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just-jordie-things · 8 months

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[epilogue] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 25.4k warnings: swearing, drinking. reader has absent parents summary: just a handful of events that transpired after the conclusion of to build a home.

to build a home series masterlist

[epilogue] : "For You, For Me"

___

[ cause i built a home, for you, for me ]

Maybe it was just the beautiful stretch of summer into early fall, but the days had seemed lighter. As though the sun’s rays lasted a little longer each day, as though the great bright star couldn’t bear to part with the day too soon.

Or maybe (y/n) was just so sickeningly happy all the time that she finally noticed the sunny days when they came around, and learned to properly appreciate them. If the sun was shining, she was dragging the two kids out of the apartment and anywhere else- as long as they were outside.

Summer vacation was mostly spent at the park, or at the public market, when Megumi was in a good enough mood to go, anyways. Tsumiki loved going to the market with (y/n), especially since she’d get to pick out all of her favorite fruits and veggies for the upcoming week. Megumi mostly clung like a shadow behind (y/n), hating the busy space and strangers who were too friendly. There was the rare occasion that he’d want to look at the stalls of old books, and (y/n) found that with the promise of looking for a new book, he would relax a little more in the high traffic area. Was it bribery? Maybe. But didn’t all parents have to bribe their kids at some point?

Most nights were spent relaxing, a luxury that (y/n) wouldn’t give up for all the treasures of the world.

Gathering in the living room to watch a movie with snacks covering the coffee table had become a weekly ritual. They took turns picking out a movie, and the rule was always that if they could compromise when it’s a movie one of them isn’t interested in, then snacks were on her. Of course a certain Six Eyes user tended to drop by not-so-at-random with a backpack full of sweets and long limbs that took up most of the couch. Megumi would bring a pile of blankets to the floor when Satoru joined them for movie nights, claiming that he and (y/n) would hog all the cushions. It was mostly Satoru, as (y/n) would try to cling to one side of the sofa, but her attempts were to no avail. Satoru always found a way to crowd her until she was practically curled up under his arm. Megumi would stick his tongue out in Tsumiki’s direction, disgusted by the abundance of physical affection that Satoru demanded to give to (y/n). Tsumiki, however, always found it sweet.

Other nights they’d spend in comfortable silence, the three of them in their favorite cozy spots as they read to themselves. (y/n) often sprawled across the living room sofa with whatever she was reading. Tsumiki liked to read in a little nook she’d made in the corner of her room, complete with a string of twinkly lights and a big bean bag chair. Megumi would join (y/n) in the living room, sitting in the oversized chair that matched the living room set. He was so small in the large cushions he could lay any which way he pleased, but he most often sat crisscrossed with his new favorite book in his lap. Sometimes (y/n) would convince him to read to her, even when he was halfway through a story she hadn’t been familiar with. She enjoyed the peaceful quality time, even if it was spent in hours of silence.

And then there was her favorite way for the kids to spend their evenings- coloring. It was a simple activity, one that she’d indulged in as a child often enough, but hadn’t thought much about until she’d randomly picked up a big pack of crayons on a grocery trip. It must’ve been a good choice, because Megumi and Tsumiki got right to work on their imaginations. Now their rooms, and the refrigerator, were covered in their artwork. Tsumiki liked to draw flowers, sometimes full meadows complete with a sunny sky and rainbows, and sometimes she’d practice different petals with different colors, always trying to learn new things. Megumi liked to draw his shikigami, giving each one that manifests it’s own name. He also liked to draw characters from his favorite books. (y/n) helped him to carefully tape them up on his bookshelf to display properly. However she had hand-picked a few of their drawings to go on the fridge- which held the same honor as a knight being sworn into duty. There were a few of Tsumiki’s flowers, and a few of Megumi’s favorite scenes from his books- even the darker ones that held a touch of blood and gore (y/n) would have to talk to him about before he went back to school- but there was one in particular that outshined them all.

It was a drawing they’d done together, on a larger piece of cardstock, of all of them. There was a carefully drawn out scribble that resembled her, in her signature uniform- black collared jacket and matching black pants- her hair was meticulously thought out, the crayon color carefully chosen, and the strokes of length determined while the pair of kids studied her closely, making sure that their drawing resembled her true form perfectly. On either side of her stick figure self was one of them, Megumi identified by the sea urchin he’d drawn on top of his head, and Tsumiki by the smile that took up her whole face and the big pink bow in her hair that she wore religiously since (y/n) had gotten it for her. Lastly, and maybe (y/n’s) favorite part, was that Megumi had chosen to add his dogs to the family portrait. Sitting right beside each other with little squiggles around their tails to show they were happily wagging, and complete with the red markings on their heads.

As soon as they’d presented this drawing to (y/n), she’d almost burst into tears at how sweet it was. They laughed at her teary eyes while she smiled and gazed fondly at the picture, taking in every little detail and committing it to memory. She deemed it the greatest gift she’d ever received, and marched it right to the fridge, clipping it up with magnets. It took up most of the freezer door, but it would stay there until it was time for it to be moved to a new fridge.

When back to school season rolled around, (y/n) dragged them off to the mall, proudly displaying her earnings from the assignments she’d picked up over the summer. Now that she wasn’t a student anymore, getting paid to exorcize demons had become a great source of income. Of course in the midst of Megumi and Tsumiki ogling all the new backpacks with bright colors and anime characters, their favorite special grade sorcerer showed up with a black card that seemed to hold boundless funds, as he paid for every little thing either one of the children picked up.

“They’re going to grow up with a bad understanding of how money works, Satoru” (y/n) had scolded him while Megumi and Tsumiki watched a cashier ring up hundreds of dollars worth of supplies they ‘needed’.

“Nah, I’ll buy them the best tutor in Japan so they don’t” He’d replied, sticking his tongue out at her.

(y/n) rolled her eyes, but as she turned her head away to ignore him, she couldn’t help the small smile that graced her face. She’d been making enough money to support this small makeshift family, but having Satoru around to help was still appreciated. Of course, she could never tell him that. His ego was big enough for the both of them.

Once school was back in session, a decent routine was established. (y/n) picked up as many assignments during the days as she could, so that her nights could be spent helping them with homework, making dinner, getting chores done, and all the other little things that eat away at your free time when you’re an adult. Not that she could complain, she adored every minute of the new life she worked to maintain. However there was the occasion where an assignment too good to pass up would be on her radar in the evenings. It only took one mention of this to Satoru for him to enlist himself as a babysitter.

It wasn’t often that she’d be gone in the evenings. She liked to be present at all times when Megumi and Tsumiki were home. They’d spent too much of their lives being alone, and while they proved to be self-sufficient, it made (y/n’s) heart sink at the thought of purposefully leaving them home alone. So when Satoru showed up on the evening she’d been offered a well-paid assignment to hunt down a Grade Two cursed object, she let him stay to watch the kids. Not before giving Tsumiki all of the emergency numbers she could think of, and reminding Megumi of the pendant she’d given him, also in the case of an emergency.

“It’s like you don’t trust me, sweetheart!” Satoru had laughed when she spent too long saying her goodbyes at the door. He hastily began pushing her out, making sure her weapons were secure in their holsters on her back. “Go! Go! Have fun! We’ll be fine here!”

“Okay, just don’t forget they go to bed at-”

“Nine o’clock, I’ve got it”

“And they need to brush their teeth-”

“I’m capable!” He barked at her, all but closing the door in her face while he wore a massive grin.

Long story short, Satoru had given the Fushiguro kids twenty bucks if they promised not to tell her that they’d been up long past their bedtime watching an anime with him that was probably less than appropriate for their age. But they’d just loved it so much he’d insisted they binge half the series. It was the closest thing to quality time with Megumi that he was going to get, as the kid begrudgingly sat on the couch next to him with his eyes glued to the screen. Satoru did his best to cover their eyes when an unsavory scene played, which Tsumiki appreciated, but Megumi always pawed the man’s hand away so he could see what was happening.

“If you get nightmares, (y/n’s) going to kill me” He scolded, clamping his palm over the kid’s whole face to ensure he wasn’t going to catch sight of any true horror.

“I don’t get nightmares!” Megumi argued, trying to claw the hand off his face, but his efforts led nowhere, and he only found himself more annoyed as the man-child laughed at the attempt.

It was nearing the middle of the night when Satoru finally turned off the television and sent them off to brush their teeth. Worried (y/n) would return soon and catch them in the act of disobeying her few rules, he rushed them with hurried claps and chanting to get them into their pajamas and under the covers. It was Megumi who’d attempted blackmailing him, reminding him that (y/n) was going to know they were up late. With an amused grin he’d given the boy a fiver.

“Five dollars?” Megumi gave him a bored look, remembering that shopping day with the magic black credit card that paid for his and Tsumiki’s back-to-school haul. (And a few things for (y/n) too, no matter how much she protested)

Grimacing, Satoru smacked a twenty on his nightstand with the warning that any more, and he’d tell (y/n) he acted up all night and should be punished. Megumi stuck his tongue out at the man as he flipped off the lights and shut the door for the night.

Joke’s on him, the boy thought bitterly as he settled into his blankets. (y/n) would believe me over that grown child any day of the week, he thinks with certainty. He wasn’t wrong. If it was Satoru’s word against Megumi’s, the liar was evident in his charming smile and flashing eyes.

Satoru had just come back to the living room to clean up the small mess of blankets they’d made when the doorknob rattled with the familiar sound of a key unlocking it. (y/n) dragged her feet as she made her way inside, a bit surprised to see Satoru awake and alert, her collection of throw blankets draped over his arms and shoulders.

“How’d the assignment go?” He asked as she kicked off her boots, flinging them towards the door with lazy movements.

“I completed it, let’s leave it at that,” She says, and he’d take concern in her words if they weren’t followed by a chuckle, and a small smile sent his way. “Thank you for watching the kids, Satoru, I really appreciate it”

He thinks back to this night often, as it was the beginning of (y/n) putting some trust in him as a caretaker.

Every few weeks now he’d show up in the evening to put the kids to bed while she was out exorcizing curses. Babysitting slowly morphed into him inviting himself over for movie nights, or even for no reason at all. The kids- yes, Megumi too- grew used to the man showing up unannounced, before school while (y/n) made breakfast, or during pickup time right by her side, seemingly just as excited to greet them as she was. He just seemed to be around, sometimes. Tsumiki loved it, as it usually meant spoiling with toys and ice cream and whatever else (y/n) would let him get away with. Megumi… tolerated it. But at least he didn’t despise it anymore.

There was a morning (y/n) had gotten a call from Jujutsu Tech just as she was prepping their lunches for that day, and to her luck Satoru was there and happy to make their lunches for them so that she didn’t have to ignore what could potentially be an important call.

“Okay, just, do you mind making them a little drawing or note, too?” She’d rummaged through a messy cabinet drawer to produce a pack of post-it notes and a pink marker. “I always leave them a message, or a doodle, or something”

With her phone pressed between her shoulder and ear as she intently listened to whoever was on the other end, Satoru grinned as he accepted this mission, and got to work.

It wasn’t until she picked them up from school that (y/n) realized her mistake. Megumi was clutching his stomach as he hobbled towards her in the courtyard, while Tsumiki was skipping along beside her brother, happier than ever.

“What’s wrong? Tummy hurt?” (y/n) knelt down before the boy, her hand resting over her forehead to see if it was a fever. He groaned and practically fell against her.

“Carry me”

It wasn’t like him, so she had to laugh as she slung his little backpack over her arm before lifting him up, hearing him groan and moan as all the sweets in his stomach sloshed around like poison.

“Gojo gave us candy! And cookies!”

(y/n’s) head swiveled down to where Tsumiki was walking- well, still skipping- at her side.

“What did you say?”

“Gojo gave us sweets for lunch,” Megumi grumbled as his head slumped into her shoulder, his eyes squeezing shut as a particularly painful knot wound itself up in his stomach. “And money”

“What!?” (y/n) snapped, louder than she should have, as the other parents at pick-up gave her a mix of shocked and dirty looks. Not that she cared. Her kid was sick and it was because that idiot didn’t know what a vegetable looked like!

“I got fifty dollars!” Tsumiki cheered.

“I got a hundred” Megumi whined.

(y/n) gave the boy a few children’s tums as soon as they got back to the apartment, before tucking him into bed so he could hopefully sleep off the tummyache.

“You just rest, don’t worry about your homework, I’ll call the school if you can’t get to it tonight, okay?”

Megumi only grumbled and groaned in his gratitude as he curled in on himself. (y/n) frowned. The poor kid was squirming around in discomfort and there wasn’t much else she could do about it.

Well, there was one thing…

“Hey sweetheart,” Satoru’s grin could be heard even through the phone. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call~?”

“Gojo Satoru, you get your ass to this apartment right now!”

From her spot at the kitchen table where she’d been studiously doing her homework, Tsumiki perked right up at (y/n’s) hollering from the living room. Her eyes went wide as she grinned with excitement. She’d never seen (y/n) mad before, not like this anyways.

