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pseudowho · 4 months

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Infiltration, Chapter Seven: The Captive Goddess

Nanami Kento and the reader must pretend to be married to infiltrate a deadly Curse-user cult and take it down from the inside.

*SMUT/NSFW/18+*

A slow-burn fic with fluff/comfort, angst, smut and heroics from our favourite salaryman.

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Nanami Kento had long-since erected walls to the outside world. Very few were allowed a glimpse to his inner sanctum, and assessments of him as cold, aloof, ghoulish, humourless or melancholy provided his armour. He was externally unflappable, methodical, analytical; but under the water, his feet paddled frantically, and he felt his heart a million miles away, perched at the edge of a precipice.

Kento swam in Cursed energy; Father Tatsu was having trouble packing it back in-- the Cursed energy that had never belonged to him-- now he had shown his hand. The air was as thick as treacle. Grimly assessing that he had no choice but to fight if he wanted to give you a chance to escape, Kento rolled up his sleeves, the seal releasing on his Cursed energy as Overtime unlocked. Father Tatsu bared his teeth.

"Will it be me then, instead of that woman you call your wife?" Kento's stomach twisted as Father Tatsu picked at his nails, flippant and disinterested, "I say that...but she'll be gone by now, of course. No blood left for the leeches."

Kento read his adversary, his face impassive as he hummed in thought, seemingly considering you tactically, instead of with the gut-churning dread he really felt. I shouldn't have let her go, Kento tortured himself, bitter, she went back, and that's my fault, and she's gone already--

Kento went through mental acrobatics-- home and dead? Home and injured? Captured and home? Captured and taken to the Shrine? Captured and taken somewhere else? Captured but fought to the death? Captured and--

"She is useful," Kento mused, detached, "but not necessary for this part of the mission. It may be a blessing for her to die now instead of--"

Father Tatsu laughed, "Dead, my boy? No, no. The Goddess prefers to consume them while their heart still beats."

Kento felt a swoop of success at his easy fishing. Captured and taken to the Shrine. Taking a few steps back as Father Tatsu's power swelled, Kento's eyes glanced through the windows overlooking the village, in the direction of your house together. Kento sighed.

"Our mission was reconnaissance and escape," Kento lied smoothly, "so while it's a shame my colleague has likely been neutralised, there's no value in both of us being taken out. If you don't mind, I'll be leaving. I don't imagine it's long before my...institution arrives, to finish the job."

Father Tatsu snarled, his attempt to reel Kento to the Shrine failing. His Cursed-energy grew at an uncontrollable rate, and Father Tatsu appeared drunk, gulping back nausea, staggering. Both considered each others' moves; breaths balanced on a tightrope.

Father Tatsu darted for Kento, so much faster and stronger than his age would normally allow, and Kento jacked sideways into a roll. Righting himself, fingertips to tatami in a balanced squat, Kento swept one leg out under the staggering Father Tatsu, who landed with a resounding slam on his back. Dropping back to his haunches as Father Tatsu lay, stunned, Kento lifted the same leg, slamming the back of his booted foot down onto Father Tatsu's face.

With a nauseating crunch-pop, Father Tatsu's nose broke, lips split, choking on blood and teeth. Lifting his leg once more to land a killing blow, Kento's ankle was grasped in two obscenely strong hands; despite his leg being swathed in Cursed energy, he felt a crack ricochet up his leg, the pain like a gunshot.

Father Tatsu looked so briefly shocked, before his face twisted into a snarl, sloppy and bleeding, yanking Kento's leg, trying to pull Kento in by his broken ankle. He doesn't know how to control the power, Kento realised, hot pain flaring up his leg, because he's never had so much of it.

"Scum," Tatsu snarled, as Kento resisted his pull with gritted teeth and stubborn determination. Tatsu vomitted, hot blood, tooth fragments and bile soaking into Kento's jeans and the tatami below them. Kento watched in muted horror as the man's body seemed to swell and churn, Tatsu briefly contorted with torturous pain before sinking his fingers into Kento's leg, bellowing like a bear.

Father Tatsu was bloated with power, and it refluxed out of him in a gruesome, violent belch, when he stood, swinging Kento in an arc to the other side of the room. Beams splintered under the sinews of Kento's body, on the wall overlooking the village, and it buckled, part of the ceiling shunting down, showering Kento in plaster, clotting with blood on his forehead.

Kento stood, solid and tall, his breath hitching with the agony of standing on a fractured ankle. Kento focused his Cursed energy there, desperate for support, cursing himself for never mastering the art of Reverse Cursed Technique.

Kento was sloppy with distraction, each second away from you lowering your chances of survival. Father Tatsu crouched, arms and fingers twisting into himself like gnarled roots, an unstable implosion. He jutted forwards, staggering, animalistic, his face contorted with rage and failed restraint.

Kento turned on a pinhead, gripping a jutting ceiling beam, before kicking the crumpled wall with a roar of pain, striking a point of critical weakness. The wall collapsed outwards, and Kento and Father Tatsu were met with the cold slap of the drifting snowstorm, before Kento leapt, the remnants of the room's ceiling folding like a blanket over Father Tatsu.

Kento's belly swooped as he dropped three stories, landing in fresh snowdrift with a soft thud, before jackknifing away into the storm, making for the village gates, for escape. Kento heard a cry of rage from the devastated room behind, carried by the wind, making his gut churn with shame.

"Coward! Coward!"

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I'm underwater.

"...feed this one...goddess..."

"...too much...all the others already..."

Warm. It's too heavy. Hurts.

"...arguing!...orders..."

"...tender first...likes them begging..."

I'll just sleep let me sleep go to sleep--

WAKE UP!

Who is that? Love him. Want him.

You're running out of time. Darling. WAKE UP!

Your injury gripped you, and you sank, unbidden, into the deep once more.

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"If you don't ask him out for a coffee, I will. Maybe for me, or maybe for you." Your best friend cringed, squealing with laughter as you slapped at her.

"If you've only come in here to bother me," you chided, urging your friend to the staffroom door, "then go away, you must have something better to do, you pest--"

A gentle knock, and the door swung open, forcing your friend to spin back to you, grasping your shoulders with wicked joy, as Nanami Kento walked in behind her, his eyes questioning. You glared daggers at your friend, giving her an almost imperceptible shake of the head. Naturally, she ignored you.

"I'm so sorry, I can't come to lunch with you today after all!" She bemoaned, "I've got so much to do. You'll just have to eat alone." Your mouth dropped open at her shameless audacity. She excused herself quickly, past Kento, the door closing on you both.

There was a heartbeat of silence, and you adjusted yourself quickly, giving Kento a breathless smile in apology for your friend.

As you moved towards the door yourself, crippled by Kento's presence, you heard his silky voice behind you.

"I normally eat alone. The good company in this place is limited."

Your hand retracted briefly from the door handle as you turned to Kento, blushing. His heart skipped, his decision quick and life-altering as other, rejected paths trailed away, unchosen, alternate fates unravelling.

He folded his newspaper with a light clearing of the throat; "That being said...I know a good bakery. If you'd like to join me for lunch."

Your smile was as soft as dappled sunlight, and Kento felt something deep within him pass irretrievably to you.

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You woke with an agonal gasp, floundering in chains as a bucket of ice-cold water was flung over you. Your head spun and pounded, belly shaking with nauseous, racking shivers. Your wrists creaked against your chains, engraved in symbols; your stomach dropped as you realised your Cursed Technique had been completely neutralised by your bonds.

As soon as you raised your head to look around you, a backhanded slap across your cheek made your teeth crack together and your head rattle; a hit you knew, vaguely, to be from a man, instead of a woman. Your tiptoes pressed to the floor as you hung, coughing.

Nought but footsteps in front of you, something dark and slick across the stones, red-black light writhing and flickering in the gloom. Your foot caught on something as you tried to stand. A second slap had you feeling your captor was enjoying this.

"It's nothing personal, my dear." The voice tickled recognition in the back of your mind, but you hitched against the chains, your head and face battered. You tried to grab your thoughts, like catching smoke. Your captor had rightly ensured you had no chance to fight back-- no monologues, no grandiose speeches.

"Well...a little personal. Breaking into my library. Making a fool of me. The Fathers really did hope it wasn't you two, you know? Such talent."

A punch, deep to your gut. A scurry up your leg, a sharp squeaking bite that sank through your trousers and popped through the skin of your thigh. You were crying out now as you kicked the Librarian's rat off your leg, you were sure, but your head was ringing, vision spinning, cold seeping through to your bones.

You almost begged for mercy, but bit it back, wordless and gasping. Your feet slipped on the part-frozen slick beneath you. Your foot caught again, your floundering throwing something forwards; ragged fabric, dark with slurry, crunched bone, gristle and flesh peeking through it. You retched as the putrid-sweet smell of fleshy rot hit you. Leftovers, you thought.

The squirming nature of the light in this vast round chamber had you throwing your head back, staring upwards with bloodstained vision. An extraordinary mass of black arms and legs writhed above you, the inchoate flesh constantly changing as hundreds of blackened screaming faces, kicking legs, clawing hands moved within it, reaching out. As if in recognition of your acknowledgement, a pulse of Cursed-energy like a weapon of war shook your bones. You'd have dropped to your knees, if not bound.

"When your pain is pure," the Librarian continued, adoring, revenant, "she will devour. She shall be released. Our captive goddess, she of the fertile land, finally imbued with the righteous power needed to debride this festering country."

The Librarian approached you, his leathery hands cupping your face lovingly, shushing you as pink-stained tears ran down your cheeks. He spoke softly, as if gifting you such a boon.

"You will be part of something bigger now, sweet girl. You were misguided...but she is forgiving." The Librarian brushed tears from your tender, swollen cheeks and you grimaced in pain. He looked up, as snowflakes slipped occasionally down past the writhing mass, and reached into his pocket. With a flick, a pocket knife opened casually in his hand.

"Is your husband coming?" The Librarian asked, slow and thoughtful, "Perhaps not. I cannot feel him." Your heart crunched with pain, tears now rushing down your face in a strangled sob, hoping against hope that Kento was escaping, instead of dead.

"It is no matter." The Librarian supported the small of your back as he punched the knife into your gut. All the air shunted out of your lungs, your mouth hanging open in a voiceless gape, agony burning through every nerve of your body as the Librarian swiped the knife sideways through your belly. A slow, fatal wound. He pulled his hand away, drenched in your blood as you began to slip underwater again.

"She will taste your pain. She will come. Do not fear, sweet girl."

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You slipped out of the bathroom, skin still glistening with steam as you wiggled a towel around you, hunting for the tinny ringring-ringring of your phone.

Into your bedroom, throwing discarded clothes aside, and reaching into your pocket, you found your phone. You answered without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?" A brief silence on the other end.

"I'm...sorry. You must be busy." That familiar voice, that made your belly twist and throb with want, velvet and slurred. You sat on your bed, gripping your towel around you.

"Kento?" You squeezed your phone until your knuckles were white. You heard a sigh and a shuffle, and blurted out in a panic, "No, wait! Don't hang up!"

A pause again.

"I just wanted-- I needed someone to--"

"Kento I--...I'm always here. For you to talk. About anything."

A thousand unspoken truths passed between you in silence. You closed your eyes, bringing your knees up to your chest with your arm wrapped around them. You felt Kento wrapped around you, warm as you waited.

"It's...it's just been a long week," he continued weakly, "Too much. Just way too much. I didn't get to see Haibara-- it was the anniversary, and I--"

You bit your lip, tears stinging in your nose for Kento. Reassurances flurried out of you. Kento felt himself warm through with your voice, slumped in his armchair, whiskey on his knee, shirt and tie open and messy over his broad chest.

You spoke over the phone, for the first time ever. The intimacy of his breaths, his slow chuckles, the crushed velvet of his tipsy voice...with your eyes closed, he was right beside you. He may as well have been in your bed. Your skin pricked with goosebumps as you heard him shift in his chair, releasing a gravelly groan with his aches and pains.

"You can-- you can come over...if you like. I'm not-- not doing anything," you offered, cringing with regret and anticipation as soon as the words left your mouth. You heard Kento's breathing hitch at the other end of the phone, before he breathed out a long, shivering breath.

"I...not tonight," he spoke, hesitant. Your stomach dropped, blushing, tears threatening to spill out as your face twisted in despair, mortified.

"I've been drinking...and you deserve better. So much better. But...tomorrow?" Your heart leapt, wondering how you would possibly wait that long. You bit your lip, burning with desire and delight as you nodded quickly.

"I-- yes. Yes. Please." Kento huffed out a laugh that had the hairs on your neck stand on end. You shivered in your cold, damp towel.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just-- just still in a towel, I was having a bath." Kento's breath hitched again, and you were sure you could hear his embarrassment.

"God, I'm so sorry," he pressed against your hurried reassurance, "I'll go, just...go to bed. Warm up, I'll...I'll see you tomorrow." You blushed, kicking your legs, wiggling your toes, overwhelmed with joy.

"Okay. Yep. Bed, I'll-- I'll get dressed," you squeaked, unable to help yourself, teasing him with your feigned innocence. He hummed, low and unreadable.

"Sweet dreams," he said, voice warm as honeyed tea. A brief hesitation, as you both held on...the call ending with a beep.

Kento dropped his phone onto the table beside him, cupping his hands over his mouth. His thighs bounced on the chair in thrill, and he fumbled, swearing as whiskey spilled all over his lap.

The next day, he scooped you into his arms off bloodstained concrete, shielding your gaze as your friend's broken body was shifted into black bags.

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Kento had long-since left the village, since heading to the gates in swathes of snow, his broken leg giving and buckling under him as his Cursed-energy buffeted. He had escaped, cold and tactically driven; better just one dead sorcerer, than two dead sorcerers, after all.

Father Tatsu was certain, howling insults into the snow like a wolf on the mountain. His bounding strides cratered the floor beneath him as he lurched through the Temple, throwing aside the questioning approach of the kimono'd woman. She slammed into the wall in a wet crunch, hit with the force of a high-speed traffic collision. Father Tatsu lurched out into the snow, retching and vomiting again.

Father Tatsu stood strong against the piling drive of snow, a maelstrom against a maelstrom. The village was barely visible in the sea of white, as he staggered towards the black-veined, dead hill of the shrine.

Watching the man zigzag up the hill from a snowy roof, a man surrounded by allies raised his hand to pull his balaclava low, his eyes tempered like chocolate, determined.

"Time to move."

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Your heart crumpled under the weight of grief, for a promised life with Kento, never fulfilled as you hung, dying in the red-black gloom. You regretted nothing of the past; only the future you had let slip through your fingers.

The writhing goddess thrummed above you, and viscous pulses of overwhelming power thickened the air. You tried to drink it in, a desperate grasp at life.

A familiar voice called your name in the gloom. You had slipped underwater now, sunk under ice, tangled in reeds.

Kento had nightmares about how he found you, broken, bleeding, hanging and cold, until the day he died.

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One chapter to go! 🤭🤭

Chapter Eight: Unchained, LINK HERE!

@angelofthorr @nn-hh192 @vxmethyst @moonmalice @daisynik7 @heyitsmirae @black-swan-blog27 @vocosys @mischiefmanaged71 @silkspunweb 🐈‍⬛🧎‍♀️ @deegausserr

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julesthequirky · 3 months

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The Choice: Chapter Five

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau and Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour.

W/C: 1,776

The smell of coffee enticed you as you were nudged awake. Opening your eyes, you saw Dean standing over you, a steaming mug in hand, wearing a bemused expression. From where he stood, you had slid down the couch arm in the night, legs akimbo, sticking out over the other couch arm, the fluffy socks a reason for his bemusement.

You must’ve slept at a funny angle cause your neck felt stiff as Hell. You struggled to sit up but managed, shifting the blanket so Dean could sit if he wanted to. You swiped a hand down your face, knuckles rubbing the sleep out of your eyes until you saw stars.

“Captain America, boot you out or something?”

You shook your head and accepted the mug from him.

“Ben snores like a Mack truck.”

“Ahh.”

He sat beside you, wearing the clothes he came in, minus his jacket.

“Well, Beau’s in the kitchen cooking up a storm. Hope you don’t mind. I saw you had a coffee maker. Hell, I’m surprised you didn’t wake up after all the noise it made. I was convinced you would. Beau checked on you, too. Said you were still sound asleep.” He chuckled lightly and waited expectantly.

Figures. You could sleep through a noisy coffee machine, but not Ben’s snoring.

You stared at the mug in your hands. God, it smelled so good. He reminded you of a kid who just wanted to impress their parents. He held the same energy. A pent-up kind of excitement. You brought the mug to your lips and sipped.

Holy fuck.

That was the best coffee you’ve ever tasted. Not too sweet, not too bitter and heated to perfection. Your tastebuds rejoiced in the flavour.

“Oh, shit.” You whispered.

“Good, right?”

He looked so proud of himself, so happy. And he had a right to be. You savoured the taste, closing your eyes. You’d tried with that coffee maker, but whoever designed it had made it as complicated as possible. You’d given up, pushing it to the back of the cupboard, leaving it to gather dust. You’d forgotten about it, lying to your then mother-in-law, who had gifted it to you and your husband as a wedding gift.

“Well, I’ll let you—yep.”

He slapped his thighs, stood up and left you alone with your coffee.

The warmth from the mug seeped to your core. Your ankles ached from exposure to the cold, and your back twinged from sleeping on the couch, but the coffee made up for it.

You heard Dean and Beau’s deep tones and laughter from the kitchen. Whatever Beau was doing, it smelt good. And it seemed that Dean and Beau were getting along. You could only hope that Ben would join their camaraderie.

Heavy footsteps thudded downstairs, pulling you from your thoughts, stopping you from checking on the two men in the kitchen.

Ben emerged wearing only his boxers. How did he manage to still look so good? His hair wasn’t exactly flawless, but it looked better than yours. Yours resembled a bird’s nest, but his made him look even sexier. It wasn’t fair, and it had you thinking. What would he look like after sex?

“You look like shit, y’know that?”

He sauntered in and took the seat beside you. He noted the mug in your hands and brazenly took it, downing the contents as you stared at him in shock.

“Fuck. That’s some good coffee, sweetcheeks.”

The audacity of this man was something else. And it only got worse. He handed back the empty mug and stood. He scratched his balls right in your eyesight, stretched, then tapped your knee.

“C’mon, getchur ass in the kitchen, I’m starvin’.”

All you could do was sit and stare at him, mug almost hanging from your hand. You blinked.

“Doll, if you don’t close your mouth, I’ll put it to good use.”

You clamped your mouth shut. Your brows bunched together in irritation, and you stood.

“Don’t talk to me like that. And you owe me a coffee.”

You barged past him, purposefully bumping into his arm on your way to the kitchen.

“Hey!” He barked.

You opened the kitchen door. Beau was at the stove, and Dean sat at your table, mug in hand.

“Hey! Don’t walk away from me, lady!”

A hand gripped your arm, swinging you around to face Ben. A chair scraped behind you.

“Hey, why don’t you cool it and step away, Marlboro Man?”

“Fuck you, lumberjack.”

“Hey, hey!”

Beau’s deep shout reverberated around the room. You turned to see Beau standing at the stove, apron on, and wielding a spatula.

“Enough of the language, it’s too damn early to be fighting and yelling. Now let go of our host’s arm and put some damn clothes on.”

That shut him up. And you. And Dean. Ben let go of your arm and stormed away, back down the short hallway leading to the stairs. He disappeared up them.

You rubbed your arm and sat down, placing the empty mug on the table. Dean huffed, and you heard him mumble, “Ain’t no lumberjack…”

He sat pouting like a little kid. It was kinda cute, and your heart twinged. How could a grown-ass man make you feel like this? You wanted to put your arms around him and comfort him.

Then, as you were sitting there, it occurred to you that you hadn’t had a chance to tell them your name due to last night’s craziness. The thought never even occurred.

“I should probably tell you my name, huh?”

Dean snorted, instantly perking up.

