaled slowly as you pushed the door open.  You were relieved to see Pietro was conscious, albeit hooked up to almost a dozen machines.  But your heart stopped the second you saw Wanda sitting next to her brother’s bedside.

“Get.  Out.” Wanda snarled, her eyes burning bright red.  You gulped hard, nearly tripping over your feet as you stumbled out of the doorway into the hallway.  There was no way in hell you wanted to be at the receiving end of another one of her outbursts.  “Don’t you dare-”

“It’s okay,” Pietro gasped.  His voice was ragged and raw from the smoke and ash he inhaled after the building collapsed.  The harshness to Pietro’s voice made you squirm. 

“Pietro-”

“It’s okay,” he repeated.  “He can come in.”  

Wanda’s eyes slowly melted back to their original shade of green although you could’ve sworn there was still a glimmer of fire smoldering somewhere in there.  You slowly slunk into the room, heartbeat pounding in your throat as you inched toward Pietro’s bed.

“Hey,” you gulped.

“Hey,” Pietro said, his lips curling into a weak grin as he tugged on his sister’s sleeve.  “Can you give us a minute?”  Wanda started to protest, but he shut her down with another tug on her sleeve.  “Please?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll be fine.  Not like he can blow me up again, right?” he chuckled.  Wanda shot daggers into your soul with her glare.  She stormed out of the room but not without stopping inches away from your body.  

“Hurt him again and you’re going home in pieces, understand?” she gritted through clenched teeth.  You nodded overenthusiastically.  The witch pushed by as she stormed out the door.

“Sorry about her.  She’s a little protective,” Pietro apologized weakly.

“I can see that,” you mumbled.  You were still staring through the doorway.  

“I can’t blame her.  It’s been just us for a long time.”

“She mentioned that”

“Our parents were killed when we were ten.  One of Tony Stark’s bombs crashed through our apartment building.  We were trapped for two days, waiting for it to go off.  It didn’t, but after that we shuffled through orphanages until we ran away to join HYDRA.”

“Peter never mentioned that.”

“Ehh.” Pietro shrugged.  “My sister doesn’t like to talk about it much.  HYDRA wasn’t kind to either of us.  I’m not one for revenge, but she took it the second she could.”

“So the whole thing about her puppeteering corpses-”

“Not one of her better moments,” he chuckled weakly.  “Wanda’s not a bad person, she’s just a protector.”

You stared down at your shoes, feeling immensely guilty for everything that happened.  Your ineptitude nearly cost Wanda everything she had left.

“I’m sorry about all of this,” you apologized.  

“Why are you sorry?” Pietro cocked an eyebrow.  “This isn’t your fault.”

“Yeah it is.  I should’ve seen he had the grenade on his belt.”

“If you hadn’t webbed him to the building a lot more of us would’ve been hurt.  And there’s a chance they would’ve gotten away with the virus if it wasn’t for you.”

“But you got blown up!  That’s on me!”

“Occupational hazard.  Could’ve happened whether or not you were with us or still on the Quinjet.”

Nothing you could say would change Pietro’s mind, or Tony’s for that matter: this was a mistake.  It wasn’t your fault.  That was easy enough for them to say: they weren’t the ones who dealt with the gnawing guilt.

“I told Mr. Stark that I’m.  May’s on her way here now.”

“Oh.”  Pietro’s face dropped as soon as he realized what you were saying.  “That’s sad.  I like you.  You’re a good guy.”

“I just don’t want to be a superhero.  Besides, the semester’s starting soon and I’ve gotta get back to the city.”

Pietro leaned back on his pillow.  He looked out the window, not saying anything as he let out a raspy sigh.  The room was uncomfortably quiet, save the beeping of all the various machines keeping Pietro stable.  Figuring that was the end of the conversation, you awkwardly turned around intent on leaving when a quiet voice spoke into the emptiness:

“She doesn’t hate you.  She’s mad that she couldn’t stop it herself.”

******

“Are we going to talk about it?” May finally asked about an hour into your drive back into Manhattan.  

“I’m not really sure what there is to say, May.  I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“Woah woah woah.  I’m not mad at you.  If you don’t want to do this then you don’t have to, but I’d like to know just what the hell happened on that mission.”

“Pietro went boom.  Well, the building went boom with Pietro in it.”

“And it’s your fault because-?”

“I didn’t see that the bad guy had a grenade strapped to his belt.”

“And he set it off?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t see how that’s your fault.”

“I should’ve noticed that!  I didn’t and Pietro nearly died!”

“But he didn’t, Y/N.  Tony’s right, this isn’t your fault at all!”

“Look, May, I just want to go back to school.  I don’t want to be Spider-Man or whatever.  I just want to be normal.” 

You were completely exasperated with everyone’s insistence that Pietro’s blood wasn’t on your hands.  It was aggravating, irritating to say the least.  Why was everyone so insistent that YOU become the next Spider-Man?  Weird enhanced powers were one thing…you could manage those.  But all the other stuff?  Absolutely not.  All you wanted was a quiet, normal, peaceful life.  

May didn’t respond.  She inhaled sharply, nodded, and slowly turned the radio back up.  You rested your head against the window, watching as the luscious green valley slowly morphed into the familiar hustle and bustle of Manhattan.  You were finally going home.

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff fic #scarlet witch fic #wanda maximoff x male reader #wanda x male reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff xy/n #scarlet witch x male reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x y/n #spiderman #spiderman fic #spiderman reader #spiderman male reader #wanda maximoff x spiderman reader #wanda maximoff x spiderman male reader #scarlet witch x spiderman reader #scarlet witch x spiderman male reader #self reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #therealdisneyfan2319