Just as she’d summoned him, the man himself stood before her in the living room, grinning as though he hadn’t just been screamed at.

“Pretty early in the day for a bootycall-”

“Satoru!” (y/n) barked at him, her arms flying out as she placed her hands on her hips. “Did you give the kids sweets and money for their lunch!?”

“Yeah, they loved it, right?” He looked proud, and she swore she could strangle him.

If she had a nickel for every time she didn’t strangle him…

Tsumiki couldn’t even pretend to do her homework while (y/n) went on a long rant about how much of an idiot was, followed by something about not knowing how to make a sandwich, and then the grand finale of her grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him down the hallway so he could see the effects of his unhealthy meal for Megumi. Even as (y/n’s) scolding took on hushed whispers so as not to wake the sleeping boy, Tsumiki could still hear the harsh tone from down the hall.

When she was dragging him back towards the kitchen again, the young girl quickly picked up her pencil and kept her eyes on her paper. She wasn’t fast enough, as Satoru noticed and stuck his tongue out at her.

‘Tattletale’ he mouthed at her.

She grinned back at him unapologetically.

(y/n) spent the next fifteen minutes giving Satoru a full tour of the kitchen, pointing out each and every item each of the kids loved, and then she dragged him through it all again to show him what they each disliked. Tsumiki worked on her studies the whole time, and not once did she see the white haired man complain. He certainly didn’t look pleased about spending his afternoon being scolded like a misbehaving pet, but he didn’t make a peep about it.

He even stuck around the rest of the afternoon to help out with any other chores (y/n) needed done, and he helped make dinner, too. Well, (y/n) was the one instructing him on what to do, but Tsumiki found the meal to be edible, and actually semi-okay!

(y/n) let him get off easy, as long as he apologized to Megumi when he woke up. Which he did, and which Megumi begrudgingly accepted.

He’s given the chance to completely redeem himself a few weeks later on a morning (y/n) made pancakes for breakfast. He made the Fushiguro kids the perfect lunches as he’d called them, and he insisted only a heaping scoop of chocolate chips in his pancakes, not theirs. (Though he did sneak a handful into Tsumiki’s grabby hands when she caught him dumping the entire bag into the batter). He even added his own notes in their lunch bags, even though (y/n) had already put her own doodles in them.

Have a good day! Don’t forget to participate a lot so the teacher favors you and gives you good grades! He’d written for Tsumiki.

Make sure to tell (y/n/n) that this lunch was made extra special for you so i get some brownie points <3 Was Megumi’s note.

He rolled his eyes as he crumpled it up and threw it back into his lunch bag without a second thought. When he’d brought it home that day and put it back in it’s spot in the cupboard he’d completely forgotten it. So it sat there until the next morning when (y/n) was preparing their lunches again.

When she unzipped the bag to see the small piece of trash, she’d almost made the mistake of scolding Megumi for not throwing it away. But for some reason curiosity got the best of her as she smoothed out the creases of the pink post-it, only to be gifted with a nervous swell of her heart. She couldn’t explain why, but she tucked it away in her pocket and went about the rest of the morning with a smile on her face. Megumi and Tsumiki were just glad to see her in a good mood, and didn’t question it too much.

The subject of the note didn’t come up again until the night of (y/n’s) twentieth birthday.

With it being such a big milestone, Shoko insisted on taking her out for the night. She’d been twenty for a few months longer, and had been biting at the bit to have her best friend share nights with her on the dancefloor at the bar she’d been frequenting mostly alone. Satoru would go with her sometimes as well, since he was of age too, but Shoko claimed it was no fun when he wouldn’t drink. (y/n’s) birthday was a big deal.

So naturally and per Shoko’s demand, Satoru was set to babysit- as much as the Fushiguro kids hated the word- while Shoko took (y/n) out for the night. And it went…

“Would you take the damn shoes off already? You’re going to break an ankle” Satoru’s arm shot out to stabilize the giggling, wasted girl stumbling beside him as he tried to guide her through her building’s lobby.

“No,” (y/n) shook her head defiantly before swatting his hand at her waist with the same attitude. He didn’t move it, and she didn’t try to push off his help again. “I loooove these shoes!”

In an eager display she kicked her foot outwards, showing off the strappy heel that was already starting to untie at her ankle and droop a bit off of her foot. To Satoru’s surprise, she actually kept her balance perfectly fine on one foot.

“Keep your feet on the ground,” He reprimands anyways, just as she goes back to walking normally. “Don’t make me teleport you up there”

“Don’t you dare!” She shouts back at him, and he has to fight off a laugh as he shushes her.

He’d seen (y/n) drink before, on the occasion Shoko or Suguru had managed to get their hands on anything, but he’d never seen her like this. Although he’d been slightly annoyed when he’d been called to play designated teleporter and bring both girls home from their celebration at a club he’d never heard of. The annoyance only increased tenfold when after the initial trip, (y/n) had warned him she was bound to be sick if he did it again. Which led them here, with Satoru trying to corral her into the elevator at two in the morning.

He’d rought Shoko straight to the spare room, where she’d passed out on top of the covers without so much as a goodnight. She’d wake up feeling like she’d been struck by a bus for sure, but at least she had no issue with the effects of teleporting.

She continued to grumble about her offense to his threat. Satoru chuckled as he all but pulled her into the elevator.

“I’m not, I’m not,” He assured her, making sure she was steady leaning back against the wall before pressing the button for her floor. “You’re not gonna get sick in here, are you?”

She shakes her head, but her eyes are closed as she cranes her neck all the way back, grinning at who-knows-what. Nothing amusing had happened- besides her own drunken antics- but Satoru finds himself infected by her, and he’s smiling as well.

“It was sooo m’ch fun,” She answered his unspoken curiosity. “Shoko’s a realllyy good dancer, I had n’ idea”

“I’m glad it was fun,” He tells her, and he means it. Even when he has to guide her off the elevator and to her door like it was her first time there. “You’ll have to take me dancing with you next time, I could show you some moves”

Normally she rolls her eyes at his flirting, or hits his shoulder in that silent motion she always does to remind him that they were friends and she’d drawn a thick line in the sand just to prove it. Tonight, she giggles like she couldn’t have kept her humor and joy contained if she tried. Her teeth flash as she grins from ear to ear, her eyes crinkle and they smudge some of her mascara against her skin as they do but she doesn’t seem to care. She doesn’t seem to notice. She just smiles and laughs at him.

His heart warms, so much he worries it might melt completely if he leaves it there in the palms of her hands, but he lets it remain in it’s place anyway as he pauses at the door of her apartment, lingering in the hall for just a moment longer so he could admire her like this.

Happy. Happy with him.

Satoru might be delusional, but her head tilts to the side, almost dropping to her shoulder from how heavy it feels, and he thinks from the look in her eye, that maybe she could be admiring him, too.

Reality is cruel and reminds him that even if she was, she wasn’t in the right state of mind, and she very well could have been lost in her thoughts. So he pushes his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose before unlocking the door and making sure she walked in okay.

“You’re home!”

The excited cheer from Tsumiki is quickly drowned out by Satoru’s scolding.

“What are you both doing up?” He asked, uncharacteristically irritated with them.

“You left,” Tsumiki shrugged innocently.

Megumi, who sat beside her on the sofa, seemed to have fallen asleep against the armrest, his arms wrapped around his head for a better cushion as he continued to slumber, even through his sister’s loud shriek.

“And we wanted to give (y/n) her birthday present” The girl finished sweetly.

“It’s two in the morning, it’s not even her birthday anym-”

“Awww!” (y/n) cooed as she clasped her hands over her mouth in shock. “Tsu that’s so sweet of you! I can’t wait to see it!”

It took some arguing, but Satoru eventually convinced (y/n) to get her ridiculous heels off while he put the kids back to bed. Megumi didn’t fuss once when he picked him up off the couch. He didn’t even bat an eye. Tsumiki was a bit more upset with the trip back to bed.

“But she wants her present!”

“You can give it to her in the morning,” Satoru told her. “It’s late. She’s going to crash. Trust me, she’ll be far more excited about it tomorrow”

Tsumiki pouted as she begrudgingly climbed into bed, but didn’t argue again after Satoru tucked her in and shut her door for the night. She even gave him a small goodnight.

“Sweet dreams, kiddo”

“Is (y/n) going to be okay?” She asked before he could shut the door all the way. He laughed to himself, nodding his head.

“Nothing to worry about, she might just have a tummy ache. She’ll sleep it off,” He assured her. Tsumiki nodded back at him as she settled back into her feathery pillow, overwhelmed by her sleepiness rather quickly. “Just get some sleep, I’ll take care of her”

Tsumiki seems satisfied with this answer, as she nods and starts to drift off to sleep. What Megumi lacked in faith in Satoru, Tsumiki made up for tenfold. For starters, she seemed to actually like him. She was always happy to have him as company, always trying to climb up to his shoulders and demanding he piggy back her anywhere they went. Megumi tended to cling to (y/n’s) side, knowing she’d protect him from Satoru’s physical affections. But secondly, Tsumiki could pick up on the sweet little things that her younger brother didn’t. She noticed the way that Satoru listened when (y/n) was talking. The way his eyes never lost focus when they were on her, the way his teasing picked up, as did the pet names. Honestly, Tsumiki wasn’t sure if Megumi didn’t notice, or if he was completely ignoring it, because it was hard to miss.

Satoru was very sweet on (y/n).

So when he said he’d take care of her for the night, Tsumiki believed him.

Before Satoru can make his way back to the living room where he’d left the plastered birthday girl, he could hear her across the hall, a soft voice through the open door opposite of Tsumiki’s.

He peeks his head through the crack in the door, about to chastise her for waking up the sleeping eight year old, but the scold dies in his throat as he catches sight of them.

She’s perched on the side of his bed, one leg tucked under herself as she hums a gentle, melodic tune. One hand is combing through the mess of Megumi’s hair that’s grown tangled from his tossing and turning, and he doesn’t seem to stir or be bothered at all from the action like he usually is when someone touches his hair. But even more out of character than that, when (y/n) reaches her free hand to grab the one that Megumi had hanging off his mattress, he lets her hold onto it for a lingering minute after she carefully sets it on a more comfortable place over his covers. A few lyrics slip past her lips in a murmur of a lullaby amidst her humming. She gives his hand a squeeze, just a gentle little affirmation to remind him that she was there.

Even from the doorway, Satoru can see the boy’s small fingers wrap around her hand, squeezing back, and then keeping his hold on her. His initial surprise melts away into something softer. A warm feeling washing over his chest from knowing that Megumi found a comfort in the woman’s presence, and while he was often too reserved to tell her outright, like his sister would, it was still known that (y/n’s) care for these kids was mutual, returned by the both of them greatly.

With a small smile, (y/n) glances over to Satoru in the hallway, as though to silently ask if he’d seen the small action. He nodded back at her, before beckoning her to leave the room and let the boy sleep.

“Sleep tight, ‘gumi,” She mumbles softly, giving his head an affectionate scratch before pulling her hand from his hair. “Love you”

It was small, but undeniably heard when the half-conscious child mumbles back, “Love you too”

(y/n) pauses as she’s standing from his bed, her eyes widening with soft surprise at the whispered words. It hits her then that in the few times she’d casually bestowed them upon the kids it was never quite returned. Megumi had drifted off to sleep just as her weight had shifted off his mattress, but still, she stood over him with a look on her face as if she expected an explanation.

Not that she needed one- the words spoke for themselves. Her lips curled into a smile and the alcohol in her system wasn’t the only thing making her chest feel warm. She gave his hand another squeeze before carefully letting go, making sure it stayed in a place where it wouldn’t hang off the bed again.

On the tips of her toes she leaves the room to join Satoru in the hall. He makes sure the door is silent as he closes it behind her.

Her small smile breaks into a grin as she gazes up at him, unable to contain her excitement from hearing those silly little words.

“Did you hear that?” She murmurs as her hands grab the front of his shirt. The quick motion almost has him stumbling as she bounces eagerly. “He’s never said that to me before!” Her whispered squealing has Satoru mirroring her grin.

“I heard. I’m happy for you sweetheart,” He tells her, trying to guide her to her room so she could finally crash for the night. She stumbles along much more pliantly than she had before. “Not that you needed him to tell you, of course the kid loves you. They both do”

A bashful shade of pink dusts her face as they enter her bedroom. She falls back onto her bed with a content sigh, despite Satoru trying to get her to change into something more comfortable than the fitted little thing she’d called a dress that she’d gone out dancing in.

“I guess I knew that, but, still, it’s nice to hear,” She murmurs up at the ceiling as she stretches her arms across the length of her bed. She’s bent over it, her toes barely touching the floor as her legs dangle off the side, but in her stupor she seems comfortable enough. “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right, yaknow?”

She pats the spot beside her with her hand, and Satoru drags his feet a bit as he wanders over and sits next to her.