“That would be nice. Finally, put a name to a face since you know ours.”

Dean gave you one of his award-winning grins, along with a cheeky wink. Then he downed the rest of his coffee and placed the mug on the side.

“I should probably wait until Ben’s back down, right?”

“Why? You don’t know how long he’s gonna be. How do you like your eggs?” Beau inquired.

“Scrambled. Please.” You added the pleasantry, remembering that he was the guest. “You didn’t have to do this, y’know.”

“Oh, I know, darlin’. Force o’ habit, I suppose. And Dean here was figuring out the coffee machine.” Beau said over his shoulder as he cracked a few eggs and whisked them in a bowl.

“Thing had a ton of dust, like, covered.”

“I couldn’t figure it out.” You admitted.

“Well, I’ll show you sometime…uh.”

“Y/N.” You finished for him.

“Y/N.”

The soft timbre of his voice gave your belly flutters. Oh, you could definitely get used to hearing your name slip from his lips, addicted even.

After a short wait, Beau placed a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes in front of you, setting your cutlery beside the plate. Holy Hell. Everything looked perfect. Dean rubbed his hands together in glee when Beau placed his plate down. He didn’t take a second to dive in, and then make his approval known. His moan shot down to your core, and your eyes fluttered in shock. It was too damn early. He couldn’t be making you feel this way. Shouldn’t, even.

“Damn, this…. this is…. mmmm.” Dean took another bite, not bothering to finish his thoughts.

You took your cue. The first forkful blew away your mind and tastebuds. And the sound that came from your lips rivalled Dean’s. Both Dean and Beau stopped to stare at you.

“Sorry…but damn…Beau…it’s so good.”

His cheeks turned pink, and he turned around to hide. You heard the spatula scraping against the pan as two more plates were made.

Dean, Beau, and Ben congregated in the living room, with you standing before them. Dean wanted to get started on the frames box, deciphering whatever was inscribed. But you had to make a food run and get these boys some clothes besides what they already wore. And as much as you loved them, there was no way in Hell you were letting them stay whilst you went out.

“Okay, if anybody asks, you’re brothers. Triplets, even. Last name, Smith.”

Ben snorted. “Ain’t no one gonna believe that, dollface.”

“And why not?” You demanded, already done with Ben’s antics today. “It’s totally plausible. You three look more like triplets than the set down the road.”

You put your hand to your head. Frustration bunched your muscles and had your jaw tensing.

“Just…get in the damn car.”

You stomped off, snatching the keys off the hook on the wall. You toed your sneakers on and grabbed the bags from the porch. From inside, you heard Dean reprimanding Ben.

“Why you gotta purposely annoy Y/N for? She’s tired, and you irritating her ain’t helping.”

You yawned, stretching your aching shoulders and neck whilst the guys traipsed out. Yanking on the handle, you stepped into the drivers seat. Your car was nothing special, a standard SUV. It was a couple years old, and the odometer was getting upwards of fifty thousand miles.

You rested your forehead on the steering wheel. Dean’s coffee and Beau’s breakfast had sustained you, but it seemed not enough for the task ahead.

“I call shotgun,” Beau exclaimed as he exited your house.

“The fuck you do!” Ben barked out.

“Alright, there’s a simple solution to this. Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets the seat.” Dean reasoned.

From your wing mirror, you saw Dean pull the door handle up, successfully locking the door. Then they stood in a circle, and Dean declared on three they reveal. You could only make out Dean’s back and Beau’s side profile. His hair ruffled in the breeze as they stood and played their game.

Ben shouted out, calling bullshit, and stormed off.

The car door opened a moment later, slamming shut as Ben sat in the back. His jaw ticked, obviously stewing from the loss. You couldn’t help but smile. A light chuckle escaping your lips.

“The fuck you laughing at?”

You shrugged.

“Why didn’t you just sit in the passenger seat? What they gonna do? Drag you out?”

Ben furrowed his brow. He snorted and shook his head.

“Never damn occurred to me.”

Now you snorted. Figures. But it was too late now. Your passenger side door opened, and Beau heaved himself in beside you. Dean sat beside Ben.

“Nothing like a good game of rock, paper, scissors.” Beau grinned as he buckled himself in.

“That’s cause you won.” Ben sulked.

“Aw, come on now, don’t be a Debby downer, just cause you lost. Fair and square. You picked rock, and Dean and I chose paper. Them’s the rules.”

“Still bullshit.” Ben mumbled, sulking in his seat, as you started the engine.

Tags:

@curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch

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azsazz · 6 months

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Change Your Ticket (Part 2)

Rugby Star!Cassian x Reader (A Modern AU)

Summary: Dating famous rugby star Cassian Bailey is a dream. What's not one is keeping your secret relationship under wraps. Will you and Cassian be able to keep from the limelight or will your relationship crumble because of it?

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,514

[Part 1]

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“Come on Cass, come on Cass,” you mutter to yourself, stealing a chip from Feyre’s plate of nachos. It’s only the plain ones left, hidden under the mass of other chips doused with cheese sauce and meat, but you need something to gnaw on while you watch the Stars game intently.

You’ve already peeled the label off of your beer bottle and drained it, rolled a balled up wrapped from a straw until it was debris in your fingers, but the nervous tension as you watch the game is almost too much.

You hadn’t been able to make it this weekend, wanting to work on some freelance projects you’d lined up and wanted to get ahead on. Cassian had been disappointed when you spoke to him earlier in the week, but you knew you would be too distracted by him if you flew out there and wouldn’t get any work done.

Now, you’re equally distracted, in the full bar filled with loud Stars fans, cheering and chanting and screaming as the evening grows later and the clock timer winds down.

It had been a brutal game thus far, and the Adriata Sealions are one of the Velaris Stars’ biggest rivals. There had been an injury by one of the team’s top players, Azriel Teller, and the grim silence that had taken over the bar at the sight of it had been harrowing.

He’d managed to limp off of the field just fine, Cassian’s body tucked beneath his arm for support. Hopefully it was nothing more than a rolled ankle or a bruised bone and he would be back on the pitch for the next game, but the harsh scowl on his face as he’d been led into the locker room is not one you ever want to be on the other side of.

Rhysand Cunningham, the team’s captain, had done a well enough job of keeping the Stars players in line, forcing the team to channel their protective energy back into the game instead of chest bumping the players on the other team, trying to egg them into a fight.

“Hello?” Feyre draws out, waving a chip in front of your face. You jump in your seat, ripping your gaze from the TV hanging above the bar. You and your friends, Feyre and Mor, are settled at a high-top table against the back wall. The pub is crowded, stuffed full of fans with Stars jerseys and star-shaped crowns on their heads. You’re wearing a t-shirt with Cassian’s number painted across the back, and you catch sight of similar jerseys, blaring the number 15. It makes you bite your lip to hide your smile.

“What?” you ask, realizing they’ve been talking to you the entire time your eyes have been glued to the match. The Sealions are a tough team, having gone undefeated thus far in the season. If the Stars manage to beat them, this will be great news for both the team and the city. “What we’re we talking about?”

“I didn’t know you were so into rugby,” Mor snorts over the rim of her martini glass. No beer for her during these types of things, your friend is too high maintenance to drink the bitter ale you’re downing anxiously.

Cassian’s lack of a lucky charm being at the game with him tonight shows. He’s not aggressive as he normally is, seeming a little distracted. His teammates are getting frustrated, clapping him on the shoulder in what might be support to the crowds viewing, but you can see the tightness of his mouth, the difference in his posture as he settles into the scrum to fight for the ball.

You shrug, sheepishly, motioning to the waitress who passes by your table for another drink. “Sorry, I just got caught up.”

“Caught up in Cassian Bailey, more like,” Feyre teases and you blush like you’ve just spilled your secret to your best friends.

“As if you haven’t been in love with Rhysand Cunningham since he was named captain of the Stars,” you bite back playfully, tossing a half-eaten ship her way. She squeals, swatting it away from her, laughing with you.

It’s true. Feyre had had no interest in Rhysand Cunningham until he was positioned captain of the team. She hadn’t even been that big of a rugby fan at all, not until you all but forced her and Mor to start watching the games after your first date with Cassian. They’d been a little suspicious of why you suddenly became so interested in the Velaris Stars, but you marked it all up to trending photos from the team photoshoot they did with Vogue.

Feyre’s wearing a jersey opposite yours, a purple shirt with a white painted number four on the back with Rhysand’s last name across her shoulders. Your shirt is black with white print and stars on the shoulders.

“What? He’s so hot,” Feyre swoons, pressing the back of her wrist to her forehead as she falls back against the cushy booth seat. The three of you laugh, clinking your glasses together in a toast when the waitress arrives with a new glass of beer for you, removing the old one from your table with a soft smile.

“They’re all so hot,” Mor pouts like she’s suffering anytime she looks at the TV. She sat with her back to the game, so she didn’t have to watch, because watching sports makes her feel grimy, but even she is wearing a purple shirt with a glittery star on the center of the chest. It’s not official Stars merchandise, but you’ll take it nonetheless. “But I prefer my men in suits.”

“Like the owner of the team?” You giggle and Mor gags. She brushes her hair off of her shoulder with a flick, red lipstick sticking to the rim of her martini glass as she plucks the toothpick with the olive out of her glass, throws the liquid back, and stuffs the fruit between her parted lips.

The pub goes wild and you realize you’ve taken your gaze off of the match for too long and the Stars have scored. You bounce up and down in your seat as the replay comes on, showing one of the team’s players tossing the ball backwards to Cassian, who slips through two of the competitors’ bodies for the try. The action puts them in the lead with only five and a half minutes to spare.

“Hell yes, Cassian!” You cheer, high-fiving the older gentleman next to you whose cheeks don two painted violet stars. Even the locals go wild in support of the team while they’re playing in another city; flags wave outside of pubs and homes, jerseys of all kinds as far as the eye can see, even the stadium parking lot is filled with tailgaters and parties, barbeque and brews. “That’s my boy!”

“Your boy?” Mor scrunches her nose and you fight to keep the redness you can feel crawling up your neckline to your cheeks. She sighs, continuing, “Why can’t either of you like actors or something. I feel like we have nothing in common anymore.”

Feyre shakes her head, “Five years of forcing us to watch The Holiday House and we still don’t think Helion Spellcleaver is cuter than Kallias Storm. I can’t believe you still won’t give this up, Mor. It’s almost insane!”

The Stars miss the following conversion and it’s the Sealions turn to attempt to score. There are only a handful of minutes left, and it’s looking pretty good as the timer inches lower and lower to zero. The match cuts to a commercial when the ball gets stuck in a ruck and the teams have to reset.

You’re about to reenter the conversation, but the ad that come on the tv as the announcers cut away is one you know all too well, and have teased Cassian about since you’d first seen it. He stands in his uniform, bottle of beer in his hands. There’s a lime tucked into the neck of the bottle and the volume is too low for you to hear over the sounds of the patrons in the bar, but you know the commercial by heart.

He's saying how he feels like he’s on a beach when he drinks the beer, and as he takes a sip, he appears on a beach right as an opposing player was about to tackle him. He looks around in surprise and his shirt is ripped off by a phantom wind. A dollop of sunscreen falls from the sky and a nearly naked woman walks by, handing him a pair of sunglasses.

You can’t help yourself, pulling your phone from your back pocket to snap a pic of the screen. You then take another one of yourself with your beer and open both in a text and send it to Cassian along with the message: Not fair, why isn’t mine doing that?!

Sending it off whilst biting back a grin, you raise your glass with the rest of the patrons at the bar as the ad comes to a close. Then, with Cassian, everyone in the bar shouts the slogan together. “Drink until the stars go to bed!”

“They’re on two completely different levels,” Mor is arguing when you tune back into the conversation, a cheesy smile on your face. She’s tapping a red painted nail on the tabletop. “Sure, Kallias Storm is hot in a blatant kind of way, but Helion is like a God, or something! Have you seen—”

“Yes, of course we’ve seen it,” you press, cutting her off with a roll of your eyes. Mor has forced you to watch every single one of Helion Spellcleaver’s movies. Sometimes more than once. In fact, there hasn’t been a movie night you remember when he wasn’t in any of the movies she’d picked to watch. “And yes, we think he’s hot, I just personally feel like Cassian Bailey is hotter.”

You can’t wait until he’s back in town next week. You miss him deeply, even though you had the chance to go and see him for his match tonight. Sometimes, the long distance can be hard, when your days are filled with work and his with practice, matches, and press. There are days you aren’t able to speak, texts gone unanswered until the late hours of the night.

It’s then that makes it all worth it, hearing Cassian’s voice before you go to sleep. Without fail, he calls you every night when he’s away, all settled into the hotel and sleep paints his voice groggy. It comforts you more than he knows, hearing his voice. Even if he somehow manages to fall asleep during one of your many unimportant stories about mundane things, the even breaths heard through the phone are a lullaby themselves.

“I still think the hottest man is Rhysand Cunningham, if anyone is keeping score,” Feyre adds with a slight smile.

“Oh, whatever. We can have this conversation for hours,” Mor waves her hand dismissively, then uses it to shoo away the man who’d been walking past your table who had stopped to ogle her. Or maybe he’s trying to work up the courage to talk to the woman, but the look of concentration—or perhaps it’s constipation—on his face. “Go on now, I’m way out of your league buddy, and not at all interested.” Your jaw almost falls to the floor at her abruptness, but the man nods and quickly disappears. Mor turns back to you and Feyre. “Is this game almost over by the way? I’m getting a headache from all of the beer and screaming.”

“You haven’t even had any beer, Mor,” you point out and she cuts you a look.

“I know that, I just hate the smell. How can you both drink that piss?”

You and Feyre share a glance, as if deciding who is going to take this question that she certainly doesn’t want the answer to. Your shoulders fall, and Feyre’s blue eyes brighten. You’ll answer, then.

“I was hoping it’d transport me to a tropical vacation,” you responding longingly, staring into the glass of ale. “Maybe if I drink it until the stars go to bed, it’ll work then?”

Mor shoves out of her seat with a tut. “You’re incorrigible, (Y/N).”

You raise your glass, smirking at your friend. “I aim to please.”

Mor stalks off to find the bathroom while you and Feyre giggle, turning your attention back to the TV. The game is back on and there’s only a minute left now, but the Sealions still hold the ball. Their team is smart and their wall of players is strong. It barely looks like the Stars are affecting them, with the skill in which they pass the ball back to their next in line as they race towards the Stars’ goal line.

“Oh fuck,” Feyre mutters, watching as intently as you.

You’re chewing at your lip, staring at the screen. Most of the conversations happening in the bar have gone quiet, every patron on the edge of their seat as they watch what will be the final play of the game.

You catch sight of Cassian who is trying to steamroll his way to the ball, but the Sealions are all in unison with their plan, and the player tosses the ball to the next, who barges past Rhysand and across the goal line.

“Shit,” you agree, slamming back the last swigs of your drink.

If the Sealions get a conversion, they’ll win the match.

The player who is going to kick the conversion sets up the ball, eyeing the goal. Once it’s perfect, he stands, taking a few steps back, gauging the distance. His fellow teammates watch on, while the Stars ready themselves by the posts, eager for him to miss.

The Sealion’s player charges and kicks the ball with a wicked arc that sadly, soars right through the goal posts.

The entire bar rattles with disappointment, curses and shouts filling the room, along with a simultaneous screech of chairs being shoved away from tables as people rise to pay their tabs and leave. Your heart sinks in disappointment, knowing how upset Cassian will be with this outcome, and even more so when he returns to his empty hotel room.

The camera cuts in close on the Stars players, heads hung and consoling each other as they make their way to congratulate the Sealions. Cassian and Rhysand have their arms draped over each other’s shoulders, talking with their head bowed. You’re positive Azriel Teller is kicking himself for being injured and taken out of the game, too.

“Why the long faces?” Mor asks, plopping her purse on the table before sliding back into her seat. She’s clearly ignored the grumbling and now grumpy Stars’ fans that are starting to close their tabs and wallow on the way back to their homes. A few of the regulars seem to be straying to drown their sorrows in a few more glasses of beer. “Did Helion Spellcleaver walk in here and I missed him?”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Change Your Ticket Taglist: @justasillylittlegoofyguy @starsinyourseyes @jdeclerc @indiedash

#cassian #cassian x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #cassian au #rugby!cassian au #rugby!cassian #acotar au #change your ticket

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gh0st-t0wn3 · 7 months

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Lmk ss edits + headcanons, Part 5 (Porty MK, Artist MK, Delivery MK)

- He/They

- Gay

- Calls Redson either Wildfire or Firecracker

- Whenever something goes wrong he says "called it." (He did not, in fact, call it)

- Calls everyone "Dude"

- Once took Redson out to the Anti-gravity Arcade and got mad when he passed out after almost 32 hours of non-stop dancing and playing arcade games

- Tells MK that he has no fashion sense but will wear the most atrocious combination of colours and patterns himself

- Has multiple ear piercings as well as a bellybutton and tongue piercing

- Once threw a party that got busted by the police and dispelled himself to avoid getting caught

- Has so much energy, if he's not at a party he's constantly walking around the apartment, if his legs start hurting he'll sit down for like 8 seconds before getting up and walking around again because he still has so much energy left

- Makes the dirtiest jokes known to man kind

- Makes the others do karaoke night with him. every. week.

- Will sometimes put on lipstick and kiss all over Redsons face and neck to make og MK jealous (trust me guys, please🙏)

- Absolutely HATES dark chocolate, it's too bitter for him

- Despises the claw machine games at the arcade, if he gets something and then it falls out of the claw he'll literally break the glass and just take it

- Lives on energy drinks

- Will refuse to drink any soft drinks when they run out of bubbles

- Loves those cringey alpha wolf memes

- Laughs at those firemen saving people in reverse videos and always sends them to Redson, who also laughs at them (yes it does concern MK and the others)

- Smells like sweat and cotton candy (its from flavoured vape smoke)

- Love language is Quality time (and by quality time I mean partying)

- Has a whole box of glowsticks

- "Hey, hey, hey guys, watch this!!" *fails at trick*

- Loves candy, especially hard candies

- Scams kids out of their tickets at the arcade

- Paints his nails a different colour every week, and almost always uses glow in the dark nail polish

- Tried to make his own firework show once and set three houses on fire

- Would rearrange someone's whole room just to mess with them

- Has a monkey form just like og MK, he uses his tail to take prizes from the claw machines without having to actually play them

- He/They

- Gay

- Calls Redson his Muse

- Would probably collect bones. It freaks the fuck out of MK and the other clones

- Will destroy any and every art piece if it doesn't turn out exactly how he envisioned it in his head

- Writes fanfiction

- Constantly covered in paint splatters, charcoal, glue, etc

- Hates baths, lives off dry shampoo

- He acts like a cat whenever he gets wet

- Takes great care of all his art supplies and will flip out if something is out of place

- Agreed to help Sandy paint his boat again the second time he was summoned but only if Sandy stopped changing what colour he wanted it to be after every new coat of paint (Sandy learnt his lesson the first time art MK was summoned)

- His advice is always "just kill them"

- Bites ankles

- Was almost arrested for vandalism (he ran away from the cops)

- Once painted a picture of Redson, who only said "this is pretty good" (it was in fact a genuine compliment, he loved it), and Artist almost killed him

- Analyzes his dreams as if he's the prophet predicting the end of the world

- Won't let anyone use his art supplies

- Growls at people

- Perfectionist

- Smells like paint fumes

- Love language is gift giving and words of affirmation

- If he's focusing on something really hard and something startles him, he'll jump in the air like a cat

- Was drawing at a park once and a bunch of kids were being annoying so he tripped one when it ran past him

- Collects concept art books from literally anything, movies, video games, TV shows, it doesn't even matter if he's played/watched them he just likes looking at the concept art

- Insomniac who 'cures' it with an unholy amount of caffeine

- Has drank paint water before, will do it again

- Extremely passive agressive

- MK yelled at him once for getting paint all over his bed

- Has a monkey form just like og MK, he uses his tail to reach higher places when painting on walls and shit

(Had to use og MK has a base ref because the show did delivery MK dirty)

- He/They

- Gay

- Calls Redson Paprika

- Loves straws, will only ever drink something if he uses a straw (I did this as a kid)

- Is constantly listening to music while doing deliveries and has absolutely passed his destination on multiple occasions

- Surprisingly witty

- Is the only MK who knows how to cook and genuinely loves it

- Has a little bit more chub than og MK does (duplicatnation did him dirty and I will never forgive them for his design)

- Has gotten into physical fights with rude customers before and would do it again

- Absolutely HATES eating fish

-His shoe laces are never tied, the amount of orders he's ruined because he tripped on his stupid laces is insane

- If he gets bored he'll just lay on the floor and do nothing

- Has accidentally eaten dog food before

- After a long day of delivering he'll pass out for hours at a time then wake up again at like 2am

- "Not to be rude, but.." proceeds to say the most disrespectful shit you've ever heard

- Either cannot keep a secret for the life of him, or will immediately forget the secret 5 mins after being told what it is, no in-between

- Him and the other clones accidently broke into a strangers house once, and he felt really bad so he cleaned the dishes before leaving (it was on the news)

- Will @ a specific person in a group chat instead of just dming them

- Sometimes eats out of the noodles he's delivering, no one has found out yet

- Smells like noodles

- Love language is Acts of service

- If he gets into a fight with someone he is fully willing and ready to resort to biting

- Saw Monkey King eat his own hair once and almost threw up

- Sometimes if a customer is being rude while ordering over the phone he'll purposely drive slow or take a longer route so their noodles are cold when they get them (og MK has told him to stop multiple times because he's scared of Pigsy thinking he's the reason they get any bad reviews)

- Has a Spotify Playlist for every possible occasion

- Gives out really good hugs and will hug people for really long periods

- Cries when he sees sad animal videos

- Can't whistle to save his life

- Has a monkey form just like og MK, he uses his tail to hold more orders to get work done faster

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year

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Title: Covetous.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very patient @elsecrytt.

