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awearywritersworld · 6 months

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my very soul demands you

sukuna x reader summary: you introduce sukuna to cuddling and romance novels. meanwhile, he's still struggling to make sense of his feelings for you, despite wanting to commit murder because another man had the nerve to touch your arm (which earns him a lecture from yuuji). w/c: 2.5k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst to fluff. jealous!sukuna. aged up!yuuji. features yuuji x reader. cursing. banter. hopefully not too ooc for sukuna. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it'd flow much better with the context of the previous two parts. lots of denial and begrudging softness from sukuna here. definitely more fluff than anything tho. this series has been fun to write, so thanks for reading<3 i appreciate reblogs or feedback! let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any additional parts. series masterlist // masterlist

when you crawl in between sukuna's legs and curl up against his chest, it's a foreign experience that makes his body stiffen.

he'd been with countless women during his lifetime, but while fucking is one thing, he never once found himself in a position that struck him as this... intimate.

"hold me," you whine as if you can sense his unfamiliarity with such matters.

he rolls his eyes, beginning to wonder if your habit of throwing orders at him is actually some sort of compulsive need. "didn't anyone ever teach you manners?"

despite his irritation, he acquiesces to your demand and once he envelops you in his arms, some of his rigidness dissipates.

you hum contentedly. "isn't that better?"

"it's tolerable," he asserts, his chest vibrating against your cheek.

"whatever you say." tangling your legs with his, you turn your attention back to the movie you've both been watching.

he doesn't understand this... tedious display of affection, nor does he particularly enjoy it... right?

and he only allows it because he can't rid his mind of the image of your tear stained face... right?

yeah, that has to be it. he figures he can endure this, given that he was the reason you were so upset earlier.

it goes without saying that he doesn't realize it when he begins to rub absentminded circles on your back.

and the way the warmth of your body forces his usually tense muscles to relax goes unacknowledged.

when the credits begin to roll, sukuna's wearing an expression of unimpressed disinterest. "that's seriously how it ends?"

you don't respond, so he looks down only to find that you're fast asleep.

"tch. you ask to watch a movie, force me to pick it, and then you don't even have the decency to stay awake." he's not sure why he's chiding you even though he knows you can't hear him, but he keeps his voice low enough that it won't disturb you.

sukuna's spent more time than he cares to admit watching your sleeping form, but this is the first time that it's actually him you're pressed against. it's the first time he can reach out and touch you.

your hair has fallen across your face, so he pushes it back behind your ear gently. the pads of his fingers brush against your cheekbone, a ghost of a caress, and his gaze lingers on your parted lips.

he lets out a deep breath, tearing his eyes away from you. "impertinent brat."

reaching for the remote, he flips off the tv and casts the room in darkness.

upon waking up in the morning, yuuji's confused once he notices that he's on the couch and you're sleeping against his chest.

he may have been half asleep when he arrived home, but he's still positive he went to bed. stretching his arms above his head, the movement jostles you from your slumber.

"mornin', baby."

"good morning, yu," you yawn in response, shifting to sit up.

"how'd i wind up on the couch?" he asks, though he's already got an inkling of the answer.

"oh," you blush. "sukuna kind of made an appearance last night."

"that so? how'd it go?"

you think there might be a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips. is he teasing you?

"good," you offer. "we watched a movie."

"watched a movie with the king of curses," he muses before his face breaks out into a lopsided grin. "you sure are somethin', baby."

returning his smile, you lean in and press your lips to his. "hm. says you."

it's not uncommon for you to meet yuuji for lunch if his mission is short and nearby, and today is one of those days, so he eagerly makes his way to the cafe you agreed on.

he's still a few hundred feet away when he spots you through the window, chatting with a man he recognizes as your childhood friend.

his gaze drops to where his hand is wrapped around your forearm as you both share a laugh together.

it doesn't really bother yuuji, he trusts you implicitly and jealousy isn't an emotion that's really on his radar. the same can't be said for everyone, though.

sukuna watches on as well, his thoughts much darker than his vessel's. who does that wretch think he is, putting his hands on you?

you're not his to touch.

"give me control," sukuna growls, his mouth appearing on yuuji's cheek.

"and why would i do that?"

"so i can rip his heart out and gift it to her since he seems so interested in offering his affections."

"duuuude," yuuji begins, somewhat amused. "i don't think she'd be super crazy about you murdering her friend."

"fine," sukuna bites back, well aware that yuuji has a point. "but he can live without his filthy hands, can't he? perhaps i'll pull each arm from his torso—"

yuuji snorts. "you have some serious issues, man."

he can feel sukuna trying to take over and easily curbs the attempt, though that only fuels the king of curses' irritation. "my only issue lies in the fact you're allowing this to happen."

yuuji reaches the door, a bell chiming through the cafe as he pulls it open. "she's a big girl. she doesn't need either of us to dictate what can and can't happen to her."

once you see your boyfriend, your face lights up and you call out his name. you place a kiss on his cheek and snake an arm around his waist in greeting, and the space it puts between you and your friend is enough to keep sukuna from protesting further.

"you two have met, right?" you ask.

"yeah! hey, itadori! it's been a while."

"it has! good to see you, yamada."

"i'd love to stay and chat more, but i have to get going," he states, leaning in to give you a hug which you return. "we should all go out together soon!"

"absolutely not, you deplorable knave—" yuuji slaps a hand to his cheek before sukuna can continue and yamada gives him an odd look.

your eyes widen for a split second and you have to stop yourself from facepalming.

"what'd you say?" yamada asks, sounding a bit hesitant.

"i said absolutely, sounds like an enjoyable night!"

the men exchange a handshake before you and yuuji make your way to a table.

"sukuna, what the hell was that?" you hiss once yamada's out of earshot.

"i don't know what you mean," he responds smugly.

you meet yuuji's eye and he just shrugs his shoulders, but you swear the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

you can't imagine anything good coming from the two of them colluding with one another, but let it go anyway.

opening up your menu, you sigh in defeat. "if you say so."

"what do you mean you'd rather disembowel yourself?" you question the man sitting across from you.

it's becoming more commonplace to see those dark marks adorning yuuji's body during the nighttime hours. you sometimes wonder if he's letting it happen or if sukuna's just getting better at taking over, but you're too nervous to ask.

"do you need a dictionary? there's one over on the shelf—"

"no, asshole. i know what disembowel means! i just don't understand your refusal."

he raises his eyebrows at the obscenity, but doesn't comment on it. "i'm not reading some inane romance novel."

"but brontë's one of my favorite authors!"

"it makes no difference if it was penned by the gods. the thought alone is absurd. can we move on now?"

you don't respond. instead, you cross your arms and stare at the wall defiantly. your face is contorted into an expression that lets sukuna know you're clearly affronted.

"very mature, you silly little girl."

"sorry you find me and my interests so childish," you huff.

"oh, please. that's not what i said."

you continue giving him the cold shoulder, having no desire to argue further, but more than willing to die on this hill.

"fine, don't talk. it's no matter to me," he claims (despite it being the furthest thing from the truth).

as the minutes tick by, he keeps looking at you from the corner of his eye and exhaling dramatically.

eventually, he calls your name in an exasperated tone, and while it makes your heart flutter, you still don't spare him a glance. you just hold the book out for him and to your surprise, he rips it from your grasp.

"you're ridiculous," he grumbles, opening the cover to reveal the first page. "i hate you."

when he glances over to see you're beaming at him despite the insult, he adds (albeit half heartedly), "i mean it, brat."

the two of you sit in silence, each of you reading your respective books. a few chapters in, sukuna comes across the following conversation:

"do you know where the wicked go after death?" "they go to hell," was my ready and orthodox answer. "and what is hell? can you tell me that?" "a pit full of fire." "and should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?" "no, sir." "what must you do to avoid it?" i deliberated a moment; my answer, when it did come, was objectionable: "i must keep in good health, and not die."

to your astonishment, you actually hear him chuckle, but when he looks over and finds your self satisfied smirk, any hint of humor disappears from his face in the blink of an eye. your hand quickly moves to your mouth to stifle a giggle.

"something you want to say?" he baits you.

"nope, nothing at all!"

two nights later, he's already nearing the end of the story and you refrain from commenting about how quickly he's made his way through.

you doubt he'd allow your current position if you had— you're laying on your side, your head resting comfortably in his lap, one hand occupying the space above his knee.

when you asked if it was okay, all he offered you was a clipped, "i suppose."

your hair is splayed across his thigh and your eyes fluttered shut a while ago. when he agreed to this, he didn't realize how distracting it'd be. his gaze flickers between you and the words on the page with embarrassing frequency.

he's decided what you call cuddling is absolutely suffocating. how anyone could actually enjoy it, he's sure he'll never comprehend. he can hardly concentrate on the novel that's right in front of him—

"read to me, 'kuna," you mumble, interrupting his thoughts. it surprises him that you're still awake.

he scoffs. "what do i look like? your personal audiobook?"

"you didn't even know those existed until like a week ago," you laugh. "c'mon, pleaaaaaase."

he stays quiet for a few moments, so you're under the impression he may just ignore your request. as such, you're exceptionally pleased when his voice fills the otherwise still apartment.

you think the sound of his voice is comforting, an idea that would more than likely make him cringe, so you keep it to yourself. after all, you don't want him to stop.

at some point or another, he begins twirling a strand of your hair around his finger whenever he's not turning the page, an action that seems to take place without his noticing.

occasionally he'll pause to ask if you're even listening. it's an odd feeling that blossoms in his stomach when you assure, "mhmm. every word."

as he reaches the second to last chapter, he reads a line that makes you question whether your heart's stopped beating. you're not sure if it's because of the tone of his voice, the words he's imparting, or some mix thereof.

"no—no—jane; you must not go. no—i have touched you, heard you, felt the comfort of your presence—the sweetness of your consolation: i cannot give up these joys. i have little left in myself—I must have you. the world may laugh—may call me absurd, selfish—but it does not signify."

he stops reading, as if he too feels the sense of unease that's invaded the air. against your better judgement, you turn to look at him. his eyes are glued to the page, almost like they're avoiding you, and his jaw is tense.

"my very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.”

when his gaze finally lands on you, his expression is almost pained. it's a strange contrast to the warm fondness you spot in his eyes.

you quickly push that thought away, however. whatever you believe you may have seen, you're probably just deluding yourself. you know you aren't his least favorite person, but surely he'd never feel even half of that sentiment toward you—

your breath catches in your throat when his hand reaches up, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. he still marvels at the fact you don't shy away from his touch, that you're usually the one to seek out contact with him.

perhaps the story is not as asinine as he expected it to be. rochester presumes jane will find him revolting, yet she still agrees to be with him, even after his selfishness has been made plain to her. after the sins of his past have caught up to him.

no, no, no.

to be so desperate for some woman's approval, or her devotion for that matter, is despicable. rochester's nothing less than foolish and sukuna isn't anything like him.

but you're certainly like jane, aren't you? fearless, passionate, and determined: all things he can't help but find endearing...

gods, what is this turmoil? it's making him feel pathetic and there isn't an emotion in the world he hates more—

you distract him from his internal monologue when your fingers wrap around his wrist and bring his knuckles to your lips. "you okay?"

"of course," he mutters, pulling his hand away. "just trying to get past all the mawkishness."

"really? you think it's that bad?" you question, the frown on your lips igniting that ache in his chest that appears whenever you're upset.

"it's not terrible," he sighs, realizing there may indeed be one thing he despises even more than feeling pathetic. "although i don't understand how jane is so taken with rochester."

you seem to ponder this for a moment before shrugging. "love is weird."

"what a clever analysis."

you slap his chest playfully. "oh, whatever. just keep going, you're almost finished!"

and you're right. he does reach the end of jane eyre that night, but not before you fall asleep on his lap. he closes the book, running a finger down the creased spine and setting it down carefully. it's obvious you've read it several times.

admittedly, he can see why, but he'd be caught dead before he'd ever tell you as much.

left alone with his thoughts, he considers the impossibility of jane and rochester: a charming, headstrong woman and a cruel, arrogant man.

leaning forward, he whispers your name to make certain you're asleep, then places a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"..sweet dreams."

#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines #ryomen sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

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phantasmicfish · 3 months

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Just some more Dune Part 2 things that I thought were interesting with a specific focus on Feyd-Rautha:

- just… the way that he’s so very accurately portrayed as a psychopath adds a level of grit I didn’t get reading when the book

- the scenes with him and Lady Fenring got me good. The book mentions that he finds her attractive, definitely echoed in the movie. There weren’t explicitly written scenes in the book of how Lady Fenring slept with him (but this was confirmed through dialogue), so I liked the movie’s interpretation of her luring him using her Bene Gesserit abilities

- I would have liked to see Feyd-Rautha tested by the Gom Jabbar the same way Paul was. In the book (and I think part 1 of the movie?) it’s specified that Paul has endured the most amount of pain anyone can handle from the test, but given that movie Feyd-Rautha seems canonically a sadist + masochist, I wonder how long he would have lasted?

- overall the vibe and aesthetic of the Harkonnen’s was terrifying and great. The black and white visuals, dimly lit rooms, flashing lights… There are a lot of different villains in Dune, especially in Part 2 — The Emperor, Jessica, but the most clear-cut ones by far are the Harkonnens. I think the visuals definitely amplify that. I find it rather interesting that the Harkonnens are portrayed to be evil as an entire house. The fact that they all had bald heads gave them a mass identity, served to make them seem perhaps more alien and less human, all capable of committing heinous crimes. Even Feyd-Raytha’s servants or whoever eat human organs

- I think it was an interesting choice to have Feyd-Rautha actually stab Paul during their final fight, we see the blade actually hurt Paul, penetrate his skin, we see Paul gasping for breath, we see Paul struggling for survival. I believe the book made the fight seem more cut-and-dry, that Feyd was a formidable opponent but he didn’t actually stab Paul (though he does draw blood). So I sorta felt the fight was a good contrast between showing Paul as still human while he maintains this cult status. I could see how his ability to survive this fight, despite his injuries, also elevate his messiah status among the Fremen

#I was on the edge of my seat the entire time Feyd-Rautha was on screen #he was terrifying #but also really cool #also that final fight scene was insane and choreographed so well #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #paul atreides #dune #dune part 2 #dune part two #house harkonnen #lady fenring #margot fenring #dune spoilers

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a-hazbin-reader · 4 months

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I hope this is an okay thing to ask for but could you do headcanons of Alastor with female reader on her- time of the month?? (Kinda wondering what to be like for him with all the blood ya know???) 🙇🏻‍♀️ please, thank you!

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being nasty, canon cannibalism mentioned, menstruation(wish I got a TW for that in real life fr)

Description: ☝️⬆️

Can literally smell it coming before you even have a chance to check your calendar

Creep

He's like a fucking shark, smelling you from miles away

Maybe it's his affection for you but you're the one person he reacts this way to, he's fine around anyone else on their period

If you forget then he's not going to remind you because he likes waking up to the smell of your blood

Don't worry though he'll take care of the sheets and your clothes, he's got you bby girl

Tbh Alastor is practically starving whenever your period starts, the coppery smell making his mouth water constantly

He's sipping tea and you walk by?? Oops, the cup is crushed in his hands and he's sitting there with tea and broken glass all over him

He wants to devour you all the time

Definitely just finds opportunities to bite you and draw blood so he can stave off his desires

Don't worry it feels good

Eats at Cannibal Town more often

Other than that, he tends to pamper you when you're on your period

You're craving something??? Don't worry, Husk or Niffty will go get it for you! He'll snuggle you while you wait

Wait actually that looks kinda good give him a bite

Fuck off

He steals a bite anyways, forcing you to feed him a little nibble

Thank you love

You're experiencing cramps?? Do you want him to massage the area for you? You want a hot water bottle? He's got you

You just want to cuddle and be held? He can spare some time for that, just let him close the door first

Bby please he has a reputation to uphold

Loves when you have mood swings and snap at the others, encourages your anger

He's a shit stirrer

He literally just likes poking the bear and pointing you in his current victim's direction

"My dear, I thought you knew that Angel ate your sweets..."

As long as it's not directed at him

If you turn your anger on him then his ears fold back and he finds an excuse to run off

"I'm sorry my dear but Charlie is calling for me! We'll have to continue this conversation for another time!"

Coward

"Alastor, Y/N is looking for you-"

"I'M NOT HERE"

If your mood changes to sadness and you start crying then he panics and freezes up

"I-uh-I'm...sorry..?"

Makes awkward grabby motions at you then stops

He hates seeing you upset but he's an asshole and doesn't know what to do, doesn't want to make it worse

Idk if he's ever made a genuine attempt to make someone he cares about feel better

Alastor doesn't want to be the reason you're crying

Will just ask you what he can do to make it better, gripping your chin so that you have to look at him

He's serious

Whatever you ask of him he'll do it and he'll do it himself, no sending someone in his place and no fuss

Is visibly relieved once you're calm again, rubbing your back and letting out a sigh

Alastor is as attentive as he can bring himself to be when you're on your period, but you still have to put up with a lot of his shit

I hope this is what you were asking for 🥺

#alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader

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corollaservant · 12 days

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Night in the Net // Shigaraki x f! reader (18+)

⟡ Synopsis: You find yourself stranded in one hell of a sexist environment: the small town's internet café. Shigaraki's on the night shift. (3.6k)

⟡ Warnings: sex with Shiggy basically, mild degradation and misogyny from our fav incel, dom!Shiggy with a twist (no quirk obviously), use of “dollface” (i like it)

⟡ A/N: No dark themes here, peace n luv. Also.. yeah he is always linked to some gaming/electronic business ik!! but I like the trope/hc/almost canon.

You'd never imagine this was how your night would end.

Why are you there again? Right, your friends wanted to go to that after party, as if the club wasn't enough. What was supposed to be a night out ended up with you in the local internet café (the only after hours spot) while your friends decided to go to a house party with loud techno music, which definitely wasn’t your vibe. You and your friends lived close and would often call a taxi on your way home, money wasn’t enough for you to ride solo today though—you prayed in times like these that you at least had a job; you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone then.

You knew pretty much everyone there, it’s not like the town had more than ten thousand residents and considering the age group and schools you’d all gone to, the internet café only had a few unknown members. On today’s shift was none other than Tomura of course, that guy was taking up as many shifts as his body would allow him to, apparently there was this rumor a family member was in crucial condition and they were in need. Tomura Shigaraki was one of these people you had branded as incel. Though hardworking (he kept a house of his own, cleaning and doing all chores by himself while providing for whomever he had), you still considered the guy as one. Now—you know the term is heavy, matter of fact, quite offending and serious as an allegation but it’s not like there weren’t rumors. Rumors he’d bash women and call them prostitutes, try to sleep with girls and trash them to his friends a day later, hating them for anything they did and claiming true love didn’t exist nowadays because “all women are sluts, who need money and validation.” Plus, he worked at the local internet café (should be enough reason), engaging in heated conversations with his friends and fellow streamers. God, one look in their chats and you'd get as violent as possible— (not much, you'd discovered it the hard way). Thus, it was no surprise that when you enter the place, you hear whispers and scoffs.

‘’The hell are you doing here?’’ A voice was heard from within, the café had the computer screens up front, a bar and a couch with TV in the back. Tomura was occupied in the designated bar the place had (you often wondered what kind of needs these people had—all they ever consumed was energy drinks and pre-packaged meals, takeouts were for reasons of competitive market prohibited).