“You don’t need to be told that either,” He muses.

He rests his palms behind him as he lets himself get comfortable in her space. When they still lived in dorms, he spent just as much time in her room as he did his own. Now that he thinks about it, he was probably in hers much more than anyone else’s. It hadn’t seemed weird back then, but now, it feels personal. Intimate. He wonders if she feels that way, or if the invitation into her most private space had been extended without a second thought. Satoru pulls the shades off his face and tosses them to the side, between the two of them.

“They know you love them, too. Always have,” He reassures her. “You’ve done right by them. You gotta know that”

(y/n) tilts her head back against the covers, peering up at him from under heavy eyelids as he gazes down at her fondly. Her room is only lit by the hallway light that’s peeking in through the crack in her not-quite-closed door, and the soft yellow hue paints over his face in a way that somehow makes him more alluring. Her lowered defenses had her eyes wandering his features longer than she would have had her sober mind worked correctly and reminded her to shut down that curiosity.

That is, she stares at him until the heat in her face and the rapid beating of her heart overstimulates her and she makes herself look away before she says or does something she might regret.

When she does break her long stare, her eyes land on the familiar round shades that happen to be in arm’s reach, and she grabs them and pulls them over her face without a second thought.

Without permission, her mind wanders off to wonder what would’ve happened between them had they gone on that date all those months ago before they graduated.

It’s harder to make out her face with his oversized sunglasses covering her eyes, but Satoru can see her lips tug into a frown. He’s about to ask her what’s on her mind when she speaks first.

“Would you stay the night?”

Her fingers are wound into the soft fabric of her covers, fisting it tightly as though it kept her anchored.

“Shoko’s in your spare room already,” He chuckles as he reminds her. “And she’s hogging the whole bed. I think if I wake her up she’ll mur-”

“You can stay in here,” She’s mumbling, half incoherently, but he hears her just fine. “Like… before” She adds as an afterthought.

He can’t deny the way his heart lurches in his chest at the offer, and the reminder. The nights he spent sneaking into her dorm to coax her into at least a few hours of sleep, until she’d learned again how to sleep through a night on her own, he’d hold onto forever. He’d sworn to commit them to memory. The way she’d melt into his arms, as though she’d only know comfort and solace when embraced by them. The way she felt against him, against his chest, with her legs wrapped around his, with her face in the crook of his neck, with her hands gripping onto his shirt for dear life, with her heart beating against his. Satoru had overindulged himself back then, he’d gotten too much of a taste of what domesticity with her could feel like. Now he craved it, he desperately yearned for it.

The last time they’d even slept in the same room had been the night before their meeting with the Zen’in Clan. And she’d been far from him, curled up on the floor with that damned letter in her hands. Satoru wondered now if she still had it. He wondered if she still slept clutching onto something. He wondered if she was able to sleep soundly without him now.

He’s sure that he shouldn’t dip even a finger back into this addiction. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stand it when she inevitably tells him this is the last time, and pushes him away, again.

Just like she had done when he’d tried to make them something more.

It’s just one assignment, sweetheart, he’d told her over the phone, knowing fully well that she was all done up on the other end, waiting for him to pick her up at their agreed upon time. We’ll rain check, promise.

She’d taken in a shaky breath, he could hear it even through the phone, even with the downpour of rain in Yokohama. He always wondered if she’d cried that day, over him, over the failed attempt at a date, over his failure at showing up for her.

I don’t think it’s a good idea, ‘toru, she’d spoken as evenly as she could, even though it made her voice quieter.

How ‘bout tomorrow, hm? You can pick the place this time, anywhere you want, s’on me- He’d tried to convince her before she could put an end to this thing before it’d even started- hell, they’d barely even had a chance, hadn’t they?

But her mind had already been made up. And with a breaking heart, she’d shut him down.

I don’t just mean tonight, she’d said. I don’t think this is a good idea.

God, he should’ve just stood his ground to the higher ups like he usually did and made someone else take on this stupid assignment. He wanted to blame them for ruining his one perfect chance with this girl, but at the end of the day, he’d let her decide. He let her be the one to end it before it really began.

I just… I just need to think about the kids right now, she’d sighed through her words. As far as excuses go, it wasn’t necessarily a bad one. They need to come first to me and… and your future should come first to you, too.

He should’ve called bullshit. He knows that now. He shouldn't have sat there and agreed with her because he didn’t want them to fight. Fuck. He should’ve argued, even if it had meant fighting with her. As long as it also meant he could’ve seen what she’d chosen to wear for their date, how she’d done her hair, her makeup, then it would’ve been worth it.

I know you’re favored far more over me, but we’ll both always have assignments, she’d explained it like he didn’t already know what this chapter of their lives would look like. Then again, he’d sat there in silence and let her pour out reason after reason as to why they couldn’t do this.

Satoru still wasn’t sure if it was him she was trying to convince that day.

And I… and I wouldn’t forgive myself if things didn’t… work… you know? She’d finished shakily, nervously. For the kids’ sake, Satoru, she��d told him. For your sake. For my sake.

He’d agreed. He’d stupidly agreed. They never talked about it again after that phone call. For the most part, nothing had changed.

Except that first time he’d seen her afterwards. She had a hard time looking at him, and shifted her weight between her feet when he stood too close. But over time they got back into the groove of their friendship. He remained abundantly affectionate, and she remained oblivious to the less-than obvious advances.

It was a surprise to him now that she was blurring the lines between them- the lines she’d drawn. Would it be reckless of him to indulge once more? Would it be painful in the morning when she shooed him away before anyone could know he stayed here, with her?

Probably.

But what he says is, “Yeah, if you’re sure”

He does manage to convince her into changing into the comfiest pair of pajamas she could find, so that when she woke it was one less discomfort added to the long list of grievances her hangover would have in store. Somehow, he gets her to put on a change of clothes and brush her teeth before she’s crawling into her bed with a lazy smile. It’s almost three in the morning at this point, but worrying about the time is far from Satoru’s mind as she settles into his side like it was still second nature.

Long after she’d dozed off tucked under his arm, he laid there awake, wondering how different things could have been, had he plucked up the courage to say no. To say this will work, because we want it to work, because I want it to work, because I’ve wanted nothing but to be yours.

But tonight, the only one in this apartment with any guts is Megumi. Only Megumi was strong enough to articulate how he felt with those special little words that were too heavy for Satoru’s tongue.

With bags under his eyes and sluggish muscles Satoru gets out of bed as soon as he awakes to make breakfast for the full house. Megumi and Tsumiki are up first, eager for the breakfast buffet Satoru had managed to give them without the smoke alarm going off. Shoko drags herself out to the kitchen not too long after, downing a full cup of water before bidding them good morning and snagging some of the potatoes before Tsumiki could dump them all on her plate.

Satoru and Shoko tell unflattering stories about (y/n) with great excitement for gossip to the kids while their missing caretaker slept in as late as possible. Satoru had made sure to bring a cold face mask to her every fifteen minutes or so to keep her headache at bay and hopefully let her sleep as long as she could. Once she awoke she was in for a world of hurt. Each time Satoru left the kitchen to do this for her, Shoko turned to the kids with a knowing look and a snicker.

“They were in love in school you know,” She indulged in a more interesting piece of gossip during one of these times.

Tsumiki’s eyes widened as she grinned. Megumi’s brows furrowed as he pressed his lips together tightly.

“He’d follow her around like a lost puppy, it was hilarious” Shoko shoved a forkful of carbs into her mouth with a fond smile at the memories of lovesick Satoru.

“He still does that” Megumi mumbles, staring down at the remainder of food on his plate.

Shoko beamed with her cheeks full, not at all surprised by the behavior, but endeared to know it hadn’t worn off in time. Satoru had changed a lot in the last six months, although some might have a hard time noticing, those close to him could see the heaviness he carried on his shoulders with little mannerisms and micro expressions that even he might be convinced aren’t there. To Shoko and (y/n), who knew the boy like the back of their hand, it was clear.

However she should’ve known that the feelings he’d held for (y/n) since they were fifteen weren’t the kind of feelings that could be worn away.

Satoru’s back in the kitchen attempting to make pancakes in the fun shapes that (y/n) does, desperate to impress everyone- mostly Megumi- but they come out a little more lumpy than hers do. He complains about it the whole time. Megumi and Shoko are indifferent. Tsumiki reassures him that they’re delicious, like the sweetheart she was.

(y/n) joins them for a brief minute, dragging her feet, and a blanket, into the kitchen on a journey to get a big cup of ice water. The plastic face mask that Satoru had just brought her was velcroed around her head, although loosely, as half of it stayed on her forehead and the other half slipped over one of her eyes. She made no efforts to fix it.

Shoko’s giggling with great amusement at the state of her lightweight friend. The blanket cape, the messy hair, the smeared mascara on her exposed eye, it was all too humorous. She started to pull her phone out to take a picture, but knowing what she was up to, Satoru snatched the device and pocketed it discreetly. He gave her a sour look, to which she rolled her eyes and went back to breakfast.

He’d fussed over her right away, asking what she was doing up, that he could’ve brought her anything she needed and that she should’ve just hollered. The three at the table watch as he adjusts her mask for her, reattaching the velcro to fit her snugly, keeping the cool parts of the gel-filled plastic against her throbbing forehead.

Shoko cackles not-so-discreetly behind her hand when he asks her if she was alright for a fourth time. After a solid minute of insisting that he’d get everything for her, she shuffles back to the comfort of her dark room.

Satoru is quick to fill a cup to the brim with ice and then water, and rather than walk the ten feet to her door, he teleports it to her. Shoko rolls her eyes and shares a smile with Tsumiki.

“Yeah, nothing’s changed”

It takes a few hours for (y/n) to feel rejuvenated enough to take a shower and join the group lazing around the living room. Shoko had stayed for the day, so Satoru insisted they take turns picking movies. (y/n) appears like a woman brought back to life halfway through the second film. Satoru and Shoko cheer for her revival as she plops on the couch between Tsumiki and Satoru.

“Can we give you your present now?” Tsumiki asks, to which (y/n) eagerly accepts, so she and her brother rush out of the room to retrieve it.

With the kids gone, Shoko can finally give her friends the interrogation she’d been dying to all morning.

“So, you still sleep together, huh?” She raises a curious eyebrow.

(y/n) sighs, dropping her head back against the couch cushion, still feeling too light headed for this conversation. Satoru doesn’t say anything either, though (y/n) can’t tell if he’s avoiding the conversation, or just didn’t know how to explain himself. It doesn’t matter, Shoko doesn’t have any more questions, and shortly after, the Fushiguro kids are running into the room again.

They each have a hand on the brightly colored gift bag as they hand it to her. (y/n) beams at their excitement as she eyes all of the tissue paper they’d stuffed into the bag.

“You help with this?” She muses to Satoru, who shakes his head, looking just as curious as she was.

“We did it all ourselves!” Tsumiki said with a proud grin.

(y/n) pulls out wad after wad of tissue, placing them all on the coffee table as she digs for her gift. When she finally does get to the bottom of the bag, her lips morph into an ‘o’ as she lifts the piece of art out from the bag.

Shoko’s eyes widen, and Satoru begins to laugh while (y/n) carefully holds the small clay sculpture in her hands. It couldn’t have been bigger than her hand, but the details were made of delicate pieces of clay, and she worried that if she didn’t handle it with care, it could crumble at her touch.

It was two blades, intersecting to make a perfect X. The handles sculpted and painted to look quite familiar.

“It’s your swords!” Tsumiki cheered, holding her hands to her face to contain her excitement.

“Wow, this is amazing,” (y/n) admired the sculpture further, taking note of every detail, from blade to hilt, it was a damn good replica. “You both made this?”

Tsumiki and Megumi each nodded.

“Tsumiki did the clay, I painted it” Megumi explained.

“We got extra credit in our art classes for it too!”

Satoru’s laughter grew louder, and (y/n’s) eyes widened with realization as she looked back at the kids.

“You… you made this in school?” She asked, trying not to wince. “Did you… get in trouble?”

Sure, the piece was perfect, and their collaboration did deserve some bonus points, but had no administrator gotten upset that an eight and ten year old made a weapon for their art project?

“I told our art teacher it was from an anime character” Megumi said sheepishly. (y/n’s) posture relaxed with her relief.

“Smart call,” She chuckles, before setting it down and reaching out to them both to pull them into a hug. “Thank you. I love it. I love that you made it together”

She sets it on a shelf in the living room with a few other pieces of art and picture frames, making sure to have it be front and center. Throughout the rest of the movie watching day, her eyes keep wandering to it, wanting to admire the thoughtful craft a little longer. _

Over the next few months, Megumi had been pouting a lot more often.

(y/n) wasn’t sure what it was. She and Satoru would make his favorite meal for dinner, and he would eat it with a bored expression. Even with a trip to the library, more practice with his Divine Dogs, extending his bed time for reading purposes only, the boy just seemed to be in a bitter rut.