Pairing: Yandere!Satan x Reader x Yandere!Diavolo (+Lucifer) [Obey Me].

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: N0n/C0n, AFAB!Reader, Nonconsensual Drug Use, Biting/Marking, Mentions of Blood, Degradation, Disturbing Themes, and Slight Infantilization.

You were not entirely sure how you got yourself into this situation.

Vaguely, in the flickering shadows of something much more horrific, you could remember the taste of bitter tea in a secluded nook of the House of Lamentation’s library, feel the remnants of braided rope and cutting ribbon against the skin of your wrists and ankles, but that was it – the ghosts of memories you’d already lost to the darkest corners of your mind.

The present was much clearer, albeit still shrouded in a thick haze. You knew, objectively, that you were currently sitting on the edge of a very large, very lavish bed – canopied by translucent red lace and spilling over with silk sheets and hand-embroidered pillows and delicately crocheted quilts. You were leaning against a wooden bedpost, your body slack and unresponsive, but you did your best to hold yourself upright, to keep your eyes open and your jaw locked in place. If Lucifer saw you in such a disheveled state, the lecture would’ve been endless, accompanied by plenty of anecdotes about his own all-overcoming, all-overwhelming resilience. You loved him, but he’d never been the most sympathetic lover. Poise and presentation were always his first priorities, his only priorities. If you didn’t live up to those expectations, then he couldn’t be bothered to expend the energy it would take to live with you.

You blinked once, then twice, trying not to drift any further than you already had. You were in Diavolo’s castle. That, you knew had to be true, because only a castle would have so much gold, so much silver, so much of everything luxurious and everything expensive and then a little more, just to make sure you got the point. The gold-leafed tendrils of a massive chandelier twisted and writhed in every direction above your head, ornaments of silver and bronze adorning every available surface fit to house a testament to his regal status. The only source of light was the smoldering hearth – left unattended, reduced to ashes and a few blocks of lingering charcoal. It took your eyes longer than it should’ve to adjust to the dim lighting, for your mind to recall that waking up in a strange room with a strange taste lingering on the back of your tongue was rarely ever something to be taken in stride. With a feeling of exhausted paranoia and mounting anxiety, you made more of an active effort to investigate your surroundings, but it didn’t take you very long to find something that made you wish you hadn’t.

On a rug made from the skin of some unholy creature you didn’t recognize, Diavolo and Satan were posed together, intertwined in a manner as unfamiliar as the fur they were lying on top of. Satan was on his knees, kneeling and shirtless, his blonde hair slicked back with sweat and a ruddy flush spread across his pale skin. Diavolo, for his part, was prostrated before him, his chest pressed into the floor and his legs folded painfully tight underneath him. A ragged scrap of crimson silk was wrapped around the lower half of his face, lodging itself between his teeth and cutting into his sculpted cheeks, but his hands remained unbound, locked behind the small of his back due to no restraints other than that of his own determination, a show made more impressive by the long, open cuts that’d been carved into the flesh of his back, lining either side of his spine like crudely drawn tally-marks. They were ugly things – tattered and bloody, layered over one another, some fresh and others little more than faded scars. You knew demons could heal themselves faster than humans were able to, but you couldn’t recall how quickly, whether or not Diavolo’s strength would play a factor in how much time it would take for him to piece himself back together. You didn’t know which reality you preferred: that Diavolo could heal himself and the cruelty was simply coming more swiftly than he could undo, or that this had been going on long enough for the scars to just be scars, for the violence to just be violence.

Either way, the source of the abuse was easy enough to find. In his right hand, Satan held a spiked whip, short enough to be used at close-range but not so cropped as to limit its effectiveness. Neither seemed to have noticed you yet, or if they did, they didn’t mind an unwilling voyeur. With no sense of hesitancy, of reluctance, Satan raised his whip, his hand flexing around the leather-bound grip before he brought it down, striking Diavolo with a sharp crack. In response, Diavolo offered a stifled hiss, an arched back, a new line of ragged skin and a thin, almost imperceptible trail of blood flowing from the newly inflicted injury and onto the fur rug. It was far from a compromise, but Satan seemed content, letting out an airy chuckle as he brought up a hand, tracing his fingertips over the open gash before bringing them to his lips, taking his time to swab every drop of deep scarlet away with his tongue. “Such a desperate little whore,” he muttered, barely audible from your position. “You’d do anything to deserve to bow before me, wouldn’t you?”

There was a muffled groan, as much of a nod as could be given by a man lying face-down on the floor. He tried to do something. To sit up or to simply reposition himself, it was difficult to tell, but Satan saw fit to put an end to it either way. In a fraction of the time it might’ve taken the eye to blink, his hand was on Diavolo’s shoulder, shoving him back into the fur with the kind of hair-trigger hostility you couldn’t say you’d ever seen mastered by anyone but Satan. “Did I say you could—”

You must’ve shifted, knocked against the bedpost, inhaled just a little too deeply, because before he could finish, Satan snapped in your direction, eyes wide and pupils narrowed into slits. A barbed tail flicked behind him, winding into itself before straightening once again, but Satan appeared composed – caught off-guard, sure, but otherwise unaffected. A languid grin came to rest over his lips, and slowly, almost as if he was trying not to startle you, he straightened his back, pulling away from Diavolo and receiving a muffled whine by way of protest. “I was starting to think you’d never wake up,” he called, speaking more loudly than he really had to in the confinement of the crowded bedroom. There was a nudge to Diavolo’s shoulder, a drum of pointed fingertips against skin torn raw. “Look who’s decided to join us.”

When Diavolo failed to move, Satan added, “Rise, Diavolo. You have my permission.”

With a short delay, he obeyed, unlocking his hands from behind his back and pushing himself upward, every motion stiff and jerky. He was less precise than Satan, as relaxed as his counterpart was intense. When he looked at you, he did so idly, allowing his eyes to rake over your body, over your posture, a smile slowly tugging at the corners of his mouth as his gaze rose to meet yours. Despite the blood staining his back, the open cuts that only stretched wider every time he moved, he didn’t seem to be in agony, didn’t seem to notice the way you cringed as a string of sympathetic aches raced down the length of your spine. “They really are so cute, all dolled up like that,” he muttered, making no effort to address you. “And look – they don’t even mind the robe.”

You glanced into yourself and found that, true to his words, you were wearing a robe you didn't recognize – black and velvet and lined with golden thread. The collar was loose-fitting, deep, falling to your navel before a sloppily tied belt cut it off, and the hem barely reached your mid-thigh. You couldn’t remember what you’d been wearing before, if you’d still been in your uniform or something more casual, but you didn’t think you owned anything this ornate - anything you hadn’t borrowed from Lucifer, at least. You didn’t think that, if you did have a reason to dress yourself in a robe that might’ve been worth a year’s worth of your rent back in the human realm, you’d actively choose not to wear anything underneath it.

You opened your mouth, planning to ask where it’d come from, how you’d gotten into it, for someone to tell you that the most obvious answer was not the correct one, but your voice seemed to falter before it could ever make it past your lips. You tried again, but found your head pounding, your eyes fluttering shut as you buckled into yourself. Satan only chuckled, never taking his eyes off of you as he pushed himself to his feet and came to stand at the foot of Diavolo’s bed, less than an arm’s length away. He bent at the waist, coming to loom just above you – as one would when they were preparing to talk to a small child, or explain something very simple to someone who had a very, very hard time understanding relatively straightforward concepts. “How do you feel, kitten?”

Again, you tried to say something, but it died on your tongue, drained you of your energy before you could so much as attempt to spit anything out. You let your head lull forward, but Satan only cooed, bringing up a hand to run his fingers through your hair, combing it away from your face. “I thought so. We lost you for quite a while.” His tone matched his posture – just as patronizing. The others could talk down to you, sometimes, whether it was Mammon’s bragging or Asmo’s oblivious ego or, as much as it hurt to admit, Lucifer’s ever-present condescension, but Satan was usually more willing to put himself on your level, to treat you more or less like he treated everyone else. Granted, he treated everyone like they were below him, but still. You’d learned to take what you could get, since you came to the Devildom. “Can you stand?”

Shakily, you forced yourself to nod, to grapple at the bedpost as you pulled yourself to your feet. You made it a second, maybe two before your legs began to shake, your knees buckling under your weight and sending you crumbling onto the floor. He let you fall, only watching on as you crashed into the hardwood. He left you there, too, if only long enough to stare on as you shrunk into yourself. His gaze alone was piercing, prying, intense enough to make you feel like something very small and very clumsy. Like something very overwhelmed in the face of a larger, stronger predator.

Rather than helping you up, he glanced over his shoulder, towards Diavolo – now sitting cross-legged, observing contentedly. “What do you think?”

“I think,” he started, his eyes catching on what was left of the dull firelight. “that you’re being far too mean to the poor thing. It’s not their fault your potions tend to veer towards the experimental side.”

“I only used a few drops. It wasn’t anything even a low-ranking demon couldn't have walked off.” He paused, clicking his tongue and he turned his attention back to you. “Oh, but you’re not a demon at all, are you? It’s easy to forget how far his standards have fallen.”

He bent down, offering you a hand. When you failed to take it, he took you by the scruff of your robe, instead, hauling you up and off of the floor completely when you threatened to crumble once again. Roughly, unceremoniously, you were thrown over his shoulder and carried not to Diavolo’s fur, but the plain wood in front of the hearth, where the shadows seemed to twist and ebb with wills of their own and you could still feel heat radiating from the pile of leftover ashes in waves. There was a disapproving hum, the hollow sound of bare feet against the floor, and before Satan could throw you down, a plush comforter freshly pulled from the mattress was laid on the ground where you were bound to land, soon wrapped around your shoulders while you were still too startled to feel anything but slightly irritated by the sensation of the fabric against your skin. It was still hard to linger on more than one thing at a time, to minimize the lapse between cause and effect. Not so much to think, but to link one thought to another. Satan, lurking and out of character, and Diavolo, smooth and simpering and too self-satified, weren’t doing much to help.

Satan came to kneel behind you, pulling you towards him until your back was pressed into his chest and you were lying between his open legs. Diavolo, meanwhile, settled in front of you, leaning forward and taking up your thighs in his hands. If you felt small in front of Satan, Diavolo made you feel like nothing, an insect held in the palm of a giant. It took no effort at all for him to spread your legs apart, to throw them over his shoulders and latch onto the inside of your left thigh. You let out a whine of protest, but Satan only hushed you, letting one of his arms fall around your midriff to better pin you in place as Diavolo worked. You couldn’t thrash, couldn’t resist in any way, but he seemed prepared for you to try, to want you to try. Knowing him, he wouldn’t consider it a night well-spent until he found a chance to prove how willing he was to take what he wanted from you.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but there was only so much you could do to stop yourself from squirming as Diavolo trailed upward, as he latched onto your clit, suckling gently on the sensitive bud. Your mind was numb, but your body felt like an exposed nerve, all fickle electricity and probing pinpricks and unprotected tissue vulnerable to outside influence. Diavolo exploited that, lapping over your slit in long, lethargic stripes. There was a lazy fervor to it; passion, enthusiasm, but the type that was better expressed through slow movements and repetitive pleasure than any kind of haste. Diavolo’s disposition didn’t help. As composed as always, content to leave you discontent, a reptilian tail swaying idly at the base of his spine in time with the strokes of his tongue against your cunt.

His mouth was so hot, too, pure warmth sapping from his flesh and seeping underneath yours, leaving you melting on his tongue every time he found a new pattern to trace into your entrance, a new way to tease your clit. You struggled weakly in Satan’s hold, your hands shooting to his forearm and, when that obviously proved to be useless, to Diavolo’s horns, if only to try and shove him off of you, or pull him closer, or something else entirely. You weren’t sure. You didn’t know what you wanted, what you were allowed to want when you could barely put one thought behind another. You didn’t know if it mattered whether you wanted it or not, especially when neither Satan nor Diavolo had seemed to care enough to ask.

Either way, your hips bucked into Diavolo’s mouth involuntarily, your body simultaneously fighting to get away from the sensation and aching to sink further into it. If Lucifer saw you like that – oh, god, you could practically see the disdain written across his expression, disgust poorly disguised behind a patronizing mask more demeaning than the initial offense. He might attempt to say something to you, to assure you that it’s not your fault humans fall so easily to temptation, to promise that he’ll still love you even if you are a filthy animal, a weak soul suspectable to even the smallest hint of persuasion. He was prone to falling into similar mantras when he was the temptation you were falling to, when he was holding you on his lap and splitting you open on his fingers. In the moment, it was easy enough to tell yourself that it was just dirty talk, nothing worth taking to heart, but things that weren’t worth taking to heart wouldn't hurt so much when they resurfaced, wouldn’t coil in the pit of your stomach and gnaw at the back of your throat. It wouldn’t feel so akin to how Satan was looking at you, now, the blunt-pointed malice hidden just behind his eyes. It wouldn’t—

Fuck. It’d been a mistake to take your attention off of Diavolo, to let yourself drift so far from your agony’s point of origin. He’d lost interest in teasing and moved on to something more satisfying, grinding his nose against your clit while he fucked you open with his tongue. You let out a strangled whine, but that only seemed to spur Satan forward, his hold growing tighter as he reached forward, running his fingers through Diavolo’s hair. When Diavolo attempted to lean into his touch, Satan’s grip turned iron-clad, clamping down and forcing him to bury his face even deeper between your legs. You let out a sharp cry, but Satan didn’t seem to mind, only chuckling as he propped his chin on your shoulder. “He’s cute, isn’t he?” Satan muttered, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Always so desperate to please. You’d never think a prince would be so easily broken down.”

He made it sound like this was something unwilling, something Diavolo had been lured and coaxed and led into by Satan’s own careful guidance. From what you could see, he’d thrown himself into his degradation with enthusiasm, and Satan’s abasement only seemed to add to his excitement, his apparent need to eat you out like some wild, starving beast. In a fraction of a second, his hands had shot to your hips, pinning you down as he found a steady pace, as he finally started working towards your climax in earnest. It only took a few minutes, a few seconds before you were clenching your eyes shut, gritting your teeth and biting your tongue just to choke back the pathetic noises that threatened to spill past your lips.

Even that was an exercise in futility. Your thighs were already clenching shut around his head, your nails biting into the calloused bone of his horns as your back arched. It was almost cruel – how many times he was willing to trace his tongue around the base of your clit, how long he tried to string out your climax, only letting you rest once tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes, once your broken mewls had stretched and rose into something more akin to pained whines. Even then, It took him long, agonizing seconds to lift his head, to flaunt his slick-soaked chin and pull back far enough to break the tendril of saliva that still connected him to your drooling pussy. He blinked several times, in an almost trance-like state, then seeming to come back into his own consciousness, he flashed a grin towards Satan, not quite as cocky as he was praise-hungry and too unabashed to care if you knew it.

But, Satan didn’t chide him, didn’t respond with any of his usually hostile apathy. Rather, he offered an airy laugh, letting go of your waist just in time for Diavolo to infest the space he’d left vacant, wrapping his arms around your waist as his mouth crashed into yours, his tongue forcing its way past your lips before you could think to brace yourself. When you looked past the initial collision, he was surprisingly gentle, raking his tongue over yours, forcing you to taste yourself on him. By the time he pulled away, you were panting, dizzy, barely able to hold yourself upright. That didn’t stop him from taking you by the hips, though, manhandling your body until you were straddling Satan’s waist, until your exposed cunt was pressed against the thin leather of his pants. You could practically feel his cock pulsing through the fabric. A tight knot formed in the back of your throat, another somewhere deep in your core. You weren’t sure what it meant, but you knew you wanted to get rid of it – however you were even supposed to do that.

Diavolo lingered behind you, his hands remaining on your hips as his lips drifted to the column of your throat, then your shoulder. For whatever reason, it didn’t seem like he was able to settle on any particular spot. “What’s he like? In bed, I mean.”

Satan pursed his lips. “I thought we agreed not to talk about him.”

“You broke the rule first. Don’t think I missed that comment about a certain someone’s standards.” You felt warm breath fan over your shoulder, his easy smile coming to rest against your skin. “Just give us a little something. I’m curious.”

Satan huffed, rolling his eyes as his attention fell to his lap. While he preoccupied himself, rolling his hips against yours as he worked to undo the few barriers still restraining his cock, Diavolo went on, clearly undeterred. “I bet puts on such a show. He really does have such a soft heart, but he tries to act so callous – I can only imagine how tough he’d play at his most vulnerable.”

“As if. He’s a bleeding heart and everybody knows it.” His hands on your sides, his body shifting underneath yours. After gesturing for Diavolo to get out of the way, he laid you onto your back, remaining between your legs. “He cries when you touch him, doesn't he?”

It took you a second to realize who he was talking about, another for an achingly familiar bitter taste to spread over your tongue. “He’s mean.”

It slipped out before you realized you’d found your voice, before you could dampen the mawkish immaturity in your tone. Satan’s eyes widened, and Diavolo let out a breath of a laugh. When you lapsed back into silence, silently cursing yourself for being so careless, Diavolo encouraged you, taking your limp hand in his and squeezing softly. “He’s mean to you, pet?”

Satan was undoing the sash of your robe, now, melodically pushing the material off of your chest, letting it pool on either side of your form. You let your head lull to the side, making a half-hearted effort to weigh your options, but you were already talking. You wanted to. You needed to get something out of this, even if you’d be fishing coals out of a hearth that’d long-since burnt through everything useful. “He’s… he’s not always fair.” And then, as Satan lowered his head, pointed teeth nipping at the skin of your collarbone. “He gets too rough.”

“That does sound like him.” He was doing it, again – ebbing into that patronizing tone. “He can be terribly insensitive.”

He took a moment to nudge his pants off of his hips, to free his—

Oh.

If he’d gotten nothing else from Lucifer, he’d inherited his older brother’s cock.