‘’Just dropping by for a couple of hours, will leave soon.’’ You sigh as you take a seat on the couch, not bothering to talk to anyone, it wasn’t like they cared anyway. Loud noise and laughter can be heard all around, a couple of guys swearing and some younger boys excitedly standing above their screens. The store had a 16+ policy, but of course, no one ever checked so kids could practically stare unattended. Tomura also encouraged younger boys to play, such a piece of shit, you think, getting them to learn young.

‘’Oh my fucking God, a slut just joined!’’ You hear some guy swear, presumably because a girl joined their online server. These guys were so disgusting, you cringe, it was no wonder they were celibate without wanting it. You stand up, you need to kill some time and you're feeling bored, you think about starting a fight with Tomura, how else could you have a little bit of fun?

You weren’t ever necessarily afraid of the guy, even though you had to admit, he looked intimidating. Quite tall with a pale complexion, ashy, dull hair and scars across his face; no one actually knew much about him and whether he was troubled, it’s not like he ever showed to work beaten up or high and usually kept a low profile. The only frightening thing this man had was his smile, it terrified you sometimes as it looked downright evil.

‘’Getting them to learn young, huh?’’ You ask him, he’s washing up some cups from the previous round of gross gaming guys, who have now left.

‘’What?’’ He responds, not bothering to look up.

‘’How to not get women, I mean.’’ You sigh as he huffs in annoyance.

‘’You should be grateful I let a female in my store in the first place.’’ He retorts, but doesn’t seem very angry, just ironic. Usual.

My store (you decide to skip over 'female') sounds funny but you choose not to comment on it.

‘’So how long until you guys close?’’ You don't bother with the vocabulary—it’s routine at this point. It also never ends well and you had a great night so far, why ruin it now?

‘’Two hours.’’

‘’Mind if I sit on the couch? I’ll be quiet I promise’’ You ask—technically beg, as you see no other options.

‘’Ugh.. yeah I mind. There’s some guys wanting to use it, I have a group for GTA on the PS5.’’

‘’Seriously? People still play that?’’ You whine but force yourself to continue.

‘’Can I sit with you then?’’ It takes strength—but you say it regardless. You came to terms with the fact he was your last resort minutes ago.

‘’Sure. But you need to make yourself useful. Here, take this.’’ He hands you a wet sponge, ‘’Wash these up... carefully, while I go clean the floors.’’ He orders, as if you’re part of the staff (and new on the job apparently.)

‘’Do you actually want me to wash freaking dishes? I just came here to chill, I don’t even bother anyone!’’ You start feeling annoyed with the chores, you aren’t 16 and he isn’t your mom.

‘’You can always leave.’’ The running tap stops and he turns to you, practically shoving the wet gloves on your chest.

‘’Or...you can stop being a brat and be of use during your stay, I have two hours left.’’ He smiles, that same smile that makes your skin crawl and blood boil as he moves away.

‘’Fuck! My dress, you asshole!’’ A wet patch now covers the too short dress as you glance at the time on your phone.

Two hours. Two hours until your friends leave and he closes up anyway.

Tomura was at least true to his words. Within two insufferable hours of having to listen to appalling conversations between men (hardly to be considered as such), plate washing and the toilet being constantly occupied, the last customers get up to leave.

You dry your hands and plop down the couch exhausted.

‘’Finally.’’ You exhale checking your phone, your friends hadn’t given you any life signs in the meantime, so you decide to patiently wait, they’d message eventually. Tomura is done sweeping the nasty floors from crumbs and dried Monster remnants, which he still has to mop (for the fourth time, you note and you've only been there some hours). You notice how restless he seems—the guy has been running the whole night after ignorant customers, who had not once shown basic respect for the order of the place yet never complained. Truly a shame he has such a misogynistic mindset, you think. He could get women, if he wanted to.

It’s around 6:30 AM, when he presses a button to close the store's roll-up shutters halfway. Small light outside makes its way in but the place is still relatively dark, as he places the mop near the wall and takes a seat next to you.

‘’Fuuck, I’m so tired.’’ He sighs, making sure to spread his legs on the couch as much as he can, not caring (of course) about you also sitting on it.

You always branded Tomura as an incel, that you knew about. But despite that, you now can’t help but feel for him, not knowing much about him at the same time. Sure, he technically isn’t the nicest guy but a look around would show you that he tries enough for a job kicking his ass. You find yourself sympathizing with a man, whose ideals you hate and try to brush these thoughts off.

‘’And why the fuck am I an incel anyway?’’ He asks, his head rests on the couch and his eyes are closed, he is scrunching severely—almost threatening to fall down. And he manspreads. A lot.

‘’W-well– I..’’ You never thought he’d caught on to that, stammering to stand your ground as you continue. ‘’Well, there have been rumors about you.’’ You say, but it doesn’t come off as confident as you’d hoped for. You also realize, it sounds kind of stupid.

‘’Reaaally? And you made sure to believe them, right?’’ His tone’s laced with irony but the way he talks like he whispers in a raspy voice doesn't annoy you anymore. It makes you more... uncomfortable? On the edge? Excited?...what?

‘’It’s not like you don’t claim it yourself.’’ You retort, finally finding some courage. You notice him looking at you as you awkwardly shuffle in your seat.

‘’All I’ve ever said was that I think women are good for nothing. And I still believe that, but I wouldn’t waste more of my time on that.’’ The statement makes you roll your eyes.

‘’How can you generalize a whole group of people, who are literally in no way inferior to you, you can’t tell me you’ve tried—’’

‘’Listen dollface, unless you want to change my mind there’s no reason to fuss that much, my opinion won’t change.’’

Unless you want to change my mind?

‘’I-I don’t.’’ You stammer, because the answer and pet name (dollface??) takes you by surprise and he laughs.

‘’Relax, you branded me an incel.’’ He jokes, ‘’don’t want the rape allegations on me too.’’

The more he talks, the more your mind races and you curse yourself. He seems..funny? He has a mole under his lips—fuck, it looks cute...He also looks good so (stupid as it is, yes!) you silently want his attention. Why can’t he just look you in the eyes more?

This is so wrong. He must've noticed your lost gaze as he speaks up.

‘’Wanna watch a movie?’’ He proposes and you nod, anything is better than the silence hanging in the air. Silence you caused. For thinking... things about him.

Of course Tomura ends up choosing the most depressing film anyone can possibly watch in an internet café at 6 AM, Fallen Angels, and the dramatic cuts make it hard for you to concentrate. He at a certain point leans closer to you but you justify it, how else would he be able to see?

During this one scene, the woman pleasured herself with her legs closed, rubbing together and that’s when you feel a soft hand touch on your thigh. The dress you wore rode up, because your legs rested on the table ahead so it gave him the space he needed. The movement made you tingle and your core involuntarily contracted. The smooth fingers teasingly trailed up and down your leg, from your knees to your inner thighs. You didn’t want to look at him—he was too close and the scene seemed endless. But…he went on about it as if nothing was happening.

Without saying a word, he carried on. A pad of his finger tip dangerously close to your now heated entrance, the images flashing before your eyes lewd, his hand tempting and threatening to reach your already soaked cunt—all this while the two of you hadn’t even shared a kiss. But he doesn't stop, looking ahead and acting like everything’s fine, until he touches your lower lips and you hiss, his finger traces the wet spot over your underwear while you try to move and speak up.

‘’W–what are y—’’

‘’Shh..’’ is all he says.

You want to tell him no. But no to what? You like the feeling of his two fingers against your folds. His palm moves your panties to the side and he stuffs them inside—they dampen from the fluids. How is he that quick? You can’t form a response but you’re about to ask him why—

‘’All that and I haven’t even kissed you.’’ He murmurs, gaze still fixated on the television ahead as you moan, when he slowly pumps them within your walls. Fuck, are you turned on by this?

‘’P-please..’’ You whisper, turning to look at him and for the first time, his eyes are removed from the stupid TV, a sly smile on his features as he tears away his hand.

‘’What is it? Want the incel to kiss you? Maybe even fuck you to prove a point?’’ He says and you frown.

‘’I—no, I have to go.’’ You get up, fixing (lowering) your dress—you have nowhere to go but you’ll figure it out eventually. You think staying longer only plays into his cruel intentions and whilst you can’t deny the pleasure he could give you, your pride’s in the way.

‘’You’re not going anywhere.’’ A wet hand clasps around your wrist and brings you on his lap, as he grins; you seem confused at the sensation. You are hiding the TV screen but he couldn't care less, he never paid attention to the movie.

‘’Feel the stain you left, too?’’ He says as he brings your face closer with the sticky palm grabbing you by the hair. You softly moan, noticing the small mole up close and feeling a bulge poke where your bodies meet. You sway your hips in a silent effort to have him initiate a kiss, you feel desperate and curse yourself again internally. He can only smile.

(You were so clueless, walking around in that slutty dress earlier—making him hard like that, did you even know it?)

He’s quick to kiss you, eager for more already, as mouths clash, teeth collide, the need you both have exceeds proper manners. You sloppily grind against him, the friction from a long outline beneath you makes it hard to think.

‘’I’m guessing, you’re really fucking the incel then.’’ He half smirks as he grabs you and repositions you to sit on his now fully hard cock that throbs in his pants; he lifts your dress above your ass and guides your hips sluggishly back and forth— he’s tormenting you and he enjoys it to the fullest.

‘’T-tomura..p-please.’’ You whine, the urge to have him inside you makes you blabber.

‘’Please what?’’ He slides a hand behind your waist, lowering it to find your slit from behind, his fingers pet your cunt and you moan. Loudly. He is tugging at your panties, the fabric annoys him and he wants full access and the words. The words to prove his point.

‘’P–please.. fuck me already!’’ You breathe out and he groans to the sound of your voice.

The ironic remark he’d prepared evaporates as he quickly pushes you back, just enough to not fall off his lap and quickly unzips his pants, thanking god for not wearing a belt.

His pants and underwear are sloppily moved down his knees, as his cock jumps with a pop on his lower abdomen, stiff with a weeping tip. Pretty veins throb around it as your eyes widen.

Shit, he’s big, can you take him?

‘’I’d ask for a nice blowjob, dollface, but wouldn’t want the feminists after me.’’ He says as he brings you close, kissing you yet again, a string of spit runs down your jaw, as your hands roam his tangled, uncombed hair.

He positions you on his cock, one hand snakes around your waist while the other one clings to the back of your scalp and you’re swiftly lifted by the head and pushed down on him, as you let out a scream.

‘’Shut the fuck up.’’ He hisses, quickly looking around, the sensation from almost his whole length makes you tremble, he feels too full, too painful..too good.

‘’Shit, c’mon now you got this.’’ He encourages as you hesitantly move up and down his cock, gripping his shoulders and looking at him—he seems more concentrated on the sensation than your body, staring at you while you wrap around his length.

‘’Fuck..dollface, this too much for ya?’’ He tries not to grunt and you give your best not to cry, each moment that goes by turning the initial pain to pleasure—your cunt adjusts slowly and bit by bit to his girth.

‘’T-tomura.. y-yes..it’s too much!’’ You whine, sweat forms in your forehead as his hands find your swollen clit and circle it while your nails dig deeper in his shirt.

‘’You can take it.’’ He says, he feels you squeezing him in, you bounce with dedication on his legs, making the couch squeak as if on some sex tape—you want to bring yourself even closer. So nasty, aren't you? Acting righteous, only to fuck yourself on his cock like a desperate whore.

‘’I-ugh-p-please..’’ You try to speak but he secures his hand around your torso and sinks (lower than before) down the couch. Two strong hands force you to stay still in the air while he drills himself into you at a steady pace—kind of sloppily too. Both of you moan, the position gives equal pleasure, your clit bumps on his groin and his cock reaches your g-spot with ease.

‘’S–Shit, you’re squeezing way too much, haven’t you been fucked like this before?’’ He sounds annoyed but the stammer in his voice betrays him.

Not like this, you want to say but can’t really speak the words. Your weight falls entirely on him, he doesn’t mind one bit—he loves it actually, this skin on skin contact as he guides you on his cock, it feels surreal. He hits soft and spongy spots inside while you slowly fall apart.

‘’T-Tomura right there..I ugh—I'm close!’’ The sensation overwhelms you, his eyes are still fixated on your face, yeah I can tell, he thinks. He gets off on your desperation, mouth parted all for him? Your eyes threaten to spill by the way he tears apart your cunt and morals bit by bit.. it’s—

‘’Tomura, aren't you closing yet?’’ Someone asks from outside, interrupting the moment. The shutters only show a pair of shoes.

‘’Yeah, I’m on it.’’ Shigaraki stops composed, cockwarming you in a funny way, while a hand, his hand covers your mouth. Your eyes widen as slick trickles down his thighs in silence.

‘’Alright, see you then.’’ The man leaves and he cusses him out. (''Cunt.'')

‘’We’re not done.’’ He turns his attention back to you and seizes your face, bringing your mouth closer.

‘’Open up.’’ He orders and you do, clenching around him in anticipation.

He spits in it and closes the gap with his index finger.

‘’Swallow or I won’t continue.’’ You quickly gulp down.

‘’So obedient all of a sudden, aren't you?’’ Sarcasm evident as he gives your ass a solid hit, before starting to get back on his pace, only more rough this time, he longs for your release on him. You’re moving up and down his length, trying to grab anything accessible really, his hair, the back of the couch, under his shirt and you feel your orgasm resurface stronger; the delay highlighted all of your senses.

‘’T-Tomura—’’ You shudder, as his cock hits your g-spot expertly–fuck, this guy wasn't some incel–and your swollen clit has to brush one last time past his groin before you feel an overwhelming orgasm take over. You clamp down his length and moan embarrassingly. (Fuck Tomura! I–I'm.. too good!) This time.. he lets you, he needs to hear this.

‘’Fuuck—agh– look at you dollface.’’ He hums, a feminist creaming herself on my cock, he wants to add but it’s too many words and you just came so he wastes no time. He brings your neck close to his mouth and bites on it, teeth sink into your flesh and hands force you all the way down. He cums inside, groaning and trying to stifle his moans by biting down the sensitive skin even harder.

And fuck if that isn’t hot.

He keeps you on him, arms fastening your waist, cum dripping on his lowered pants but neither of you bother to care, ragged breaths and the sounds of the film still playing as more light enters through the rolled shutters.

God must’ve been on your side that day because a message appears on your screen moments after you both wordlessly got up and cleaned yourselves in the bathroom. Tomura would have to clean again, you think, as the message on your phone signals your time to leave.

You turn to look at him, he has removed his shirt and small nail scratches decorate his pale back and you..smile. What the hell? Was this..? Oh no—You try to find an appropriate goodbye.

See you soon? Thanks for the mind blowing dick? You aren’t the incel I thought you were? Everything seems embarrassing at present time.

‘’I-I’ll be seeing you soon.’’ You opt for that, stupid as it is, you still look at him in anticipation. He turns to you, hands on the mop cleaning near the couch and nods.

Great, you think, that was a disaster. You defeatedly walk (actually stoop to get past the almost closed door) feeling like a hooker after a client, miserable and kind of used. This is always the worst part.

You feel an arm touch your shoulder, you’ve only taken a few steps in the daylight.

‘’Take this in case you revoke your incel statement.’’

Tomura hands you a piece of paper and quickly disappears behind the store’s shadows.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x you #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura x reader #mha x reader #tenko x reader #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura x reader #tw degradation

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juniperskye · 2 months

Text

Who Are You Again?

Based on the following ask: I had another plot thought! Aaron x BAU Reader (female or gender neutral) where Reader disobeys an order to save a victim and gets hurt really bad. Reader wakes up in the hospital to Aaron who is angry at first but then is shocked when it turns out that Reader has retrograde amnesia from the injury. Reader has forgotten their entire career in the BAU and even that They and Aaron were secretly dating! Last thing Reader actually remembers was attending a lecture in college where Aaron was a guest speaker and Reader developed a crush on him! Now Aaron has to carefully navigate helping Reader recover without outing their relationship to anyone else. Or maybe he wonders if it's better they forget? But for a HEA ending definitely Aaron doing something romantic sparks a memory and helps everything come flooding back. @nyxwolph thank you for requesting again and trusting me with your ideas! – I did have to change things up a bit (I struggled big time with this one)

Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Fem Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 5336

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap, some language, BAU canon typical violence, mention of parent death, mention of kidnapping, mention of Haley and Jack, secret relationship, let me know if I missed any!!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“In chaos theory, the butterfly effect is the sensitive dependence on initial conditions in which a small change in one state of a deterministic nonlinear system can result in large differences in a later state.” Essentially, something as small as a butterfly flapping its wings could cause something as catastrophic as a tornado.

Aaron wondered what small event happened that led to this moment right now. A moment that would change the trajectory of your lives forever.

*36 hours earlier*

“Garcia has the unsubs location; he’s headed down a backroad just east of the 95.” Aaron said.

“He’s devolving, he’s probably going to try and dispose of his latest victim.” Morgan chimed in.

“Not if we have anything to do with it.” JJ replied.

“His location is being shared with you all, everyone be safe, at this point he’s going to be willing to do anything to avoid prison.” Hotch added.

“I’m close by, I am going to go try and cut him off.” You suggested.

The team expressed their worry and care and urged you to be careful. The only thing you had on your mind, however, was saving the five-year-old boy this unsub had hidden. You drove as fast as your vehicle would allow, you had to get to the unsub. You had to save that boy.

As you got closer to the location Garcia had shared, you could see the dust trail the unsubs car was leaving down the road. You thought about your options, and you made a snap decision. Drive on, no matter the consequences – take out the unsub’s car. So that’s what you did.

You drove forward and your car t-boned the unsubs, only you hadn’t considered that he’d be driving a semi tractor. Upon impact, your SUV was crushed, in your rush to get to the unsub you’d forgotten to put on your seatbelt and your body was ejected through the windshield.

The accident was enough to stop the unsub long enough for the team to arrive. As they surveyed the scene, Aaron’s stomach dropped. He immediately began barking orders, demanding medics, and sending agents to the unsubs’ farm to find the boy. Throughout everything he refused to leave your side.

*Present Day*

“Sir, we had to place her in a medically induced coma to allow the swelling in her brain to go down.” The doctor explained.

“Is there an estimate as to how long it’ll be until she wakes up?” Aaron asked.

“With these kinds of injuries, it’s hard to say. The brain is a tricky thing, and no two injuries are alike. We just have to wait and see.”

“Thank you.” Aaron said, shaking the doctor’s hand.

Your doctor made her exit and Aaron moved to the seat beside your bed. He gently took your hand in his own placing a kiss to the back of it before returning it to your side. Aaron had thought back to the night everything changed.

*One year earlier*

“Hey Hotch, here’s that report you asked for. You aren’t staying are you?” You asked, glancing at your watch.

“Thanks, and yeah I had a few things I needed to finish up.”

You made your way over to Aaron’s couch, dropped your bag to the floor, and shrugged your jacket off. You pulled your phone out to see what was still open for delivery in the area. Aaron and you had shared many nights like this, spending late nights together in his office. The two of you had grown very close over the years, so much so that David had outright asked Aaron if you two were dating. To which Aaron let out an awkward chuckle and denied the accusation. If only he knew.

“What are you doing? You should head home.” Aaron said.

“Well, you should too, and you aren’t, so I guess that means we’re ordering dinner.” You smiled at him.

“I love you.” Aaron said simply.

“What?” You were stunned.

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I didn’t – I um….”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Aaron made his way over to you, gently caressed your face and kissed you. It was everything you had ever imagined. There had been this tension between the two of you over the last two years and it was all finally coming together.