At first she was worried for him, but Tsumiki had confirmed that nothing was happening at school, he wasn’t being picked on, and his grades, as always, were exceptional. (y/n) didn’t know what that could possibly leave.

“I just don’t get it,” She huffed as she slumped down into the couch beside Satoru, who had been spending most of his free time at the apartment now. Some nights he even stayed over, but he always took the guest room.

The night of (y/n’s) birthday had proven to be too much for him. So when she offered him to stay the night, he made a beeline for the spare bed. (y/n) never pushed him on it. But sometimes when they parted ways in the hall, she’d stare at the back of his head, and wonder if he could tell that she’d rather he stayed with her.

Satoru is also caved into the couch cushions, legs spread out wide before him and his arms crossed over his chest. He looked tired. He’d spent the whole evening giving Megumi tips and tricks to summoning and befriending his shikigami, hoping to lift the boy’s mood, and maybe score some brownie points, but to no avail. The boy seemed to have more of an attitude with him than usual, and Satoru wasn’t the best with kids, so he’d given up, and pushed the responsibility back onto (y/n). Megumi had less of an attitude with her, but his annoyance was still noticeable.

“Do you think we did something?” She mumbles, turning to Satoru with wide, worried eyes, and pinched brows. Then, she scoots closer to him, until they’re sharing one of the cushions. He doesn’t flinch at her closeness, unless you count the small hitch in his breath. “Do you think I did something?” She rephrases her question in an even more haunted whisper.

“No, no of course not,” He shakes his head at her, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head. “He’s a kid. Kids are just jerks sometimes”

“He is not a jerk,” (y/n) says with narrowed eyes. Satoru shrugs back at her, tilting his lips into a smirk. “But… he is a kid. I guess he could just be… acting out”

“I acted out all the time when I was his age” Satoru nods as he starts to understand some of Megumi’s behavior.

(y/n) rolled her eyes at him.

“You still act out,” She says, and he wants to act offended when he turns to her again, but it’s too cute when she’s pretending to be annoyed with him, so he finds himself smiling at her, almost proudly. “You’re the jerk, you know”

“Me?” He holds a hand over his chest, and she giggles quietly to herself at the act. “You break my heart, Little Hex”

Again she rolls her eyes as she leans her head back into the couch cushion, letting out her frustration and exhaustion from the day in a quiet sigh. It had been a while since Satoru had called her that, a nickname he’d coined back in high school. She could still remember the first time he called her that, with that saccharine smile and shining eyes, like he was waiting for a reaction. Boy, did he get one. Somehow with his predictable flirtations, he still managed to make her blush and fluster. Even now, she felt her face warm at the fond nickname.

“You’ll get over it, Gojo,” She muses in response, letting her eyes fall shut. “Hey…” She starts to speak again, but trails off, and her eyes are still closed when he looks over at her to give her his attention.

“Hm?”

“Do you think… he misses his dad?”

The question hangs between them for a minute. (y/n) gnaws on her cheek as her eyes glaze over, getting lost in her messy trains of thoughts that were all beginning to collide. It was no secret that Megumi held a resentment towards his father, more so than his sister, but (y/n) couldn’t help but wonder if a part of him, the part that was growing up, was starting to feel hurt by the space Fushiguro Toji had left behind.

“He might,” Satoru answers honestly, quietly. (y/n’s) brows fall as her lips tug into a frown. Of all the things she could fix, all the questions she could answer, that was one thing she had no control over. “It’s probably complicated. He might not think he does, you know?”

(y/n) nods absentmindedly, her teeth digging into her bottom lip now as she worries for the young boy.

What was she supposed to do? All the love and support in the world wouldn’t make up for the man that was supposed to look out for them walking out. His mother was one thing, he couldn’t even remember her. But he had a face to his father’s name. He had memories. Maybe even love that he’d buried. The thought makes her stomach twist with guilt.

“I barely remember my parents,” She whispers, and despite the fact that she’s staring at the ceiling with a hardened, fixed gaze, Satoru turns to her when she says this. “They’re not gone… but they may as well be. After I was enrolled at Jujutsu Tech…”

She didn’t need to explain any further. Satoru already knew the heartbreak she’d gone through as a young child, having non-sorcerers for parents that looked down upon jujutsu society. She’d shared her story with him once, when they were no older than fifteen, and Satoru was certain he’d never shake a single detail out of his memory. She held the same look in her eye now that she did back then as she recalled how she’d been shunned for not following a more ‘honorable’ path.

It wasn’t often she thought of her family- she hardly considered those people family anyways- but now they cross her mind as she empathizes with Megumi.

“It’s not the same, I know,” She sighs, shaking her head as though to erase their faces like an etch-a-sketch. Even after all these years, she hasn’t quite forgotten them. “But… losing family at a young age sticks with you,”

Finally, she turns her head to one side, meeting his watchful stare.

“Whether you want it to or not”

Satoru frowned.

“Missing people is hard like that,” He sighs.

Neither one of them have the strength to talk about him though, so he glides over the topic and brings their focus back to Megumi.

“But he’s still a little kid. You give him a lot of credit for being so mature, it’s spooky, but he’s going to process things like a little kid,” He reminds her. “You’re not doing anything wrong. Neither is he. He’s just…”

“Processing” (y/n) mumbles softly.

He nods back at her, bringing his elbow to the top of the couch so he could prop his head in his hand.

“Have you ever…” Satoru trails off, deciding mid sentence if it was a good idea to ask her this question. She waits patiently for him to continue, in need of any kind of advice on the situation. “Have you ever thought about opening up to him? You know like… relating to him?”

She blinks, but the rest of her expression doesn’t change. Not a single movement. Satoru thinks he might have suggested the wrong thing, but before he can take it back, she gives him a small smile.

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea,” She hums, and she can see he’s shocked that she thought so. “You’re almost getting decent at this parenting thing”

He chuckles, dropping his hand from his head to stretch his arm across the length of the couch, beckoning her to come closer. She huffs in defiance, but doesn’t have any further protest as she slides closer to him, until their legs are pressed together and her head leans into his shoulder.

“I’m learning from the best” He chuckles like it’s a tease, but his words couldn’t have been more genuine.

It took some time for (y/n) to approach the subject with the boy.

But it was one night while they were walking home late together that just felt like the right time. It was just the two of them, (y/n) had brought him to a secluded place in the woods they found where it was safe for him to practice summoning his shikigami, while Satoru stayed at the apartment with Tsumiki.

It was late, the sun had gone down an hour ago, and the streets had cleared enough to give them a bit of privacy as they made their way back to the apartment.

So she figured, here goes nothing.

“Has something been bothering you, Megumi?”

At first he drops his head, staring down at the sidewalk as he mulled over the question. If (y/n) focused enough, she could see the gears in his head turning, weighing his options, the pros and cons, thinking through the possibilities of where this conversation could go. Had she not been worried about him, she might have giggled at how cutely the eight year old processed any question asked of him.

“You don’t need me to remind you that you can tell me anything,” She tells him honestly, glancing up at the stars beginning to shine through the night sky. “You’re allowed to be upset about things, you know”

“I know” He finally mumbles out, kicking a stray pebble in his path.

On uneven edges, it rolls awkwardly onto (y/n’s) side of the path. She gently kicks it back to his side. They play this little game in silence for a few minutes, until Megumi kicks it with too much enthusiasm and it’s sent into the storm drain. Teasingly, (y/n) tells him she’s won.

“I feel bad for being upset”

She looks down at him upon this confession, tilting her head curiously, wondering what it could be that he’s been carrying that’s making him feel so lost.

“That happens sometimes,” She treads lightly. “As long as you know that you shouldn’t. You can’t help what you feel, you know”

Megumi sighs, his shoulders slumping forward with a restlessness he was far too young to feel.

“I guess,” He replies, because he knows she’s right. Still, it was hard to be comforted when there was a loom of guilt hanging over his head like a storm cloud. “I don’t think I like love”

(y/n) hums as she takes in the statement. It was heavier than he’d realized, and it took her a minute to really think about it, about what he must be feeling. She had a sneaking suspicion that this was about his father, after all.

“Love is complicated, isn’t it,” She sighs, and it’s not a question, moreso a statement of fact. Megumi doesn’t say anything. “The world will tell you it’s unconditional. When in fact… people don’t work like that, do they?”

He looks up at her, his eyes round with shock, like she’d told him a great secret that he shouldn’t have been allowed to hear. Santa isn’t real, or this is all a simulation.

“Individual people are so different, and they’re meant to be, aren’t they?” This time she waits for his response, but Megumi can only muster up a nod. She takes it. “Everyone has their standards, their conditions. Even you, right?”

“I don’t like it when people are mean for no reason” Megumi comments, and (y/n) smiles as she nods at him, affirming that he understood what she was saying.

“Exactly,” She muses. “It’s just… some people’s conditions… well, they’re unreachable. Impossible. Sometimes they’re outright dumb”

Honestly, Megumi’s not sure where this little rant is coming from, but he finds himself hanging onto her every word anyways. It intrigued him, the way she described love. He’d never heard someone speak about it with such… distaste.

Usually adults tried to tell him that love is the ultimate happiness. Romantic love, familial love, platonic love, whatever it may be. He was always reminded that love was powerful, beautiful, transcendent. To hear (y/n) speak of it now like it was a trick to be wary of was confusing to him, but he was intent on learning more.

“I’ve never talked to you about my family, have I?” She asks, and again, it’s less of a question, and more of a prompt, a catch for him to realize that no, she’d never mentioned anything about a family. She only ever spoke of her classmates and colleagues at Jujutsu Tech.

Megumi shakes his head, feeling his guilt hovering over his head again as he realizes he’d never even thought to ask about the subject.

“Well, there’s a reason,” (y/n) says, easing some of his anxiety. “They had conditions to their love. Ones that I couldn’t meet. Or, refused to, is more like it”

“Really?” Megumi’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Yep,” She affirmed. “They didn’t want me to be a jujutsu sorcerer”

Now he looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. His mouth dropped open and his eyes grew impossibly bigger.

“Why?”

“They weren’t gifted like you and me,” She explains. “They were non-sorcerers, had never even heard of jujutsu society. So you can imagine their surprise when their kid started teleporting all around the house. I was a handful, you know,”

Megumi lets out a little giggle at the idea, and (y/n) smiles warmly that he’s starting to break down the walls he’d been building up around him in his seclusion.

“I was no older than you when my cursed technique manifested,” She tells him. “And it wasn’t long until someone from the school found me”

“Just like you came to us?” Megumi asked.

(y/n) tilted her head from side to side.

“It was a bit different,” She admitted. “They wanted to enroll me at the school, train me to properly hone my technique, teach me about the real world of jujutsu, it was a big ask. A big change”

“But your parents didn’t want you to go?” Megumi’s brows furrowed.

(y/n) nodded down at him.

“They forbid it”

The boy shook his head, trying to understand, but he was struggling, too puzzled by this story.

“But, why?” He asked. “Jujutsu sorcerers are good! You have cool powers- that- that can help people,” He looked up at her with his face contorted by his confusion. “Why didn’t they understand?”

(y/n) gives him a sad smile. She’d asked herself that same question for years after she’d left her home in pursuit of something greater than it, greater than her.

She looks forward as they continue their walk, not too far from the apartment building now.

“They were so worried about losing their kid, that they didn’t think about the damage they’d do by keeping them from following their passion,” She told him the truth, as harsh as it sounded. “And they ended up losing me anyways”

It’s quiet for a few beats, until Megumi let out a soft, “Oh”

“Megumi,” (y/n) calls, reaching down for his hand.

He lets her grasp onto it. They stop in their tracks, and he turns to face her. She still has that small, sad smile on her face. He recognizes this smile. She wears it when she’s trying to make him feel better, when she’s trying to convince someone, or herself, that things are alright. He’s seen this smile so many times now that he wishes she would just frown, but he knows she won’t. He knows that until the day she leaves this earth she’s going to be the strong one, the one that protects them, no matter the cost. He’d learned this shortly after meeting her, but he didn’t come to really understand it until the day he was almost taken away from her, and from his sister.

Megumi is a child. And while (y/n) had grown older in age, and quite a bit in maturity, she really wasn’t that much older than him, in the grand scheme of things. She’d given up more than just a summer vacation after graduating in order to take in him and his sister. She’d never talk about it, but Megumi has picked up on the fact that if she wasn’t so busy playing caretaker, then she would have been able to pursue more of her real passion, exorcizing curses. Sure, she still took plenty of assignments, but it was hard to take the big ones overseas, or the higher grade curses, because she couldn’t leave the two of them alone for too long.

(y/n) crouches before him now, his hand still in hers, and that melancholic smile still present on her lips.

“I believe that your dad loved you, so, so much,”

His brows furrowed together. My dad? He thought to himself, as if the words didn’t translate to his language, as if he couldn’t quite remember what they meant, or who they referred to.