His patience, too. Your panic must’ve been visible, because Satan seemed to take a certain joy in wrapping a fist around the overwhelming girth of his base, in lining up the flushed head of his cock with your dripping entrance. There was a slight pause as he positioned himself above you – his free hand planted next to your head, his chest only a breath from yours. “Tell us what he does to you, kitten.”

It wasn’t a request, but an order. You followed it without question, desperate to distract yourself, to put something between you and the sensation of his tip pressing into you. “H-He likes it when I’m—” Your voice cut out, the air catching in your throat as he started to thrust into you – really thrust into you, bottoming out in one steady stroke. Frantically, desperately, you babbled on, only half-aware of what you were actually saying. “He likes to tie me down, and—and he never stops when I ask him to. Sometimes, i—it feels like he's trying to—”

Finally, mercifully, your voice gave out, any will of your own you might’ve held onto forced out of you as his hips crashed into yours and he pressed into something very deep and very painful inside of you. Your gaze shot to Diavolo, your expression pleading for any help he’d be able to offer, but he only met your eyes, only fell back onto his folded legs and allowed a single hand to fall into his lap, wrapping around the base of his cock. It wasn’t quite heartbreak, but it was close.

It was nearly more than you could take

You looked away as quickly as you could, but the alternative wasn’t much better – Satan, above you, disheveled blonde hair framing his face, his lips slightly parted, his pupils blown wider than you’d ever seen them. He’d never been so— he’d never been so feral, so mindless, so desperate to reach something you didn’t know if you wanted to name. If he’d been trying to restrain himself, he wasn’t trying anymore. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he immediately fell into a near-violent rhythm, the force of his hips against yours enough to bruise.

It was more of a muted ache than any kind of pleasure – pressing into the walls of your cunt, beating at your cervix, leaving you balling at the comforter Diavolo had laid beneath your form, grappling for a scrap of stability. There was nothing to be found, of course, nor did Satan seem sympathetic to your search. If anything, he seemed dissatisfied, letting out a primal snarl as he pulled out of you completely and straightened his back. You didn’t have time to be grateful before his hands were on your hips, before you were being thrown onto your stomach, hauled onto your knees, and held there as he plunged back into you, bullying his cock into your overstimulated pussy. It was all you could do to cross your arms underneath your head, to hide your face within the self-made shelter. It was all you could do not to cry out. Knowing Satan, that only make this all so much worse.

But, Diavolo wasn’t so easily deterred. While Satan fucked into you, he moved in to claim unoccupied territory. Delicately, more so than you could trust, he took you by the chin, tilting your head back until you were staring up at him, until it was impossible to disguise the cracked mewls and jagged moans trickling from your lips. He was still jerking himself off – his strokes long and languid, making no effort to match Satan’s pace – and you half-expected him to push your head into his lap, to leave you choking on his cock until he and Satan had both gotten their fill. But, his true intentions were nearly more painful than anything you would’ve been able to dredge out of the shadowed alcoves of your mind. Lowering himself to your height, he moved to kiss you, but seemed to falter, only coming close enough for his lips to ghost over your own as he spoke.

“I thought about killing you, you know,” he muttered, taking your glossy eyes and soft, airy noises as ample proof of acknowledgment. “He would’ve been upset, but he can only stay mad for so long. A human life is already so short, a few stolen years wouldn’t really matter.”

He was quiet for a long moment, but eventually, there was a sigh, a slight shake of his head. “You’re lucky that you’re as precious to them as you are. If you weren’t, I might’ve snuffed you out before you had a chance to borrow under his skin.”

Before you could so much as think about responding, his mouth was on yours and he was kissing you violently, holding you steady as his teeth clashed against yours, as you felt his tongue invade your mouth and a throaty groan reverberate against your lips. Distantly, you were aware of Satan’s barbed tail wrapping around your thigh, of a deep growl somewhere in the distance, and then his teeth were digging into the meat of your shoulder, not as much of a love bite as it was a primal attempt to tear off a piece of you.

There was another to the curve of your neck, not quite as brutal but twice as deep, and another to the soft junction between your jaw and your throat, too high and too visible to be easily hidden. Diavolo held on for as long as he could, but you were pulled from his grasp and dragged into Satan’s sadistic embrace, forced into a kiss as clumsy as it was blood-soaked. Pointed fangs tore into your lower lip, a bruising soreness forming around the corners of your mouth, but none of it could block out the agony of his cock twitching inside of you, of his pace stuttering before falling into something chaotic and disorganized and euphoric. He bent your own body to his will, your knees nearly buckling as he fucked into you with a renewed strength, as your cunt clenched involuntarily around him and fed into his ego-driven pleasure. His mouth remained locked against yours as he reached his climax and brought you to yours with wild, feral thrusts – filling you with something warm and vile while you were unable to tell yourself you hated it.

The moment he broke away from you, you collapsed into yourself, your strength long-spent and your stamina depleted to nothing. Diavolo clicked his tongue, and more out of reflex than genuine curiosity, you looked toward him, raising your head just enough to meet his eyes. A mistake, obviously. You felt it before you could realize what was happening – smoldering and wet, thick ropes of cum soon strung over your face and chest, clinging to your skin like the remnants of some awful parasite. He was still smiling. Satan, too, when you thought to pay attention to the lips tracing over your burning skin, following the curve of your spine before finally, finally drawing back from you, pulling away just far enough for you to pretend they'd never been there at all.

Diavolo did the same, breaking into a dull simper. “Poor thing,” he cooed, reaching out to cup your cheek. “Should I ask Barbatos to run a bath?”

“That won’t be necessary.” You could hear him push himself to his feet, beginning towards the bedroom door.

“It's been so long since we've invited my brother to spend time with us. Wouldn't it be cruel to leave him out again?”

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queen--of--shadows · 1 year

Text

Healing Shadows: Part 10

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is a gifted surgical healer and water bender. Rhysand needs her help when he finds out about Feyre’s risky pregnancy. Azriel finds out reader is his mate.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2,032

Notes: I’m so sorry this took forever to get out! Life has been sooo hectic so I appreciate your patience and would love any feedback! I always look forward to your comments so please lmk what you think 🖤 part 11 will likely be the end!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

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Part 10: Home

Azriel grabbed your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours as he led you downstairs and onto the balcony. Your heart pounded in your throat as the memory of your last time on this balcony with him hit you—your first flight just a few weeks ago, when you were convinced he and Elain were mates.

And now, he was taking you to the cabin. To see the stars.

He remembered… That night in the kitchen, when you confessed your love of the stars and the moon and the night to him.

Azriel slid a strong arm around your waist and the other under your knees as he lifted you effortlessly into the air. You were still in your pajamas and robe, but somehow it didn’t matter. You snuggled against his warm chest, the cold winter air nipping at your exposed ankles and wrists. His shadows enveloped you, creating a soft cocoon. You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, and could’ve sworn he leaned back into your touch. “Let’s go,” he whispered against your hair.

And then you shot up into the dark, his glorious wings beating against the blackness.

With the rapid ascent, your heart dropped into your stomach, but your faith and trust in Azriel didn’t falter. His hard, muscled body was protective, assuring. He wouldn’t let you fall.

You didn’t realize how tightly you had shut your eyes out of instinct until he encouraged with a soft laugh, “Come on, open your eyes.”

You did, and marveled at the sight. Velaris twinkled far below you, and the stars above you. The city looked unreal from this height, and you wondered if he and his brothers never tired of the view. The Rainbow, the Sidra—every corner sparkled and shimmered and hummed with a subtle, pulsing energy. Soon, the city gave way to pitch black darkness, and you clutched tighter onto Azriel as he picked up the pace, soaring through the clear, empty sky toward the cabin.

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

You flew together in silence, still tired and exhausted from training and battling earlier. You could’ve fallen asleep in his arms, but soon he was gently landing on the roof of the cabin.

“Okay, close your eyes,” he whispered, placing both hands over your eyes as he led you.

He halted you to a stop and pulled away. You almost whimpered at the loss of contact, the bitter cold quickly replacing his warmth.

But you forgot Azriel was even there as you opened your eyes.

You gasped as you took in the incredible sight: millions of stars twinkled like diamonds scattered across the black, velvety sky, sparkling so close you thought Azriel could fly up and pluck one out of the darkness. The crescent moon was low and gold, illuminating the fresh dust of snow around the cabin and the surrounding forest. It was perfectly still, quiet. You never knew the night sky could be even more beautiful than it was in Velaris, but this…You were in awe.

You turned back to face Azriel fully, his cheeks tinged pink from the cold, black hair ruffled from the flight. As beautiful as ever. “Thank you,” you breathed, not wanting to speak even a decibel louder in fear of disrupting the perfect backdrop. He smiled softly back, his hazel eyes smoldering despite the darkness. Behind him, soft pillows and blankets were arranged on the floor, and he motioned for you to take a seat. You were shivering even with the thick, plush throws, but couldn’t take your eyes off the sparkling galaxies above. Azriel slowly wrapped a massive wing around you, warmth radiating off him even in the freezing cold.

But you didn’t forget the reason he brought you out here.

You didn’t turn to him, didn’t meet his eyes when you flatly said, “Explain.”

Azriel’s attention snapped to you. He knew what you meant.

“I…I’m sorry. I know my actions have been misleading. Elain is not my mate. Nothing has ever transpired between us. I know she’s had feelings for me since I met her, but I never reciprocated. But I also never put a stop to her advances, either. Rhys asked me to keep the peace with her, especially after what he had to endure with Nesta. I know it wasn’t right, and I should’ve told Elain a long time ago that I wasn’t interested. And I’m sorry that it took me this long. But I promise, Y/N. I have never and will never have any feelings toward her, romantic or otherwise. I’m happy that she has Lucien and is headed to the Day Court. I hope she accepts him as her mate,” he trailed off.

And for some reason, you believed him. Every inch of you accepted his truth.

You let his words sink in, but didn’t offer any reply other than popping open the bottle of sparkling wine nestled next to your pillow, and taking a long swig before passing the bottle to Azriel.

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

You sat together for some time, passing the bottle back and forth until the last drop, Azriel shielding you from the cold while you admired the stars and shared stories. You told him about your childhood in the human realms, growing up not knowing your father, and the loss of your mother. Azriel shared stories of his own past with his brothers, their antics at the very cabin you were now sitting on the roof of.

The thought of Elain didn’t cross your mind again.

“Do you want to head inside?” he asked quietly with a half-smile, moonlight glazing his smooth, iridescent wings. Hours could have passed. You had no concept of time as you both got lost in the stars and each other. It took all your effort to break your gaze away from the starry sight to nod at the Shadowsinger, wrapping your blanket around you as you followed him down into the cabin.

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

“There’s clothes in the bedroom closet, feel free to grab whatever fits,” Azriel said, gesturing towards the room at the end of the hall before turning toward the kitchen.

The cabin was cozy, warm, old—but in a comfortable, familiar, worn-in way.

You rummaged through piles of clothes until you found a pair of soft leggings and a thin cotton top. The cabin was much warmer than the roof, likely due to the magic that kept the fireplace running and heating it to a cozy temperature.

You trotted back down the hallway that led into the living room, where Azriel was seated comfortably on the plush couch, two glasses and a bottle of red wine on the glass table next to him. His eyes darkened as he took you in.

“That’s my shirt.” His quiet, midnight voice sent sparks down your spine. Your tattoo felt like it was set on fire by his words.

You looked down at the black shirt, now understanding why it hung to your mid-thigh. “I thought it was one of Feyre’s tunics,” you said with a nonchalant shrug, but something deep in your core sparked at the look in his eyes. Azriel’s nostrils flared as he turned to the wine, popping off the cork with one easy motion, and pouring it out into the two stemless glasses. You took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, grabbing the wine from his hand. As he reached out his arm to you, the edge of a jagged wound flashed from underneath the cuff of his shirt.

“What happened?” you said, quickly grabbing his wrist with your free hand as you set the glass down on the floor.

“Nothing, it’s just a small cut. I had to deal with some… issues. At the camp, earlier this evening.” He didn’t move as you carefully peeled his shirt back, examining the jagged, open wound. “It hasn’t scabbed over yet,” you said under your breath, more to yourself than to him.

You dropped his wrist as you rushed to the kitchen and filled a bowl of lukewarm water, setting it on the ground next to your wine.

“You’re exhausted, Y/N. Please. Today’s practice took a toll on you. It’s okay, it’ll heal on its own,” Azriel said, concern lighting his eyes ablaze.

“It’s fine, really. I need to practice my healing, anyways,” you said, commanding the water in the bowl up effortlessly. You weren’t lying; the stream of water was nothing compared to the mass you were working with today. It followed your fingers and began to glow bright blue as you adjusted it above the wound, swishing it side to side over his open flesh.

And then the water turned black.

You were startled, but didn’t lose control of the water. Azriel looked shocked, his expression matching yours.

You leaned in to get a closer look, making out Azriel’s shadows swirling with the water until it became a midnight blue, glowing as you kept cleaning and healing the wound.

“They’ve never done that before…” Azriel whispered, studying his shadows closely. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why or how they’re doing this.”

You continued moving the water and shadows, now alternating between bright glowing blue and dark, obsidian black, until Azriel’s wound was barely a pink scar on his arm.

“It's okay, I don’t mind. They’re not disturbing me at all. In fact, I think they quickened the healing process,” you said with a smile, admiring his beautiful shadows as they retreated to their master, swirling lazily around his shoulders and arms.

He studied the remainder of his wound, running a thumb over the newly-healed flesh. “Thank you,” he said, moving imperceptibly closer to you on the couch. You nodded in response, polishing off the rest of your wine before pouring out another and topping off Azriel’s glass, his scarred hand waiting patiently for you.

You didn’t know if it was the wine or the proximity, but something in you gave you the courage to ask.

“What happened to your hands?”

Azriel went still, looking at you through his dark, thick lashes.

You reached for his arm, the one with the wound you had just healed, and wrapped your fingers around his. You wouldn’t back down. You weren’t afraid— not of him, not of his past.

“I was bastard-born to a vicious father; forced to stay in his keep until I was eleven without any windows or light. He had two legitimate sons, both older than I, both cruel and spoiled. When I was eight, my brothers wanted to test how quickly my Illyrian healing gifts worked with oil… and fire.”

Your heart sank into your stomach. Rage bubbled in your veins, your blood, your bones. That dark, evil magic deep in your soul threatened to kill, burn, destroy.

“I’m sorry. That’s unbelievably cruel,” you whispered, running your thumb along the gnarled skin on the back of his hand, aware of the distance between you two yet unable to keep from inching closer to him, close enough that you could brush your lips against his. Azriel squeezed his fingers around yours. You couldn’t bring yourself to match his gaze, couldn’t bear to understand the depth of his pain. You didn’t regret asking, but were desperate to change the conversation, desperate to shove that rage back down.

“I didn’t know you were a daemati.”

Azriel furrowed his brows, and then a wave of panic washed over his face, disappearing instantly as he willed his expression back to neutrality.

“I’m not,” his voice was barely above a whisper, his breathing uneven. His shadows began swirling faster around his shoulders, down his arms and up yours. You cocked your head in confusion, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I heard your voice in my head this morning. During training, when Lucien had me tied up.”

Azriel slowly pulled away, out of your grip.

You weren’t hallucinating, right? You did hear him?

“Y/N, I…I have to tell you something. It’s why I brought you here.”

Your heartbeat quickened, pounding in your chest and into your throat. Your mouth went dry.

Azriel surveyed your expression, your cheeks rosy from the wine and the warmth of the fireplace.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Azriel went still as he whispered, “You’re my mate.”

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345 notes · View notes

softlyspector · 1 year

Note

I always love what you come up with for these prompt lists ✨ can I please request 74 for Santiago or any Pedro character? 💛

“I didn’t take you for the settling down type.” + Santiago Garcia

"Coffee, black," you sit the cup in front of Santiago, "Boring. No sugar, no cream. Black, and bitter coffee, just like his soul-,"

"Alright, cut it out," he rolls his eyes.

You tuck your hands into the front pocket of your apron. "Garcia, it's so nice to get to bully you again."

"Fuck off," he says with chuckle.

You glance around the empty diner and take the seat across from him in the booth. "Seriously," you lean back against the vinyl booth. "How long are you in town for?"

He looks a little worse for wear, misery in place of the exhaustion that usually settles on his shoulders. "For good," he admits. "For now at least."

You raise an eyebrow, "I'll believe that when I see it." You kick at his ankle beneath the table. "There's nothing that keeps Santiago Garcia in one place for very long."

"I'm getting old," he says with a shake of his head. "It's time."

"Y'know why?"

"Why's that, querida?"

Your heart flutters with the sound of the endearment directed at you. And he knows it, if the smirk is anything to go by.

"Because you refuse anything other than plain black coffee," you say, speaking over the groan he looses. "That shit rots your soul."

"Why don't you ever rag on Frankie or Will like this?" He slumps back in the seat, rubbing at his eyes.

You cross your arms over your chest and cock an eyebrow at him, smiling. "Will leaves me really nice tips. Frankie humors me sometimes."

"He does?" His eyes go wide with disbelief. "You know he only drinks burnt shit from that drip coffee pot that's a thousand years old at home?"

"He humors me," you repeat. "Didn't say anything about home did I? I've sold him on the caramel macchiato."

Santi huffs, just a little bratty. "Traitor," he mutters.

You smile and watch him for a moment. He does seem more worn down than usual, none of his usual intensely focused energy buzzing in the air.

"Seriously, Santi," you reach across the table and put a hand over his, "What's going on? I didn’t take you for the settling down type."

He pats your hands, "It's just time."

"Something happened?" He nods, his eyes nearly black in the shade of the diner's sun blinds. "And this shit hole is the first place you came?"

He laughs, "Not the first. The first I wanted to though. Think I'm ready to let you turn me off plain coffee."

"I get off at six."

"I'll be here."

You release his hands and stand, leaning in to kiss his cheek when you pass him on your way back to the kitchen. You both pretend like he doesn't lean into it.

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #triple frontier

123 notes · View notes

risingscorchingsuns · 14 days

Text

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Requiem of the Subconscious

[REK-wee-UM. An act or token of remembrance for the dead. From the Latin word requies, meaning ‘rest’.]

🪲

potential cw for derealization! dreamlike scenarios, shifting scenery, nightmares, etc. read with caution <3

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It was a perfect autumn afternoon.

It was one of those days where the weather was just sunny enough to be warm, but the breeze was cool enough to be pleasant, without getting too chilly. The clouds were fluffy and billowing across the pale blue sky, and the vast expanse of ancient trees that made up the Sumitomo Forest were painted in beautiful vibrant hues of crimson and gold, mixing and contrasting with the rich, eternal green of the pines and the deep, verdant moss. Fallen leaves cover the soft forest floor, overlaying the damp earth with a vibrant carpet of sunset. Sunbeams filter through the canopy above, dappling the world with molten light.

Nestled deep in the heart of these vast timeworn woods, was a small, welcoming wooden cabin. Though isolated within the trees, this little home was anything but empty.

Amidst the trees outside this home, laughter echoes through the trees. Leaves crunch and twigs snap as tiny feet tumble and patter across the forest floor, shrieking with joy as they play. Five young boys are playing together, of varying ages. The oldest is maybe twelve, the youngest about three. The children are clearly siblings, identifiable by their wild indigo hair and slightly lopsided smiles.

The second-oldest laughs, and flings a fistful of moss at a younger brother. The victim shrieks with mock rage and tackles him to the ground, the two of them squealing with joy and laughter. The second-youngest sits next to the toddler, the two of them studying a large beetle with rapt attention. Their father sits nearby, watching the five with a warm smile, his half-moon glasses reflecting the afternoon sunlight.

The oldest child laughs and runs with his brothers, filled with childlike wonder and energy. He slows to a stop, panting and grinning as he catches his breath. He looks up, and in a brief burst of sudden lucidity amidst his breathless laughter, is struck by the beauty of the moment. For a moment, the young boy is simply entranced, mesmerized by the world around him. He sees the beams of sunlight casting pools of warmth across the cool autumn forest, reflecting off his siblings’ indigo-dark hair. He sees the way the trees move in the wind, the way the forest seems to breathe. For just a moment, the young boy starts to comprehend the sheer interconnectedness of life.