After that night, Aaron and you had agreed to keep your relationship under wraps, to avoid any potential disruption to the team, but also any question as to your position on the team. Aaron didn’t want anyone to question the fact that it was your skills and resume alone that got you to where you are.

Yours and Aaron’s relationship blossomed after that night, but not without hardships. Aaron and you faced a lot of adversity in multiple aspects of your relationship; you had a hard time trusting people, Aaron had been self-conscious of your age gap, and you both couldn’t help but feel that you weren’t good enough for the other (not that either of you would bring it up).

*Present Day*

A tear fell from Aaron’s eye, he couldn’t fathom losing you. This was all part of the reason he didn’t want to get serious with someone after Haley, but then you came into his life. You’d come in and made yourself known with your kind eyes and witty charm; how could he not fall in love with you.

Aaron fell for you slowly then all at once, it came naturally, and he couldn’t help it. He knew that the team had their suspicions and honestly over the last year there had been some close calls, but you had ultimately maintained the secrecy of your relationship.

In this moment, Aaron couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt and regret over the fact that he’d asked you to keep things quiet. Had he let the team in on your relationship, he could’ve done a better job at keeping you safe.

*2 Weeks Later*

Aaron had been by your side as much as possible over the last two weeks, which is exactly where he was when you started to stir. Aaron shot straight up in his seat, his hand quickly reaching for your own.

You couldn’t help the groan that escaped your throat, your body hurt so bad, and you felt very confused. You attempted to open your eyes but immediately regretted it – the bright fluorescents adding to the pounding in your head. As you blinked through the brightness of the room, you glanced over to your bedside, noticing a tall man seated there.

“What on earth were you thinking? Driving into the unsub like that, you could’ve been killed. Your actions were reckless and unacceptable.” The man scolded you.

You couldn’t find it in you to reply, your head was pounding. You brought your hand up to your forehead and gently press the heel of your palm into it, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure.

“Sweetheart hold on, I’ll go get your doctor.” A deep voice sounded from your bedside.

Before you could question the pet name, you heard the sound of his dress shoes clicking against the linoleum floors.

The man returned with your doctor; he dimmed the lights slightly on his way back to your bedside. He moved to grab your hand again, to which you shifted, wringing your hands nervously in your lap.

“Hello, I’m doctor Raynor. How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a truck, what happened?” You questioned, giving your doctor and the man a once over.

You recognized the man; it was Special Agent Hotchner of the BAU. What was he doing here? What happened?

“Well, you were involved in an accident, can you tell me what you remember?” Dr. Raynor inquired.

“I um, well, I was leaving a lecture.” Your gaze shifted to Agent Hotchner “Your lecture actually, you were talking about MO’s. I guess the accident was after that?” You couldn’t help but notice Agent Hotchner’s expression faulter.

Your doctor looked over at Agent Hotchner and he shook his head. The two of them seemingly knew something you didn’t. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d just given the wrong answer in front of the class. Dr. Raynor had gone through the rest of your injuries with you, multiple lacerations that had required stitches, a few broken ribs, a broken wrist, and of course your TBI. Once she was done she gave you a somber look.

“Would you excuse us for just a moment? I am going to send in one of your nurses to check you over and I’ll be back in just a moment.” Dr. Raynor said.

“Oh, okay.”

Dr. Raynor and Agent Hotchner left your room, and you tried your best to listen to their conversation.

*Hotch’s POV*

She doesn’t remember me, well us. It’s like the last five years have just disappeared.

“Agent Hotchner, I gather that the lecture she’s referring to did not occur two weeks ago when she was brought in.”

“No, that lecture was nearly five years ago.” I explained.

“This would be a case of retrograde amnesia, if she’s lost recent memories.” Dr. Raynor replied.

“Will her memory return?”

“It’s hard to say.”

While Aaron was completely devastated, he couldn’t help the doubt that creeped into his mind, telling him “This is for the best”.

*Normal POV*

Dr. Raynor and Agent Hotchner looked extremely serious, and you started to feel nauseous. Something was obviously wrong. You watched as their conversation ceased and they made their way back into the room.

Something must have happened, why would Agent Hotchner be here.

“Alright, it would appear that due to the brain trauma you sustained in your accident, you are experiencing what we describe as retrograde amnesia. This is when you can’t recall memories from your past. Based on your most recent memory, it appears as if you’ve lost approximately five years.” Dr. Raynor explained.

“Five years? Five years of memories are just gone. I don’t understand. If that’s true then why are you here?” You asked gesturing to Agent Hotchner.

“Well, you work for the BAU. You have for about three years now.”

“I do? I – I, this is a lot. What does this mean? Have you called my emergency contact?” You asked.

“I uh – I am your emergency contact.” Agent Hotchner spoke up.

“What, why? It has always been my mom, I don’t understand.”

“I’m so sorry, your mom, she uh – she passed last year. That’s when you switched it over to me.” Agent Hotchner’s gaze shifted down to his shoes.

“She’s gone?” Your voice cracked.

“Okay, this has been quite a bit of information. The most important thing right now is getting healthy. We want to keep you here a little longer to continue monitoring the swelling in your brain. Once we’ve confirmed it has gone down, you’ll want to get back in your usual routine, that is the best shot at getting your memory back.” Dr. Raynor gently patted your leg.

“How am I meant to get back to my normal routine when I don’t know it? The one person I had, I just found out is dead.”

“Given that Agent Hotchner is your emergency contact, we would be able to release you into his care. For now, we just need to stay positive.” With that, Dr. Raynor made her exit.

“I know this is a lot, but the BAU, we’re like a family, that includes you. Each member of the team is going to be willing to do anything to help you throughout this process.” Agent Hotchner said.

Part of you knew you could trust him; he had kind eyes, and you knew he was genuine. However, the other part of you felt so hopeless, like a lost kid in a department store. How were you meant to go home with this man who you didn’t know.

*Five Days Later*

“Do you have everything?” Aaron asked.

He had been with you every day for the last five days. He had brought you some things from your apartment and asked you to call him Aaron for now while you were “getting to know him”. You had to admit, it had been pretty nice talking with him the last few days.

“I think so!” You looked over at him. “I know that I am meant to be staying with you, at least until I’m fully healed, but could we go to my apartment first? I’d like to see it and maybe go through some of my things?”

“Of course we can.” Aaron nodded, gesturing towards the door.

The drive to your place was filled with small talk, mostly you asking Aaron questions about the BAU and the time you’ve spent there. It felt weird asking the man who is technically your boss about your personal life.

When you arrived, Aaron made sure to open your door for you and carry your bag into your home. He led you inside and you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable he seemed in your place, like he’d been there before. Like he belonged there. You shook the thought from your mind.

“I got you a new phone, it’s all set up for you.” Aaron said handing you the device.

“Thanks! Were they able to back up the old one? I was hoping to go through old texts and pictures to gather some insight into my life. God that sounds weird.” You huffed out a breath.

“I have our technical analyst Penelope Garcia working on that for you.” Aaron informed you.

“That’s great, thank you.”

The truth was, Aaron didn’t have Garcia backing up your old phone, at least not yet. He knew that if he had brought it to her she would uncover all the private texts and photos that you two had shared over the last year. He didn’t want to risk everyone finding out about your relationship, especially now when he wasn’t sure what your future would hold.

Aaron watched you as you made your way around your apartment. You wandered slowly around letting your fingers graze the spines of books on your shelves, picture frames on the walls and tchotchkes that were strewn about your desk and shelves.

He so badly wanted to pull you into his arms, kiss your head and tell you that everything was going to be okay. He wanted you to know that he wasn’t just your boss. But he also thought about all the things that could go wrong if he told you. You could question your own ethics and fall into self-loathing with the thought that you’d potentially slept your way to the top – this was the furthest thing from the truth, but he knew you and the way your mind spiraled. He wondered if it would just be easier if he let you find yourself all on your own, to let this thing between you go and hope that maybe you’d find your way back to him again.

When he looked over to you once again, he saw that you had found a photo album. It was one he was very familiar with; Garcia had gotten it for you on your 1-year BAU anniversary and filled it halfway. Since then, you’d continue to add to it all the photos you’d taken with the team.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until a tear had fallen onto the picture you were currently examining. Your emotions were running high, looking through the album was so strange it felt like looking at a stranger and yet it was you in photo after photo looking happier than ever with these people you couldn’t remember.

You felt the couch dip beside you and Aaron gently rubbed his hand up and down your back.

“I can’t imagine how overwhelming this all must be. I know that I can’t understand but I am here for you and I’m happy to lend an ear if you want to talk about it.” Aaron quietly soothed you.

“Thank you so much Aaron. I just don’t know how to wrap my head around this being me but not remembering it. Clearly you all mean so much to me and yet I have no recollection of any of this.” You sobbed.

Aaron and you sat like that on your couch for a while. He gave you the time you needed to calm down, while holding you, whispering sweet nothings to you. You felt oddly comfortable there in his arms, your mind shifted to the thought that enjoying the way his arms felt around you was also incredibly inappropriate given that he was your boss. At that thought you shifted slightly. You thought back to why you had signed up to audit Aaron’s lecture and while the main reason was the knowledge he’d lend you, a part of you allowed his looks to give you that final push in signing up.

“I should probably grab a few things so we can head out.” You whispered.

“Do you need any help?” Aaron asked.

“I should be okay, but I’ll let you know!”

Aaron drove the two of you back to his apartment, for the time being he had asked Jessica to keep Jack, this way you could adjust, and Jack also wouldn’t out your relationship. Aaron had his guest bedroom set up for you, he’d set it up with some of your favorite things. A lavender scented candle, extra pillows, a fluffy blanket, and he made sure to set a small trinket dish on the dresser, so you’d have a place to put your jewelry.

These of course were all things Aaron had previously had at his place for you. When you two had gotten increasingly more serious, he encouraged you to leave some stuff at his place and he’d gone as far as to supply some of your favorites around his home for you.

Aaron led you into his home and you couldn’t help but glance around, really taking in your surroundings. You couldn’t help but take note of a few things as he showed you around; there was a photo missing from the side table next to the couch (you could see the tiny bit of dust that must’ve collected around it), the pantry was stocked with quite a few of your favorite snacks, there was a pink coffee mug in the cabinet, and lastly, tucked under the shoe rack near the front door were a pair of fluffy gray slippers.

You couldn’t explain why, but there was a slight pang of jealousy in you as you thought of Aaron having a girlfriend. You knew you had no right to feel that way and it would be incredibly inappropriate, but it was a gut reaction.

*One Week Later*

Aaron and you had fallen into a weird sort of routine, it started to feel a lot like the 50’s, you making dinner and cleaning while he worked. You were starting to get a bit stir crazy, which is exactly why you were so excited today. Garcia would be coming by to see you; she was bringing over a bunch of photos and videos of you with the team throughout the last three years.

It was a paperwork catch-up day for the BAU, so Aaron had given Penelope the go ahead to take a long lunch and spend some time with you. So, when a knock on the door rang through the apartment, you couldn’t help the burst of excitement that coursed its way through your veins.

“Hi Penelope!”

“Hey babe! How are you feeling?” She asked, giving you a look of concern.

“I’m feeling pretty good, you know, except for the missing five years of memories thing.” You let out a low chuckle.

“Oh goodness! Well, I’ve brought a ton of stuff that might help bring some stuff back. I read that sense of smell is the sense that links with memories the strongest so have a bunch of things for you to smell while you look at photos in hopes something will come back to you.”

“That sounds like a great idea!” You smiled at Penelope.

The next hour or so went by with Penelope showing you photos and videos along with passing you various items to smell in hopes of bringing back some of your memories. And while it wasn’t like a wave crashing over you, bringing all your memories back, it did bring some things back. You could remember the members of the BAU and some of their quirks, you remembered the feeling of being in the bullpen (thanks to the smell of some very burnt coffee). What you were struggling to regain was your emotional memories, you couldn’t quite pinpoint the relationships you had with anyone from the team.

“I am glad that this helped! I should probably get out of your hair though; I can tell you have headache.” Penelope

“Thank you Penelope, I really appreciate all of this!”

You led her to the door, and she reminded you to get some rest and to take it easy. She also suggested that you come by the BAU for lunch in the next week or so to see everyone. The team had been doing a good job of not overwhelming you and allowing you time to get back in the swing of things.

“Oh, Penelope before you go, did you get a chance to back up my old phone? Aaron said you were working on it.”

“Oh, hon. He must’ve forgotten to mention it, but I will get started on that right away! I’ll text you as soon as I’m done, okay? We will just be able to pull the backup and put it on your new phone!” She said pulling you into a tight hug, before making her exit.

Why would Aaron have lied to you about your old phone? Maybe Penelope was right, and it just slipped his mind, he had been dealing with a lot, taking care of you, and having you stay with him.

You hadn’t meant to snoop, honestly, but after having talked with Penelope, the feeling Aaron was hiding something from you was extremely prevalent. You decided to look around a bit, you know, while putting the laundry away. You needed to put the towels away in Aaron’s bathroom, you just happened to notice the second toothbrush in the holder, the dress hanging inside his closet (come on, the door was already open), the ring box tucked in his sock drawer, what shocked you the most were the photos in the hall closet. It was a photo of him and a tall brunette that had you spiraling, where was this woman? You had clearly been invading his space long enough and you couldn’t bear the thought of coming between him and this woman who was to be his fiancé.

You needed to get back to your life, and out of Aaron’s hair. You decided that you’d tell him that night over dinner, you were going to move back home.

“Hey, I’m home!” Aaron called.

“Hey, how was your day?” You asked.

Aaron explained that his day was good, and he asked you about your get together with Penelope as you finished up dinner. Aaron set the table as you followed behind him plating up the food.

“I’m glad to hear things went well with Penelope. I think lunch with the team is a great idea.”

“Aaron I’m gonna move back home.” The words flew out of your mouth faster than your brain could catch up. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to impose on your life any more than I already have.”

“It’s truly not an imposition, but if that’s what you want.” Aaron looked deflated.

“I just think it’s important we both get back to our usual every day.”

“If you think that’s best.”

You two ate in silence. Afterwards you both went to the kitchen, cleaned up the dishes and made your way to your separate rooms. You began packing up your belongings and Aaron scrolled through photos of the two of you from before the accident.

*Two Days Later*

“Good morning gorgeous!!! I am calling to inform you that the backup from your old phone is ready, and I also think it is the perfect day for you to come in and have lunch with everyone!” Penelope sang over the phone.

“Okay, what time should I come down there?”

“Ummm maybe around 12:30? Everyone is usually ready to eat by then. I can call and order in something too!”

“Oh, and uh Pen, I don’t know the address, and I’m not cleared to drive.” You said shyly.

“Oh shoot, okay! I’ll see who is available to come and pick you up, no worries.” Penelope reassured you.

You took some time getting ready, most of the team hadn’t seen you since before the injuries, and while the cuts and bruises have faded and scarred, you still had a very broken wrist and frequent headaches, along with PTSD and anxiety attacks thanks to the TBI. You felt like you had been doing well, and based on your recent check-up with your neurologist, things are trending up in regard to your health. Though you began to worry that the worst had yet to come.

A knock on your door shook you out of your thoughts, as you made your way to answer it, you wondered who Penelope sent to get you. Pulling the door open revealed someone you were hoping you wouldn’t see so soon.

“Hi Aaron.”

“Hello, were going to go pick up the food on the way back to the BAU, if that’s okay.” Aaron explained.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You nodded.

The drive was filled with tense silence. You couldn’t help but wonder why Aaron would harbor any negative feelings towards you. You’d only moved out of his apartment so he could get back on to his life, if anything he should be grateful that you’ve gone home. One of the main reasons you’d really decided to go home was because of the fact that you were growing far too comfortable.

Things at Aaron’s house were starting to feel right, like it was where you belong. You had no idea how you had been able to work with him over the last few years, the crush you had on him all those years ago had only proven to grow stronger.

“I’ll run in and grab the food.” Aaron said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Before you could reply, he stepped out of the car and made his way into the restaurant.

Aaron got you signed in with a visitor’s badge (as you weren’t cleared to work) and then he led you up to the sixth floor, BAU bullpen. Upon walking in, you felt an odd sense of familiarity. You knew that it would make sense for the BAU to bring memories back and that you would have muscle memory to help lead you through the building, but it felt very strange.

You looked over at Aaron, “I need to go see Garcia, do you mind pointing me in the right direction?”

“Of course, her office is that way. Second door on the right.”

“Thanks.” You smiled.

You wandered through the corridor, catching a glimpse of Garcia through her open door. You lightly knocked on her door and walked into her office.

“Oh! Hello gorgeous!” Garcia squealed, standing, and pulling you into a hug.

“Hey Pen!”

“Let’s get your phone squared away and then we will go eat.”

You handed your phone over to Penelope and she began downloading the last backup from your old phone.

“This should only take a few minutes.”

Penelope and you made idle chit chat for a few moments while waiting on your phone. When it finished uploading, she unplugged it and handed it to you. The two of you then made your way to the bullpen.

Lunch with the BAU was overwhelming to say the least. It was fun talking to everyone, but you could tell everyone was walking on eggshells and you could see the pity flash behind their eyes as you sat and explained your lack of memories with the people sitting before you.

After lunch, Aaron let everyone leave early. It had been a paperwork day and the team had been very productive. He told them all to go home, but of course to leave their phones on, just in case they had to leave. Emily offered to drive you home, given the close proximity of your apartments.

When you got home, you changed into some comfortable clothes and sat on the couch. You took a deep breath and unlocked your phone. There were two things you noticed while going through everything, the first being a significant number of photos saved and the second being the texts exchanged between you and your boss.

You decided to go through the photos first. There were plenty of you with the various members of the BAU, but what caught your attention was one image in particular, in it, you were laid in bed with your head resting on a man’s chest…the man being none other than Aaron.

You quickly switched over to your messages app. Clicking Aaron’s name, you saw the most recent text…

“Be careful sweetheart. I love you.”

Your mind was racing, what were you meant to think, why would he keep this from you? Was the ring meant for you? You needed to see him.

You ordered an Uber and made your way to the FBI building. You signed in, getting a visitors’ badge and headed up to the sixth floor.

“Aaron” You called out into the bullpen.

“Is everything okay? What are you doing here?” Aaron asked as he walked out of his office.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Aaron questioned.

“That we were together.”

You gestured to your phone. Aaron dropped his gaze for a moment, before looking back to you. You could see the pain behind his eyes.

“Sweetheart, we had been keeping it a secret, and I don’t know, I guess I thought that maybe you’d be better off. I figured you might find someone more appropriate for you.”

“That wasn’t a choice for you to make. Aaron things have been confusing enough, losing my memory. But to have you lying to me, it’s total bullshit. How am I supposed to get my memories back if you are keeping such a big part of me a secret.” You couldn’t help the frustrated tears from slipping down your cheek.

Aaron reached for you and let his thumb brush the tear off your cheek. He stepped closer to you and brought his other hand to your cheek.

“I am so sorry. I should’ve told you from the get-go, I was scared. I thought that maybe I would tell you and you’d have to get to know me again and maybe you wouldn’t love me the way you did before. I also couldn’t help but think that I don’t deserve you and this was your perfect out. But that was selfish, I should’ve told you the truth.”

You leaned your head onto Aaron’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline and then he pulled back.

“Can I show you something?” Aaron asked.

You nodded and followed him to his office. Aaron led you around his desk and gestured for you to sit in his chair. He pointed to his computer screen, and you took note of the screen saver. It was a slideshow of pictures taken throughout your relationship, there were pictures of you at the FBI Gala, Jack’s soccer game, art museums, at Aaron’s home, at your apartment, etc..