“I believe that he did the things he did because he wanted to do what he could for you. I know it doesn’t make sense now… and honestly it might never make sense. But I think he was trying to do right by you both he just…”

She trails off, and for a split second, that false smile falters, and falls into a sad expression that he’d rarely gotten to see on her. Something snags in Megumi’s chest, an uneven beat of his heart, a pain in his ribs he wasn’t familiar with.

“He just didn’t know how,” She finishes softly, and just as quickly she’s crafting her face to be gentle and comforting again. “But I’m sorry that he’s not here”

Megumi tilts his head at her curiously, trying to speculate on what it was to make her say these things to him.

“That’s okay,” He says in a tone that has (y/n) feeling a bit confused too. Her hand loosens around his, and he pulls away, about to continue their walk. She quickly stands to walk beside him. “I don’t really think about him anyways”

“You don’t?” She asks. Megumi shakes his head.

“No, he doesn’t really matter, does he?”

Wow, (y/n) thinks. What an emotionally mature child. But if it wasn’t his absent-now-dead father bugging him, what had been on his mind?

“Hey (y/n),” Megumi calls before she can ask him her question, and she gives him her attention. “What are your conditions?”

“My conditions?” She repeats, although she knows what he means.

“Yeah” Megumi replies in a small voice.

“Silly kid,” She giggles and ruffles his hair, much to his annoyance, but he doesn’t swat her hand away, just glares at her as he fixes the messy raven locks. “I’m the exception to the rule of course. I have no conditions when it comes to loving you two”

“Corny,” He mutters with fake malice. “But what about Gojo, then?”

With a raised brow, (y/n) looks down at the boy, waiting for him to complete the question. Megumi just stared up at her expectantly, his head cocked towards one shoulder.

“What about Gojo?” She repeats with a tilted inflection, wondering what he was getting at.

Megumi huffs with more annoyance than she could’ve thought his little body was capable of holding.

“Well, don’t you love each other?” He asks, exasperated, like he’d been holding onto this fact for too long, like it was heavy, and he was tired of lugging it around. “Isn’t that why he’s around all the time? Isn’t that why he never leaves anymore?”

(y/n’s) lips part in surprise, ready to say something, anything to deflect, or excuse, but she can’t think of a decent enough argument, and she finds herself remaining in silence as they approach their building.

“He’s so obnoxious,” Megumi continues, and (y/n) watches him with a strange curiosity as he goes on to speak. “He’s loud. And annoying. And too touchy,”

She chuckles fondly to herself, as she couldn’t help but agree with all of Megumi’s grievances with the man. Of course these were all traits she’d found some way to appreciate.

He was loud, but he spoke up for others, and had he not done so on her behalf, she might not be here with Megumi now. He was annoying, but he made it known that he enjoyed spending time around her, and he’d remember all of the things she said she liked or disliked. He was touchy, but it was just the way he showed affection, every touch, whether it be to hug her goodbye, to pull her to sit closer to him, to comb her hair with his fingers so she could fall asleep peacefully, it all just meant that he cared.

Thinking about it now, her face began to heat up, and her heart began to beat erratically in her chest. Had Megumi figured it out for her? Had she really grown to love all of those things?

“He doesn’t ever stop talking about you,” Megumi goes on, drawing her out of her thoughts and back to his rant. “Especially when you’re not around. He just goes on and on. About high school, about how cool you are, how pretty you are, how strong you are,”

Despite his irritation, Megumi’s cheeks begin to burn too, a little embarrassed to be passing this information on.

“And when he makes my lunches, even his notes are about you. And they’re stupid. But he’s stupid,” He rolls his eyes between complaints.

(y/n) thinks back to the little post-it she’d snagged from his lunch box a few months ago. There had been others? She was curious now about what they said. Did he do it every time he made their lunch?

“And Shoko said you were in love once,”

Her attention returns to the boy again, eyes round and lips still parted, still waiting to say something that wasn’t coming to mind. Shoko said that?

“Are you not anymore?”

He looks up at her just as they approach the front doors to their building. (y/n) swallows the lump in her throat as she pushes it open, letting him inside first. The warm air in the lobby is welcoming, and she pops open the buttons to the light jacket she’d worn to help keep warm during the chilly fall night.

Megumi was still staring at her as they made their way through the lobby to wait for the elevator. She knows he was expecting an answer, a real one, but truth be told, (y/n) wasn’t sure what the answer even was.

“We were young,” She sighs out eventually, shaking her head as she struggles to come up with the rest. “Did we have feelings for each other? Maybe, but I don’t know about love. We were close friends. Still are”

She thinks this is a good answer. It’s the truth, and it’s enough of an explanation to quell Megumi’s curiosities. She thought wrong.

“Well, what about now?” He asks, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

“You’re nosey tonight,” (y/n) chuckles, trying to nonchalantly brush him off and leave their conversation at that. But Megumi continues to stare at her with furrowed brows. “What?” She laughs nervously at him, raising her hands in mock defense. “What more is there to say?”

“Shoko said you were in love,” He deadpans, and (y/n) makes a mental note to cuss out her friend for gossiping with literal children about her love life- or more accurately, lack thereof. “So what was the condition that you don’t anymore?”

“I never said I didn’t-”

“So you do?”

They stare at each other in silence.

There’s a ding! And the elevator doors before them slide open.

(y/n) ushers Megumi in without a word, and he excitedly pushes the button for their floor. (y/n) crosses her arms as the doors close again. Her foot taps anxiously on the floor.

“Is this why you’ve been upset lately?” She finally speaks as the elevator begins to move. Megumi looks up at her, but her eyes remain focused on the changing numbers on the panel as they pass each floor. “Satoru’s been around more and you don’t like him?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him,” Megumi mutters, annoyed at having to admit such a thing. (y/n) lets out a small chuckle. “He’s just annoying. I don’t know why you do,” He explains. “You’re cooler than him” He adds in a smaller, more bashful voice.

“Can’t argue there,” (y/n) hums in amusement, smiling down at him fondly. “But you don’t have anything to worry about, ‘gumi,” She says, and seeing as he’s trapped in the small space, when she reaches down and snatches him up with the excitement of finding a stray toad on her path- he can’t do anything but squeal and thrash his arms in protest. “You’re the only one for me, Fushiguro Megumi!” She cheers in a loud, lovesick manner.

The elevator doors open, allowing anyone on their floor to hear the boy’s screams of torture and giggles of delight when (y/n) tosses him over her shoulder to tickle him relentlessly.

“(y/n)!” He screams her name in choked up pleas of mercy. “Stoooop!”

His hollers fell on deaf ears as (y/n) cackled the whole way to the door. She didn’t let up until she had to fish for the keys in her pocket. Megumi huffed, hanging limply over her back, panting as he caught his breath, his laughter finally dying down.

“You’re a jerk” He muttered in defeat.

(y/n) cackled as she got the door open, and Megumi’s body was practically swinging behind her back as she hauled him inside.

Much to the delight of Satoru and Tsumiki, who had been sitting at the kitchen table, having a little spa day.

So while they were laughing at Megumi’s distress, (y/n) was laughing at the sight of Satoru with a big fluffy pink headband, the one Tsumiki used for the couple of times that (y/n) would let her do face masks with her.

His hair stuck out in every direction under the big bow on top, and there was a green substance smeared all over his face that (y/n) could only hope was from the rejuvenating face mask tube that she kept with her things in the bathroom. And better than that- Tsumiki was halfway through painting his names. He had one hand flat on the table, the polish still drying, while the ten year old held his other hand to carefully apply the color.

“Oh my god,” (y/n) couldn’t help the string of giggles that escaped her, and she finally set Megumi back on the ground so that he could also appreaciate the entertainment. “You girls have a nice day to yourselves?”

“Yeah!” Tsumiki cheered. “We watched a romance anime and Gojo’s letting me paint his nails and we were talking about boys and we’re doing face masks!”

(y/n’s) still laughing as she kicks off her shoes, before neatly setting them on the small rack by the door with the other smaller pairs of shoes. She shrugs off her coat and drapes it over the couch before making her way further into the room so she could see what color Tsumiki had chosen for Satoru’s manicure.

“She said we were doing facemasks,” Satoru deadpans as (y/n) peers over the girl’s shoulder. “But she chickened out”

“Did not!” Tsumiki argued. “I just only have one headband. I didn’t want to get any in my hair”

(y/n) continues to giggle when she finally gets a look at Satoru’s hands. Tsumiki had all of her polishes on the table, so each finger was a different color. Mostly variations of pink and purple, but there was one green and one blue in there too. When she meets his gaze, he’s silently pleading with her, but her mouth twists into a grin that tells him she was not here to bring him to a merciful end.

“Very good job you’ve done here, Tsumiki,” She praises the girl instead. “Satoru has never looked prettier!”

He should’ve rolled his eyes and quipped back some sarcastic remark, but Tsumiki was finally painting his last fingernail and it would all be over soon. So instead he grins from ear to ear, taking her half-insult as a compliment.

“Why thank you, (y/n/n). Finally, I’m appreciated for my beauty”

(y/n’s) the one who rolls her eyes.

Once Tsumiki applies the last stroke of glittery pink polish on Satoru’s pinky nail, (y/n) tasks her with cleaning up the mess on the table. It appears she’d been ready to give the man a full makeover, looking at all the makeup, nail polish, and hair supplies littered over the surface.

“Come on pretty girl, I’ll get the mask cleaned off your face,” (y/n) beckons for Satoru to follow her towards the bathroom. “We can’t have you ruining your pretty manicure” She snickers as the pair disappear down the hall.

Megumi helped his sister gather her things back into the boxes she kept them neatly organized in.

“How did it go with your dogs?” She asked curiously.

“Good,” He answers. “(y/n) is in love with Gojo”

His sister stares back at him with wide eyes, and a slow grin creeping over her face.

Meanwhile, (y/n) is sitting Satoru down on the lid of the toilet while the sink water runs until it’s warm enough that it won’t be a shock to his skin. Once it’s ready, she wets a corner of a washcloth and carefully begins to wipe off the creamy face mask.

“I can’t believe you let her do this” She murmurs, bringing the rag back under the running water to rinse away the excess paste.

“(y/n), as a dear friend, I need you to be honest with me,” He says, and her eyes lock on his, her hand stalling in it’s ministrations, holding the rag to his brow as she gives him her undivided attention. His expression looks grave. “Is this going to absolutely fuck up my pores?”

His eyes are wide like he’s never been more afraid of anything in his life, and (y/n) can’t help but burst into laughter as she goes back to cleaning away the cream on his forehead.

“Well, it shouldn’t,” She says, and Satoru visibly relaxes. “But I don’t know what she was thinking putting so much on your face”

“Maybe she just wanted to be close because I’m so devilishly handsome” He smirks up at her, and she lets out another laugh, turning back to the sink again to rinse the rag.

“I think she just wanted to play dress up with you” (y/n) mused.

“I think she just wanted to have girl talk,” Satoru replied. “Which apparently I’m quite good at. If you’re ever interested”

Another giggle escapes her as she gets to work cleaning away the cream on his cheek, being careful as she drags the rag slowly under his eye. She’s focused on her work, but Satoru can’t draw his attention away from her. He couldn’t remember the last time she stood so close to him, and right now her face hovered just a few inches away from his.

It was hard to keep his hands firmly planted on his knees, and not hold her by the waist and draw her into the space between them. But then he’d ruin his manicure.

“I didn’t realize she was getting so interested in boys,” She hums thoughtfully. “Any juicy details?”

“Not really,” Satoru shrugs. “I told her to start playing hard to get if she really wants to get someone’s attention. She said she didn’t want their attention. She just likes making friends with the cute boys in her class”

(y/n) laughs softly and shakes her head, but she can’t help but smile proudly to herself.

“That’s my girl,” She praises, even though Tsumiki wasn’t present. “She doesn’t need boys right now. She’s doing great in her classes”

Satoru shrugs a shoulder.

“You enjoy girl talk, hm?” She asks.

Admittedly, she could have cleaned his face of all this face mask cream by now, but she couldn’t help her slow movements. The longer she dragged this on, the longer she could stand right in front of him and stare at his pretty features. Her conversation with Megumi was still on the front of her mind, and while she’d brushed off the boy’s questions about her feelings minutes ago, standing before Satoru now, she wasn’t so sure she could deny them.

She’d known for a long time that she harbored strong feelings for him. While at first she’d squashed them down because she refused to admit she’d fallen for an arrogant fool like him, over time, she’d come to understand him better, and soon he’d become one of the greatest people she’s ever known, and she wasn’t so sure she’d ever meet anyone like him again.

But things got messy. She got involved with the Fushiguro’s, [redacted] defected, and now that they’ve graduated and are trying to lead their own lives, it just got too complicated.

It didn’t help that when he’d tried to take things to a more than platonic level, she’d shot it down as soon as things got tricky. As soon as he got called into an assignment the night they were going to go out, she’d closed herself back up, rebuilt the wall around her, and told him it was never going to work, so they may as well never try.