And just like that, as soon as he realizes it, it’s gone again- another distant memory, a twinge of deja vu. A resounding echo that lingers in the back of dreams.

The young boy blinks, brushing his wild, dark hair out of his eyes. He stares into the distant woods for a moment, into the vast expanse of lush green and autumn. He blinks again. For a moment, he thinks he sees something staring back.

Malevolent golden eyes, framed by pale pink lashes, with deep blue sclera crackled like stained glass. Deep golden pupils that radiated bitter fury, etched with the number three.

The child calls out to the trees, asking the eyes to identify their owners. He turns around to alert his family, but as he turns his back, he realizes they’re gone. The small boy stands alone, quickly growing frantic. He looks up at the trees, but the ancient pillars of nature that had always guided and supported him now seemed so dark. Vast, towering, unfamiliar.

The boy starts to panic, calling for his father, his brothers, anybody. The forest around him is getting darker, the trees are getting bigger. Looming over him, caging him in. He begins to run, bare feet pounding against the moss, frantically trying to escape. A root snags his ankle, and he trips hard, plummeting into the unforgiving earth.

The child cries out with pain at the impact, suddenly aware of a stinging across the bridge of his nose, and the telltale warm wetness of blood running down his face. He whimpers softly, and looks up.

The forest is gone. No more trees, no dappled sunbeams, no vibrant autumn leaves. The world around him is now a frozen wasteland, with nothing but cold, unforgiving ice, gray and white and freezing as far as he can see. Wind bites harshly at his skin, causing his fingertips to go numb. As far as he can see, there is only cold, lifeless winter, devoid of color and devoid of mercy.

Gray and white and dead, except for the mound of frozen ice in front of him. A grave, though the boy isn’t sure how he knows that. Growing from the pile of ice and snow, the only splash of color in this merciless winter void, is a singular winter crocus. A stark vibrant purple, delicate petals holding resiliently in the storm.

The boy reaches out, grasping for the flower. He’s freezing, he can barely move, he feels like moving his limbs right now is the hardest thing he’s ever done. Like forcing his arms through syrup, the child reaches forward.

As his frozen-red fingers close around the petals, the world goes dark.

Hikaru Eritora sits bolt upright in his futon with a strangled gasp, clutching at his chest. His eyes are wild and unfocused, and he’s keenly aware of the sweat sticking his yukata to his skin. He gasps for breath, disoriented and terrified.

“Karu?”

The man sleeping next to him quickly sits up as well, rubbing sleep from his golden and crimson eyes. Looking at his lover with concern, Kyojuro Rengoku reaches out to cup Hikaru’s face, tenderly brushing his cheekbone with a calloused thumb.

“Are you alright, my flame? What’s happened?” he asks gently, voice still thick with sleep but laden with love and concern. “Another nightmare?”

Hikaru nods vaguely, still dazed and panting. He can feel his heart thundering against his ribcage, blood roaring in his ears. Kyojuro moves his hand from Hikaru’s face to rest bracingly on his forearm, grounding him to reality. He squeezes gently, comfortingly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kyojuro asks gently.

Hikaru shakes his head no, leaning tiredly into his lover. Kyojuro wraps his arms around him, and Hikaru lets out a shuddering sigh, his gemstone eyes still unfocused.

“I was just thinking of… home,” he murmurs.

“The only one I used to know.”

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hi guys leon here!! its 4am!!!!!!! i saw a post about childhood nostalgia, and then got really emotional about places you can never return to, and now it’s nearly 4:30 and I have no idea if this is good or not lmao 💀💀

I want to put some kind of prose here about how the past affects the present affects the future, but I’m very tired, and I’m afraid I’m out of words.

I wanted this little drabble to convey the sorta… hazy feeling of a dream, of a memory you can’t quite put your finger on. The way the world feels fuzzy around the edges, colors faded like an old photograph. I wanted it to feel like nostalgia. For Hikaru, it’s a longing for home that haunts him, a home he can never go back to.

#hikaru eritora #i might delete this later im genuinely not sure if it’s any good #leon writes #demon slayer #demon slayer oc #kny #kny oc #angst fic #ficlet #drabble

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sculptorofcrimson · 2 months