It happened slowly, then all at once. A warm feeling flooded your veins, and a dull ache filled your head. Tears were steadily streaming down your face. You looked up at Aaron, and he met your gaze. A moment was shared before understanding washed over Aaron.

“I remember.”

516 notes · View notes

cherienymphe · 3 months

Text

Teenage Dirtbag XII

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, mentions of DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

⭑

When you woke up, you were alone.

Even if you didn’t remember how drunk you’d gotten the night before, everything about the way your head pounded and the tightness in your throat told you so. Sunlight was bleeding through your curtains, but it wasn’t the kind of brightness associated with the afternoon, so you knew it was still morning. You were slow in sitting up, holding the sheet to you as you glanced around, your gaze briefly landing on the familiar fabric on the floor.

You stared at it for too long, raising your hand to press to your forehead in both disbelief and horror. A strange range of emotions were all fighting for dominance within you, and you forced yourself to close your eyes in order to calm down. Taking a deep breath, you tried to ignore the feeling of dried bodily fluids between your thighs…but it was hard. You could feel a familiar sting behind your eyes.

You’d cheated on Rafe.

Sure, you’d been doing that for some time, now, but last night you’d really cheated on him. You didn’t know why a few kisses and some touching didn’t make it feel as real to you when it most definitely should have, but last night was a point of no return. Last night was a line you weren’t even sure you’d wanted to cross. Your stomach turned, and you swallowed it down.

You and JJ had sex.

Right here…in your bedroom.

There was a part of you that wondered if you could even call it that. You’d been so drunk, and while things were still a little fuzzy, you knew for a fact that you’d been so unsure. JJ hadn’t seemed to care, but JJ wasn’t like Rafe. Surely, if you’d tried harder to stop him, he would’ve stopped…right…? You did want to be with JJ, that was no secret, but maybe the events of the previous night showed you that you weren’t as conflicted as you’d thought. After all…

You could’ve protested more.

…but you didn’t.

Your mind was going a mile a minute, and after briefly dropping your face into your hands, you threw the covers back. You weren’t in the right headspace to analyze anyone’s actions and motives, pushing yourself to your feet to seek out a much-needed shower. You grimaced at the sight of your clothes on the floor, forcing yourself not to think about that, right now.

You were thankful that your perusal in the mirror brought up no unwanted marks, and that allowed you to rest easier. The warm spray of the shower did help with the hangover and fatigue, but it did nothing for the heaviness in your chest. Pressing your wet hands to your face, you allowed yourself to remember the way JJ held you—how gentle he was in doing so. You couldn’t recall the last time you felt like that.

You swallowed down a sob at the memories of his lips pressing kisses all over your face as he laid you down on your bed. By that point, you’d forgotten why it was a bad idea, wrapping your arms around JJ and lifting your hips to meet his. The alcoholic fog made it hard to decipher how long he’d slowly thrust into you against your sheets, but it was long enough to make you shudder just thinking about it.

…but it was wrong.

It was so wrong, and not just because of Rafe, but because you hadn’t even wanted to in the beginning. You wondered if that even mattered at this point. You wanted JJ. You’d wanted to know what it felt like to be with him and be with someone who made you feel safe. Even if you hadn’t been quite ready yet, did it matter? Whether it was last night or two months from now…did it matter?

Telling yourself that you couldn’t stay in the shower forever, you turned the water off.

Rafe was the last person you expected to see when you finally opened the door.

You actually froze at the sight of him, tightening the towel around you just as he sat on the edge of your bed. The sight of him there…sitting where you and JJ were only hours ago…it made your stomach turn. He looked better than you felt, dirty blond strands freshly washed and the short sleeves of his white polo stretching against his skin. You surmised that it was a warmer day outside.

“I’m surprised you even made it upstairs last night,” was his pleasant greeting.

Finally telling yourself to move, you made to pick up your dress…and underwear.

“I managed,” was all you said, moving to put the dirty clothes in the hamper.

There was no way Rafe could know, but part of you felt like he could just sense it. Rafe had this way about him that made him seem larger than life, like he had abilities and senses the rest of you—namely you—didn’t. As you looked at him, you couldn’t stop your eyes from watering, recalling the feel of JJ shuddering against you as he came, his blue eyes staring into yours. The tears spilled over before you could stop them, and you watched the way Rafe’s lips curved.

“I take it you remember last night…and how shitty you were being.”

You wiped your face, looking away from your boyfriend, remembering something else entirely. Yes, you were shitty, but not for the reasons he thought. When you heard him stand, you pressed your hand to your face, and you didn’t protest when Rafe gently pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. Rafe shushed you, slowly rocking you, but there was nothing comforting about it.

“You know I hate it when you drink like that,” he murmured into your hair. “You know I hate how…fussy you get.”

You nodded, your mind preoccupied with the sweet nothings JJ had whispered into your ear instead.

“…and then I have to be the bad guy when you start embarrassing yourself.”

You recalled the sigh you’d let out when JJ pulled out of you, conflicted between wanting him to leave as soon as possible and pulling you against him again. You remembered his hand on your face and his lips on yours after he’d gotten dressed, telling you he wished he didn’t have to go. You could still remember his fingers against your lips as you’d drunkenly kissed them, vision blurring and room tilting. You didn’t remember him leaving…only closing your eyes.

When you pulled back to look at Rafe, the expectant glint in his gaze was evident, and before where it would’ve made you bristle… Now, it only made your heart sink. You looked over his face, telling yourself that Rafe was a thousand times worse to you than you could ever be to him, and yet, that did nothing to ease your guilt. He was still your boyfriend…and you’d had sex with someone else.

You’d made love to someone else.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly told him.

Even though the apology wasn’t for what he thought it was…it was genuine.

You ignored another call from a familiar face, swallowing down the bad taste it left in your mouth. You felt all kinds of horrible for ignoring the blond for literal weeks—especially after having sex with him—but you needed time to think. About Rafe, about JJ, about that night… Your feelings about said night were still so complicated and confusing, and you still didn’t know if you liked the way JJ handled things—and if you did, was it because you were drunk?

You chewed on your fingernails, telling yourself that JJ wasn’t Rafe.

You’d experienced rape many times, and that night with JJ wasn’t quite the same.

So, why did you still feel weird about it?

“We could go to the beach…”

You were pulled from your thoughts by another blonde teenager, Sarah’s budding smile filling your vision when you refocused on her. She sat back down before you on the couch, handing you a glass of lemonade as she gave you a hopeful look. You swallowed a sigh, knowing that if you agreed, her friends would show up somehow…and you weren’t quite ready to face JJ just yet.

You knew that he was still periodically sleeping at the pool house, catching glimpses of him through the window sometimes while everyone else slept. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that he was waiting and hoping you’d come see him, whether to talk or repeat what had been done that night. You had too many things to sort through—your confusion, your guilt, your feelings for him.

You didn’t know how to feel about JJ, right now, and that worried you.

“I better not…”

As your voice trailed off, you watched her face fall. You knew what she was thinking about before she even voiced it.

“I really am sorry about what happened at John B.’s,” she sheepishly told you. “Nothing went as planned.”

“Sarah, it’s fine-.”

“It’s really not though,” she sighed. “I…”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling.

“I hate how Rafe treats you,” she forced out, voice cracking. “He behaves like you belong to him.”

Your gaze fell to your lap at that.

“He treats you like you’re his fucking property, and…”

Her expression was a mix of confusion and disgust when you looked up again.

“I just don’t understand why you stay,” she spat, scoffing to herself. “Sure, you love him, but…”

She shifted on the couch, giving you her full attention.

“Does he love you? Do you like being treated like this?”

“Sarah-.”

“I don’t care if I’m overstepping, help me understand,” she cut you off, looking between your eyes. “Why do you stay? Why do you put up with it?”

You were trying not to let her words anger you—after all, how could she know—but it was hard when she looked at you like you were some foolish and dick-struck girl she just didn’t get. Swallowing down all the things you wanted to say, you merely shook your head.

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“You’re right,” she fired back. “I don’t get it.”

Your jaw clenched.

“I don’t get why you let him talk to you any kind of way. I don’t get why you blindly follow him around and do what he says! I don’t get why I’m trying so hard to help you have some kind of life outside of my brother when you don’t even seem to want that,” she said, face pinched in confusion. “My friends like you, and…if you asked them, they’d probably consider you their friend too.”

You looked away at that.

“They ask about you and they worry about you— because they see it too! —but you seem so,” she dragged the word out. “…happy to revolve your entire life around Rafe.”

You blinked back tears, struggling to handle the range of emotions her rightful frustration brought on. Sarah didn’t know the truth, so you couldn’t fault her for feeling disturbed by your dynamic with her brother, but that didn’t make it sting any less. Especially so since it seemed like everyone only saw you as the girlfriend that obeyed Rafe like a well-trained dog.

You would love to have friends outside of Rafe and his friends. You would love to be able to go anywhere you wanted without your phone and car being tracked. It would be nice to tell your boyfriend you were going to hang out with Sarah or whoever without it being some big thing that needed approval and a million questions about who else would be there—if any guys would be there. You would kill for a normal relationship with a normal boyfriend that didn’t put the fear of God into you, but that wasn’t the hand you were dealt.

“What do you want me to say, Sarah?” you eventually sighed.

You could see the way her face fell as she studied yours, and you didn’t miss the guilty look to cross her eyes. She touched her forehead, huffing.

“Nothing, I guess,” she quietly answered. “I’m sorry, okay? I just… I just think you could do better.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you only nodded, ignoring her soft sigh as you stood. When she said your name, you didn’t acknowledge it, only throwing her a small smile.

“You should go to the beach, anyway, Sarah,” you told her. “Your friends always look for any excuse to get in the water.”

You forced yourself to go upstairs, hating how right everything Sarah said was and how awful it made you feel.

When Rafe finally returned hours later, you weren’t in the most contagious of moods, wrapped up in his bed and still thinking about things that made your chest sting. Sarah’s words only served as a reminder as to how trapped you truly were, and that in turn made you feel less crappy about what you’d done with JJ.

It wasn’t like you could actually leave Rafe…

JJ was right when he’d called your relationship a hostage situation. With that being said, you couldn’t let go of that part of you that recognized Rafe as your boyfriend and recognized what you were doing with JJ as cheating. As awful as he was…Rafe was still your boyfriend, and while his jealousy got the better of him more often than not, you both knew that deep down, Rafe would never in a million years expect you to cheat on him.

Maybe that had more to do with control than trust though…

Rafe wouldn’t expect it because of his ego…not because he loved you. Besides, many would argue that he’d betrayed you first and a million times over. Crossing boundaries and breaking trust was a betrayal, and Rafe had done that the night you’d turned nineteen, slapping you at your own birthday party, and all he’d done since then was continue to betray you.

When the bed sank underneath his weight, you closed your eyes at the feel of his fingers on your face.

“I ran into Sarah on the way in…”

He continued when you didn’t respond.

“She told me to check on you…said she probably said some things she shouldn’t have.”

You squeezed your eyes tighter, and when you didn’t deny that, you heard him mumble something under his breath. It was about her, no doubt.

“Was it about me?” he wondered, voice dropping.

Licking your lips, you found your voice.

“Rafe, I don’t want to talk about this…”

“Don’t let Sarah get into your head…” he drawled. “She’s a bitch, alright?”

You were pushing yourself to sit up before he could even finish, frowning at him.

“Don’t call her that,” you argued. “She’s your sister.”

“…and she’s a bitch,” Rafe repeated, lowering his head so that his eyes were level with yours. “She hates that you’re with me, so I can only imagine what she was saying.”

“Nothing that wasn’t true,” you whispered.

Rafe didn’t respond to that, but the way he blinked at you told you that maybe you shouldn’t have said it. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you stared at him, and he just watched you wipe your face.

“My life revolves around you, Rafe,” you quietly cried. “Will it ever not?”

By the way he rolled his eyes, you could see that he didn’t want to have this conversation.

“I don’t have any friends-.”

“You have my friends,” he interrupted, and you shook your head.

“Your friends. What about friends of my own?”

More tears spilled over when Rafe stood, and you frowned at him.

“I do everything you ask,” you whispered. “I’ve cut people out of my life, I wait on you, I dedicate just about every minute of every waking moment to you. When will it end? When will you let me have something like a life?”

You were unsurprised when Rafe’s hand found its way to your jaw, fingers firmly pressing into your skin and making you wince. His face was so close to yours, and you reached up to rest your hand on his wrist. At the feel, Rafe only tightened his hold, and more tears spilled over. Your boyfriend’s breathing was even as he looked between your eyes.

“Did you forget that it was only less than two months ago that I was racing down the streets of Kildare County to pick you up from The Cut?” his tone was sharp. “Hmm?”

He continued when you blinked.

“Or what about when you talked to JJ before that behind my back?”

The mention of the other blond had you squeezing your eyes shut.

“You make it sound like…”

“I don’t care why you did it,” Rafe spat. “Point is, you did.”

He shook your face, making you peel your eyes open. Rafe’s face was even save for the clench of his jaw as he stared you down. Suddenly he looked over you, face softening just a tad, and a smirk danced along his pink lips.

“Is it that time of the month?” he chuckled when you jerked your face out of his grip. “Is that where this is coming from?”

“Fuck you,” you breathed, and he paused.

You watched him touch his tongue to his lip.

“…or maybe that’s it,” he whispered. “Maybe you need me to fuck this attitude out of you, and you just don’t know how to say it.”

When you moved to get up, Rafe stopped you, hands tight on your arms.

“No,” he dragged out. “Don’t get up…”

You jerked away when he leaned in to kiss you.

“You’ve been moody for weeks, ever since you got drunk that night and made a fool out of yourself…”

He was rough in pushing you down.

“My dad’s had me so tied up with family business stuff… I’ve been neglecting you, huh?”

“Don’t touch me,” you spat, harshly shoving his chest. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Yeah, okay,” the blond chuckled, and it was genuine. “If I relied on you being in the mood, I’d never get any.”

You struggled with his hands as they pulled at your shirt, and eventually you gave up, striking him clear across the face. The slap was loud, and your hand stung, evidence of just how hard you’d hit him. You could tell it shocked Rafe too, and your lips parted, silence descending over the two of you. You reacted before he did, using his momentary shock to climb off of the bed.

You were already in the hall when you heard his door swing open, banging against the wall.

“What the hell is your problem?”

His voice was loud, and that was all the confirmation you needed that you were alone in the house.

“I told you I’m not in the mood,” your voice shook, and rightfully so.

You winced when Rafe caught your arm, yanking you back and making you face him. There was a deep frown between his brows as he stared you down, and you swallowed at the redness you saw on his cheek.

“Am I supposed to care about that or something?” his tone was clipped as he looked between your eyes. “You think I give a fuck? You think I won’t fuck you right here in this hallway?”

“Rafe, I’m serious,” you bit out, fighting to push at his chest.

“What is your problem?” he repeated his earlier question. “Did Sarah put some ideas into your head or what?”

You winced when his other hand roughly grabbed your neck, and you grabbed that arm too.

“Have I ever cared if you’re in the mood? No? So, why would I now?” he wondered. “…and more importantly, why would you think I would?”

“Rafe, please,” you begged when he leaned in, turning your face away.

When his lips touched the corner of your mouth, you hit him again.

He hit you harder.

Your face was on fire when you landed on the floor, eyes watering. You bit back a sob, covering your face as you heard Rafe sniff above you.

“I’m a guy, baby,” was all he said. “I promise you, I can hit you ten times harder.”

Your breathing was uneven, and when you refused to move, your boyfriend huffed.

“Get up,” he quietly told you. “Get the fuck up.”

His hand was under your arm, yanking you to your feet.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you today–fuck, I don’t know if it’s something Sarah said, but cut it out,” he sneered, shaking you. “I’m not in the mood to deal with your bullshit.”

“Oh, when you’re not in the mood to deal with my ‘bullshit’, I have to shut up, but when I’m not in the mood to fuck you, I should lie there and take it anyway, right?”

Rafe reared back a bit, looking down his nose at you, and the way he studied you made your heart skip a beat. You winced as his hand tightened, and you hated the way his lip twitched. There was a glint in his eye that made you nervous, and you watched him slowly smile. Letting you go, both of his hands started to gently drag up and down your arms.

“I think you’ve been hanging around Sarah too much,” he told you, an amused lilt to his tone. “We both know things go so much smoother with us when you know your place.”

You pulled your lip between your teeth, tearfully blinking at him.

“I’m not leaving you, Rafe,” you whispered. “You have made it abundantly clear that I am never leaving you, so why can’t you give me something to work with here?”

Rafe tilted his head at you, a frown on his face as he reached up to gently touch your own face.

“You can leave,” he said to you, making you roll your eyes. “Baby, you can leave me anytime you want…”

You didn’t look at him, refusing to dignify this farce. His fingers were gentle on your skin as he trailed them down your jaw and neck, and you shuddered, tears kissing your eyes at the way he was toying with you.

“So long as you know what’ll happen if you do…”

You didn’t say anything, and the tension in the air shifted when he spoke again, tone venomous.

“You want to leave me, you go right ahead, but don’t think I won’t smile in your daddy’s face after wringing your neck,” he sneered. “Don’t tell me you’re never leaving me like that’s supposed to be some comfort to me or some bargaining chip.”

He took your face into his hands, making you look at him.

“I know you’re never leaving me,” he calmly said. “It’s not something I worry about, so there’s no need to reassure me. I don’t need it.”

“I could,” you choked out.

That bloodthirsty glint in his eye came and went, and Rafe smiled again.

“Okay… Let’s say, for argument’s sake, you do leave me… Who in this town would touch you with a ten-foot pole?” he shrugged. “You’re mine.”

You licked your lips.

“Kildare isn’t the only place in the world,” you whispered.

“You’d have to get off the island first,” Rafe bit out, visage void of all humor, now.

His nostrils flared as he looked between your eyes, his blue gaze cold, and you took a step back when he moved forward. The look on his face was unreadable, and you struggled to figure out what he was thinking.

“Is that what this is about? You’re thinking about leaving me?”

“No.”

You denied that before he’d even finished talking, heart skipping a beat.

It was your boyfriend’s quiet moments that you found unpredictable. When he was irritated and loud and pacing like a bull, you knew what to expect and how to handle him. In the moments where most of that was going on inside of his head, you didn’t always know how to proceed or how to prepare yourself.

“I just feel like if I say I’m not in the mood, it shouldn’t become a big thing,” you tearfully continued.

“…and why should I care if you’re not in the mood?” he wondered, leaning in. “Why should that matter to me…?”

You took a deep breath, voice shaky.

“…because I’m your girlfriend.”

“…and as my girlfriend you don’t think it’s your duty to fulfill your part in this relationship?”

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I spoil you, I buy you flowers and gifts, I take you out to places some people on this island will never see,” he said. “So many girls want what you have, and you can’t even put a smile on your face and fuck me when I want you to?”

“They wouldn’t want what I have if they knew you were a violent piece of shit,” you spat, tears in your eyes.

Rafe’s expression shifted at that, and although you couldn’t name it, you knew you didn’t like it. You watched him glance away, jaw ticking as he slowly nodded. When his eyes met yours again, you braced yourself. You were prepared for a slap.

Not a punch.

Your scream bounced off of the walls as you covered your face, and if it weren’t for Rafe, you would’ve collapsed right there. His arms were tight around you as you held your nose, blood seeping between your fingers as you squeezed your eyes shut. Your whole face hurt, but your nose especially, and if all the blood didn’t make it obvious, the God-awful pain did.

It was broken.