She’d done the right thing, right?

Trying not to stare too long at him now, she wasn’t so sure.

“Oh, I quite love girl talk,” Satoru grinned. “No wonder you and Shoko always snuck off. Hey, you ever talk about me?” His grin turns into a smirk as his bright eyes try to catch hers. She pretends to be too focused on clearing the green goop off his nose.

“Only when I needed to complain,” She muses affectionately. “I’m sorry to say most of our gossip involved Ijichi”

“That kid that’s a manager?” He asked with a furrowed brow. “That’s your type?”

He sounded annoyed, and confused. (y/n) chuckled, turning back towards the sink for another rinse.

“No,” She shakes her head, and Satoru readjusts his posture, sitting up a little straighter with his confidence returned. “But he was always smitten with Shoko. I think eventually he was so into her she couldn’t help but take an interest in him, too,”

Satoru nods, pursing his lips as he thinks back on it. There were a few times that she’d blown off plans to twirl her hair at the younger boy. He’d always thought she was just messing with him, now he wonders if anything ever came of it.

“I think they hooked up a couple times,” (y/n) indulged in a quieter voice, her eyes meeting his with a curious excitement he hadn’t seen in a while. “She never admitted it. But I’ve seen the hickeys. That’s all I’m saying”

Satoru laughed with delight. He really did enjoy girl talk. He also enjoyed seeing (y/n) this happy.

“Well geez. I guess I’ll have to hit her up on that. What’s she got on you, huh?”

Her brows pinched together as a scoff of a laugh escapes her, her lips stretching into an awkward smile. Her eyes meet his and they’re prodding, eager to hear more of this juicy content.

(y/n) shakes her head as more nervous laughter bubbles up.

“Afraid you’ll be rather bored, ‘toru” She hummed, going back to scrubbing the cream off of his other cheek.

“What, no time for boys?” He leans forward, making her stall in her movements, and bringing her gaze back to his. Her eyes flicker between his for a moment, trying to figure out why he was asking this of her now. He knows the answer to this question. Why was he even asking it?

Her head tilts at him in a small movement as she thinks through her answer, her eyes never leaving his.

“That’s private” She murmurs, just to gauge his reaction.

It was a pleasant one indeed. Only because she got an up close look was she able to see the twitch in his brow, the slow locking of his jaw before quickly relaxing it. So the notion that she did have something to tell bothered him. Interesting.

“So you have a little time for boys, then?” He asks, and the grin that stretches on his lips is anything but eager. It’s counterfeit. And almost poisonous.

“Why the sudden interest?” She hums, straightening her posture and going back to cleaning his face.

“Why the sudden need for privacy?” He asks, leaning forward again, seeing as she’d tried to put a few inches of distance between them. Her eyes briefly catch his, but she’s quick to return her focus. “I thought we said no more secrets”

A humorless laugh escapes her throat as she shakes her head at him.

“Satoru, how many times are you going to assume I’m hooking up with someone when I’m not?” She asks, only half-teasing.

“Hey, that’s not all on me, you were the one sneaking around in the middle of the night! A bootycall was the only logical answer”

“Except it wasn’t, and it isn’t” (y/n) reminds him.

“I’m still not totally convinced” He grumbles, rolling his eyes away from hers as he mulled over the scraps of evidence in his head.

“I can’t tell if you’re being nosey or completely jealous” She muses.

“Can’t a guy be more than one thing?” His eyes are on hers again in an instant as he grins up at her, this time with his usual charm that he tried to pull.

“Sure you can,” She grins back at him. “And you’re predictable”

His grin falls, but not completely. His lips are still curled into a soft smile as he stares up at her. It’s quiet for a moment, and there’s still some green mask left on his chin, but it’s momentarily forgotten as she gets lost in his stare.

She supposes she’d get jealous, too, if he started talking about seeing someone else. Someone else, she thinks to herself, a small crease forming between her brows. And that wasn’t fair of her to think, was it? He wasn’t hers, she’d made sure of that herself. But fuck, if the idea didn’t make something nasty twist in her gut.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” She blurts out, as if it wasn’t already clear to him that this was the case. “If that’s what you’re getting at. I don’t know why, you know I-”

She stops herself before something she doesn’t want to say out loud. He tilts his chin at her, curious to hear the rest of what she was going to say, but judging by the way she presses her lips together in a small smile, he gets the feeling that she’s swallowed her words.

Silently, she wipes the last patch of green cream off of his chin, and turns around to rinse the wash cloth thoroughly. After working out all of the mask from the cloth, she rings it out and drapes it over one of the towel bars to properly dry. When she turns back to Satoru, he’s raising his hands to pull the headband off.

“Wait,” Her voice is soft but it still stops him as she reaches out towards him. “I’ll get it,” She tells him as she loops her fingers through the fluffy band. “I was serious about not messing up your nails”

A small giggle escapes her as she slides the headband off, letting his hair fall around his ears and over his forehead.

“I appreciate that you care about my manicure” He half-teases.

Absent-mindedly, she brings her fingers bag to his hair, sweeping a few loose strands away from his eyes. She doesn’t even realize what she’s done until her eyes meet his, and suddenly she’s retracting her hand and staring back at him with wide eyes.

“I- sorry-”

“Don’t be,” Satoru smiles at her as he stands from the seat, stretching his tired limbs after sitting there for the last fifteen or so minutes. “You want help making dinner tonight?”

Just like that he’s strolling out of the bathroom with her in tow, telling her all of the ideas of things he wants to learn to cook. A lot of his list is baked sweets, but she listens to him ramble on anyways. It’s a good distraction for her to calm her racing heart. _

It’s a horrendously chilly day in december when paths cross that (y/n) would have never expected.

She, Satoru, Shoko, and the Fushiguro kids had been out for the day. It had started with a breakfast that they’d tried to make happen weekly, but had quickly turned into strolling around the shops in Tokyo so the kids could make their christmas wish lists. This of course was more or less a grocery list of things that Satoru was bound to buy as soon as he received this list, but it was fun for everyone nonetheless.

They’d just walked out of a pet shop, despite (y/n) making it clear that there would be no pets for christmas, claiming Megumi’s dogs were enough. She was reminding Tsumiki- and Satoru- of that fact as they walked out.

“What do you need a hamster for? Isn’t Megumi feisty enough?” She’d laughed as she’d pulled her hat over her head to keep her ears safe from the nippy cold breeze. Megumi gives his sister a wide grin, maybe out of pride, even.

“Because they’re so small and cute and fluffy-”

“Not helping, Satoru,” She swatted at his arm to stop him from getting Tsumiki’s hopes up, before turning her attention to the girl. “We’re not getting a hamster”

Just as Tsumiki’s pouty face was almost starting to work, (y/n) catches sight of an old familiar face, and her attention is quickly ripped away from the present as a beam stretches over her mouth.

“Nanami!”

He’s across the street, so she has to jog to get to him and catch his attention, leaving everyone else without much more of an explanation.

“Been awhile since I’ve seen Nanamin,” Shoko’s the first to speak, as the rest of them are staring at (y/n) as she catches up with the blonde man. Megumi and Tsumiki watch on with surprise, and a little confusion. While Satoru’s eyes narrow into a glare behind his shades. “He looks… good”

This turned his glare towards the woman, who pursed her lips and shrugged a shoulder. “What?” She asked innocently. “The haircut suits him”

When Nanami Kento finally hears his name and sees (y/n) making her way to him, he lights up. Recognition turns to delight as she approaches him, and when her arms open wide, he steps closer so that she can throw them around his neck and hug him like he was an old friend, and not just a past acquaintance that had shared trauma.

“Don’t remember them being so close” Satoru huffs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat so that no one could see the way they ball into tight fists.

Hearing the odd seriousness in the usually overly-cheery man’s tone had Megumi looking up at Satoru out of curiosity. He wore a grimace, even with the shades covering his face, it was perfectly clear. When the boy glanced back towards where (y/n) was animatedly talking with the man he sort of recognized, an idea brewed in his head.

Tugging on the puffy sleeve of Tsumiki’s coat, Megumi gave her a look, making her follow his line of sight from Satoru’s evil eye, to where (y/n) and her supposed friend from high school were reconnecting. Tsumiki looked back and forth a few more times, noting how Gojo’s brow furrowed particularly harder as (y/n) grabbed the man’s arm and began to lead him back towards them.

As Nanami and (y/n) grow nearer, Satoru does his best to relax his features, but with the way she’s talking to him so enthusiastically, smiling and gesturing with her hands, he can’t help but have some intrigue.

Questions like when the hell did they get so buddy-buddy? And since when did Nanamin know how to smile? Flooded his mind. He was dying to know what it was that you were talking about that had you both looking so… engaged.

“Your jealousy’s showing,” Shoko snickered, knocking her elbow into Satoru’s. He sent her a half-playful scowl, which only made her grin in amusement. “And here I thought you grew out of that?” She teased.

Meanwhile, and as oblivious as ever, (y/n) had been filling Nanami in on all of the excitement she’d endured since graduating. He congratulated her, and asked all of the appropriate questions about the kids and the beginning of her career as a jujutsu sorcerer.

“You have to come properly meet the kids,” She’d told him, gesturing back to where the oddball looking group stood outside of the pet shop.

Nanami glanced over, briefly catching Gojo’s nasty gaze before he smoothed it out into something more friendly. It didn’t look remotely authentic, but it didn’t help that Shoko was cackling and knocking her arm against his, as though calling him out for his behavior. He supposed some things would never change.

(y/n) was linking her arm through his and walking with him back towards everyone before Nanami could find a way to politely decline the offer. It was nothing against the Fushiguro kids, (y/n) made them out to be pleasant little angels, but he had a feeling that Gojo wouldn’t be too keen on her inviting him over. Especially not arm in arm.

“So you and Six Eyes finally made it work, huh?” The blonde asked, semi bitterly, semi curiously.

(y/n) ducked her head to hide the blush dusting over her cheeks. Although she supposed it was cold enough outside she could play it off as a chill, she had a feeling Nanami would see through the lie.

“Uh, not exactly. I mean- not like you mean, anyways. He helps with the kids a lot” She stammers over her explanation, not knowing the proper way to define their relationship. Friend seemed too informal and broad to describe what they shared. Partner was… well, there was a certain connotation there, wasn’t there? Rather than try to find a label for it, she decides instead to shut her mouth.

Nanami chuckled.

Some things really would never change.

“Still got him to settle down though, hm?” Nanami hums, watching as Gojo ruffles up the hair of the little boy, who then proceeds to turn around and growl at him, smacking at his hand.

This was (y/n’s) little angel? Nanami wondered as the two began to bicker like they were both children. He couldn’t hear what they were arguing about, but from what he could see, he had a feeling the boy was in the right.

“So he’s… good with the kids?” Nanami asks, and the pair watch as Satoru’s solution to end the bickering was to lift up the kid by his ankle, dangling him in the air.

(y/n’s) eyes momentarily widen, and she jolts as if she’s going to run at the two- probably to scold Satoru and cradle Megumi in her arms like he was younger than he was- but she just as quickly relaxes as Satoru plops the boy on his shoulders. Megumi is still scowling, but appears to relax and let's Satoru hold him by the ankles while he sits. (y/n) makes a mental note to take a picture of them later when they’re not paying attention.

“Sometimes,” She finally answers Nanami’s question. “Tsumiki loves him. Megumi won’t admit it… but I know he likes him more than he lets on”

“So you’ll raise kids together, but you won’t put a label on things?” Nanami chuckles.

She looks over at him with a half smile and a raised brow.

“You sure care a lot about my love life, Nanamin~” She points out. “So what is it? You got a special someone that’s got love on your mind?”

He laughs again, not because she’s right, but because it was so like her to deflect like her life depended on it. She had gotten better at it since the last time he’d seen her, too.

When they do approach the rest of her group, Satoru’s line of sight is firmly set on the place where (y/n’s) elbow is hooked around Nanami’s, and it stays there while she introduces the kids to him. He doesn’t look up, or even force a polite smile, until Shoko is stepping forward and making them split up as she hugs Nanami.

Then, and only once (y/n) stepped closer to Satoru, putting some distance between her and the ex-sorcerer, does he relax. Megumi groans and kicks his feet out of Satoru’s hold, annoyed by the way he’d gripped his legs. During the pleasant small talk (y/n) and Shoko makes with the man, Satoru remains silent. Behind his shades his eyes are piercing and although Nanami can’t quite see it, he certainly feels it. It’s a bit unsettling, but just like in high school, it was more irritating than anything else.

Despite barely speaking to him, before the blonde man goes to part ways, Satoru scribbles something down on a receipt he’d found in his pocket, and passes it off to him. Nanami’s surprised to see it’s a phone number.