Text

Feathers

Unfinished, but my battery is low so I'll post the rest later.

~~~~~

And so this is how an angel falls.

Wings torn to tendons, feathers plucked from pinions, inch by inch, this is how an angel dies.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Two brothers, torn apart, fighting for a father who never cared, fighting for gods neither worshipped. Where one once stood, so high and mighty, wings thrown back in the image of noble majesty, and where one has fallen, daemonic energies twisting his face into a snarl.

There is betrayal, hot and inky and poisonous. And there is love, and possibility, sweet and sickly and horrendous in its blasphemy.

And finally, there is hate. It boils upon your tongue like ash.

Horus.

It burns upon your tongue.

Horus. Horus. Horus. Horus.

Such a monster. Such a disgrace. Father offered him everything. Everything! And he turned from His gifts. And he spurned Him and spat in His eye. Graceless, thankless, treacherous beast.

You know hate now. It tastes bitter, and somehow coppery, like what you imagine his blood will taste like, siphoned fresh from his veins.

You will die here tonight. You no longer find the strength to care. You are His angel, and in the moments before you fall you will burn the brightest He has ever seen, and then blink out, snuffed, like half-melted candles.

You are not invincible. But tonight, you are invulnerable, and immortal in your rage.

You will die here. It no longer matters. All that matters is that you take him down with you.

You have ran from Death for so long, upon wings of gilded silk. It is time to seize it by the throat.

This is the day. The final day. This is your day, this is his day, this is the day we die. It is endless and eternal and terrible and nothing can stand against it.

You charge. The Encarmine shines. Your wings shudder, muscles pumping beneath a veneer of feathers, a beautiful dove captured in flight. His mace swishes through the air and you dodge, effortlessly. You revel in the decadence, of the air, of the light, of the flight of your blades.

And then his claws close around your ankle.

His claws tangle through a myriad of fates and threads of spacetime and seizes you close. For a moment, you two hang suspended there, two angels in flight, one fallen, one ascended. And then he brings you down.

You slam into the ground with no grace at all, with no nobility. There is no time to evade the impact. No death, no glorious end, simply the brutal beating of a dog. He slams you into the ground, again and again. Your bones splinter like unfinished ceramics. A bird,a beautiful hollow bird. When your noble frame finally gives out, broken beyond repair, there will be a little of you left in each of your sons, a little of you fallen from where he had torn it away. One last cry of rage and sorrow, your sons will scream out his name the same way you have cursed him in your death. His sons will call out his name. So be it. Your sons will call out yours.

#sanguinius #horus #warhammer 40k #wh40k #warhammer 30k #wh30k #horus heresy #vengeful spirit #warhammer writing prompt #sculptor of crimson

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acidheaddd · 4 days

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OC Deep Dive Questionnaire Tag

Tagged by @smulie ♥︎♥︎♥︎ Thank you! I figured I'd do Ian since I haven't done anything for him in a bit.

What uncommon/common fear do they have? Blood. Any significant amount of blood freaks him out and makes him feel faint. He was afraid to get any tattoos 'cause of this -- he thought he'd see more blood. 😂 That and losing his loved ones. Do they have any pet peeves? Ian's typically pretty patient and permissive of things... but he has a very good method to his madness when it comes to organizing (he's most definitely got ADHD, but was never diagnosed), so anyone moving something can frustrate him pretty quickly. What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? A guitar he rarely plays, his bong, and a perpetual pile of laundry that can be either dirty or clean. What do they notice first in a person? Their ~vibes~. 😂 How easily they'll laugh, how they carry themselves, how they speak, that kind of thing. On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance? Not high, but not super low... Maybe 5 to 6? The worst he's experienced is breaking bones (his wrist and ankle, due to skateboarding) and he handled that... okay, so long as he didn't look at it. 😂 Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? He's between flight and freeze more than fight. But if he were completely cornered, I'm sure he'd end up trying his luck with fighting. Do they come from a big family/are they a family person? His family's pretty small, and smaller still since his dad died when he was 18. He basically just has his mom left. They talk sometimes and he'll go visit occasionally, but he doesn't really like to. It's a complicated thing... His mom almost always brings up his dad at least once, and he'd just rather not talk about him at all, lest it bring up ~feelings~. He also feels slightly ashamed whenever he sees his mother, feeling like he's let her down and hasn't been there enough for her. So... instead of forcing himself to make a change, he'd really rather just. Run away from it as much as possible. What animal represents them best? Somehow he is both a golden retriever and a cat... though I'd say he's either got Orange Boy Cat energy or Ragdoll energy. What is a smell that they dislike? Super strong perfume. Especially the ones that smell more... chemical-y than natural. How would a stranger likely describe them? Weird, but... endearing? A little awkward, but in a shameless sort of way. What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love? Ian hates anything too bitter. Super dark chocolate? No. Black coffee? No. Brussels sprouts? Ick. But he loves sweet and spicy. Korean food comes to mind. Though his favourite food is pizza. Do they have any hobbies? Drawing... He did it more as a kid, but he still dabbles in it occasionally. He also is pretty good at coding and could probably create his own video game too, but hasn't tried... Apart from that. Uh. Smoking weed? Eating? 😂 Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises? Ian loves surprises... so long as they're good ones. But more than that, he loves surprising other people more. Do they like to wear jewelry? He does. He typically wears rings and bracelets. Sometimes he'll wear a necklace or two. Do they have neat or messy handwriting? Slightly messy... but still completely legible. What are two emotions they feel the most? Does devotion count as an emotion...? I'd say playful and devoted. Do they have a favorite fabric? Not really... Ian gets a lot of his stuff second hand. He does have a lot of cotton and denim though. What kind of accent do they have? Slight New York Bronx accent, but nothing super strong.

#ts4 #sims 4 #the sims #ian knox

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t4kalcvr · 9 months

Text

5:31 A.M. — rockstar!semi eita x fem!reader

I can make you mad.

You stormed out of your shared apartment, the strap of your bag being strangled in your death grip as the purse swung around from the aggressive and heavy swings of your arms. Your ankles hurting from your heels and the bending of them from your frantic speed walking but all of it, you could care less about. You were furious right now.

“Y/N!!” you heard your name being called from the porch of your apartment yet still kept making your way to your car.

You heard rushed steps coming closer behind you, huffing as you knew just what was about to happen, and from the annoyance of not having the energy and patience to escape the grip now on your wrist.

“Let go of me!!” you yelled, “Fuck off Eita!!” you continued as you used your remaining strength to yank your entire arm toward you. Your patience melted away not too long ago and this was only making it worse, draining your meter below 0.

“Y/N, please just- let’s talk, please!” he begged as he loosened his grip, he didn’t want to hurt you. However, you whipped your head the other way after yanking your wrist back and proceeded to storm off.

“Okay! Fuck you, Semi,” you gave a short and bitter smile before frowning again, “There! Nice talk!” you rose your brows as you faked a sweet and falsetto tone.

Semi groaned in frustration. He didn’t mean to piss you off, really, he just expected this to go a little better. But then again he was never good at this prediction and reaction stuff, especially when it came to you. He thought you’d support him in everything even if sometimes he did make mistakes and fucked up every now and then. Regardless, he didn’t think you’d care this much to actually argue.

“Y/N—” he tried again only to be cut short.

“Semi,” he heard your voice crack, making his breath stop short as well, he felt the same burn you did and the same painful twinge of heart ache at the sound of your broken voice, “Please,” you sniffled, “just leave me alone.”

And his heart felt the sharpest sting at your words, before he slowly and quietly made his way back into the apartment, as you made it to the car, drove off and sobbed in the drivers seat.

I can make you scream.

It had been a week since the incident and Semi was miserable to say the least. He thought you’d return by morning. The same morning. But much to his heart ache, you were at a motel for an entire week.

It wasn’t until he heard the door opening at the ungodly hour of 4 am that he sat up so quickly on the sofa, watching as you entered in the same clothes you left in.

You paused as you met eyes with him. Guilt and tension already settling in the room as you made your way over to the couch. Semi had scooted over slightly, assuming that you’d want larger space than usually between you two.

You inhaled a deep, sharp breath before speaking, “Semi,” you began as you would flicker your eyes from your lap to his own momentarily, “I’m—” he cut you off.

“No! Don’t apologize!” he sighed, a small smile adorning his lips, he loved you so, he just wanted this silly bickering to stop. But that wouldn’t be the case as he instantly noticed an offended look on your face.

“Apah-” you wheezed, a sarcastic and stunned laugh threatening to slip out. “Apah! Apologize for what? I have nothing to say sorry for!” you immediately rose your voice.

Semi was stunned to say the least. “Um maybe for leaving me for a week without notice? Maybe for storming out the other night? Jeez Y/N I don’t know!?” he began shouting right back.

You took a calm inhale, closing your eyes and moving your hands along with your breathing before staring Semi straight in the eyes. “SCREW YOU!” you screamed. “I DON’T NEED TO SAY SORRY FOR ANYTHING. EVERYTHING I DID WAS REASONABLE BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU SAID. YOU NEED TO APOLOGIZE TO ME IF ANYTHING!” your voice emphasized a couple words as you stood during your tangent.

Semi let out an airy laugh before placing his hands as on knees and getting up, “Alright.” he spoke with his tongue stabbing his cheek, “I’m sorry..” he mumbled, and you hummed to signal you were listening, “sorry that YOURE SO CHILDISH!” he shouted back in frustration.

You scoffed as you put your hand back up to imitate the “talk to the hand” motion as you rolled your eyes and looked the other way.

That night was spent as is. Screaming and toxic thoughts, immature behavior, and neighbors checking up on you two.

I can make you cry.

Two weeks this time. You two didn’t talk to each other, and with your power, Semi was the one who slept on the couch as you slept in the once shared bedroom.

And as if things could not get any worse between the two of you, a simple night where Semi was angry not with himself but with you, he finally had enough of this. So, he stormed upstairs—blankets and pillows in hand—with an angry expression plastered on his face and halted at the gut wrenching sound echoing through the upstairs hallway.

Whimpers and choked up coughs. You were crying.

Semi dropped all he was carrying as he quietly crept towards the bedroom door, only to peek in and find you with your knees to your chest, hugging them and your forehead resting on top of your knees.

Scratch before, you were sobbing.

He didn’t know how much this had hurt you. And now he felt really stupid for it. Maybe he’ll just let you cry for now, and fix everything up right tomorrow.

I can make you leave.

Semi tried. He really did. He apologized. He said he was sorry. What did he do wrong? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!

….. okay maybe one thing.

“I CAN’T STAND YOU UGH! HOW CAN YOU BE SAYING ALL OF THAT LIKE NOTHING!!!” you were throwing every nearby object at him. Pillow, blankets, plushies, clothes….. lamps, platformed shoes, desk drawers, chargers, coasters.

“Y/N!!! STOP THAT STUFF HURTS!!” Semi whined.

“GOOD YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING BASTARD. HURT. CRY. DO IT.” you encouraged through rage, you were fuming so hard that your neck was red and you felt the physical temperature of your blood boiling up to your face.

“YOU KNOW IF IM SO GOOD FOR NOTHING THEN WHY NOT JUST LEAVE??!!” he screamed through your rampage. Suddenly, everything stopped.

You could only hear yours and his deep, labored breathing and the small shuffle of feet. “You wanna break up?” you rasped, your voice rough and dry from all the shouting.

No, I want to work this out. No, but if you want to. No, but I want what’s best for you. No, but you just made me feel really insecure..

“Yes.” he spoke back.

You dropped the last item in your hand by your feet, “I’ll be gone in three days.”

I can make you hate me for everything.

You kept your word. All your belongings were packed in two days but you kept the third to make sure all was packed and because of the moving truck. You were going to go back to your parents house not too far and go apartment hunting asap.

But the third day seemed long so you went ahead and pulled out your laptop, opening a website and scrolling through possible options.

You heard footsteps coming down from the stairs, “Just can’t wait to leave huh?” Semi’s bitter tone of voice rang through the emptier apartment. Most of the decor was yours, he had loved letting you style up his old apartment to something more appealing, made it feel more like home with you everywhere.

“You’re the one who suggested, and I’m not going to be some bum loser in my parents’ basement.” you spat back.

He let out another sour laugh, “whatever.”

And even if you thought that was the end, it most definitely wasn’t, “Trust me, living in your parents’ basement isn’t what’s making you a bum.” And as much as it stung Semi to say, he was still angry.

“Fuck you Eita.” you seethed.

“Can’t anymore sweetheart, and please, just call me Semi.” he grinned as he grabbed himself some coffee from the kitchen.

“No problem. I fucking hate you Semi.”

But I can’t make you come back to me.

Semi gripped his guitar, fidgeting with the red bass guitar keychain dangling from his jeans, he was remembering all you had done for him. You supported him through everything and he never returned your kind gestures, he was selfish and he would’ve been further consumed by his negative thoughts but he heard his bandmate shout from stage, “Sem! Come on! Shows about to start, we need our best out here!!”

I can make a world out of broken dreams.

He felt his voice have a slight crack at the memories flooding his mind, oh of what could have been. What if’s flashing all over as he scanned the crowd through blurry vision. Could he have spent his time on one knee right now asking for your hand? He could. But he decided to spend it on both knees, asking for forgiveness, picturing you, picturing the perfect you two could have had. Anything to make his heart feel a little less heavy.

I can make you say things you don’t mean.

All your insults and angry, furious, frustrated words flashing through his head. Those words were never heard of until those nights. That single month of non-stop fighting and yelling. Hell Month. A month he could’ve spent loving you last before he set off. But no, you both spewed venom at each other like you truly felt nothing. And it could’ve been avoided if he tried to be even the slightest bit considerate of how you ever felt.

I can unmake all we were made to be.

In his head, it was still you two. You physically separated from him but you were still frustratingly imprinted and tattooed into his heart and soul. He never loved anyone like he loved you. Hell he never even loved anyone, and then you struck him down to be head over heels with you. Love was stupid. It always made things hurt more, Semi strained as he put his raw emotion into his performance.

But i can’t make you come back to me.

So, if that was the case, why can Semi swear he’s seeing you appear backstage right now, flowers in hand and a large gift. He immediately halted all movements, almost dropping his guitar if there wasn’t a strap to it.

He wanted to ask so many questions, because it had been 2 years.

“I heard you were performing here..” your voice was weak, but you looked so beautiful. God, it hurt Semi so much to see you because all he wanted to do was touch you to prove this wasn’t a dream, to kiss you because if it was.. “And I missed you, Semi…”

he did not want it to end.

a/n: this is like my first “drabble” cuz i’m so obsessed with this song rn and idk i got semi vibez from it if his gf and him ever ended up like this because it’s semi although it could also qualify for suna maybe??? but the time which is the title is literally the exact time i got the idea and it took me an hour to write so i’m sorry if it sucks :’) ANYWAYS STREAM BACK TO MEEEEE!!! hope you enjoyed reading!

bookshelf

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pickinglilahs · 4 months

Text

Blackeclipse for the soul

Part 28; Part 29; Part 30; Part 31; Part 32 Remember when I thought this was only going to be two or three parts? I know this chapter is on the short side, but I haven't added a chapter in so long 😭 (Throws and runs away)

The boys were way too keyed up to fall asleep.

They had sent Kreacher to Potter Manor after confirming that he was, in fact, freed. James also sent a note to his parents saying that they had sent Kreacher over, and everyone was okay.

Sirius had excitedly gone to open the chest, intending to start clearing the curses, but Remus had stopped him. Regulus was staring at it with a haunted look in his eyes. Understanding, Sirius stood and went to hug his brother.

They held onto each other for a long time, whispering occasionally.

Remus took his distraction to re-shrink the trunk and hand it off to Kingsley, who put it in his school bag.

Adrenaline still coursing through him, James had taken his nervous energy down to the kitchen for snacks while he was out posting the letter, though Remus had been loath to let him go alone.

While they waited, Kingsley decided they should send a note to Peter with an update. Remus agreed and took the paper Kingsley had written on, folding it into a bird and sending it off to Benji's dorm.

By the time James returned, the four boys had migrated to the doubled-bed. The brothers were leaning on each other against the headboard with Remus and Kingsley facing them.

Setting the food between them, James sat next to Remus, who leaned in to whisper. "I think Orion died."

James blinked at him, then looked over to the brothers. He nodded in agreement. They didn't have a good relationship with their father, but it was nothing like the horror of Walburga's parenting.

It must have been strange, mourning a parent like that.

Not quite sure how to help Regulus, but knowing Sirius, at least, would want to be distracted, James eventually piped up, "Operation: Fuck with Snivillus is coming up; what all do we have left to do?"

Sirius looked at him, eyes slowly coming back into focus. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. "We have the Polyjuice, and the girls are on board. Peter wants to set rabbits loose, so he and Benji will be doing that the day of. You talked to Poppy, right?"

Remus nodded. He made sure to explain that Sirius would be running around as him and showed her the study to prove it was safe. She hadn't liked it but understood that it was necessary.

Kingsley raised his hand, "Can I ask a question?"

He was looking at Remus, who nodded apprehensively.

"Does this prank have to do with the rumors Snape's been spreading about you being a werewolf?"

James, Sirius, and Regulus all stiffened, but Remus just sighed. "I was wondering how long it would take you to catch on."

"I promise I won't tell anyone! It's really none of my business; I was just wondering." Kingsley held his hands up in surrender, making sure everyone—especially Regulus, who was glaring daggers—knew he meant no harm.

Remus gave a bitter chuckle. "It's fine. Really. Been wondering if I should have just told you and Benji when we first mentioned the prank." He ran a hand over his face. "Guess I was just deluding myself into thinking you wouldn't notice."

Regulus leaned forward, grabbing onto Remus and pulling the older boy into his lap. Remus went without protest; mostly just grateful Regulus was coming out of his head.

"I really won't tell. I just figured you would prefer to know that I know."

Remus nodded. "Yeah, makes things easier this way." Then, after a beat, "You're not... like..."

Kingsley shook his head, giving Remus a strangely sad look. "...My uncle was turned, —when I was really young—and he was one of the gentlest people I've ever met. He moved back to Kenya because of Britain's laws, though."

Remus nodded, then snorted with derision. "Maybe I should move there too. Lots of room to run, I'm sure."

Regulus squeezed him and James reached out to lay a hand on his ankle.

Sirius barked a laugh. "You wouldn't last two hours in the heat, Moons. Besides, you'd never be able to convince Mam to move that far."

Remus sighed, half wistful, half bitter, "I know." Then he yawned, hiding his face in Regulus' shoulder.

Sirius yawned right after, so Kingsley stood, pulling Sirius back to their own bed.

James came up to lay beside Regulus, who snuggled down, shifting Remus on top of himself.

Once James had deposited his glasses on the nightstand and closed the curtains, Remus reached out a hand to brush a curl from his face. "How are you feeling, Sunshine?"

He hummed noncommittally. "Donno. Just... coming down from the adrenaline, I suppose." He closed his eyes and leaned into Remus as the other boy began to stroke his cheek. "How about you, Starshine? How are you holding up?"

Regulus closed his eyes and sighed, his hands tightening around Remus' back. "Ask me again in the morning."

Remus turned his head to kiss the collarbone under his cheek.

James rolled on his side, using one arm as a pillow, he threw the other over Remus' back. "We're here, Love, if you want to talk. Or if you want to skip class tomorrow and just stay here."

"James." Remus' tone was chiding, but the corners of his mouth were threatening to twitch into a smile.

"What? Tell me you wouldn't skip in a heartbeat if it would make him feel better."

Remus sighed and turned his face into Regulus' chest, rubbing his nose along the other's collarbone as he shook his head.

Regulus' chest moved in a silent chuckle. "Thanks, but skipping class isn't going to change anything. Wouldn't do anyone any good."

Remus kissed Regulus' collarbone again before setting his head back down. "He is right, though. Anything you need, Cariad. Don't be afraid to ask, okay?"

"Thanks."

"Always."

@starchasersunseeker @poetrypirate @niad4827 @bradley-95147-blog @shyshadows430

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noroi1000 · 2 years

Text

No exceptions

Paring: Geto Suguru x reader

Tw: Heavy angst, sexual content, main character death, disease, not so happy ending

Cw: 4,8 k

A/n: I was going to write it a long time ago. However, I knew it was going to be painful for me. I cried while writing this, and also cried while translating it. It's all through visualization. I swear the next one shot will be soft😭 If you feel uncomfortable, don't read.

You cannot be an exception to Suguru. Even if he loved you so much, he cannot make an exception for you.

You couldn't expect anything anymore.

Nothing will ever be the same again.

Almost everything is gone.

You loved him so much. You still love him. But how can it be if he doesn't love you anymore...

You miss his warmth. For his love. For his presence next to you.

The way he told you every time that he loves you. For being with you. You will always miss him. But there are no exceptions. They are not there. And there will never be exceptions.

He hates all people. So also you. You are a human. You also belong to this. And love doesn't matter. It is enough to be what your Suguru considers to be inferior in life.

_____

He was right. He said people are weaker. That they need their sorcerers' protection. You never said he was wrong because it was true. No man could protect himself from something that cannot be seen.

Especially you. That's why you relied on your boyfriend.

He told you so many times that you can rely on him. That he will protect you from everything.

He has done this many times.

It hurts to smile at photos. The photos you took together. Until your fingers burned from holding the photo. His eyes prickled from looking. The beautiful moments have passed. Only bitterness remained.

You are human and he hates people.

You never considered yourself anything more than that.

You are not a god. You are not a monster.

But you are human.

You didn't want them to get to the point where people would consider you a person who exalted themselves. You don't want that to be the case. You didn't want them to think that about you.

Especially Suguru.

You wished he was with you. Nothing more.

He wanted it too.

If nothing had changed, he would be with you now. Just as promised.

So why did you start dating him...? Why did you fall in love with him?

Such questions do not make sense. Because if he hadn't gone on that mission, he would have been with you.

If he hadn't changed his thoughts about people, he wouldn't have hated you.

But you can't blame him. You can only blame people and yourself. You are human after all...

This is what you do.

People who think the worst of sorcerers.

When they risk their lives to protect everyone. They train pouring out sweat, blood and tears. They fight without looking at the danger. Just to defeat your opponent. And the people? People didn't notice it. Half of them see no curses.

In general, they don't see them at all. Often, however, those who are more vulnerable to the attack of curses see them more often than others.

You were a normal human. You've never seen a curse. Oh well... Maybe never. You saw one time. And that was the end. You didn't see any more.

That's because from that moment on, Suguru was with you.

He always protected you. He put his arm around you at every moment.

As if he were your shield.

Nothing happened to you for a year. No accident. Not once a broken leg or arm. Not once a dislocated ankle. When you are with Suguru, you are safer. A lot. You haven't had a wound in a long time. He was careful not to cut yourself. You don't have any scars, even the smallest ones, because he made sure you didn't have any marks.

Your life has ceased to be so painful.

The curses didn't even come to you when you were with him. At least that's what he told you.

You knew you weren't dying yet. After all, you haven't seen the strange creature lurking on your life. But that is thanks to Suguru anyway. He was always next to you, radiating the energy of a sorcerer.

In addition, he himself said that you have nothing to be afraid of. After all, he and his friend are the strongest. Both of them were classified in the special class of sorcerers.

You were supposed to feel safest with him. And it was just like that.

Even when he wasn't with you, he left his aura on yours.

He has told you many times that a person's aura is delicate. Even if he is a brutal man, even big. But for sorcerers and curses, he is an ordinary man, with a weak aura and weak cursed energy.

Earlier you wanted to be offended by him for telling you something like that. Especially since he was your boyfriend at the time. And he was saying that your aura is weak and you can't help him fight curses. But he was always right. You couldn't face any curse. You didn't have any cursed energy. No matter how strong you could be physically, without energy you won't hurt the curse seriously. Or without a cursed weapon.

An ordinary kitchen knife from home is not enough. More is needed. Much more.

You've always accepted that he is stronger than you. And that was good anyway. You might have known that he would protect you. That he will keep you safe in any situation.

You wished it would always stay that way.

So why do you feel so empty now?? No love, no security provided. You feel like anything could kill you now.

Just like your heart is dying now.

_____

"Suguru, hi."

"Hi. How are you?"

"It's ok. And you? How's your mission?"

Phone calls while he was not in Tokyo. It could be at the very end of the world, but you would still find a way to communicate. You can't ignore your partner like that. You are his girlfriend and he is your boyfriend. It's obvious you want to see or hear each other.

You always liked asking him about different things. And he was reluctant to answer at times.

"It's not that bad. We're back for tomorrow. You want something special from here?" He asked.

You know he didn't want to get off. It's not his style. He just brought you gifts from missions a lot. Sometimes even too much. You don't want him to waste his money on you, but it's nice to get a gift. After all, you can say that he remembers and cares about you.

However, he did not require anything from you. Even if you've been together for a year. He never said you had to give him something for his birthday or Christmas. And if he wanted small things. Not like he was buying for you.

Favorite food, any clothes you like. Or also a little thing. Never something big. And that was fun. You never knew what he was going to give you this time.

Cute things...

But all you wanted was him. And he just wanted you to be his.

May you always love him only.