You couldn’t stop crying, the most gut-wrenching choking noises escaping your throat, your sobs coming out too fast for your body to handle. Rafe was moving—walking you somewhere—but you were too preoccupied with the pain in your face and the blood on your arms to concern yourself with it.

Until there was air beneath your feet.

It was too late for you to grab the railing, the blood on your hands making it impossible to slow your descent down the stairs. Each step was like a hit to your arm or your leg or your side, and even throwing your hands out before you didn’t help much. When you landed at the very bottom—right onto your knee—you didn’t register the pain at first. There was too much pain—mostly in your face—to take note of the one that was prominent alongside your nose.

When you did, you gasped, keeling over and holding your knee to your chest.

Your other hand was still holding your nose, and you were growing lightheaded at both the sight of blood and the feeling of the loss of blood. Your mind was going a mile a minute, and the sharp pain in your knee had you momentarily forgetting about your nose. When you tried to move your leg, you cried out, and you only pulled your gaze away when you heard Rafe walking down the stairs.

Through tearful eyes, you watched him steadily take out his phone. His face was as calm as ever when he finally joined you on the first floor, and you flinched when he reached for you, hand coming to rest on the top of your head as he made you lean your cheek against his leg.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the operator’s voice traveled from the phone.

“Yeah, um…my girlfriend… She just…she just tripped down the stairs,” he breathed. “I think she’ll be fine, but she’s bleeding a lot, and I think she hurt her knee.”

You shook against him as he gave her his address, and when he hung up, you avoided his gaze when he slowly knelt before you. Against your will, he pulled your hand away, and you flinched again when he tried to wipe some of the blood off of your face. Rafe’s voice was soft as he shushed you, but it only made you cry harder.

When he didn’t say anything, you knew that he was waiting for you to look at him, and when you did, he took a deep breath. His blue eyes stared into your own.

“How’s that for a violent piece of shit?”

With a screaming leg, and a face that felt like it was on fire, you had no choice but to let him pull you against him. His arm curled around you as he rested his chin on top of your head, hand playing with your hair while you both waited for the ambulance.

#jj maybank x reader #dark!jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron x reader #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #dark!jj maybank #dark!rafe cameron #jj maybank #rafe cameron

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literaila · 2 months

Text

premature death

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you settle into jujutsu high, and then you settle out

warnings: fluff, angst (canon events), satoru is an idiot as per usual, suguru is there.

a/n: open wide, daddy made your favorite

last part | next part

second year.

you've never loved dining in, you think, as a menu is pulled from your hands and you try to relax into your seat, looking around.

you're sitting in the corner, near a wall.

it's been an hour since you finished your mission--with nanami and haibara--and an hour since haibara insisted on all of you meeting the second years for dinner.

honestly, even if you'd had the energy to argue with him, his face would've broken you eventually. so, you followed your two best friends blindly, stumbling into this restaurant that smells a bit like burnt sugar.

your body aches from running around, and your head pounds from all of the mental strain it takes to protect both nanami and haibara at once (especially when they're both hellbent on being as reckless as possible at any available moment). you barely give suguru and shoko a 'hello,' as you near the table, and you ignore satoru completely.

(and the way your body immediately perks up at the sight of him).

the only reason you've even made it in the restaurant is because haibara let you lean on him the whole way here. someone better be coming to pick you up after this.

and when they push you into this seat--away from literally everything else--you don't even mind it. it's nice, a sort of protection from the outside world.

but, of course, none from the one right there.

satoru is sitting much too close to you. he's wild and animated, boasting about some curse that was no big deal for him, of course, with no consideration for personal space.

you can feel it when he breathes, when he laughs. his hand is basically on your thigh, and he's almost grabbed your drink on accident three separate times.

no one else has even commented on this, so you don't say anything.

it's definitely not because he's pleasantly warm--sickly warm, you think--or because you feel a bit relaxed with him right next to you instead of anyone else. at ease. and it's not because just sitting near satoru creates an automatic reaction within your body, a buzzing, and keeps you from falling asleep on the table. it has nothing to do with any of that.

you just don't want to make a scene.

you're staring down at the table, fiddling with a napkin and wondering how many other people have sat here, spilled their drinks, and shared these thoughts, when a hand pokes at your side, and you jump.

"hey," satoru says, leaning to meet your eyes. his mouth is ridiculously pink, and you can see the tips of his lashes from over his glasses. "you okay there?"

you push his face away with a hand, grimacing at him. you ignore the twinge in your shoulder, and the hundred other sore muscles in your body. "just fine, thanks."

satoru leans back, observing you for a moment. everyone else is lost in conversation, so there's no one to save you from his attention.

"that looks heavy," he says, eventually, with a ton of fake sympathy. and condescension. he's smiling at you, because when isn't he?

"what?" you say, frowning. you look around for a problem, but there isn't one.

then you meet his eyes again, and you know what he's going to say.

"your hand," he answers, easily, predictably. "let me hold it for you."

you slap him away before he can even try.

"were you genetically engineered in a lab to be annoying?" you ask him, scowling.

"just beautiful."

you roll your eyes, moving to sip on your tea. when you set it back down, satoru is still staring at you.

"what?"

"oh, nothing."

you frown, hoping that there isn't anything on your face. or that he hasn't realized that you don't want to be here. and then, before he can read any real expression, you smile sweetly at him. "you're popping my bubble, satoru."

"what bubble?"

"my personal space bubble," you answer, sharply, pushing at his chest. "move over. you know there's a whole other end of the booth right there?"

satoru looks to his other side, to the empty spot where he should be sitting, and then back to you with a wince. "you want me to sit next to nanami?"

you stare at him blankly. "i want you to allow me free will over my limbs."

"but he scares me."

"want me to tell him that?"

satoru sighs, but moves over a single inch. because he's nice.

"seriously?"

satoru stares at you, pointing towards the centimeter of both you can see between your bodies like it's a solution to your problem. when you say nothing, he pouts. "what? i like sitting next to you."

"you can sit there and not attempt to suffocate me," you tell him, shaking your head. you look away and go back to playing with the napkin you stole. "i promise it's possible."

"where's the fun in that?"

you sigh, and satoru leans his head on your shoulder. you don't even comment on the fact that he's even closer now, or that he smells like a gallon of sweat.

no, in all actuality, you don't really want him to move. you want him to stay right there and be your block from the world.

not that you'd ever admit that out loud.

"i really hate you," you tell him, quietly, once you've realized that you haven't said anything.

satoru smiles up at you, teeth peeking out from bright pink lips. then he groans theatrically. "you know i can't resist flattery, sweetheart."

you roll your eyes again. "how have you survived this long?" you wonder aloud. and then you pause. "no, wait. i already know."

"what?"

"special grade sorcerer," you whisper, in mock awe. you shiver when satoru runs a hand up your thigh, just to mess with you.

"i'll let you try to kill me next time we spar," he says, shaking his head at you. his hair is soft and ticklish against your neck.

you still don't move him.

"i refuse to spar with you."

he frowns. "you spar with suguru."

"'cause he doesn't cheat."

"i don't cheat."

"no cursed techniques during hand-to-hand combat," you recite.

he continues to pout, like the child he is. "how is that fair?"

you sigh at him, shaking your head. you don't have the energy to remind him of simple rules.

"c'mon," satoru says, leaning up and nudging you. "just once. it'll be fun."

he taps your nose with a finger.

you grab it. "we've sparred before, and we will not be doing it again."

satoru just smiles at you.

and the two of you sit there like that, staring at each other, your hand wrapped around satoru's stupid finger, waiting for the other to break.

his eyes are ridiculous, you think, for the hundredth time ever. the only real reason he's still alive is because of how pretty he is. if his bone structure was even slightly different, you think, he'd be dead.

satoru stares back, maybe thinking the same things you are.

but eventually, you're broken out of the daze.

"satoru," shoko says, again, and you both snap to look at her. she's got a brow raised. "did you hear anything i just said?"

you and satoru exchange a glance and ignore the looks of everyone else at the table. your body settles once again, no longer ignited solely by satoru's concentration you you.

finally, satoru moves away from you, leaning on his elbow to focus in on whatever conversation his friends are having.

you don't even realize that your hand is still wrapped around him, or when, eventually, satoru intertwines his fingers with yours.

you go back to eating your dinner, and you're very comfortable with the amount of space you have to yourself now.

really.

"hey," you say, pulling your jacket tighter around your body.

it's too cold to be outside, but it's too loud to be in bed. too quiet. "can't sleep?" you ask suguru.

you crept out of your room just ten minutes ago. you were only going to get something to drink--something to soothe your irritating heart--when you realized that it would never work.

so you ventured outside, instead, not really caring about rules or being caught.

and just when you were walking across the courtyard, you stumbled upon him (for a brief moment, you'd thought it was yaga, and almost ran back inside.)

but suguru just sitting there, on the steps, looking out into the forest like it'll come up with some answers for him. his hair is tied up, and he's got a better jacket on than you do.

you look at it a bit enviously.

suguru blows out a breath, the smell of cigarette smoke filling the air. you watch the puff as it disappears into the air. "no, you?"

"can i sit?" you ask, looking at the space beside him. suguru nods, watching as you sit down beside him, shivering. "nightmares," you tell him, answering the question.

he smiles at you, shaking his head ambiguously.

you gesture towards his hand. "i didn't know you smoked."

suguru almost laughs. "i don't, really. shoko's a bad influence."

he holds it towards you, but you shake your head.

"no, thanks. i've got enough bad habits to last a lifetime."

he laughs, stamping out the rest of the unsmoked bud on the ground.

you look towards the trees, almost expecting something to jump out from behind them--even though you know that no curse can touch you, or anyone here.

you don't get a lot of alone time with suguru. you're comfortable enough around him--and haibara sings enough praises for you to know what he's like. still, you're not sure what to say to him, or what he might know about you.

probably too much, you think.

eventually, you look back to suguru, smirking. "so, did you leave satoru sleeping by himself in your bed?"

"he snores," suguru answers, easily, and his shoulder brushes against yours.

you giggle, flexing your hands, trying to regain some feeling in your fingers.

a small part of you is glad that he's out here, right now. that there's someone else to be around, to remind you that it's all okay. and, if worst comes to worst, suguru is a lot stronger than you are.

you look up to the sky, tracing the remains of clouds with your eyes. there are no shapes to be made out--there never are, this late at night. and it's different here, at school.

at home, you can hear all of the bugs at night, and you can smell the breeze as it passes through. but here, it's almost irrationally silent. it doesn't smell like anything here. like cursed energy is strong enough to fade out the smell of the pine or the pollen.

you're silent, looking around.

"do you want my jacket?" suguru asks, suddenly, after you've shivered against him for the seventh time.

you look towards him, trying to ignore how cold you feel, and you sniff. "no, it's okay."

suguru's got a sly smile when he says, "probably shouldn't, anyway."

"what do you mean?"

he laughs to himself, then shakes his head.

you feel like you're missing something as you wait for him to answer. to clue you in on the joke.

"do you get them a lot?" he asks, instead of answering your confused glance. "nightmares?"

you swallow, nodding. "yeah. do you?"

"all the time."

"any advice? haibara says you've got overwhelming amounts of wisdom."

he snorts. "haibara..." he whispers, almost appreciatively.

you tilt your head at him, waiting.

"i'm only a year older, you know?"

you nod, consider it for a moment. then you think about satoru--inevitably--and what he said last time you mentioned the mere one year of age between the two of you. "well, a year is a long time for a sorcerer, isn't it?"

suguru makes a face. "i guess that's true."

you lean your chin on a palm, waving a hand. "so...?"

he grins at you. "finding someone to wake up next to helps," he says, only slightly teasing.

you understand what he's getting at, so you roll your eyes. "not all of us have a clingy best friend."

"satoru would cuddle with you if you asked."

"good thing i'm never asking."

"yeah, you shouldn't," suguru answers, feeling much older than he is, "he kicks."

"i bet."

suguru laughs again and clears his throat, looking around. you know there's nothing there, but you wait anyway. "i just try to remember that it's not real..." he says, eventually, "even if it seems like it."

you sigh, looking back to the forest separating your two worlds. "that's gonna be difficult, because i only dream about curses. and those are all real."

not to mention the other very real things you have nightmares about. the memories, the yelling, the quivering ideas that hide themselves in the corners of your head, begging to be let go, to be let out.

suguru must see this on your face; you're assuming it's fairly obvious.

he nudges you, but doesn't say anything for a moment, just looking back when you look at him. and then. "i have dreams about it, too."

you furrow your brows at him. "about what?"

"home. my parents."

you swallow, pausing. you blink rapidly, trying to regain your ground. "i don't..."

his face relaxes, at once. "satoru talks too much," he says, trying to joke. "especially about you."

you ignore that. "i don't--i barely think about my... parents. i'm too busy."

"i think your situation is probably worse than mine," suguru answers, obviously ignoring your lies. "my parents didn't tell me to leave. but... it was obvious that i couldn't stay."

it doesn't seem worth it to try and deny it, and if he's going to offer up information willingly, then who are you not to listen?

"how old were you?"

"eight," he says, easily. "you?"

"ten."

he nods, scratching at his neck. "i didn't tell anyone about it, for a long time. i thought... i knew that they wouldn't--"

"get it?"

"yeah."

you huff, relaxing at once. you slouch down, staring at the ground. suguru is wearing dirt-covered shoes, and you've got slippers on. "wish i'd thought of that. if i hadn't told anyone i'd probably still be there."

"you'd be hiding, though," suguru says, watching you, "trying to pretend like you fit in there, even if you didnt. couldn't."

"it would've been easier to pretend than having to live through it," you say, softly, absolutely sure about this. you've had a lot of time to think about it. then you smile, "i would've made a good human."

suguru laughs, tapping his foot against the ground. "what would you have done? if you weren't a sorcerer, i mean."

"uh..." you frown. you've never given the real world much thought--not beyond foolish dreams and stupid glances--"i think i'd be a taxi driver or something."

he snorts. "satoru says that you're a terrible driver."

"big talk from someone who can't drive," you say, scoffing. "and he was distracting me the entire time." you shake your head, annoyed at just the memory. "what would you be?"

he pauses. "...a teacher?"

"this is what haibara means by wisdom," you say, laughing. "maybe i wouldn't be a good human. i can't imagine doing anything else."

"maybe not."

you swallow. there are not very many stars in the sky, but you can still see all of the constellations and the stories written within the sky. part of you wonders if you'll be up there someday, another myth to speak about.

no, probably not. satoru will be written in history, and you'll still be here, always thrown out or forgotten

"do you think... do you think that my parents would be sorry? if they could talk to me now? if they saw what i can do?"

suguru hums, he doesn't even seem surprised by the question, to his credit. "i don't know... they--non-sorcerers--can't really understand, can they? they don't know that we exist solely to protect them, so they can't appreciate it. it makes it hard to be... angry, at them, doesn't it?"

you blow out a breath, looking away from the stars. "yeah."

"when yaga scouted me," suguru says, "my parents thought he was crazy. i understood what he said immediately, but they couldn't believe that anything like this could exist. and then, when i told them about the curses i was seeing, and absorbing..."

you look at him. his face is tense and easy, all at once. he doesn't mind telling you this, you realize. maybe haibara was right.

his eyes are contemplative as he looks around the courtyard, thinking about things you're sure you've thought about too.

"they thought i was crazy too, after that," he continues, finally. "my dad avoided me, and my mom never tried to argue with me about leaving. neither of them minded that i was going to this bizarre school and might not ever come home. even though they thought that yaga was a maniac."

you look at the ground, trying to push the memories out. you bite the inside of your cheek and wonder if there was ever a way to save that smaller version of yourself. if she'd grown up here, would she be the same?

"i think," suguru says, voice a bit harder, "that even if i was crazy, and all of the things i saw and experienced were fake, that if my parents truly cared about me, then they would've tried to help. they wouldn't have... ignored me, or treated me like i was the curse."

your neck snaps to him, and his eyes meet yours. suguru lets a thoughtful smile slip from his lips as he says, "it's not your fault that they didn't understand. that they couldn't. but it's their fault that they never tried to."

maybe it's because you haven't dared to speak with anyone about it--beyond snarky remarks to satoru when he says something ignorant--or maybe it's because suguru is the only person who gets it. who truly understands in a way that only children can.

or maybe it's just that you've been waiting for someone to say that to you since you were ten. since you were rejected solely for being yourself, being different.

six years of wondering if it was ever fair.

you swallow, nodding.

"sorry," he whispers after you're lost for words, struggling to put the pieces of you back. "but you can talk to me, if you want. i've been told i'm very wise."

you snort, shaking your head. he's like satoru in that way--shaking you out of whatever matters. "i really need to stop telling satoru things. he can't ever keep his mouth shut."

suguru laughs, looking at the sky. "no, don't."

"hmm?"

"don't stop telling him things. i'll have to hear all about it."

you laugh.

"'why would she be mad at me?'" suguru mocks, in a very good impression of satoru's honey-flow voice. "'i didn't even do anything.'"

"'i didn't know it was a secret,'" you say back, suddenly lighter.

suguru nudges you, hand wrapped around your forearm. just there. his fingertips are cold, but you don't mind.

"does satoru really tell you about the things we talk about?" you ask, after a while.

your entire body feels numb now, and you might freeze out here, but somehow it's worth it. just to not be alone for once.

suguru looks over at you, his brown eyes slight and knowing. "he doesn't need to," he says.

you have to look away, just so he doesn't catch that shock--the brief moment of recognition, pleasure--as it passes. but you smile in the dark eventually, letting it go unsaid.

and that's just how things are.

you spend your late nights chatting with suguru in the dark, both of you hopelessly lost and completely insane.

you let satoru irritate you whenever he wants, and sometimes you even bask in it. letting all of the horrors wash away with every quip that you send his way.

and you ignore that light--and heavy--feeling in your chest around him, pretending that it doesn't exist, or maybe it just doesn't matter.

you spend time with people who understand you, for once. you let the fear flow away in concerning thoughts and subconscious glances inward. you let the fears of attaching yourself to them fade away.

you know that any of you could be gone, could live with the regret of never living, at any moment, so you choose not to care about any of it. you go on missions and you act like your life is a feeble thing to play around with.

and it's honestly not all that bad.

until riko amanai, that is.

third year.

"suguru," your voice almost catches when he opens the door.

how many days has it been since you've seen him? how many weeks?

you've spent the last several weeks trying to let the two of them settle. into life, into existing, whatever.

you ask shoko how they're both doing--satoru and suguru--and she just shrugs.

"they don't like to talk about it," she tells you, and you try to just accept it. you try to let it go and worry about yourself, about your own messed up life.

but everything feels different.

satoru hasn't been answering your calls, which, okay, fine. you could deal with that. but he also hasn't been calling you, or showing up at your door just to talk, or stealing your breakfast, or clinging to you like he does.

he hasn't been doing any of it. and you could pretend you haven't noticed--that it doesn't matter to you if he cares or not. if he wants to be around you or not.

but it matters.

you decided to let him in at the beginning of the year, and you hadn't thought it was a mistake until now. until this exact moment, when you realized that you'd gotten too close to satoru. that you were friends, or...

you look at suguru now and you try not to gape.

his face is dreadfully grey, his eyes almost completely sunken in. he looks like an elderly man who hasn't slept in five years, just on the verge of death.

and you know from shoko that he's been gone a lot, like satoru, that he's been busy, but... still. this doesn't happen to overworked sorcerers. the recovery rate for all of you is extremely quick.

you really try not to gape. you try not to stare at him for too long, but you can't peel your eyes away.