“For if you ever want to get back out there,” Satoru said with a nod. Nanami blinks as he stares at the Six Eyes user, and then back at the receipt. “I’d get ya back on the field in a jiffy, no questions asked” He continued with a grin, before making a point to sling an arm over (y/n’s) shoulders. She stumbles as he pulls her against his side, caught off guard by the sudden affection, but she relaxes just as quickly, and doesn’t appear upset by the action at all.

“Thanks” Nanami settles with a small nod of his head. He doesn’t think he’d ever go back into the world of jujutsu sorcery, but the proposal was still a thoughtful one. Especially so when he thought he’d been on the man’s shit list for merely talking to (y/n).

They say their goodbyes and part ways with a weak promise of brunch sometime.

Shoko is dragging Tsumiki into the next boutique, saying something about hair accessories that should be on her wish list. Leaving (y/n) and Satoru to follow behind, with Megumi still perched on Satoru’s shoulders.

(y/n) tucks her hands into the pockets of her coat, stepping out from under his arm, but still walking closely by his side.

“You really think he’ll come back?” She asks after a beat passes, too curious about his thoughts to wait until another time to bring it up.

“I don’t know,” He answers honestly, shrugging his shoulders, although the movement is stiff and awkward with Megumi resting on them. He giggles a bit at the movement. “But he looked… bored, didn’t he?”

When he looks down at her to gauge her reaction, she gives him a small nod.

“Figured a change of pace would be good for him” Satoru finished.

“Maybe you can train him again (y/n),” Megumi pipes up. He leans over Satoru’s head, resting his arms across the white locks before setting his chin against the puffy sleeves of his coat to rest. “Like me”

She smiles up at him sweetly, and nods her head again. Truthfully, Nanami’s abilities nearly surpassed hers back in the day, but she had no problem with letting Megumi believe she was stronger than she was.

“Maybe then I’ll get good at teaching,” She said, eyes flickering down to Satoru, who beamed at the idea. “Jujutsu Tech always needs more teachers” She shrugs a shoulder at the thought.

But for now, she tables the idea, putting her focus back into entertaining the kids for the day. As long as they had a good holiday season, full of the spoiling and love they so deserved, she’d be content.

___

On the third day of February, Gojo Satoru shows up at the (y/l/n)-Fushiguro apartment like a madman that evening. He appears out of thin air in the living room, and his worried state only escalates when he finds the room empty. It’s late enough that without the lights, the room is dark, but early enough in the evening that there should have been some form of life in the apartment.

He’s quick to scour through the hallways. He finds Tsumiki asleep in her bed, and carefully closes the door behind him. When he turns to Megumi’s room, the boy is still awake, happily reading with the clip-on light on the cover of his book- a gift he’d gotten from (y/n) this past holiday. When the man practically barges into the room, he’s not as alarmed as he should be. Satoru appearing out of nowhere had become such a regular occurrence that it would be silly if he still flinched at his sudden presence.

“Sorry, kid, shoulda knocked,” Satoru apologizes sheepishly. “(y/n/n) here? She didn’t go on a mission, did she?”

It wouldn’t be like her to take on an assignment and leave the kids alone at the apartment. Then again, it wasn’t like her to ignore his texts and calls all day. Eight texts, three phone calls, to be exact.

She’d ignored Shoko’s, too. Hence is panic and instantaneous arrival at her residence.

Megumi shakes his head, tucking his bookmark into the page he’d been on before setting it down. He climbs out of bed wordlessly, and walks out of the room, leaving Satoru to follow after him.

He’s a little embarrassed when Megumi takes him towards (y/n’s) room, where her door has been left ajar. He points through the crack, before looking up at Satoru with a small frown.

“She’s been out there all night,” He says softly.

Satoru furrows his brows, before pushing open the door a little more so he could see for himself what Megumi meant. Sure enough, her bedroom was unlit, and the window on the furthest wall was slid open. The curtains surrounding it blow gently with the breeze that creeps into the room. He can just barely make out (y/n) sitting on the small patch of roof just outside of the window.

“Is she okay?” Megumi asks, his voice even smaller.

He’d never seen her the way she’d acted today. There had been a ghostly pale look on her face this morning, and then again when she’d picked up him and his sister from school. Most of the afternoon was spent focused on chores, and then preparing dinner. Any attempts made by him or his sister to get her to open up, or even smile, had failed.

And then, once dinner was finished and the dishes were done, she’d excused herself to her room. After two hours, Megumi and Tsumiki had peeked in to see if she was alright, only to find her sitting on the roof outside her window, alone.

Satoru lets out a sigh, his heart sinking as it finally clicks for him why she’d been so dodgy. He should’ve figured it out sooner, he realizes that now.

“She’ll be alright,” He answers Megumi, pulling the door shut to give her her privacy again, even though she didn’t seem to notice the onlooking presence behind her. “Come on, you should get to bed”

Megumi hesitates, wanting to know more, out of worry for his caretaker that worked so hard to make sure he was content and happy every day of his life. Now she was struggling and he felt helpless. But he was just a kid, what was he supposed to do?

“You’ll make sure?” He asks. It was the closest to asking the man for help that he’d ever gotten, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Satoru smiles, patting the kid on the head before pushing him gently back towards his room.

“Course I will,” He says, and it seems genuine, so Megumi complies and begins walking back to his door. “Sweet dreams ‘gumi”

“Goodnight” Megumi calls, rather than roll his eyes like he wants to. Well, at least he waits until he’s in his closed room to do so.

Once he’s out of sight and presumably settling back into bed, Satoru opens the door he’s lingered by and slips into the room quickly. Even as he climbs out of the window- which was a great struggle because it was a small opening and he was all limbs- (y/n’s) attention remains on the sky.

She has her knees pulled to her chest, and now he’s close enough that he can smell the cigarette held between her fingers.

“Thought you quit” He hums as she crawls awkwardly to where she’s sitting.

(y/n) doesn’t flinch at his presence. He wonders how long she’d realized he was there. She doesn’t look at him, either, much to his dismay. She’s still focused on the stars, as though they’d been in the midst of an important conversation.

“Yeah, well,” Her voice is a murmur as she brings the cig to her lips, taking a short drag. After filling her lungs she exhales, sighing for longer than she had smoke to disseminate. “Guess I couldn’t help it today”

Satoru nods in understanding, his attention catching on a small plate beside her. The tiniest of smiles quirks on the corner of his lips as he sees a lone cupcake sitting on it. It looks positively delicious, thick vanilla cake wrapped in a colorful paper, topped with a generous amount of frosting, curled over itself in a perfect mountain, and then covered in rainbow sprinkles.

If this was any other cupcake, on any other day, he’d be pushing her off this roof right now just to steal a bite of it.

But this cupcake wasn’t meant for him.

“I know you’re going to worry,” (y/n’s) speaking again, and his eyes drift away from the ominous treat and back to her, even though she’s still refusing to look at him. “But you don’t need to. You can go, if you want…” She trails off for a moment, taking in a shaky breath before finishing her thought. “If you need to grieve… in your own way”

Amidst the solemn memories that are flooding his mind of this day in past years, Satoru thinks it’s one of the kindest things she’s ever offered to him. Pushing him away so that he can process this day however he needs, rather than sit here and comfort her while she processes her way.

And it’s not that it’s easy for him, because it isn’t. He’d woken up today knowing exactly what day it was. And not just Friday. Today the weight of the world felt heavier on his shoulders than usual. His coffee, pumped full of cream and sugar, tasted bitter. The sun seemed to disappear behind a patch of clouds every time he stepped outside. The day dragged and dragged, and given the fact that (y/n) had ghosted him for the day hadn’t helped.

But he couldn’t exactly blame her. Because even he was a reminder to her. A reminder that their group of three had once been four. That when he’d met her all those years ago, he’d come as a matching set. His heart sank for her, knowing there was nothing he could do to ease her mind of pleasant memories now covered in a haze of darkness.

Guilt. Regret. Longing.

“No, sweetheart,” He murmurs to her, sliding himself over the shingles to be closer to her. Her hair is down, and it covers her side profile, so it’s still hard for him to see her, but for once he’s patient. “No, ‘m not goin’ anywhere”

It’s quiet for quite some time. (y/n) continues puffing on the cigarette until the taste turns sour in her mouth, and then she’s stumping it out on the shingles, only half smoked. Satoru hopes this means she really has quit the nasty habit, and tonight wasn’t a backslide on an old addiction, but instead a small escape towards nostalgia. While she fiddles with the dead cig in her fingers, he notes it was the brand that Shoko always picked up. The very brand that back in high school, she’d made smoke buddies out of (y/n), and Suguru too, smoking those exact cigarettes.

“D’you think he’s celebrating?”

Her voice catches in her throat, but she swallows the lump as soon as she voices her question.

No, Satoru thinks.

“Maybe,” He hums in response. “Probably not as hard as you did” He adds, trying to lighten the mood with the memory of her own twentieth birthday. (y/n) lets out a small sound that was meant to be a hum, but it sounds choked, like someone has a hand around her throat, strangling her pipes until she had no more voice left.

She stares at the cigarette in her fingers, her eyes hard, desperate to stay dry, but this leaves them without emotion.

“I didn’t think today would be this hard,” She admits. “I thought I…”

Satoru watches her carefully, his eyes darting from her hidden face to the cigarette that was trembling in her delicate hold. As if the day alone wasn’t hard enough, his heart breaks over her further. Being the strongest didn’t mean shit at this moment. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to ease this pain for her, but fuck, if he could take it all away, and carry it for her himself, he would.

“I thought I’d already cried as much as I could over him,” Her words wobble, thanks to her burning throat and quivering lips. “But I… I just…”

She shakes her head, a humorless laugh escaping her throat in one harsh sob. It sounds exactly how she feels. Angry, forlorn, exasperated.

“Satoru,”

She turns to him, finally. The stumpy little cigarette falls from her shaking hands as she moves quickly. As if his heart wasn’t hurting enough, now he sees the tears streaming down her face.

How long had she been out here crying? He worries. How long had she been carrying this alone?

Before she can continue he’s surging forward. Both hands raising to her face in order to make quick work at drying her tears. It’s no use, they won’t stop flooding and he knows it too, but still, he wipes them away with diligent, loving thumbs.

“I can’t bear this,” She mumbles, watery eyes flickering between his.

It’s a damn vulnerable thing to admit, and maybe tomorrow she’ll regret this moment of fragile exposure, but right now all she feels is a weight on her chest, pressing harder and harder until it’s left a gaping wound, and she’s so desperate for relief from this pain that she brings her walls down. Even if it means she takes them down completely.

“It hurts too much,” She continues in a strained whimper. “I don’t want to miss him anymore, I don’t want to think about him anymore,”

Satoru’s brows fall to furrow together as she makes her pained confession, and if it wasn’t for the way she spoke, he could see it on her. In the way her body shook as she cried, her hurt seeped out of every orifice, until she was made nearly unrecognizable.

Since Geto Suguru’s defection, she’d done a bang up job keeping her feelings on the matter to herself. Minus the day he left them, she’d barely even spoken a word about it, and in fact, she hadn’t talked about him at all. Until this very moment. It appeared that she’d kept it packed up so deep inside that today was the last straw, the final blow to her unprocessed grief. Denial was a wonderful thing, but it could only do the trick for so long.

Satoru cradles her face with the gentleness of feathers on her skin. He doesn’t say a word, there’s not enough words in the world to bring an ounce of comfort to her now. Nothing could fix the situation, believe him, he’s tried to find the miracle cure. But this disease that was their shared trauma, their haunted past, was terminal.

So instead he sits quietly with her. He brushes away her tears with the pads of his thumbs, over and over again, and he’s bound to this very spot to continue to do so until it’s enough. Until he’s enough to carry all of her sorrow, all of her strife, and anything else.

Satoru’s throat begins to burn the longer he watches her fall apart at the seams before him. This wasn’t the first time he’s seen her at her lowest, he’d been there once or twice before to try to pick up her pieces, and hold her gently together until she feels whole again. But it doesn’t matter if he’d done this a thousand times before, it always feels unfamiliar, and it always wounds him.

He tries his hardest to push down the feeling, to be present as the strength that she needs of him. But tonight is different than the other times he’s calmed and comforted her.

A shaky exhale escapes him, and the movements of his thumbs on her cheeks grow rushed, and erratic.

“Oh sweetheart,” Satoru means to speak in a murmur, but his voice wavers as much as his breath. It’s littered with an emotion that makes (y/n’s) stomach churn and knot. “You know I hate seeing you cry”

His eyes follow the constant flow of tears as he prods carefully to wipe them away. His heart weighs heavy in his chest, sinking all the way to his stomach.

Slowly, (y/n) inches forward, her eyes flickering between his for a moment, before her hands rest on his shoulders and she leans in to embrace him. It’s stiff at first, as if they were unfamiliar with hugging one another. But she sinks into him after adjusting, and wraps her arms around his neck completely while holding on tight.

His own arms encircle her waist, before resting cheek atop her head.