He wanted to pamper you just to be that way. Don't you think he's a hopeless boyfriend for you. Because sometimes he might feel incompatible with your love.

It was never true. He always loved you. But why did it have to change so...

"How many curses have you killed?" you asked cheerfully. You've asked about such things a lot. As if there was nothing else to say. But still, you are interested in such things. Especially because they have literal powers. You know these are "techniques" but their energy has to come from somewhere, and how they use it is wonderful. The Suguru technique as well as the Satoru technique. Likewise with Shoko's technique, as well as their teacher. Each is great.

Until you wished you were a sorcerer.

But what can you do if you weren't born that way?

"(y/n) why are you asking for curses and not about me? I feel left out..." he groaned sadly.

"Sorry Sorry. I believe you're okay, Sugu. I want you to come back to me healthy. So that there are no traces of fighting curses on you. You know that I care about you and that I love you, right?" you said sweetly to him.

"I know, honey. We'll be alone when I come back."

_____

Memories hurt a lot. That's why you don't want to look at any souvenirs. But you can't throw them away.

You still love him.

You love that happy smile. You love that little purple eyes. You love these black earrings that sparkle in the light. You love that black long unruly hair.

All this tells you that this is your Suguru. No one else. For now, you feel a burning sensation in your stomach when you see this.

And it is because of your weakness that he is not with you.

You're too weak.

You are not a strong being. Not like a sorcerer.

You are only... monkey...

_____

You still remember those nice and pleasant moments.

He was so gentle with you every time. He never did something that made you feel bad.

Even though he was ready to do more. Much more.

"(y/n), i want more of you. I can?"

The first question for consent, and no more questions.

He kissed you as passionately as he could. So fiercely. So hard. But so gently so that you don't feel overwhelmed.

You could never stop there.

While he kissed you like that when you were alone, there was always sexual tension between you.

Every pleasure he gave you was done more gently.

Strong enough, but not so much that he doesn't scare you or hurt you.

Very often he wanted to please you first and then himself.

And your sounds were like music to him. It made him know that he can make you feel good.

That is why he made every move with the greatest care. To give you as much pleasure as possible. And seeing the lust in your eyes as you looked at him.

He always just wanted to show you were his girlfriend. So marking you was something he did without your permission. What he wanted to do was do.

From the beginning, he loved you above all else.

That's why you don't know what happened that he suddenly ends loving you.

You don't want to think he got bored of you.

Because deep down in your heart you know he still loves you.

And you also want him to love you. You love him as much as you do.

You can make this exception and forgive it. Because you can't live without forgiving him.

He himself was sad as he left. He always wanted your relationship to last. So now you think it doesn't make sense to think he did it on purpose.

He certainly had a reason. He always has his reasons.

He wouldn't want to hurt you.

You wouldn't forgive anyone like him. He deserves forgiveness.

He would do the same for you.

You can't get angry that much.

But it really hurts to remember all of this.

Additionally, you remember this moment. It was the worst time of your life.

"Suguru, what happened?"

"That's nothing..."

"Please tell me. I know there is something wrong. You act differently." you cling to his arm and gently stroke his hand. You want to cheer him up. To make him smile again. You want to see his smile. "Suguru, I know how you act when you feel bad. Can you tell me. It's something on a mission?"

You expected him to hug you, as he always did. Very often he didn't say anything, just cuddled. However, he did something quite different now than at other times.

Your hands have been thrown away from him. Just like your whole body. He rejected you from himself. Lest you touch him.

It's not that it hurts so much physically. But it hurt you mentally.

Even though the force he used on you still hurt.

He never turned you down.

Even so, he did it in such a way that you wouldn't feel rejected. He just pushed you a little bit and with a smile said that he had to be alone.

But he never hit you before.

You don't know how you managed to stand on your feet when he pushed you away. But you are still standing. Even if your legs are shaking. Even his aura had changed. You feel different. You feel the chill. Not warm when you saw him. Not love. You feel cold now. It's like you're scared.

Admittedly, you are afraid. That he doesn't love you, and he's sick of you.

He never looked at you once. He just stared at the floor with an unreadable expression on his face.

His loose hair covered his face a little, but it was visible. Hands dangling at the sides of the body limp. He gave no sign.

Something like that made you want to leave. Go cry. But if it's your fault, you can't forgive yourself.

You want to know what happened.

What is wrong.

When he turned his back to you, you made a bold move.

Despite his menacing appearance and his dark aura, you came up to him. You cuddled against his back and you wrapped your hands around his stomach.

You felt the warmth. You liked hugging him so much. That's why you like it. He is warm, but despite every muscle in his body that is extensive, it still feels soft. Maybe because it was soft to you.

But you liked it especially because it was nice and nice. He also kept you safe. This security meant a lot to you. After all, he could protect you from anything. It doesn't matter if you saw it or not, he will protect you from it. That's what you thought. And it was so. He protected you from anyone who wanted to hurt you. And it also protected you from any curse, no matter if it attacked you or someone else. If he attacks near you, there is a high chance that you could suffer anyway. Therefore, at all costs, he protected you against it.

Before people and against curses.

But he couldn't protect you from negative emotions.

Especially in front of him, even when he did his best.

After all, pushing you away so as not to hurt you didn't do anything. You came closer, which he was pleased with. You didn't run away from him. But sometimes it was an obstacle for him. You didn't want to be hurt or hurt him by getting away from him. You were always there, no matter what you felt at that moment.

Were you happy, did you cry, or did you burn with anger. If these emotions were aimed at him, he didn't blame you, but himself.

And despite his true feelings for you, he couldn't anymore...

Feeling your hands tighten on his body, he just looked at your hands.

So small. The ones he always liked to keep.

"(y/n)..." he started. "Leave me alone, okay?"

With these words, he tore your hands off him and walked away. Not once did he turn around.

Therefore, when you look at the pictures of his face now, you feel the tears want to escape from your eyes.

The last sight you saw was his back.

Later he did not speak. He did not answer the phone, did not reply to messages.

You haven't seen him in a year.

You know he hated people.

He called them monkeys. He called you monkeys.

Satoru told you about the whole massacre. So many people died... Over a hundred in one night. And there is no doubt that it was Suguru who did it.

You know Satoru himself was devastated when he said that. But he knew you would be even more broken.

First, Suguru breaks up with you and doesn't even look at you. And then you find out that your ex-boyfriend is killing a whole village of people.

At least you could cry together.

As friends.

In his arms you could soothe your sorrow. However, it was not the same as Suguru's hands... You want to leave your mind already.

But why?

Why do you have to meet him?

Why right now?

Why do you have to meet him at all? Why do you have to see this very Suguru that you haven't seen for so long...

He suddenly appeared. No sound. He just stood there looking at you. Waiting for it or anything to say. He himself didn't speak until you looked at him.

Hasn't changed much.

He looked almost the same. Unlike you.

You can't smile that often. You don't want to go out in the sun. Not to the beach. Where you went with him the most.

He hasn't changed anything.

Same hair, only longer. He still had those eyes, and that sharp jaw too.

He only wore different clothes. Loose clothes... But it's the same. He always dressed like that.

"(y/n)"

Finally he spoke. This first time.

You hear his voice for the first time in a year. You haven't seen him for a long year. Neither have you heard.

You didn't want to speak...

But you don't want to be angry...

"I'm sorry to leave like this. I didn't mean to break your heart with what I did." he said calmly. He looked down at the ground.

"After a year... You're apologizing to me now?" you asked in a very low voice.

"Sorry..." he repeated.

He was always able to show remorse. Like he was doing now. He showed that he regretted it. That he's sorry.

And you want to forgive him a lot.

But you want him to love you again.

"I never meant to hurt you. But I had to leave. So as not to hurt you more than that."

"You are–" than you started, but he interrupted you.

"Yes, I am a mass murderer who hates people..." he said openly. He looked at your face.

Instead of a pissed-off expression, your lips were twisted into a tiny smile.

He was surprised to see you like this. He expected you to hate him. That you'll scream. And you smile gently.

"Why couldn't you show up sooner?" You said in a broken voice. There were tears on your cheeks. You started to cry.

He started coming up to you.

You haven't stepped back at all.

You just stood there and nothing. You weren't scared when he touched you. You didn't move when he wrapped his arms around you.

You hugged him yourself.

You want to stay that way. You'll do anything for him. You can't do anything about still loving him.

"Don't leave me like this again... This is worse than death..." you groaned against his chest.

He was quiet for a moment.

"Suguru I love you. Please take me out of here. If you want to keep torturing me like this, please at least make me forget. Or just kill me... I love you, and I can't think to live like this... I think of you every day. I can not stop. And that hurts even more... Suguru..."

He widened his eyes at it. Do you want him to kill you?

But he came to you because...

"I love you." he muttered kissing your head.

"Will you let me go like this? If you love me. Or maybe you will come back to me?" you asked holding his clothes even tighter.

"I can't come back to you. Even though I love you. Even though I would like to come back to you. I can not do that. Sorry."

"I see..."

Your tears ran down even faster, soaking his clothes

"At least make me not have to suffer anymore. Please."

His jaw quivered before he could speak.

"That's what I'm here for..." he said in a trembling voice.

You froze for a moment. Is he here to kill you? He, your Suguru, has come to you to kill you...

But you don't blame him. You will die at his hands... And at least he loves you.

"At least I can spend time with you?" you asked.

He hugged you tighter.

You don't know exactly what happened then, but suddenly you're on the beach.

As the sun went down

Your favorite beach. Where you came most often.

It was so beautiful there.

Always empty neighborhood. Zero people. Just the two of you. It was one of your happy places. Or rather, it's the happiest. Because this is where you first said to yourself "I love you."". You guys had your first date here. And you will also have your last one...

You are not afraid of what will happen.

Suguru has his reasons.

He always meant well for you.

And if he doesn't kill you, some disease will kill you. You've been too weak to do anything for too long.

If it isn't mental illness, then you will get sick with something else. And dying in sickness is something you really don't want.

The beach is so dark but so bright. In the shade. But facing the setting sun.

It was a wonderful sight.

Light waves at sea and a cloudless sky showing the sun. And the rays reflected from the water creating a beautiful picture.

For Geto, however, another picture was the beauty.

It's you.

In the golden sunlight, your face was beautiful. He would like to erase pale skin and tired, dark circles under your eyes. But it was you. His beloved (y/n).

He wanted so much to be close to you, but could not. He was running away.

He wished you were a sorcerer. If you only had more blasted energy. He could spare you then. However, you were an ordinary person. You had no more energy than any other human being. The only thing that stood out was that he loved you.

However, even for love, he cannot make an exception.

Human is human.

And this is not in line with his desire to create a world only for sorcerers.

You were human. But he couldn't call you a monkey. You were his human. But he has to do it.

Only he was never ready for it.

He would like his curse to kill you the most. In the least painful way. He chose the curse especially because of that.

But first he would like to enjoy your company.

Before he loses love.

Before he loses something that keeps him attached to people.

And he has to get rid of it himself...

He loved seeing you smile.

Especially now that you were smiling.

"Smile at me, okay? I'd like to see you smile." you said cheerfully, looking into his eyes.

Only now did he notice that your eyes were still lifeless. So when he met you, it didn't mean you were mad at him.

Your eyes haven't changed since then.

The smile did not disappear from your face.

And those eyes... You're sick... And not in the same sense as a cold.

You are sick, but it's not just any disease... Every day would be a challenge for you.

You probably don't know you're sick somehow. Or you have any suspicions. You would go to the doctor. Maybe they would cure it somehow. But... But you might as well just want to disappear.

You consider it a convenience in death.

You want to die. Really.

Even though you are scared.

But your smile only showed him that you were happy.

For what he had to do, he wanted to apologize. So. He wanted to cry now.

But you don't want it to be sad.

You want him to smile at you.

That's why he started smiling at you. Just like you wanted it. Because looking at your sincere smile, he could be smiling. With love.

Watching him smile at you, you grabbed his hand and pulled it back. You did it to sneak under and hug him from the side.

He was a little surprised that you wanted his touch.

However, he couldn't protest what you were doing.

After all, he wanted to hug you himself. That's why he did it without the slightest thought.

"I want to watch all this sunset." you said pressing against his chest.

"If you want." He answered you.

"I love you." you muttered with a smile.

"I love you too."

But the nice moment passed very quickly.

Until the sun went down completely, and you had to come to terms with your sleep. With eternal sleep.

But you can't be angry with him.

If you don't die today, you will die on another day.

But you'd rather die in front of him. Even at his hands.

"It's time, right?" you asked moving away from him.

"...yeah..." he said very softly. As if he didn't want to say it.

You kissed his jaw unexpectedly.

You wanted to see if you could kiss him.

He looked at you with a sad smile. Before he leaned over to you and put his mouth on yours.

He put his hands on his neck as his hand warms your entire cheek.

The kiss you missed.

And you didn't want to finish it.

Your lips danced together as you sat on the dry sand.

It was getting colder without the sun. Just like it will be colder soon.

Your body won't feel so warm anymore. However, he won't have to look...

You moved away from each other as soon as you knew you were ready for eternal separation.

Your tears ran down your cheeks, clumping together and hitting the sand.

Eternal separation.

But the better it is, already suffering in life.

He, too, is sure that one day he will lose and die himself. Therefore, he is not angry with himself for having to kill you.

"(y/n)... You are–"

You cut him off.

"I'm ready.... Suguru..." you groaned with tears on your cheeks.

At the same time as you said this, a curse appeared next to him. Black ball with wings. No eyes. No teeth or legs.

You instinctively pulled away. But you grabbed his hands quickly. For relief.

"(y/n). Please don't be afraid... " he said softly. "I chose this curse. Thanks to what it can do, you won't feel any pain... Your body will just disappear..."

He was very sad. Even in despair. You know he didn't want it that way.

You don't want to die like that either.

"Suguru. I want to die at your hands. " you said seriously.

"But–"

"Suguru. Please."

You were smiling at him again.

He couldn't refuse you. Not like that.

His curse is gone.

But his emotions showed more and more.

He cried when he brought you closer to him.

You sat between his legs crossed, side to him.

You smiled your lips as he placed his hand on your neck.

If you are going to die when he holds your neck, you can kiss him. And you want to die like that. With his lips on yours. With his body close to him.

As your lips pressed against each other, you felt his big hand tighten around your neck, effectively taking away your ability to breathe.

But you didn't care. You just grabbed his other arm tighter.

When you ran out of air completely, you only clenched your fingers tighter.

Your neck and head hurt. The tears were flowing more and more. But you were warm. Like every time with Suguru. You felt so safe anyway. Despite your current situation.

You know you're gonna pass out.

But tell him something. Even out of breath.

You pulled away from him and looked at him with blurry eyes.

You know he is crying too.

But you smiled at him.

"I... Lo-ve... You... And... Thank you..."

Your last words made him cry even more.

He connected your lips again.

And so it was until he clearly felt that your body was not moving. That your muscles are not tense.

In his mind he kept repeating to himself:

„If not me, the disease will kill her. She's not mad at me. She doesn't curse me. Loves me. I love her too. I'll join her later. We'll be together again soon."

Then he disconnected your mouth.

And with a huge wave of tears and groans, he grabbed your neck with trembling hands.

First he hugged you, then later, without looking at you, he started to slowly twist your neck to the side.

He was staring at the sea. And he couldn't look at you. Especially when he felt and heard a disgusting crack.

Hot tears flowed harder as he had to look at you.

Closed eyes, calm face.

You looked like you were sleeping.

And you are sleeping. But you'll never say you love him again.

He positioned your head to make it look like you were sleeping on him.

One last time, hug your body tightly, letting out a loud scream of despair as tears ran down his cheeks.

He couldn't help but cry.

He had to do something that he didn't want to live by himself.

All. No exceptions. He had to do it. Even if he loved you so much.

But he would rather cause himself suffering than you.

#jjk angst #geto suguru #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x you #jjk #suguru geto #geto jjk #geto jujutsu kaisen #geto x you #getou suguru x you #get out the vote #geto angst

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buckysgrace · 4 months

Text

Thirty Eight

Kim

She loved Pearl. There was no other way around it. Pearl had come in and scooped her whole heart up. She was sweet. She meowed when she was hungry and would rub her body against Kim’s ankles when she wanted food.

Sometimes she got a lot of energy at night and only occasionally did she jump out from the corners of the hallways and attack ankles. Kim still gave her treats, still dressed her up like she was a little baby doll. She liked how fluffy she was, her big blue eyes and how she loved to have the attention on her.

Kim was forever grateful to Billy. She felt like he had gifted her something that she had so desperately needed without knowing it. She felt a little safer when she slept at night and Pearl would curl up next to her pillow and rest her soft cheeks against her skin.

She had tried to reassure Billy, to tell him that she didn’t need anything else but he seemed keen on punishing himself. She still felt hurt over what he had done, but that was all forgiven. She thought that she still trusted him, but part of herself just seemed unsure. She tried to shake her thoughts, knowing that just because he hadn’t been loyal to others in the past, didn’t mean that their relationship would be the same.

“I have to go,” Kim cooed as she leaned over to kiss the top of Pearl’s fluffy head. Her eyes remained closed as she snuggled closer, part of her tongue hanging out of her mouth, “I’ll see you later. Keep Billy company for me.” She teased softly as she fluffed her sheets around Pearl’s body. She feared that Pearl would get too cold while she was gone.

“Right,” Billy snorted as he gave her shoulders a soft squeeze, “Cindy gets to teach me how to watch the cakes rise today.” He stated softly as she turned to look back at him. She raked her eyes over him for a second, pleased with his clean shaven face and calm eyes. Whatever episode he’d been going through before was gone. She only felt bad that he had to do it alone while he was in jail.

“Good luck,” Kim grinned softly as she looked up at him, “She’ll probably ask you about jail. And possibly about going out with you.” Kim responded sheepishly as she turned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He brought his thick hands against her waist, holding her softly as his lips grew into a smile.

“Would you have eventually done it?” He asked her curiously, tilting his head so his blonde curls touched his shoulders. She was sure that his hair was officially longer than hers. She liked it and she thought that he really enjoyed having it long as well.

She pondered for a moment, but she already knew her answer. She felt a bit bad for what it would be, but it was the truth. She didn’t want Cindy around Billy, because she knew exactly what Cindy would try to do. She felt a burning sense of jealousy suddenly, sure that it was white hot and written all across her features.

“If Tommy or Steve offered you the same thing, would you let them?” She asked instead as she slowly twisted her fingers around his curls. She blinked away the image of Dakota on his lap, the way she’d been resting her hand against his shoulder. Kim was sure that it made her eyes twitch. She desperately wanted to bring up what Billy would’ve done if she had been sitting on someone else's lap, but stayed silent. She didn’t want to fight over something that was supposed to be settled.

“Fuck no.” He responded quickly, his dark eyebrows drawn together as he looked bitter over the answer. She grinned as she pulled away, reminding herself that everything was alright between the two of them. He hadn’t been doing anything suspicious. He had only lied about taking drugs because he was ashamed. There was nothing else hidden.

“Then no,” She smiled softly, “It was really sweet of Steve. I hope he’s not bitter about Casper- I mean, Steve JR.” She said a second later, wondering how the little piggy was doing. He was cute. The more Kim thought about him, the more she was reminded of Steve. She thought it was perhaps the long, untidy hair on the rodent that built up similarities between the two.

“It’s a rat,” Billy scoffed as he rolled his eyes before he gently squeezed her ass, “Come on before I get in trouble for being late.” He told her, sending her an urgent look as he tapped her ass again. She giggled as she stepped out of the room, trying not to mention how only last night he had been trying to convince her to feign being sick on the last day before break. She was quickly reminded how little Rosemary trusted her now.

Kim always liked school the last day before most of their breaks. The teachers didn’t seem as grumpy, equally as excited to get out of the building. Their homeroom had a mini party, to which Kim brought in some cookies that Rosemary had whipped up the night before.

“You missed it.” Audrey said pointedly as Kim held a cupcake up to her lips. Kim felt her eyes widen three different sizes as she breathed in roughly, setting the dessert down on her plate as she recalled an earlier conversation with her.

“Oh,” Kim breathed out softly, “I’m sorry. I had family things come up and -,” She began to explain, knowing she had a good explanation as to why she couldn’t have gone anyways. Audrey cut her off before she could fully finish.

“You promised.” She said as she crossed her arms over Kim’s desk. Kim paused for a second, her eyebrows knitting together as she thought of their conversation over again. In no way did Kim recall promising to go. Especially after she found out that Sam and Rosemary weren’t as particular about where or who she was seeing. Well, at the time they won’t.

“I didn’t,” Kim said at last, speaking cautiously as she approached the subject, “I said I’d think about it. I just never got back to you. Things happened.” She replied as she nodded her head slowly, surprised at how she didn’t feel guilty. Even if she had promised, she would’ve missed it. She was a mess while Billy was away. She had felt even worse when he refused the visits or to at least call. She found one way to soothe herself through the guilt of him being away while she got off clean.

“It’s fucking shitty.” Audrey huffed out in annoyance, rolling her eyes like Kim had done something awful. Kim pursed her lips together, feeling a little annoyed as she shook her head in disagreement.

“It wasn’t a full agreement though,” Kim reminded softly, “I told you, things happened.” She explained, feeling a little bitter as she was left to recall how shitty her week had been while Billy was gone. She had never felt so lonely before.

“Like what?” Audrey asked in disbelief, but edged a little closer like she was digging for information. Kim shook her head as she took a large bite out of her cupcake. She chewed it for a moment, hoping that the rush of the sugar would wash the irritation from her veins.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” She said a little more stern, “It’s my own business.” She shrugged her shoulders at last, feeling a little more reassured in the way she spoke even though she could feel her face burning again.

Audrey pouted her lips out, but nodded her head despite the disappointed look across her features. She turned away again, leaving Kim along to her plate of dessert while she opened her book again.

She excused herself from ceramics half way through the class, frustrated with how her gift for Rosemary was turning out. She’d restarted it twice, but was beginning to feel like she would never get it right.

“How do you feel about this test?” Danielle asked as she sat up near the window, smoking as she looked out at the view. Kim shrugged her shoulders as she played with her nails. They didn’t have the same class period, but did share the same teacher. It would be during her last class.

“A little nervous I guess,” Kim said softly, “I think it’ll be okay though.” She admitted, knowing that there weren’t a lot of classes that she had ever done bad in. Even with everything going on, she was still doing alright in school. Sometimes it was just easier to bury herself in her books than deal with other things that were happening.

“Here,” Danielle persisted as she handed Kim a little bottle, “Liquid luck.” She said teasingly as she dropped it into Kim’s palm. She stared at it, all too familiar with the little bottles that she’d been drinking throughout the week with Danielle. It did relieve her stress, as much as she hated to admit it.

“I don’t think getting drunk will help with my test.” Kim said seriously, quite sure that it would only make things worse. She had been reminding herself that Billy was back, so she no longer needed to make herself feel better. She didn’t need to drink anything away as nothing was wrong.

“It’s about helping your nerves,” Danielle laughed as she reminded Kim of what she had previously told her. She brought one of the bottles up to her lips, “I’ve had like two already.” Kim turned towards her intrigued, not noticing a difference in her behavior.

Kim lingered for a moment before she did what she knew she shouldn’t. She brought the tiny bottle up to her lips, letting the smooth liquid drain down her throat as she savored the burn and the way it made her body warm. She was getting better at drinking them, her face no longer contorted into such disgust.

“Do you want another?” Danielle asked her curiously, although she held out four little bottles. Kim stared at them for a moment before she nodded her head, taking them in her hands and shoving them into her large cardigan pockets. She always drank them before she got home, too afraid that Sam might find the little bottles.

“I hope you have a good break,” Kim spoke up once they were finished, a little giggly as they headed back to class, “You’ll have to bring me a postcard or a picture.” She told Danielle seriously, thinking it would be cool to see what London looked like.

“I can bring you if you want.” Danielle said cheerily, linking their arms together as she dragged Kim back to class. She felt her eyes widen, completely taken aback by her suggestion. She meant no offense, but she didn’t think she’d want to travel somewhere that far with just Danielle.

“No,” Kim said quickly, “I mean my mom is coming for Thanksgiving. I can’t leave.” She added, hoping that she didn’t sound rude as they settled back into their own table. Ceramics was always busy, people bustling back and forth as they worked on their projects. Their teacher hardly paid attention, probably didn’t notice that the girls were gone for so long.

“Oh fun,” Danielle replied dryly, “Why did your parents separate?” She asked curiously as they sat back down. Kim stared at the project in front of her as she picked up her little scoop again, determined to get the design correctly.