"y/n," he whispers, no pleasantries needed. even his voice sounds rough. "is something wrong?"

you should probably be asking him that.

"no, i..." you stare for a moment, swallowing. maybe it's just his hair. you've never seen it down before, you realize, trying to refrain from taking a step back. still, there's that feeling in your chest--reminiscent of being a child, of dealing with satoru. you exhale. "are--are you sick?"

"what?"

"you look..."

suguru's eyes widen, and he nods, eventually, looking caught. "yeah, i guess i came down with something... i'm just..."

he looks behind him, and you get the sudden feeling that he doesn't want you there. doesn't want you to disturb whatever this is.

it makes you wonder if he and satoru have talked at all, since it happened almost a month ago. maybe two months.

you all know that sorcerers die all of the time. that people die just from living, curses or not.

so why is this death any different? why does this one matter? you want so desperately to ask.

"sorry, i can--i'll come back--" you say quickly, turning. then you turn around again, feeling guilty. "do you need anything? medicine? um... food?"

finally, a small smile makes its way to suguru's face. it's small, almost unnoticeable. but something inside you relaxes.

it shouldn't be this surprising that he even remembers how.

"did you need something?" he asks, softly, talking to you like he always does.

like you're sitting outside again, talking about life, ethics, being a sorcerer, and having a part of yourself hate it.

but this is so much different.

your stomach drops again. this is a ridiculous, stupid thing to even be asking. you shouldn't be here, worrying about this. you should be in your dorm, studying. you should be training with nanami, or trying to get haibara to come with you on a mission...

you shouldn't even be here.

you feel like a deer in headlights, caught in this the same way you caught suguru in whatever.

but he already knows, you rationalize. he already knows.

everyone knows, you think. everyone but you and satoru, according to shoko's comments.

so what do you care if suguru knows this?

"i, um, i just haven't..." you swallow, wanting to punch yourself in the face. are you really this pathetic? "have you seen satoru?" you ask, blurring the words together. "i know you've both been... busy, but i--i've been trying to get ahold of him, and shoko says that he won't answer her messages, and it's been a couple of weeks since i've seen him around school, so i just figured--" what? that suguru would have some brilliant answer for you? that he could reassure you that satoru wasn't trying to ignore you? "--that you might know where he is... or if he's okay? he's your best friend so--"

"i haven't seen him, either. we've been doing seperate missions," suguru says, interrupting whatever terrible thing you were about to say next, luckily. "he hasn't been answering your calls?"

your responding "no," sounds so small you want to bury yourself beneath the earth.

you really don't care about him, okay? you really don't.

you just want to be notified if he's dead or something. you just want to know if you did something to make him avoid you, or if he needs someone there, or if...

suguru frowns, contemplating something. "i think he's supposed to be home in a couple of days," he says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. it looks wet, and greasy, like he hasn't washed it in weeks. "but i'll text him."

"...you don't have to."

he smiles, knowingly. he gives you that same look that everyone does. that look that tells you that they know more about what's going on between you and satoru than you do. "it's no problem. you know how... spacey satoru can get."

"yeah. i know."

"you don't need to worry about him," suguru says, laughing a little bit. his eyes are so cold, bland.

"i know," you say, again, a bit more defensively. you take a step back. you're not sure why you expected suguru to have any answers for you.

(maybe it's because they're best friends and they're supposed to be there for each other. or maybe it's because they just went through the same terrible experience, and should probably depend on each other right now).

maybe he told him not to answer, you think, instantly. maybe suguru is working for him.

not that you care. if satoru doesn't want to talk to you--doesn't want suguru to talk to you--then you can't do anything about it.

you just have to live through this like you've lived through everything else.

he's just a classmate.

but the question slips through your lips, breaking down all denial. "is he... do you think he's okay?"

you want to clarify. you want to ask if they're both okay, if they've talked about any of it. if suguru needs you to get someone, like shoko, or if he wants to go sit on the steps and shout at the sky.

if he'll come with you to look for satoru because you're really worried about him.

if everything is okay.

but you know that suguru wouldn't answer that, especially not like this.

"are you okay, y/n?" suguru asks, and it's almost rhetorical. you can tell that he's trying to hit you where you're sore.

you feel frozen there for a moment, and then you turn away.

and that just about sums it up.

you're staring down at a white sheet, and all you can think is, this can't be happening.

not really, that is.

it's been a long time since you felt this deeply about anything. anger, sure. are you mad that your classmates are distancing themselves from you? are you mad that everyone seems to be advancing and you're stuck there, stagnant, while everyone else deals with everything?

of course.

but this...

you've had this nightmare a hundred times, but it's never gone like this. it's never been so untouchable, unforgettable, unbearable...

your entire body feels freezing; like you're the one who's dead.

have you already undergone rigor mortis? are you frozen there, muscles turned to stone?

this can't be happening, you think, again. so briefly it's not really a thought.

you're staring down at him. you're looking at him--at haibara--but this can't be how he really is, how he really was. haibara doesn't look like this, you think. you've never seen his hair this limp, never seen his face this pale. you've never seen him without a smile.

but nobody is smiling now.

you barely hear anything they're saying--the other people undergoing this, the other people who could probably tell you if this is real or not.

"...to exterminate a second-grade cursed spirit..." rings briefly out in your mind. you wonder if you imagined it.

your eyes glance down to the blood on the table. shouldn't shoko be here? shouldn't someone be doing something?

should you be doing something?

"nanami," someone says. "you should just rest for now." there's a hand on your shoulder, a whisper of another person in the room. "y/n, let's sit down."

are your legs shaking? is this a physical reaction to the news? you're always calm, always collected. the only person that--

"satoru has taken..." the same voice continues.

you pause, trying to listen, but their voices echo. if this were a dream, would you be able to listen? this is a dream, you think, just something to wake up from.

there's no one here to pull you out from this flood of emotions, of thoughts. satoru would usually, you think. he would be here and he would crack and joke and you wouldn't care about it anymore.

but satoru...

what should you do?

"can't we just let him handle everything alone at this point?" nanami asks, and you just hear it.

suguru ushers you over to the wall, where all of the stools are, one missing. he sits you down and you let him, because there's nothing else you can do.

your limbs are numb, and it's ridiculous to feel this way.

you barely even notice when you reach a hand out, grabbing nanami's, or when he grabs back, squeezing harder than you thought possible.

you should tell him that it hurts--that he's stronger than he looks--crack a joke or say something comforting, but you can't. you don't mind if he cracks all of the bones in your hand, as long as he stays right there.

"it's going to be okay," suguru says, maybe to you, maybe to nanami.

but he's lying. and you know it, even if you don't know anything else.

and when you try to knock on satoru's door later, feeling absolutely nothing, he doesn't answer.

not that you were expecting him to, anyway.

satoru doesn't think any of it is supposed to feel like this.

he's been hurt a hundred times. bruised when he let suguru get a hit in during practice, sliced up when he lets shoko try something on his body just to heal him right after, cut through the literal throat, and left to bleed out.

but it's never felt like this before.

he's ashamed, almost. lost.

what could he have done differently, he wonders? where did it all go wrong?

he thinks about amanai, thinks about suguru telling him not to be so arrogant, and then rejecting him just like that.

are you the strongest because you're satoru gojo? or are you satoru gojo because you're the strongest?

satoru almost wants to laugh.

well, he wants to say to suguru, how strong am i now? how strong am i like this?

but suguru isn't there. he's not coming back, satoru thinks, blandly, and his fists clench automatically. if anyone had asked him a week ago, he would've said that everything was fine.

everything was wrong, of course, but it was all fine.

shoko was staying at the school, helping with the damaged sorcerers, satoru was advancing more rapidly than he'd thought was possible, and suguru was...

what was he doing, again?

satoru blinks, and before he can answer that question for himself--answer any one of the goddamn questions floating around in his head--you're there.

you're there, and satoru suddenly can't remember the last time he saw you.

he certainly can't remember the last time he saw your eyes that sad, that wrong on the rest of your otherwise untouched face.

his defenses go down immediately, as they always do when you're around. it's probably a stupid decision, but satoru doesn't really care to rationalize it.

he's missed you, he thinks, suddenly. he's missed you more than he should.

you don't say anything when you sit down next to him, on the steps of the school, watching as his hands fall from their outstretched position.

"do you think that i'm strong?" satoru asks you, his voice rough, so tired.

and then he looks over to you and he watches as all of the thoughts pass on your face--the thoughts about suguru, knowing what he means, the worry and concern that he hasn't missed on your face since he first met you.

but you sigh, eventually, and you move a little bit closer to him.

"are you strong, satoru?"

he hasn't spoken to you in weeks, he remembers, suddenly. he doesn't even know why you're here now.

not when he's been avoiding you in favor of improving himself. not when he's been ignoring all of his responsibilities so he could try to get back to that place where there wasn't anything to care about.

"not strong enough," he answers, distantly. he's not even really sure if he means it.

your head falls to his shoulder in an instant, and you're there again.

satoru remembers every smile and every wince on your face. every time he made you laugh and then said something else just so he could try and do it again.

god, he's such a fool.

"that's okay," you whisper, eventually. "that's why you have me," you tell him.

"do i?" he wonders, aloud.

"hmm?"

"do i have you?"

you lift your head, and you're smiling, just a little. satoru can see the bitterness in your expression. he can tell that you're angry and that you're tired of it.

he can taste that hint of happiness that pours from you, that contradicting feeling of just being together again, even in a moment like this.

"of course," you say to him, softly. it's soft, unbelievable. "whenever you want."

satoru nods.

and you sit there with him for hours, and for once, you're the one pulling him out of everything.

just briefly satoru wonders what he would do if you left, too.

"what?" you repeat, watching nanami throw something into a suitcase.

you've been standing there for five minutes, processing this like you've processed everything recently.

meaning that you haven't. and that you're not going to as long as you'd like, thank you.

"what's the point of this?" kento answers, like you tried to tell him that there was a purpose to any of this. like you're just arguing.

but you can't be, because this isn't a discussion. you didn't happen upon his room and pick an argument with him.

you walked through the hall and you noticed the suitcase outside the door. the boxes he was stacking up to take somewhere else.

would he even have told you? would he have said anything if you hadn't stumbled upon it yourself?

"kento," you say, again, like a grounding tool. "i don't understand."

he sighs, folding a suit. "i'm not going to sit around and live this life. i don't care about jujutsu. i don't care about any of it."

"but, you..."

"there's no point, is there?" he asks, quietly, and he's not asking. "and even if there was, i don't care. i don't want to die doing this, y/n."

"you won't die," you answer, uselessly, trying to grab onto his arm, to get him to look at you. you want him to walk you through this, this thought process, the past three months here. "where are you going to go?"

"i don't know. i'll find an entry-level position somewhere."

"where are you going to live?"

"there's an available apartment in the city."

"but..."

"look," finally nanami turns around, meeting your eyes. he's never been emotional, but he looks even more stoic now. maybe he really doesn't care. "i don't want to be a sorcerer. i don't want to exterminate curses every day. i want to... live a normal life."

"what?" you repeat, feeling that terror rise in your chest.

so many people are leaving, you think. so many people are running away from this, and eventually, you're going to have to follow. or you'll rot here alone, hiding in the closet like you did as a kid.

"nanami, you can't just decide that you don't--"

"i already did."

"what about..." you swallow, and nanami shakes his head at you. his eyes are glazed over and you know he's not going to listen. you can feel it. "what about haibara?" you ask, finally, stepping over the boundaries you've laid down about him. "he wouldn't have wanted you to live some boring life in the city and run away from all of this--"

nanami's eyes are stern, his jaw clenches. "haibara died. isn't that proof enough that this doesn't matter?"

"it does matter," you say, even though you're not sure yourself. "it does."

"geto left, too. if the only two choices are staying and dying or leaving and living a boring life, then i choose the latter."

"suguru killed--" you pause, not wanting to talk about it out loud. you haven't seen satoru since the day you found out, and you don't want to risk having to think about him. "nanami, you're useful here. you're strong. you can do whatever--"

"gojo handles most of our cases now, anyway, doesn't he?"

you freeze, looking away. "well, he can't handle every curse, even if..."

"there's no point, y/n."

"what about--"

what about me?

he gives you one more look, another glance your way, another reminder that your only remaining classmate doesn't want to be that anymore. that there's nothing you can do to stop him from leaving.

it's your parents all over again.

are you the crazy one here? are you crazy for wanting to stay, even with all of the horror?

"i'm sorry," he says, after a moment, looking sincerely at you. but nanami has never been able to read your mind. he has never tried to spare your feelings--you thought you liked that about him. "we'll still talk. i'll call you."

"yeah, sure."

because you have to give up at some point. if nanami doesn't want to stay, you don't want to force him.

"this is what's best."

you nod blindly. and you wonder, for the first time since you got to jujutsu high, if you're strong enough for this.

year zero.

"this is basically every kid's dream," satoru says, rolling his eyes. megumi is the most difficult kid he's ever encountered, and he refuses to be pleased. "i got you candy and i'm letting you stay up late. why aren't you normal?"

megumi looks up at him, a vigorous hatred in his eyes. "why aren't you?" he repeats, attempting to kick at satoru's foot.

honestly, it's a little pathetic.

satoru tries not to snort, about to tell megumi about the millions of children lacking in candy at this current moment, or about how he's actively trying to find them a place to sleep even after megumi tried to punch him in the stomach earlier and--

he looks over to tsumiki, the little angel who is in no way biologically related to megumi, and watches as she waves.

his brows furrow, and then he looks up, away from the child attempting to murder him with his eyes, and he sees you.

you're standing there, a figure illuminated by the light in your entryway, a wary look on your face.

you're looking at both of the children, eyes flicking between the two of them, probably noticing how small they are, or how wet their clothes are from the rain.

not that satoru cares, actually.

as soon as satoru sees you--as soon as he can feel you again, the familiar curves and concaves of your cursed energy, of your entire being--his heart shifts, clicking back into place.

you look a bit upset, angry at his intrusion as you've always pretended to be.

he hasn't seen you in months, and it's suddenly very apparent. you look almost exactly the same. maybe you got your hair cut, or maybe you've just woken up, but satoru doesn't care.

he doesn't care about any of it.

his lips curve into an involuntary smile, and he wants to throw himself on top of you and tell you a million little things. he wants to whisper all of his secrets in your ear and hold you until you force him to let you go.

but you clear your throat, interrupting him before he can begin, and your eyes finally look towards him, both firey and excited.

his favorite.

"satoru," you say, the sound of his name in your mouth sending goosebumps up and down his skin. "where did you get these kids?"

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greensagephase · 10 months

Text

Nonviolent Communication - Part Two

***Fanart done by the lovely @sunsetdoodler for the end scene of this part can be found here !! Thank you so much @sunsetdoodler for drawing this!! I'm in love with the way you drew this scene and I'm still not over how tiny the coffee cup looks in his hand 🥹 so CUTE!!! Please go and show some love to this amazing artist and their work!!***

Miguel O'Hara x FemReader

Summary: You show up to HQ after a day off due to your period (Part One). You accidently intrude on your boss's personal moment.

Word Count: 6,468

Part Two

The next day you wake up bright and early. You're definitely feeling a million times better. You sit up in bed and untuck your sweatshirt. Miguel's handmade rice socks slide out. You didn’t need them last night, but you still felt like using them to prevent or ease any cramps or pain during the night. You quickly get ready for the day, changing into clothes to go out and fixing your hair. You make breakfast and for some reason you check the cabinets and drawer from last night again. They're still fixed. The containers that Miguel left are in your fridge.

You feel silly as you check this. It really did feel like a dream having Miguel O'Hara, your boss, visit your apartment and then to find out he had lied about the reason for his visit.

You reheat the canelita from last night as you eat breakfast and think. The realization that he had lied kept you up for a little while last night. You don't understand why he would lie about it.

But then you also wonder what it meant. It wasn't like you thought he was heartless. Or some stone-cold man. He could act like he was sometimes, but you feel that he is not like that. You remember hearing the events that unfolded before your enrollment into the Spider Society. An altercation with Miles Morales, who is now one of your closest colleagues, trying to prevent his father from dying. Miguel launched a multiverse hunt for Miles, trying to prevent him from breaking the canon, which had resulted in several spider-members breaking off the Spider Society to side with Miles. In the end, Miguel had discovered that he was wrong. Miles’s father didn’t need to die to keep the multiverse balanced. After discovering he was wrong, he apologized and even helped Miles save his dad, according to Miles himself. So, Miguel O’Hara was not heartless, or completely uncaring.

He was, however, still filled with guilt and pain from losing his family. You couldn't help but wonder if he would ever be able to heal and move on.

He did care, you think. He was just too scared of showing it. Maybe he feared letting people know he cared or had the potential to still care. You sigh as you drink the warm canelita. Maybe that’s why he had lied. Perhaps he had been somewhat concerned for you and had decided to check your wellness. Then, seeing you in pain, he felt the responsibility to help. That was it. Whatever the reason, you know he didn’t want you to know. This was clear to you as he had made sure to tell you not to mention it to Jessica twice to prevent getting caught in a lie.

You finish breakfast and wash dishes before heading out. You stop as you're nearly out the door, turning to look at a picture of Peter. You bring your fingertips to your lips, planting a soft kiss before pressing them to Peter's lips on the picture.

You smile at the photo. "This city depends on me," you say, remembering this was one of the things he had last told you. You head out then, fulfilling your daily promise to Peter of ensuring the safety of this city. You swing through the city, easily, looking out for crime or anyone in need of help. You watch the sky, the sun climbing higher and higher. The city never rests but you see it's still calm and early before the sidewalks are overfilled with busy citizens living their lives. You end up sitting on a tall building, just watching and patrolling. Your senses are met as you sit there. You hear chatter already. There are some honks here and there from cars below on the streets. Music plays from somewhere nearby. You feel a light breeze in the air, messing with your hair. There’s a bakery down below, and despite the height, the scent of fresh baked bread fills the air.

Your eyes end up on a couple. You can't help but watch as they walk hand in hand. Not a care in the world. They both look like they're going to work as they talk and laugh to themselves. Your gaze follows them until they reach an intersection where they part ways but not before they kiss on the lips. It looks like a longing kiss, as if they're already missing each other despite their bodies being pressed against each other’s.

A soft sight escapes your lips. That used to be Peter and you, you realized. It was that kind of love. The kind in which you'd start missing your person even before you said goodbye. The kind that had you already longing to kiss their lips again while you were kissing them.

You longed to have that back. You missed having that. To still feel that. Even though it has been three years since Peter's death, you haven't thought about a new relationship. Sure, you have been asked out in the last year or so, but you didn't feel ready yet. You felt as though it was too soon. For some reason though, in this moment, watching the couple, you feel as though you are ready to be open to the possibility of a relationship again. You know it might never be the same as with Peter. Peter was the first everything. He's always going to be special and different to you no matter what but...

That doesn't mean love can't come again, right? And you had promised Peter, too. That you would be open to it. As you look at the city before you, you realize you're okay with at least being open to a relationship now. It's not going to be immediate of course, as it's going to take a while to find someone you can trust the same way you trusted Peter.

You sigh and get up, cleaning your pants. It seems that everything is good with your city. At least for now. You give one last glance at the lovers, now walking in different directions.

You walk away from the edge of the building and open a multidimensional portal, ready to report to HQ. Since you missed out on yesterday's meeting, you have no idea if you have special missions today or for the rest of the week. The sooner you show up to HQ, the sooner you'll know what you have been assigned and plus, you needed to go and organize the lab since you also skipped that. You enter through the portal, stepping out into the cafeteria which buzzes with energy of about seventy or so spider members. You nod to a few who you've worked with in the past as you walk by. The scent of coffee fills the air, making you crave it since you didn't have any earlier. You grab a cup then decide to grab another one for Miguel as you're heading there to collect the report from yesterday. You make your way to his lab, making it sooner than expected. You call for Lyla, who always appears. Except she doesn't appear right now. You frown.

"Lyla?" you say hoping she'll pop out of nowhere like she usually does. You always call her before you go into Miguel's lab. You always do this to avoid entering unannounced, but Lyla doesn't appear with her bubbly and sassy personality.

You debate going into the lab. On one hand, you need to figure out if you have a mission. What if there's something planned that you were assigned, and you miss it? You really don’t want to make any mission partners angry at you skipping accidentally. On the other hand, you don't want to just go into the lab unannounced even though you know other members do that sometimes.

You frown and debate internally, finally making up your mind. You push open one of the labs doors, careful not to spill any coffee on yourself, deciding that knowing if you have missions is more important. Once you enter, the door closes behind you softly. The lab is dark and quiet. You can spot the yellow lights from the monitors faintly. You begin to question if Miguel is even here. He might be out on a mission right now. You continue to walk further in just as you receive a message from Jessica through your gizmo. You put the cups of coffee down on a nearby surface, already too deep in the lab. You pull open the message, noticing that it was sent to all Spider Society members.

"Whatever you do, do NOT, and I mean do NOT, go into Miguel's lab today. Don't speak to him. Don't approach him. Avoid him at all costs. He's not to be approached today. Any questions you have, direct them to me."

You curse under your breath. Why didn't Jessica send this sooner, you ask yourself as you look up. At least it seems that he's not here, you think as you look around only to realize you're very wrong.

You feel shivers run down your body as you see him. He's hunched over his monitors on his platform. You hadn't seen him because the light was off. You stand still, heart racing suddenly.

Shit, you think to yourself. Why did Jessica send the message two minutes too late? You begin walking backwards quietly, forgetting the cups of coffee. You'll retrieve them tomorrow if all goes well. You watch Miguel carefully, making sure he stays the same, making sure he doesn’t detect you. You make it a good bit before he moves. His movement is so subtle you pause walking, making you freeze in place.

Shit, shit, shit, you think. He's looking over his shoulder now, probably scanning the area.

"Who's there?" Miguel asks, in a voice so much different from the one he used last night. This voice is raspy, laced with anger and something else. It's almost threatening. "Do not make me ask again," he says with a coldness that could put winter to shame when silence meets him.

You hear your heart race in your ears. It's beating and beating. This is the scary Miguel people talk about, you realize. You hear him breathing. He sounds irritated. You decide to speak at last to avoid angering him any further.

"It's me, Y/N. I'm sorry for coming in... I see you're busy, so I'll head out now," you say, before you begin speed walking towards the doors. Before you know it, however, you see Miguel's bright illuminating webs shoot past you and onto the doors, blocking them. You halt as you see this. You turn around slowly to face his direction, unknowing what’s going to happen next. Is he going to scream at you for interrupting him? Is he going to take out his emotions on you?

You watch carefully as he stands on the platform, facing you now. He looks menacing standing there on his platform with the lights off, the only visible lights being the yellow monitor lights which are faint to begin with. He stands still, watching in your direction, silent. You swallow hard before you take a step forward.

You can’t help but ask yourself what you’re doing. You should stay still; you should try and leave but no. Here you are, taking more steps towards him, approaching him as if he were a delicate glass figure who could break at any sudden and abrupt movement. All the while, Miguel stands there, like a statue. You can feel his gaze on you now. He has the kind of gaze that anyone could feel. Or maybe it was just you who felt his heavy gaze. You take step after step, until you are standing before him. He still stands there, towering over you, perfectly still. You release a slow breath as you meet his eyes. There’s anger, sadness, and grief in them. You tell yourself you should leave at that moment. Who are you anyway? You are just another member of the Spider Society. You are not one of his most trusted members. You are just you.

You are you, the one he checked on last night. You are the member he left his lab and million of duties he assigns himself for to travel to your universe to check on you. He helped you last night. He made you homemade rice socks to ease your pain. He made food for you, which happened to be one of your comfort foods. He made you canelita, to ease your cramps. He fixed your cabinets and took out the trash and dealt with the dishes. He watched you become overwhelmed with your emotions as you remembered Peter.

Even though Miguel O’Hara didn’t want you to know, he had shown up of his own accord and not because another member had asked him to. Jessica had not asked him to check on you.

He made the decision all on his own. You didn’t know why exactly but you were thankful, nonetheless. And that was all that mattered to you suddenly. You were grateful he had shown you kindness.

Still meeting his eyes as you think about this, you speak up again, knowing that the only thing you wish to do right now, is reciprocate that kindness. He can reject it. He can tell you to go away. He can laugh or mock you. You could care less right now. You just want to reciprocate the kind gesture from last night and that’s why you ask, looking into his maroon eyes, “Is there anything – anything I can do for you right now?”

Miguel’s eyes narrow down at you. There’s an emotion in them. Perhaps, surprise? Is he surprised by the question? Has anyone ever asked Miguel if they can do anything for him? Would he even let them if they asked?

Your arms hang at your sides as you continue to hold his gaze. “I could simply listen,” you say quietly, trying to tell him that he could just talk about whatever it is that’s bothering him. You’ll listen… If he lets you.

A few minutes go by – or maybe it just feels that long as the two of you stand in front of each other, holding each other’s gaze, in silence in his dark lab. You almost feel like he could do this all day. Just stand there, watching you with his maroon eyes narrowed at you. You wonder what he’s thinking. Or maybe he’s not even thinking. Maybe he’s so wrapped up in his emotions, he has forgotten you are there. Maybe you have become part of his lab, just another object laying around.

You begin to feel as though this will continue forever. You will be stuck in this moment with him until he snaps out of it. You find yourself thinking that you’d wait it out with him, to return the gesture of last night. You will stand here the rest of the day until he-

“Lyla,” Miguel says, finally breaking the silence. His voice is hoarse.

You feel stunned for a few seconds. You thought he’d only continue to stand there in silence for longer. You recover quickly though and nod slowly, hoping that this encourages him to talk more. You also wonder for a second if he’s requesting Lyla to show up, but she doesn’t appear. You find this strange. She’s not showing up even for him.

Miguel turns around, turning away from you to face the monitors. You stand still, in the same spot. You feel as though you should remain still, to avoid upsetting or alarming him. You notice that he begins to move his monitors around, though you cannot see what’s in them as his body covers your view. You wait for anything else. He sighs as he stops moving his monitors.

“Last night,” Miguel begins, “I returned from your apartment. I ran maintenance on Lyla before I left, and when I returned, I found a folder that she kept hidden from me.”

You listen intently, your brows furrowing as you hear the last bit. Lyla hid a folder from him? You can’t help but wonder what it contained but you know immediately whatever it was, is the root of his mood today. You watch Miguel’s head drop. The sight of this on a man like him, who always looks put together, stern, and unbreakable, is devastating. You feel the need to reach out to him. To lay your hand on his arm as a sign of support but you know very well that would be too much for the founder and leader of the Spider Society. You can’t help but think about something Jessica once said after you and other members had returned from a mission. The mission had been particularly hard, as you had all dealt with a vexing anomaly. However, it had been a success in the end, with the anomaly captured and returned to its original universe. One of the other members on the mission had joked about Miguel congratulating all of you with a hug, to which Jessica had responded in a very serious and somber manner that had snatched your teammate’s humor instantly after.

“Miguel cannot do physical touch in that way, right now. Perhaps he never will.”

You remember thinking how sad that sounded. That someone couldn’t do physical touch in that way. Of course, you understood why it would be hard for him. You had heard he had lost his daughter in his arms. Your fingers twitch, wishing you could comfort him but there’s a line. A line you’re unwilling to cross when you know Miguel has firmly drawn it. Your hands curl into fists, trying to end the need to comfort him. Listening will have to do, you think.

“The folder contains photos and videos of my… previous life. Of my daughter and wife,” Miguel says, sounding pained and heartbroken.

You share his sadness as you realize. Lyla had hidden it. Lyla, who is nowhere to be found… You piece the pieces together and conclude that the bubbly, cute, and sassy AI assistant has been deactivated or shut off for the time being as a result of Miguel’s emotions.

You don’t know what to say. What can you say? How do you respond to this unique scenario in which your AI assistant hides a folder containing contents from your previous life before disaster struck? As you stare into Miguel’s back, you think about Lyla.

Lyla, who is always sassy and bubbly. Lyla, who follows Miguel’s every command.

Lyla, who is the only one that accompanies the founder and leader of the Spider Society when he’s locked up in his lab. Lyla, who despite being AI, is the only one that knows in full disclosure about the life Miguel led.

The one who saw a happy Miguel. A Miguel with a wife and daughter. A Miguel that probably smiled and laughed often. A version of him that didn’t stare into monitors with a grief-stricken face. You cannot help but wonder in that moment, staring at his large back… What was it like to hear Miguel O’Hara’s laugh? You guessed it was deep and rich, the kind that probably made you want to make the man laugh more to keep hearing it. You wondered what his smile looked like, too.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. It was not the moment. You focus again. Lyla, the AI assistant that probably knew Miguel better than any other Spider Society member, had hidden a folder containing photos and videos of his previous life. Of his wife and daughter. And you know why. Or at least you are certain you know why. That little sassy and bubbly AI assistant cares for Miguel. You cannot help but pinpoint this as her reasoning for hiding it. She knows him and what he has been through. She knew it’d break him further to see more memories of his previous life.

Still standing behind him, unmoving, you gently respond, “I’m sorry…”

Miguel’s head is still hanging when he speaks again. “She hid it from me all these years. Do you know how many files I had before this?” he asks, his voice hoarse, still laced with anger and sadness. He responds before you can. “I had three!” he says, louder. “Two videos and one photograph! And she’s had this file containing over a dozen photos and videos of them. How dare she! How dare she hide this from me? How could she hide them from me… My family,” Miguel says with a much more desperate and mournful tone that almost makes you want to weep for him.

You notice his hand, laying against a monitor softly. He shifts his body some, allowing you, accidentally, to see the monitor. You feel overwhelmed with sadness as your eyes scan the photograph. There, in the monitor is Miguel standing in the back with his arms wrapped around a woman while the other one holds a girl. Your eyes move across the woman, Miguel’s wife. You had heard from other spider members that he had met her shortly after inserting himself into the child’s life. They had quickly fallen in love and had married in a short amount of time. She was beautiful with mid-length hair, bright eyes, and a warm smile. You move to the child. Her small face was precious with her toothy smile and scrunched nose as she looked at the camera. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she wore a soccer uniform. You cannot explain the feeling that overwhelms your heart as you see this beautiful girl. Finally, your eyes land on him.

Miguel O’Hara looks at the camera with happy eyes and a smile that leaves you a little breathless. The sight is strange and yet comforting in some way. His eyes are bright. He looks happy. More than happy, really. This was another Miguel. One that you had never met. One that you may never meet. You don’t fail to notice that he’s in casual clothes in the photograph, further indicating how different this version of him to the one in skin and bones before you are. Miguel never smiles or laughs. He is never seen in comforting and relaxing clothing. His eyes are never full and bright. There is no twinkle in his eyes like there is in the photograph. No, the eyes of the man in front of you are vacant of this twinkle. No sign of happiness.

An involuntary, deep sigh escapes from you. You freeze almost immediately. Miguel turns to you with an unreadable look on his face. You meet his eyes briefly before you return your attention to the monitor.

“She was beautiful… They both were,” you whisper as your eyes land on the little girl again.

You wonder what she was like. Her soccer uniform gives you a glimpse of her. You imagine she was dedicated to it. She probably was good at scoring goals. You imagine her scoring one and running to the sidelines, where Miguel probably stood, watching, and cheering with his wife. You imagine them, going out to get ice cream afterwards to celebrate. You imagine Miguel giving her a ride on his back as she squeals, his wife laughing and finding the scene wholesome.

You cannot explain it. You feel as though you are grieving for him, the life he used to have. You grieve his happiness.

He was so happy. He had everything. A wife and a daughter. A family. And they were gone. Just like that.

As you stare at the photograph, your emotions swirling, you fail to notice Miguel watching you. He notices the way your posture has changed. You usually walk around with a posture that many envy. Your head is always high. Your face is usually bright and warm. And yet, when he looks at you now, he sees the way your arms hang at your sides almost in a helpless way. He notices your hands, curled in fists and wonders the reason for it. He observes your slumped shoulders, as if you were sharing the burden of his emotions in that moment.

Despite his emotions being a wreck right now, he finds the moment to feel off by this sight. He is used to seeing you happy and with a warm smile. He wondered a few times how someone could always carry themselves this way despite losing someone. He knew of your loss, of course. He didn’t know the exact details, but he knew it had been painful and his suspicions had been further confirmed last night when he had asked why you stuck around to your shitty apartment. He had seen the way you had focused on the wall with photographs. He had guessed you were looking at a photo of you and your Peter. He was never going to admit it out loud, but he had explored your apartment while you slept, and that wall had caught his attention.

His eyes had observed your face. There was not one in which you weren’t smiling. It didn’t matter if you were looking at the camera or not, there was a smile on your face. He couldn’t help but notice the way you smiled at Peter, too, in the photos that you were not facing the camera. It seemed to Miguel that Peter was your everything and you had proven his thought right when he saw your eyes focus on a specific photo on this wall. When your eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill down your face. When he saw the familiar emotions he carried with him every day.

Grief. Sadness. Heartbreak. Longing.

Miguel swallows the lump in his throat as his eyes are still on you. He watches the way you scan the photo. There is no judgement from you. There is no question about how it happened. You just watch and you seem to feel his pain. He finally turns to the screen, shifting over, giving you a better view of the monitor displaying the photo. His movement is subtle, and it could easily be mistaken as an accident, but it was anything but that. Miguel O’Hara, for once, was okay with someone looking at a photo of his previous life. He felt that he could trust you, even though you were one of the newest members in his society. He felt something inside him when he heard you call his wife and daughter beautiful. His face had a longing look on it but a small, almost barely there, smile appeared on his face as his eyes scanned the photo again.

“They were…,” he said softly. “My daughter – her name was Gabriella.”

Your eyes shift to Miguel again. You can see a ghost of a smile on his face. It pains you to see this. He deserves to be happy, you think.

“That’s a beautiful name… Gabriella,” you say softly, and you don’t fail to see the way his eyes close when you say his child’s name. It’s almost as if it’s too much to hear it out loud but Miguel opens his eyes again.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard someone else say her name,” Miguel says quietly, barely audible but you hear it, and this breaks your heart. You watch him swallow. “She was bright, so bright. She did well in school. She loved science,” Miguel says before he brings his hand to his face. You watch as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Tears, you realize. He’s wiping tears off his eyes as he talks about Gabriella. And – suddenly, Miguel is talking about his daughter. Spilling everything that comes to his mind about her.

He tells you about the science projects Gabriella did and how she earned A’s. He tells you about her in the soccer team, how she put so much determination into her practices. How she dedicated her goals to him. About the way she had nightmares sometimes and how she called for him, him being the only one that could truly comfort her and lure her back to sleep. He talks about making her breakfast and how much she loved Saturday breakfasts especially because he made pancakes with chocolate chip cookies on them.

Miguel goes on and on, giving you more glimpses into his life and hell – you grieve that life for him. You grieve the death of a child you never knew. Your urge to comfort him grows with each detail he gives you. Your curled fists unclench and clench over and over. It’s so hard to hold back, to not wrap your arms around this man who is stuck in the past, grieving a life he no longer has… but you know you shouldn’t. You know you can’t as you remember Jessica’s comment about Miguel being unable to do physical touch. Instead, you do what you can do.

“She sounds like a wonderful child, Miguel,” you whisper still looking at the image, and you mean it. Little Gabriella sounds like a beam of sunlight. She sounds like the kind of child that could turn your frown into a smile. You smile faintly at her toothy smile. You wonder what kind of life she would’ve led but you stop yourself, feeling like you have no right to wonder that. “I have never said it before because I know…” you trail off not wanting to say what you wanted to say, which was that you knew this was a topic that couldn’t be brought up. Other members had warned you about bringing it up, so you never did. “… but I’m so sorry for your loss,” you whisper and hope your tone expresses your condolences.

Miguel remains silent. He continues to look at the screen and it appears his tears have slowed down at least. “Thank you,” he says, his voice sounding less hoarse and calmer, but it’s still laced with sadness.

You remember Lyla then and you can’t help but feel bad for the little AI assistant. You wonder if you will push it too far by bringing her up.

“I know I’m no one,” you start, turning your face to him even though he cannot see it. “To say anything and I know it’s upsetting, rightfully so…” you say, understanding why Miguel was so angry.

Miguel turns slightly towards you, as if interested in what you have to say. You let out a soft sigh. “Lyla – you know she cares about you, right?” you ask, softly.

Miguel turns his head away again and doesn’t respond for a few seconds until finally he nods. He sighs and brings a hand to his left temple. He massages it for a few seconds, perhaps a sign of a headache, you wonder.

“I know,” he answers quietly. “I know she did it to avoid – “ he says but doesn’t finish. You nod understanding.

“She’s always around to help you,” you say, a little smile forming on your face as you think about her. “She’s always so sassy but she always does her job.”

Miguel scoffs, nodding. “Her sassiness wasn’t planned. She took that trait all on her own,” he says but you don’t believe it. Lyla had once told you how sassy Miguel himself was before the events that changed his life forever took place. You guess his own sassiness was inspiration for hers. You smile as you think of that side of him, probably buried deep in him. You don’t mention this though and just nod. Maybe one day, you can see that side of him. Maybe.

“I haven’t seen her in a few days since I was out, but I miss her questions,” you say, referring to how she showers you with questions every time you clean the lab.

Miguel stays still and replies a few seconds later. “I deactivated her after I found out what she did.”

Your suspicion is proved correct then. You don’t say anything else. It’s not like you can ask him to bring her back. At the end of the day, Lyla is his creation. The two of you remain silent for a few minutes in his dark lab. Miguel finally sighs and straightens up, his true height towering over you.

“I’ll activate her again,” Miguel says, and his voice is in its usual tone now. The same one from yesterday while he talked to you in the kitchen. You feel relief wash over you. If you felt so attached to her without being her creator, you wonder how attached Miguel might be to her. Miguel then turns around, fully facing you. You look up at him. He is a different man than the one you first encountered earlier. He lifts his wrist closer to his face and begins clicking his gizmo. Not even ten seconds later, Lyla appears again.

She floats next to his head and looks around, seemingly confused. Her eyes land on you before they turn to Miguel.

“Miguel – you know I didn’t mean to,” she says and for once, her tone is not sassy or bubbly. She sounds truly sorry. Miguel stares at her, with eyes that reveal his attachment to her.

“It’s alright, Lyla. I know,” Miguel mutters and Lyla floats over to hug his head, happy to be back and forgiven it seems.

You try hiding your chuckle but fail miserably, catching both of their attention. You straighten up, noticing their gaze on you now. Lyla disappears and appears just as quickly as she disappeared, suddenly in front of your face.

She makes it a point to look like she’s whispering to you. “I guess I have you to thank, right?” she asks, winking at you behind her heart-shaped glasses. You chuckle softly.

“It’s good to have you back, Lyla.”

Lyla grins and offers you a fist bump. “This is why you’re one of my favorite spider members,” she says, earning a scowl from Miguel.