“Lots of reasons,” Kim said softly, “My mom hates him. I’m not really sure how this is going to turn out.” She admitted as she shrugged her shoulders, hoping that it wouldn’t be something bad. She desperately missed Susan. No matter how many times she called, Susan never answered. Wayne had a few times and always said that she was busy or gone. It wasn’t very reassuring.

She felt all too giddy by the end of the day and she realized that Billy was back to picking them up. She felt happy, chattering with him freely about how his day was. She liked listening to him talk and wished he wouldn’t feel like he had to be so reserved now that he wasn’t manic anymore.

“Were you drinking?” Billy asked, stalling her movements before she could walk into the house. She looked at him with wide eyes, a flush settling over her body as she awkwardly tugged on the strands of her backpack.

“I had a little bottle,” Kim admitted softly as she felt the shame rising inside of her chest, “Is that bad?” She asked him seriously, fearing what his answer would be. She was still sure that she was doing the wrong thing, even after he had told her otherwise. She was scared but she couldn’t stop.

“No,” He said softly, “But maybe start chewing gum or something. Make sure no one can smell it on your breath.” He told her as he held out a piece of gum to her. She grinned as she took it, popping it into her mouth as she felt the minty flavor spreading over her tongue and cheek.

“Oh,” She said softly as she leaned forward to kiss his cheek, “I missed you.” She told him seriously as she squeezed his shoulder softly. She knew it was risky to be affectionate outside, but she couldn’t help herself. She did miss him dearly.

“I missed you too,” He said as he nuzzled his cheek against hers, “You know, you can drink around me.” He told her seriously as he gave her hand a soft squeeze. He pulled away as a car drove by, trying to look as casual as possible.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be drinking.” She replied, already shutting that idea down. There was no way that he would be drinking or doing any sort of drugs ever again around her. She was even cautious about weed, wondering if that would only make things worse on him. Even if he was denying it, she knew that he wanted it.

“I’m not supposed to be doing drugs,” He told her softly, “But if you want to get drunk I’ll watch you.” He grinned in response, looking like it was a grand idea. She paused for a moment, searching his calm eyes. They were gentle, but she could notice a bit of desperation in them. She wondered if he still believed that she didn’t trust him.

“Okay,” She said softly, “If you’re fine with that. We don’t have to do that today.” She reassured him as she walked inside, not sure if she should drink much more. She grinned widely, knocking her backpack off so she could bend over and scoop Pearl up into her arms. She always greeted her at the door.

“Yeah, take care of that brat,” Billy mumbled as he picked her backpack up with a shake of his head, “She won’t leave me alone. I can’t even piss in peace.” He responded bitterly as he walked to hang her backpack up on the rack.

“It just means that she loves you,” Kim told him seriously as she bumped her nose against Pearl’s wet one, “She’s a little princess.” She cooed happily, holding Pearl in her arms happily as she walked over to pull the tupperware from her bag.

She felt a little nervous as she held Pearl in one arm and the Tupperware in the other. She paused as she walked forward and placed the dish into the sink, waiting for Rosemary to ask how her day had been. She stayed silent.

“How was the bakery?” Kim asked instead, trying to sound as cheery as possible as she stroked her fingers through Pearl’s soft fur. She purred in response, curling up to Kim like she knew how anxious she felt.

“Alright,” Rosemary said softly, “How was school?” Rosemary asked as she continued to look ahead at whatever she was working on. Kim felt her lips curling into a frown, clearly knowing that Rosemary blamed Kim for what had happened. It had been tense between the two of them the past few days. Kim wasn’t sure what had changed, but something clearly had.

“It was good,” Kim said softly, “I had a chemistry test today, but I think I did alright.” She mused quietly, hoping that Rosemary might think of something else to add. She wasn’t used to Rosemary’s cold shoulder, and wasn't really sure what she had done. She knew that she had lied, but so had Billy. She supposed it was because Billy was her son, however, Sam hadn’t treated him differently since everything had gone down. It made Kim feel even more guilty, like this was all somehow her fault. She thought in a way that it was. She should’ve never agreed to go to that party in the first place.

“That’s good.” Rosemary said, dismissing her softly as Kim felt her shoulders sag. She dragged her tongue across her teeth, feeling the bumps and dips as she raked her brain for something else to say.

“Any big cake orders coming up?” She asked, thinking of the first thing that came to her mind. Rosemary shook her head.

“Nope,” Rosemary said quickly, “We’re closed for Thanksgiving.” Kim was suddenly glad Billy didn’t want to tell her. She feared that Rosemary would blame her for the whole relationship, like she had manipulated Billy.

Rosemary left the kitchen without another word, leaving her recipes out on the counter as she held her head up high and passed Kim without a sparing glance. Kim sighed roughly, wishing she knew how to make it up to her.

“That was tense.” Max mumbled as she looked up from the dining room table, holding her skateboard on her lap as she scrubbed off some of the mud from where it had rained earlier in the week.

“She hates me.” Kim mumbled underneath her breath. She sat down at the table, fiddling with the bag she’d left there yesterday as she pulled out some kitty sweaters. She settled them down on the table, ignoring the look Max sent her as she began to try the clothes on Pearl.

“I think that’s a little dramatic,” Max told her seriously, “I think she’s just blaming herself for everything that’s happened with Billy.” She shrugged her shoulders, like it wasn’t a big deal. Kim shrugged her shoulders softly, sure that she was partially being dramatic. At the same time, she felt that she was right.

Sam entered the kitchen, gently sliding the patio door shut behind him as he breathed in deeply. Kim looked at him curiously, thinking he looked a little more disheveled than usual.

“You look nervous,” Kim said softly, watching as he leaned over to give Max a kiss on the top of the head, “Is everything okay?” She asked him seriously, feeling a little bad for all of the stress he must’ve been going through lately. “Just thinking about how your mom will react,” Sam said as he walked over and repeated the same motions to Kim, “How’s Pearl?” He asked, dropping his hand to pet at her white fur. Pearl arched her back in response, purring as she rubbed her face against the table.

“I think she looks better in blue,” Kim decided as she held Pearl up, showing off the little sweater she’d gotten for her, “She’s a sweet kitty.” She declared before she kissed Pearl’s cheek. Max snorted, but quickly looked away as Kim shot her a look.

“Uh huh,” Sam said, looking like he agreed with what everyone else had to say about Pearl. She couldn’t help that Pearl had random bursts of energy, “She’s a kitty for sure.” He said at last, giving her another pet. Pearl swatted her paws out this time, like she was trying to take a hold of Sam.

“Don’t listen to them,” Kim said, using a baby talk as she kissed Pearl’s cheek, “You’re my sweet kitty.” She said in a sing song way, happy with the way Pearl settled up against her. Russell burst through the room a second later, looking intrigued.

“You have a phone call,” He said as he glanced towards Kim, “Someone from Hawkins.” She rose quickly, setting Pearl down on her chair as she did so. She felt relief pool through her, sure that it had to be Susan calling.

“Hello?”

“Kim!” Addi’s voice rang out on the other line, “Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you.” Kim felt guilt sinking into her stomach, eating at her as she knew it was the truth. So much had happened recently that she hadn't had time to think about calling Addi and keeping her updated.

“Oh,” Kim blushed softly, “I’m so sorry. These past few weeks have been so busy. How have you been?” She asked quickly, tucking her hair behind her hair in hopes that Addi wouldn't ask what had happened.

“Did you hear?” Addi spit out over the phone, “I’m coming with!” She shouted cheerfully, making a smile pull onto Kim’s lips. She had desperately missed her friend and felt like this was the best news that she’d received in a while. Other than Billy being released from jail, of course.

“You are?” Kim squealed over the line as she held the phone tightly against her ear, “That’s great! I’ve missed you.” She gushed out, feeling like she hadn’t had a real friend since she’d gotten here. She hadn’t clicked with anyone the same way she’d clicked with Addi.

“I missed you too,” Addi replied quickly, “I’m so excited to meet your dad. You guys are better then?” She asked, sounding a little worried as she spoke. Kim leaned against the wall, almost picturing what Addi was doing now. She could hear the Mamas and the Papas playing in the background and was sure that Addi must be curled up on her bed. Kim wondered if it had snowed there yet.

“I guess so,” Kim said softly, trying not to think about it too much. Sam really was being helpful and understanding towards her. She just wished she could break through whatever wall was separating the two of them, “It’s still a little complicated but he’s really trying.” She said at last, feeling proud of her answer.

“Gina said he was hot.” Addi’s statement took Kim by surprise. She opened her mouth, then shut it again before she held her lips wide in shock. She blinked a few times before she pulled the phone away and rubbed at it, sure that she had heard her friend wrong.

“I-,” Kim paused, her cheeks burning as she pulled the phone back up to her ear, “That’s my dad!” She said at last, unsure of what else to say. She felt her nose wrinkling up in disgust, suddenly feeling very bad for Billy and Russell and the way people teased them about Rosemary being so pretty.

“And Gina said he was really attractive,” Addi giggled on the other line, “I’m sorry.” She spoke between her giggles, sounding excited as she spoke. Kim shook her head in dismay, hoping that the other two were just trying to mess with her. She didn’t want to think about anyone finding her dad attractive.

“Oh gosh,” Kim sighed as she shook her head, “How does Eddie feel about coming?” She asked instead, desperately trying to change the subject. She could feel the disgust rising in her stomach as she quickly shook the thought away. “Things are fine,” Addi brushed off Kim’s worries, “We’re all cool now. Eddie said he probably deserved it. He was pretty proud about the bruise that he got after.” She mentioned offhandedly. Kim chewed on her bottom lip, hoping that Eddie actually meant that. She supposed that she’d just have to worry about what Susan thought.

“Good,” Kim said softly, “When will you get here?” She asked in excitement, wondering how it would be to have so many people in the same house. She could tell that Rosemary was excited about the prospect.

“Sometime on Wednesday I think,” Addi said, “It seems like it’s a longer drive than I remember.” She exhaled deeply, sounding like she wasn’t a bit excited about the drive. Kim nodded her head in agreement, thinking about how the drive had been terribly long. She wished she could remember the name of the gas station with the glory hole, just to send Addi a warning.

“I can’t wait to see you,” Kim said briskly, “Maybe you can share a room with me?” She questioned more to herself, trying to think about how they’d rearrange the rooms now. She had a feeling that Eddie and Addi wouldn’t be allowed to share a room either.

“That would be fun,” Addi gushed in excitement, “I can’t wait to see you. Don’t forget to call me, alright?” She questioned softly as she gave Kim a stern reminder. Kim chewed on her bottom lip softly, not wanting to bring up what had happened with Billy.

“I won’t forget this time,” She promised softly, “I’ll see you soon.” She repeated her goodbyes, hoping that this visit would be smoother than what she was anticipating.

//////////////////////

“What are you doing?” She grinned as she sat up on her knees, her pillows bouncing around as Billy sneakily entered her room. She gave him an unsure look, watching as he triumphantly held up a few bottles of alcohol. “It’s the last day with you before we get moved around,” Billy grumbled as he kicked the door shut behind him, locking Pearl out, “I want to enjoy it.” He said briskly as he leaned over her bed to press his lips against hers. She smiled softly, enjoying the way his mouth molded against his.

“How are we going to sneak around?” She teased him softly, wondering if he had been thinking about the same thing. They had never had so many people in the house before, it was going to be cramped and awkward. The only way she could make sense was maybe in the shower and that was only if they timed themselves correctly.

She also had to consider if he was still having issues getting hard. She didn’t want to admit it, but she had been worried that it had been about her when he brought it up. She was fearful it was because she didn’t look the right way, that something had shifted between them that she couldn’t get back.

“I have no fucking idea,” He groaned as he plopped onto the bed with her, “I can’t go that long without you.” He grinned softly as he pressed his shoulder against hers. She smiled back, enjoying the joyful way his eyes lit up as he looked towards her.

“We’ve gone longer,” She said slowly as she leaned forward to kiss his nose, “Just about everyone knows anyways.” She reminded him. The only people that really didn’t know were Russell and Rosemary. Perhaps Wayne, but she was already sure that Susan had ranted about them to him.

“I think it’ll just make it worse if everyone did know.” He said a second later, nodding his head as he thought to himself. She watched the way his eyebrows furrowed together, the slight disappointment that crept along his features.

“Maybe,” She agreed, thinking that he was probably right, “But maybe not.” She added a second later, trying to sound more hopeful. She was hoping that she was reading into her interaction with Rosemary wrong. They had been fine a few days ago.

“Here,” He mumbled as he twisted the lid open on the bottle for her, “It’s fine, really.” He told her softly, his eyes glazing over the way her features were wrinkled up tightly. She could feel her mouth beginning to salivate, already missing the taste of it on he tongue.

“What if my dad finds out?” She asked, even though that wasn’t the question she was thinking about. She knew she was being silly. He had already reassured her that there was nothing wrong with her drinking once in a while. She just needed to remember to control the habit. She could do that.

“He won’t.” Billy reassured her, bumping her nose softly as he pressed the bottle into her hands. It felt heavy, but she liked the smell that lingered against her nose. She brought it up to her lips slowly, drinking a big gulp like it was a cool glass of water on a hot summer day.

She drank until she felt silly and giggly. Billy encouraged her, like he was wanting her to let loose as he gave her bottle after bottle. She tried not to feel guilty, knowing that he was just feeling guilty for everything else that had happened. She knew it was dangerous, knew that he had no idea what she was really dealing with.

“You’re so pretty,” She spit out as she drew her fingers across his jawline, enjoying how he felt in her fingertips, “Why are you so pretty?” She asked him seriously, tilting his chin up softly so she could get a better look at him.

“I guess ask my mom,” Billy teased her softly, pretending to bite her as her finger lingered too close to his mouth, “Why are you so pretty?” He asked her, sounding just as serious. She jerked her head back, giggling softly as her eyes struggled to stay focused on his pretty blue ones.

“I’m not as pretty as you.” She told him, wishing she had his thick eyelashes and curly blonde hair. She twisted her fingers through his hair, pulling herself onto his lap so she could get even closer. Her veins felt jittery, her mind fuzzy as she pressed her forehead against his.

“Now you’re being weird,” He teased her as he shifted her in his lap, “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He mumbled as he flicked his eyes across her features, his lips curling into a grin. He pressed his fingertips into her skin softly as she tilted her head, sitting back a bit to look at him seriously.

“Even in porn?” She asked him, teasing him just a little bit. He looked at her a little surprised, his dark eyebrows raised in amusement. He chuckled softly as he gave her flesh a soft squeeze, tickling her sides.

“Even in porn,” He confirmed as he pecked her lips, “Much better than any of those girls.” He chuckled as he pressed his lips against hers repeatedly. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she pulled him closer. She slid her tongue against his lips, licking away the taste of nicotine and mint from his tongue.

He hummed against her mouth, his fingertips lightly digging into her skin as she rolled her hips forward. He sighed against her open mouth as she dragged her tongue along the roof of his mouth, savoring the feeling of their tongues against one another.

She pulled away slowly, her eyes wide with want as she followed the trail of spit that connected the two of them. She licked it away slowly, watching the way his blue eyes grew darker. She giggled softly, enjoying the feeling of his bulge against her thigh.

“I wanna suck your dick.” She told him seriously, not caring how blunt she was as she scrambled onto the side of her bed. She grinned up at him, laying on her tummy as she pawed at the soft material of his pajama pants.

His eyes were wide, staring down at her in disbelief like he couldn’t believe her words. She blinked up at him, smiling brightly as she moved her hand over his lap to palm at his hard on. She sighed softly, remembering what he felt like with her fingers wrapped around him.

“Okay,” Billy breathed in softly, lifting his hips up just enough that she could free his thick cock. She breathed in deeply, feeling in awe of it as she leaned forward enough to lick away the precum from his tip, savoring the taste of him on her tongue, “Shit.” He breathed out softly as he moved his hands to tuck her hair behind her ears.

She took her time, teasing him slowly as she flicked her tongue across his slit again. She shifted a bit, moving her hands forward so she could slowly wrap her fingers around his cock. She admired how tan his skin was against hers, how red his tip was as she slowly rolled her hand down to his base.

She kissed his tip messily, sliding her tongue underneath his tip as she closed her eyes. His groans pressed her on as she lazily stroked him in her hand. She rolled her tongue along his skin slowly, teasing him as she slowly pressed him into her mouth.

“Fuck,” He hummed softly as he pressed his hand against the back of her head, playing with her hair as he urged her to go a little faster. She relaxed her jaw, pressing her tongue against the base of his cock as she slowly bobbed her head, “You’re such a dirty slut.” He groaned lowly as she continued to suck on his fat tip.

She pressed her hips down roughly against the mattress, squeezing her free hand against Billy’s waist as she rolled her tongue along his curves and ridges. She closed her eyes, pressing him in even deeper as she moaned around his girth.

His groans became louder as he jerked his hips up, pressing his cock deeper into her mouth as he petted her hair. She felt herself gagging, furrowing her eyebrows tightly together as the sense came over her suddenly and harshly. She pulled away, inhaling deeply as she tried to catch he breath.

“Not so rough,” She warned him as she swallowed the drool that was dripping down her lips, “Just enjoy me.” She told him softly, sticking her tongue out as she tapped his cock against it. His eyes flashed, looking like he was almost too lustful to agree to her demands before he nodded his head.

She started her motions all over again, slowly licking around his cock before wrapping her lips around him and hollowing her cheeks. She closed her eyes, concentrating on making him feel good as she ignored the bubbling feeling that was growing in her stomach. She was suddenly feeling too hot.

“Fuck, fuck,” He breathed out roughly, “Your mouth feels so good baby.” He urged her to move down further, groaning loudly as his cock hit the back of her throat. She felt her eyes widening, wincing as she felt something stirring in her stomach.

“Careful,” She said between spit, licking it away as she looked at him seriously, “I think I ate too much.” She mumbled as she pumped him roughly, enjoying the way he was jerking his hand up into her palm.

“S’alright,” He told her eagerly, his eyes wide with lust as he watched her, “I’ll be careful. I promise.” He begged her, looking like he couldn’t wait another moment as he urgently tugged on her hair. She nodded her head, licking away the rest of the drool before she slid him into her mouth again.

She moaned at the taste of him, quickly licking around his curves and ridges again as his cock weighed heavily in her mouth. She bobbed her head slowly, taking each inch slowly in her mouth to keep from upsetting her stomach any further.

Billy was restless, obviously still desperate from being unable to get hard a few days ago. He tugged on her hair again, pushing her head down roughly as he pressed his hips up hard. She gagged around him, his cock hitting the back of her throat as she felt the sensation taking over again.

Kim pulled away, with just enough time before she was vomiting on the floor between Billy’s legs. She heaved over his lap, narrowly avoiding his feet as she emptied her stomach. She gagged, her eyes squinting shut as tears fell into her eyes.

“Oh shit,” Billy’s legs spread quickly as fear laced in his tone, “Oh fuck. I’m sorry, shit.” He cursed, sounding in disbelief as she laid over his legs. She felt a sob breaking into her chest as embarrassment took over.

She was almost too afraid to leave, too afraid to see what his face was as she sobbed between his legs. He awkwardly shifted, tucking his now soft dick away as he kept his feet spread widely. She sniffled hard, pulling away softly as she covered her hands over her face.

“Hey,” She shook her head, listening to the way Billy shifted around the bed. She sighed deeply, hiccuping as she tried to wiggle herself away, “It’s okay. Just wait right here. I’m going to get a towel.” He mumbled, but all she did was cover her shaky hands over her eyes to hide herself away.

She breathed in deeply, trying to stall the way her heart was beating roughly and how the sweat was forming down the base of her neck. She sniffled a few more times, wiping at her nose and her eyes as she scooted to the edge of the bed.

“I can clean it,” She croaked out, her cheeks hot as she watched Billy bend down to the floor and wipe it away with a few towels, “Please. Let me get it.” She mumbled, still feeling weak in her knees as she sat up. She sniffled roughly, her breath catching in her throat as she began to stand.

“It’s fine,” Billy reassured her quickly, giving her a soft look as he cleaned it all away and then folded it away. She felt a numb feeling settling over her body, feeling dumb for how this night had suddenly gone, “Do you want a bath?”

“I don’t know,” She blubbered out, “I didn’t mean to puke.” She told him quickly as she wiped her eyes again, wondering if he would ever trust her to go down on him again. He paused for a moment as he wrapped the towels up.

“Don’t worry about it,” He said softly as he stood up to push her hair behind her ears. She shook her head, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. She couldn’t believe her actions still, in disbelief over how she’d so easily thrown up everywhere, “I’ve done plenty worse. I once got my windows mixed up and snuck back in through dads, then puked all in his loafers.”

Kim shook her head suddenly, feeling a little crazed as she began to laugh at the thought of Neil wearing around loafers. Billy hummed softly as he pushed her hair from her hair, touching her gently as he rocked her back and forth.

“Let’s go take a bath,” He suggested softly, “It’ll make you feel better. I promise.” He told her softly as he kissed her forehead. She sighed deeply, nodding her head as she wished for the humiliation to go away.

He took her hand, giving her a soft squeeze as he tugged her out of the room. She followed him, dragging her feet against the hardwood floors as he tugged her towards the bathroom. She peeked down the hallway, ensuring that they were alright before she walked inside after him.

She didn’t get much out before he was stripping her out of her pajamas and warming up the water for her. She shivered a bit, feeling exposed as the cold air nipped at her skin. He held onto both of her hands, being gentle with her as he helped her stand into the tub.

“You’re not joining me?” She squinted her eyes as she looked at him, wondering if she had gotten puke all over herself without realizing it. He chuckled as he filled a cup up with the warm water and slowly dumped it over her hair.

“Not tonight,” He hummed softly as he lathered up some soap onto his hands and began to scrub it through her hair, “I just want you to relax.” He replied gently as she tried to focus on the way his fingertips felt against her scalp. She sniffled softly, her cheeks feeling raw.

“That was so embarrassing,” She mumbled as she wiped at her face, feeling silly for crying over it, “I’m sorry.” She told him truthfully, hating how easily that had happened. She was sure that she had never felt so humiliated before in her life. He held his palm over her forehead before he sprinkled water over her head again.

“Why are you sorry?” He asked her, chuckling softly as he washed the rest of her hair out, “I kept pushing you. I should be apologizing.” He told her softly. She picked up the sound of anger in his tone, not liking how he was somehow pinning this on himself again.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” She told him softly, leaning against his hand even though the water was beginning to drip onto the floor, “Thank you for taking care of me.” She told him truthfully, enjoying the way he began to wash the rest of her off. Her arms felt like noodles, like they were glued to her sides.

“Figured it was about time I returned the favor.” He told her softly as he continued to wash her off. She wiggled her toes, watching the way they poked out of the water as she fought the urge to lean back against the tub and close her eyes. She was suddenly tired.

“You already had,” She reminded him softly, but didn’t want to linger in her thoughts about Logan, “I’m so glad I have you.” She told him truthfully, knowing that no one else would take care of her in this manner. He chuckled softly, finishing up his job before he pulled the drain on the tub.

He dried her off, doing his best to stay gentle as he helped her dress again. He brushed her hair out softly, giving her soft reassurances as he did so. She gave his knee a soft squeeze, leaning into him softly as he peppered a kiss against her forehead.

She scrubbed her teeth clean after that, desperate to get the taste out of her mouth. Billy joined her a second later, his eyes glazing over towards her in the mirror as she did her best to relax. She wondered if this would change his opinion over what he had told her.

“Do you feel better?” He asked her softly as he brushed his thumb across her cheek. She leaned against his touch, inhaling his strong scent. She closed her eyes as she rested against his skin, enjoying how he felt against her.

“Yes,” She mumbled softly when she finally opened her eyes, admiring the sweet look in his blue eyes, “Thank you.” She told him gently, wrinkling her nose softly as he leaned forward to give the tip of her nose a soft kiss.

“Don’t thank me,” He told her sternly as he gave her bottom a swift pat, “Off to bed.” He ordered a second later as he shut the light off on the two of them. She stumbled out for a second, holding her hands against the wall until her eyes grew adjusted to the darkness.

She walked towards her room, still feeling a little out of it as she felt the paint from the walls dragging against her palms. She glanced at the pictures briskly, wondering how Sam had felt when he was in this same state.

“Fuck,” Billy cursed loudly, making her snap her head back towards him, “Damn cat.” He mumbled, bending over to pick Pearl up by her scruff. She meowed softly, looking quite proud of herself.

“She’s just a baby,” Kim told him softly, teasing him lightly as he dropped Pearl into his arms. He jerked her forward with his chin, giving her a knowing look, “Bossy.” She mumbled playfully, not blaming him if he really was upset. She walked forward, slowly crawling into bed.

Billy dropped Pearl onto her chest lightly before he adjusted her pillows behind her head. He tucked her in a second later, smiling softly as he leaned over to kiss the top of her head. She looked up at him, suddenly feeling like she was very small.

“You better get some good sleep,” He told her gently as he rubbed his index finger against her chin, “It’ll be a big day coming up.” He mumbled as he traced his thumb across her bottom lip. She felt a shiver race up her back as she nodded her head.

“I love you.” She mumbled softly, hoping he still felt the same way even though she almost vomited all over his dick. His lips curled into a lazy smile.

“I love you too,” He said softly, “I bet more than what you do.” He sent her a sly wink, but looked like he fully believed his words. She shook her head but was too tired to fully argue with him. She felt her eyes shutting harshly, the prospect of sleep calling out to her like a lullaby.

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