“I thought you said you didn’t have favorites, Lyla.”

Lyla shrugs at Miguel once she faces him after you return the fist bump. “It would hurt your feelings if you knew you’re not in my top five. Sorry, Miguel,” she says, still hovering over you. This earns Lyla another scowl.

“And I created you,” Miguel says in disbelief, but you can tell there’s a little bit of a playfulness in his tone.

“Y/N is in my top five.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I am? I literally joined the society like – four months ago.”

Lyla shrugs, floating back to Miguel. “That doesn’t matter, Y/N. I will not elaborate why you’re one of my favorites,” she says with a little smirk before looking at Miguel and then back at you. You can’t help but feel like her look at Miguel was to make some point as to why you’re one of her favorites, but you chalk it up to overthinking.

“Well, consider me flattered,” you reply with a grin, which Lyla returns before she looks around.

“So – you guys have been hanging out in the dark like some weirdos? Let’s light up this place,” Lyla says, and the lab is suddenly lit up.

The sudden light makes Miguel and you close your eyes in discomfort. You blink a few times, trying to get used to the change.

“Lyla, did you really have to do it that suddenly? A warning would’ve been appreciated you know?” Miguel asks, giving Lyla an annoyed look.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t stand the darkness in here.”

You chuckle quietly, still trying to adjust to the sudden bright lights. With your eyes finally adjusted, you look up at Miguel and Lyla. Lyla is grinning as she sits in the air with one of her legs crossed over the other. Miguel scoffs at her before he turns his attention to you. His face is calm and relaxed.

“I’m – sorry for the way I snapped earlier when you arrived,” Miguel starts with sincerity. “Did you need something?”

“Please don’t apologize, there’s no need to,” you say with a small smile. The last thing you wanted was for him to apologize when you intruded. Yet, you feel something in your chest you cannot describe at the fact that he has apologized. “I came to collect the report from yesterday’s meeting. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t skipping missions.”

Miguel nods and steps off his platform, brushing past you. He walks over to another surface and picks up what you assume is the report. He walks back to you and extends his arm, handing you the report. You take it and thank him. You quickly flip through it, your eyes scanning the pages to see if you have a mission today. You see you don’t have anything until tomorrow.

You look up at Miguel. He seems to be looking elsewhere though there’s an expression on his face you cannot decipher.

“Well, that was all. Thank you and – I’m sorry for intruding,” you add with embarrassment.

Miguel turns to you and shakes his head softly. “Don’t worry about it…”

You smile briefly before you begin taking steps back. “Okay, well. I should head out… I’ll see you around,” you say before you turn around and begin walking towards the door. You suddenly remember the organizing. You stop walking but don’t turn. “Oh, I’ll come tomorrow after my mission to organize the lab, if you don’t mind.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Y/N!” Lyla calls out.

“Bye, Lyla!” you say before exiting the lab, report in hand.

The door closes after you, leaving Miguel and his sassy AI assistant alone in a well-lit lab now. Miguel turns to his monitors. He stares at the picture for a few seconds. There’s a faint smile on his face before he closes the tab and folder. Lyla remains silent as if sensing that Miguel needs this moment. Miguel sighs, looking around the lab. Sensing that she can talk now, Lyla breaks the silence, noticing something.

“Why do you have two random coffee cups abandoned over there? I swear some of the members are so unorganized and forgetful sometimes,” Lyla complains, floating away.

Miguel looks around, a slight frown on his face as he searches the lab with his eyes before he spots them. Two cups of coffee are placed on one of the many surfaces of the lab. He stares at them, knowing instantly who brought them. He walks over to the surface and grabs one, lifting it to his face. It’s still warm in his hand and the scent of coffee fills his nostrils. He takes a sip, deep in thought for a few seconds.

“So, care to elaborate why Y/N is one of your top five spider members?” Miguel asks Lyla, curiously.

“I don’t think I will.”

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

taglist:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @mandodinstuff

Thank you for the support so far, it's really appreciated 🥰! Part three will be up in a few days. I don't know how long this will be but I think there might be five in total? We'll see! Also, excuse any spelling or grammar errors. I edited it but I read it for so long my eyes probably still missed something.

I still love Miguel O'Hara. That's all.

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catnippackets · 2 months

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disclaimer: as a sex-repulsed aroace person myself--

on one hand, there is definitely a bit of a double standard when it comes to handling canonically queer characters like, from what I've seen in the circles that I frequent (if you've had different experiences then great but I'm just telling it how I see it). for example, you're morally reprehensible if you ship a canon lesbian with a man or refer to a canon bi character as a lesbian. people will be so angry with you. and it's understandable, since there's so little queer rep in comparison to cishet rep that when there IS a rare actual queer character, the unofficial rule is "don't take that away from them when you add more headcanons to them". like, respect that this one is REAL and NOT just a headcanon. I think it makes perfect sense to feel upset when people take that away, even if it is just fiction and not even canon to the original source. and yet, whenever there exists a canon asexual character suddenly it's all "oh well asexual people can still have sex so it's fine if we headcanon THIS canon sexuality as something different". it makes me feel so genuinely heartache-y and depressed to see ppl ignoring that aspect of a character.

and by "canon" I'm also including characters that were never specifically referred to with a label but are very obviously coded as something, because those characters will still get the "even if it's not stated it's pretty obvious!!" treatment when it comes to showing attraction to the same gender, but not when they DON'T show attraction to any gender. like aro and/or ace coding just doesn't count. I understand that it's kind of hard to represent an absence of something, especially when you're only implying it and not even directly showing it, but it's not impossible. there's a lot of characters that you could argue are aroace coded the same way you could argue a character is gay coded. obviously to a degree every queer identity gets disrespected in fandom and it's something you just kinda have to deal with, but it's easier to notice when it's something you personally relate to. I don't think it would bother me as much if we didn't have that unofficial "respect the canon" rule and everyone just went wild with whatever, but the double standard does genuinely hurt me, especially when I see people I thought were cool about this stuff participating in it. so whenever I see someone fiercely defending an asexual character it really makes me feel good, like I'M being defended, not a random fictional character that I might not even recognize the name of. I feel safe, like that person will respect ME.

THAT BEING SAID,

AS a sex-repulsed aroace person who enjoys thinking about the entire spectrum of intimacy and where a character may fall exactly on that spectrum, ALSO as a person who is aware that "asexual" simply means "does not experience sexual attraction" and not necessarily "is violently repulsed by anything sexual", sometimes I DO want to play out scenarios for my own enjoyment. sometimes I DO want to think hm I wonder where this ace character's line is, compared to a different ace character. I wonder if there is anyone who would be an exception for them, and how they could go about dealing with that exception. I wonder if they're favourable, neutral, or repulsed. if those aspects of their character aren't explicitly stated then what's to stop me from playing around with them and working through my own issues in a controlled and non-canon environment? if they have the same identity as me, I am way more likely to want to play around with them like a doll and perhaps play out scenarios that I might have thought about before but don't actually want to do for real. I'm not taking away their identity, after all; I'm just, in this scenario, imagining this ace character as an ace that might have sex on at least one occasion for whatever reason. either just to try it, or because they do have someone they'd make an exception for, or if they got bored enough, whatever the reason. it isn't quite disrespecting their truth unless it's explicitly stated either in canon or by word of god that it's something they're uncomfortable with. and to be honest, if I see another asexual creator headcanoning a character as somewhere on the asexual spectrum and depicting them in sexual situations, it makes me almost happy, to know that they're still acknowledging that character's canon identity and accepting and exploring the nuance that could come with it, even if I personally believe that this specific character would be repulsed instead of neutral or favourable. there's this understanding of "I'm doing a character study exploration thing", and not "I don't care I just wanna sexualize this character"

but I literally feel GUILTY when I want to write what is essentially a thinkpiece disguised as a fanfiction or original story on asexuality and take an asexual character (canon or coded) and involve them in sexual situations to explore different avenues of the spectrum. I feel like I'm betraying everyone who's like me and is frustrated with how aroace characters are treated within fandom. I'm like "am I being just as bad as those other people who will disrespect a character's canon sexuality just because they think that character is hot and want to ship them with someone? do they do the same thing with other types of queer characters? how does this reflect that person's view of people, if they're explicitly told someone feels a certain way and decides to ignore it for their own amusement? or is it just because they're fictional and not real people and I'm being really sensitive and thinking way too much into it? am I not doing the exact same thing? do I have more credence to explore scenarios like this because I am aroace and sex-repulsed myself and therefore have a pass to do whatever I want and it won't come off as a little weird the way it might if someone who's allosexual did it?"

and these two opinions are at war in my mind constantly. like both of them can and do co-exist but I still struggle to accept that lol

#ramblings #asexuality #I almost kinda wanna make a video on this bc I feel like just writing does not even explain what I'm trying to say

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vixstarria · 5 months

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A night at the inn (part 1)

A night of relaxation at the inn. Inspired by a cursed screenshot of Astarion looking loopy, drunk and high.

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, tbc in part 2

Comfort, fluff, humour, banter, goes from very silly to very horny

Bits that are definitely not canon that were written solely for my (and hopefully your) amusement.

TW: It’s all very much in jest, but maybe give this one a skip if you’re struggling with any kind of substance addiction.

Approximately 2,000 words

“Don't be ridiculous, these silly druidic herbs have absolutely no effect on me, vampires have a natural immunity. Pass me the pipe again, I’ll prove it,” Astarion giggled uncontrollably.

“Just hold on to it, friend, I don’t think anyone else will benefit from it,” replied Halsin.

You, Astarion, Halsin, Karlach and Shadowheart were gathered in one of the inn’s rooms.

Gale and Wyll were off doing whatever people who didn’t like having fun did. Possibly playing chess or reciting poetry to each other. And Lae’zel had had one look at your gathering before chk’ing, saying that someone competent needed to keep a cool head, and stalking off.

You and Astarion were sitting crosswise on one of the beds, you nestled between his legs, your back against his chest. Shadowheart lounged on the opposite bed, with Karlach and Halsin settling on the floor between the beds.

A scattering of glasses and opened bottles surrounded you, and a light haze hung in the air. Tadpoles, vampire lords, demons and gods could all wait until tomorrow. Tonight, for all you cared, all was well in your world.

Earlier, Halsin had laid out an assortment of herbs, most of which you couldn’t name, and busied himself with mixing them in varying proportions and stuffing them into several smoking implements. Karlach had declined, saying there was no point and that she would stick to grog. You and Shadowheart partook in Halsin's ‘herbalist mastery' together with the druid. And now, to everyone's disbelief and amusement, so did Astarion.

“What in the hells is in this?!” Astarion tittered, leaning back against the wall, his eyes shut and an idiotic smile on his face. You couldn’t look at him, lest it set off yet another chain reaction of giggling.

“Part of it is moonflower, which mostly serves as an amplifier,” Halsin answered, cautiously.

“And? What else?” You wondered whether whatever it was might help Astarion with his nightmares. The scent of the herb was vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place what it was.

“Wait! I want to guess.” Shadowheart leaned over to whisper to Halsin. He shook his head at her suggestions. Once he whispered back to her with the correct answer she collapsed on the bed with a guffaw. “Oh gods... So it is official.”

“Halsin...” Astarion croaked. “Halsin, I will stab you... What did you give me?!”

“I had a hunch, but it was intended as a joke – I didn’t really think it would do anything.” Halsin almost sounded apologetic.

“Well, spill the beans, what is he smoking that’s so damned funny?! Vampire dust? Cow dung? Some kind of goblin foot fungus?” Karlach was also growing impatient.

Halsin shook his head, laughing.

“It’s catnip,” Shadowheart managed, still doubled over. “He’s losing his mind on catnip!”

Once Astarion regained his ability to speak coherently, you couldn’t get him to shut up.

Astarion hardly ever took lead in group conversations. He tended to stay on the outskirts of discussions, albeit always ready with a quip or observation. You wondered if his newfound loquaciousness was a glimpse of what he might have been like some 200 years ago.

It helped that Karlach was bombarding him with questions about vampirism, which he was ordinarily reserved about.

“So what happens if you consume normal food? Can you drink?” she asked.

“Well... Kind of..? Although I think the tadpole has had some additional influence. I can drink liquids without becoming ill, as long as it’s not too much. They tend to taste vile or like nothing at all, or not have any effect on me. Coffee smells amazing but tastes like dirt, for example. But potions work, somehow,” he rambled. “Solids are a complete disaster though”. He refused to elaborate.

“And the wine?” she persisted.

“Red wine is palatable,” he said, swirling some in a glass that he held in his hand. “But if you want better than ‘palatable’ you really need something of good quality.”

“You’re just a snob,” you interjected.

“That may be so, but this is about having something called standards, darling, I’ll teach you about them someday”, he said with a kiss to your temple, as you elbowed him. “But there are ways of going around poor wine.”

Astarion took your hand in his, pressing his lips against it.

“May I?”

Once he had your approval, he carefully punctured the tip of your ring finger with a fang. You idly mused about how completely unfazed you had become by having your skin pierced, as he dripped some of your blood into his wine.

“Now stir.” He licked the drops of wine from your finger once you were done, and had a sip from his glass. “Like adding honey to tea... Now it’s delectable.”

“Freaks,” said Karlach, lovingly.

The conversation moved to him debating wines from various regions with Shadowheart, a subject they were both perhaps unsurprisingly well-versed in.

“How kind of Lady Shar to leave you such detailed knowledge of something that truly matters, when wiping out so many other memories,” he observed.

Eventually, the topic changed to Karlach’s years in the Hells, and what it had been like to set just about everything she touched ablaze until Dammon’s recent assistance.

“Could you do me a favour and hold my hand in yours for a moment?” said Astarion, leaning towards and holding out a hand to Karlach.

“I haven’t done this in so long this still makes me nervous, you know,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers. “Sorry if I lose my cool and burn you.”

“I’m sure I’ve had worse,” he replied humourlessly. “...That should do it,” he said after a short while. “Gods, you really do run like a furnace.” You wondered where this was going.

“Now could everyone look away? I’m about to do something disgustingly sentimental.”

Immediately, four pairs of eyes including your own were locked on him.

“Voyeuristic pricks...” he sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He ran the back of his fingers delicately down your cheek before cupping it in his hand. It was warm, almost hot, as you nuzzled into it.

“Well isn’t that cute,” Shadowheart remarked into her glass of wine.

Astarion wasn’t always cold to the touch, not exactly. He became warmer after drinking blood. His body was heated by sunshine on sunny days, just like anything else. And after spending some time under blankets with you he felt almost cozy to snuggle against. But he’s never radiated heat the way the hand against your cheek did now.

“It doesn’t feel like you,” you mustered, looking into his eyes. He gave you a wistful smile.

“...If there is any other bodypart you’d like me to warm up for Tav’s benefit, do fuck off before you even ask,” said Karlach, breaking the brief silence that had descended onto the room, and the tender moment was gone, overtaken by yet another uproar of laughter.

Things quieted down as the evening wore on.

“I wonder what Lae’zel is doing,” said Shadowheart, who had been silently gazing off into space and occasionally blowing smoke rings for the past while. “Probably something infuriating.”

“You should go tell her how utterly unimpressed you are with her,” goaded Astarion.

“I should... I will,” she said, suddenly getting up, determination writ on her face, exiting the room with a surprisingly steady step.

Karlach sighed.

“I better go look after her and make sure they don’t need to be taken apart. ...Or that no one else does, if they don’t.” She followed Shadowheart.

“Nature calls,” said Halsin, also getting up. “And I don’t think anyone’s fed Scratch and the owlbear cub.”

It was just you and Astarion, who had been grazing your neck with his fangs with increasing impatience.

“Do it,” you said as soon as the door shut behind Halsin. Instantly, you felt an icy chill in your neck and released a small moan as he bit down, drawing your blood, his hands roaming your body.

“I’ve been thinking of nothing else for hours,” he breathed hoarsely, once he had his fill. Having a miniscule amount of your blood in his wine and then being unable to sate himself more thoroughly would have been the ultimate tease for him. He really did not think that through, per usual.

You could have offered him your wrist at some point, your companions had witnessed that on numerous occasions. But you knew you both wanted something more intimate. And private.

You sank onto the bed with Astarion on top of you, as he continued to lick at the puncture wounds, to get them to stop bleeding.

“Think Halsin’s coming back?” you murmured.

“Of course he is. Haven’t you seen how he’s been looking at us?” He wedged his hips between your legs as he continued to suck and lick at your neck, more slowly now.

"Oh, has he been looking at us in some particular way?” you feigned ignorance. Astarion raised his head briefly to shoot you a look that said ‘oh please’.

“Do you want him..?” He rolled his hips deliciously into yours as he asked that.

“Stop teasing,” you whispered. You knew he wasn’t going to let you do anything with the erection you felt pressed against you.

“Never. Do you want him?” He gave you a mischievous look.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sorry darling, I’ll try to do a better job at explaining.” He raised himself back up, his face hovering just above yours. “Do you want to feel his hot, hard cock pumping in and out of you, while I watch?” He studied your reaction closely. “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you..?”

“Astarion-” It wasn’t easy to make you blush, but somehow he always found a way when he wanted to.

“Shh love, I already know everything you’re going to say.” Astarion raised his voice in pitch (resulting in something that definitely DID NOT sound anything like you) and returned to your neck, planting a kiss further down with each sentence: “’I love you, Astarion. I only want you, Astarion. I don’t think you’re ready for this, Astarion. You’re going to regret this, Astarion.’”

“How about, ‘you’re intoxicated, Astarion’?”

“Barely,” he scoffed. “It’s worn off.” He tugged at your blouse’s lacing with his teeth.

“Or maybe it’s ‘no, I don’t want that, Astarion’,” you lied.

He chuckled at those words and came back up to whisper in your ear.

“My love... You’re forgetting I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell your arousal. Every time your breath hitches and your heart speeds up – I know. Any time blood suddenly rushes somewhere in your body – I know...”

“That is an entirely unfair advantage,” you protested.

“Yes, having a lover that anticipates your every need and reads you like a book is so, so tragically unfair, your poor, poor thing...”

“And also it’s not what you said, it’s how you said it!” you continued.

“Porridge,” Astarion whispered in his most seductive voice, grinding against you. “The philosophy and theory of divination, volume four. A bulging coin purse. Gale’s purple pajamas. ...Nope, nothing.” Astarion smirked, and continued in a more normal voice, stilling. “Now let’s try... You dripping wet and begging us both for mercy before the night is over.” He grinned wryly as you let out an involuntary whimper. “I thought so...”

“You’ve told me yourself, you don’t want to share me with anyone,” you persisted.

“It’s your heart I can’t bear to share. And he’s a wood elf,” Astarion said dismissively. “He may as well be a walking penis, who would get emotionally involved with that?”

“You did not just call our honourable companion, the esteemed archdruid of the Emerald Grove a walking penis!” you hissed, choking on laughter, covering his mouth with your hand.

“A giant phallus on legs,” Astarion mumbled stubbornly against your palm, licking it.

You heard footsteps approaching the door.

“Do you really want this?” you whispered, angling Astarion’s face to make him look you in the eyes, and releasing his mouth. “Be serious for a second.”

“I want this,” he said, holding your gaze. “I really want this. As long as you do too.”

The door opened, and you both turned your heads to regard the tall, broad figure that paused in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe.

“Is it company or privacy you desire?”

~~~~~

Part 2

More of my chaos gremlins

AO3

#astarion #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfic #astarion x tav #karlach #halsin #shadowheart #astarion smut #halsin smut

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