“I wish I could just hate him,” She mumbles into his shoulder, the fabric of his tee shirt growing wet with her tears pooling into it. “It would make it easier”

Satoru nods. One of his hands pressed flat against her back as he started to move it in soothing circles.

They sit quietly for a few minutes, until her crying has calmed enough that she’s not shaking anymore, and his eyes have fallen shut with fatigue whilst he’s holding her close and rubbing her back.

“D’you want to go inside?” Satoru hums, tilting his head to press her lips into her hair. “Get some rest?”

She doesn’t answer him right away. Not in words, at least. Her arms tighten around him in the slightest, tensing up as she makes sure her hold on him is firm.

“No,” She whispers, followed by another squeeze, and this time he feels the pads of her fingertips pressing into the material of his shirt, against his skin. “I want to stay here a little longer,” She admits while she pushes her face into the crook of his neck. “If that’s okay?” She asks in a smaller voice.

“Of course that’s okay,” Satoru agrees, his free hand reaching up to cup the back of her head. He gently pets her hair as she settles back into him again. Best case scenario, she’ll fall asleep, and he can tuck her into bed and hope that the rest brings her more comfort than he’s capable of. “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” His lips graze over her head as he murmurs, “Just let me know. I’ll do whatever you need. I’ll get you whatever you need. Just tell me”

Again, her hold stiffens on him, and she’s got him so snug in her arms now that breaking away would prove to be difficult. Strongest be damned. No hold on Gojo Satoru has ever been more binding.

And then she’s pulling away. Her arms loosen and slide away, only for her hands to find purchase at his forearms, tethering herself to him with a gentle grip. Even still, this has him locked to her, chained, bound.

He lifts his head to look at her properly, meeting her wide, panicked eyes. There’s a few tears left, clinging where they could. They hide in plain sight at the corners of her eyes and on her cheeks. Satoru has the thought to clear them away, but her hands begin to shake as she clings to his arms, and he doesn’t have the heart to pull himself from her grip.

No hold on Gojo Satoru has ever been more binding.

“Then I need you to promise me something,” She speaks with urgency, although he could already see the fright in her eyes. He doesn’t get a chance to nod in agreement before she’s speaking again. “You can’t ever go”

Satoru blinks, taken aback by the request. He’s quick to reassure her with a small chuckle, not out of humor, but from the irony that she feels the need to ask such a thing.

“Of course I won’t-”

“I’m serious,” She speaks over him, eyes unblinking as she moves her hands to clutch onto his shoulders. Her hold is softer now, but it carries the same weight. “Please, promise me,” She whispers. “Promise you won’t go anywhere,”

She sucks in a breath as she fights more tears from pooling in her eyes.

“Promise me I won’t ever lose you, too,”

Satoru’s brows pinch together as he nods back at her in a small motion. With his arms free, he cups her face in his hands again, tilting her head forward so he could seal his promise with his lips pressed against the crown of her head.

He lingers there for a second, before kissing her in the middle of her forehead once more and leaning away so he could look at her.

“I just can’t-” She tries to speak but her tears are choking her up again. “I can’t lose you, okay?”

He’s nodding at her, his expression gravely serious as he agrees to her terms.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Satoru tucks a loose strand of hair carefully behind her ear before continuing. “You’ll never lose me,” He gives her a sweet, comforting smile before he’s cupping her face again, fingers splayed across her cheeks, catching the last of her tears and drying them off. “I need ya too much, yaknow?”

A faint smile quirks at the corners of her lips, her eyes filling with relief, and something bashful. He can feel it in the warmth of her face.

Softly, she murmurs, “I need you, too,”

It’s a difficult thing to say out loud, there’s more weight to those words than she thought there would be, but it’s the truth, and she needs him to know it. She needs him to know that while there’s still things she can’t bring herself to admit, at the end of the day he had her complete trust. And right now, that seems more important.

“I…” Her voice gets caught in her throat, but this time it’s not because of the burn of tears. She swallows hard anyways, and musters up the courage to continue. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, ‘toru”

His smile grows warm and syrupy. It might not have been the confession he was holding out for, but it still made something fluttery and ticklish dance around his inside. His heart swells. His eyelashes grow heavy.

“Miss me, hopefully” He murmurs, gently pinching her cheek between his thumb and index finger, then smoothing over the skin with the pad of his thumb.

Her mood is significantly lifted by his familiar and affectionate teasing. Her pain still lurks around the corner, but right now her back is turned, and all she can see are his bright eyes and tender smile. All she knows is that his hands are warm against her face, and it turns her to putty having him this close.

Her head tilts to the side, cheek pressing further into the comforting warmth of his hand. He regards her with a fondness so intense it almost makes her nervous. Sometimes she had to re-learn how to get used to this look.

“Then…” Her voice is merely a breath. “Stay”

He’s smiling again, even though he knows she’s not asking him to spend the night in the spare room- which he’d already done five days out of this week without being invited, he didn’t need an invitation to crash there, he just did- but asking him to stay here, with her. He shouldn’t be smiling, he shouldn’t feel that skip in his heart beat as he preens with pride and adoration. Because the last time he’d stayed with her, it had been too hard.

It was too domestic. Too intimate. And all too difficult to pretend that it was normal, or casual. The feelings that she plants in him blossom like uncontrollable wildflowers, and Satoru had realized he was far too weak to ever put himself through it again. He cared about her too deeply to jeopardize it all over a shared bed. Maybe it was childish of him, but he’d sworn he wouldn’t do it again. When she’d made it so clear where they stood with one another, it wasn’t fair to her to gaze at her long after she'd fallen asleep in his arms and ache for more.

But Satoru is a fool.

He’s carefully helping her back through the window while she holds the cupcake in one hand and his in the other. Before he heads to the spare room- where he has left quite a few drawers worth of extra clothes- he gives her hand a squeeze. A silent promise that he’ll be quick. She leaves the cupcake on her bedside table while she sits at the edge of her mattress and waits. He is very quick, back in her room after barely two minutes have gone by. When he closes the door, he does so as silently as possible. When he sits beside her, his movements are slow, almost calculated with how carefully he moves.

“We should eat this cupcake,” She tells him, her eyes focused on the treat with an unreadable emotion behind them. “It would be a shame… if it went to waste”

He lets out a chuckle, which has her attention shifting to him.

“I couldn’t agree more” He says with a wide grin.

Her brow furrows.

“Were you just waiting for me to-”

“Yes, yeah I was, hand it over”

He’s already reaching across her to snatch the plate off of the table. There’s a plastic knife residing beside the cupcake, and after carefully peeling off the paper wrapper, Satoru cuts the cake down the middle as evenly as he could. (y/n) almost laughs at his eagerness to eat the treat. She supposes she could have let him have the whole thing if he was so eager for it, but he’s already handing her a half, and it does look delicious.

When she’d wandered into the bakery earlier that afternoon, before the Fushiguro kids were out of school, she hadn’t really planned on picking out a dessert to celebrate the birthday of someone she was trying to forget. She wasn’t really sure what had wound her up in there, she hadn’t held a particular craving for any of the sugary sweets on display. Then she’d seen that cupcake in the glass case, and as soon as her eyes had landed on it, she found herself getting in line to order it. All the while telling herself this was silly, that he didn’t even have a sweet tooth, and this wasn’t at all what she would have gotten to celebrate his day had he been here.

But he wasn’t here. And (y/n) was taking the small box home to sit on her counter where it could taunt her for the rest of the day, until she;d given in and plated the damn thing.

Now she stares at her half of it, held carefully in her fingertips. The frosting felt heavy atop the small piece of cake, and she’s reminded that she actually doesn’t really care for cupcakes. They were awkward, especially ones like these, where it was impossible to take a bite without getting cream smeared on your face.

She really shouldn’t have bought this.

“Well, that was the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten”

Satoru snaps her out of her thoughts, her head snapping towards him in a jerky movement, as if she’d forgotten he was sitting beside her. He’s got the pad of his middle finger between pursed lips, happily sucking off the last of the sugary sweetness. He grins at her surprise. (y/n) looks back at her own piece, and finally, carefully takes a bite.

It’s all vanilla and sugar. From the cake to the frosting and sprinkles, the tiny dessert is packed with sweetness. Even after one bite she’s certain that half of the cupcake was plenty, and she never would have eaten the whole thing on her own. Although she’s sure Satoru would have finished the whole thing without a complaint.

Just as she’d thought, when she finishes her piece, she can feel the remnants of frosting clinging to her lip. With a crinkled nose she wipes at it with her thumb, before turning to Satoru.

“Did I get it all?” She asks. He chuckles as he shakes his head, amused by the smear of white over her cupid’s bow. However before she can blindly rub it away some more, he’s leaning forward. His fingers hook under her chin while his thumb craftily swipes over her upper lip, making sure to get the last of the offending frosting.

It’s not much, and really had she rubbed her mouth again she would have easily cleared away the rest of it, but he couldn’t resist, and he was acting without thinking.

“There ya go” He hums, his voice quieter than he meant it to be, before he’s sticking his thumb in his mouth to enjoy the last of her vanilla frosting as well.

(y/n) blinks, her eyes wide but the rest of her expression blank. She figures she should thank him, maybe even make a joke to play off the strangely intimate act that has her heart doing somersaults in her chest, but she can’t bring herself to say anything.

Without a word, she stands from the bed, placing the plate with the wrapper and plasticware back on her nightstand. Satoru takes his time getting settled under her covers, against her pillows. When she climbs in after him, she’s still quiet. She tucks the blanket up close to her chin, and then glances up to him, finding his eyes already on her.

They’re not touching, but he’s close enough that she can feel his heat under the shared blankets. He’s close enough that she’s glad it’s dark in the room, because her face feels warm with the familiar sensation of a blush.

Four years of knowing him, and his close proximity still garnered the same reaction out of her. She wondered if he knew she was blushing anyways, if his Six Eyes were always able to see right through her.

“Can I ask you something?” She murmurs, although her eyes are feeling too heavy to start a conversation right now.

He gives her a small smirk and a raised brow, intrigued by the age old anxiety-inducing question.

“Shoot” He muses back.

“How do you do it?” (y/n’s) hand slides under her pillow, raising her head just enough to get a proper look at him. He looks puzzled, like he doesn’t understand the question, so she clarifies. “You know, have the answer for everything,” She says. “I feel like I… I feel like I bombard you with problem after problem and you just…”

She trails off, and if she was being honest it’s because she’s getting lost in his eyes and forgetting momentarily what she was even talking about. There were times when she looked at him that while he looked back, she got the overwhelming sense of his complete attention. And sometimes, it made her heart stutter. Occasionally her voice would deceive her, too. She wants to move in closer, until she’s so impossibly too close, but she snaps back to reality just as her mind had started to drift off.

“You just always know what to do. Or say” She finishes her thought in a hushed whisper. Maybe it was her train of thought turning hazy from the adoration seeping in, but she suddenly feels like it was a confidential thing to say, too full of emotion to put out in the open so brazenly.

Satoru chuckles, and it relieves some of the tension that’s curling up in her chest.

“It’s cute that you think that,” He replies. “That’s just what we do, though, isn’t it?”

Now it’s her turn to furrow her eyebrows, not understanding what he’s trying to say.

Satoru gives her a small shrug.

“We look out for each other,” He states. “Right?”

“I ‘spose” (y/n) mumbles back, feeling severely gutted by the realization that he looked out for her more than she did for him. How do you have the back of someone who’s already the strongest in the world? How could she possibly be as good to him as he was to her?

It dawns on her then that she can’t, that she could never be a semblance of a person he deserved to have in his life. Not just due to his strength and status, but because of who Gojo Satoru was as a human. He was far too good, too kind and caring and patient for the likes of her to be involved with him. She was messy, at times reckless, and most of all she lived too much in her own head. Overthinking every situation, and every word, most days it felt like it took her ages just to find the right way to respond, to find the right words, make the right face.

Like right now.

“You don’t think so?” Satoru asks, readjusting his pillow so he too could get a better look at her. Her lips twitch into an awkward smile, nervous that he was able to read her so easily. “What’re you thinkin’ about?”

But how was she supposed to tell him? While she lays here and feels regret and guilt flood through her bloodstream like poison, how does she explain to him that she finally understood why she’d pushed him away all those months ago when he’d tried to make something more of the two of them? Just the thought has her skin crawling with goosebumps, and her heart thumping hard in her chest with adrenaline.

“C’mon, tell me” He prods again, this time giving her a smile, too curious to know what was knotting up her pretty features with an upset expression. Something clearly bothered her about his statement- or at least, it was clear to him.

Her mouth opens, but even still she struggles to find the right thing to say. No set of words in her language seemed like a good enough explanation. Or maybe she just didn’t want to admit what had been on her mind. Because admitting it would prove to him that it had been on her mind.

“I…” Her throat feels dry. The fingers under her pillow curl into the sheets tightly. “I don’t think it’s fair of me to ask you to stay,” She confesses in a small voice. Satoru’s face falls. “I don’t think it’s fair of me to make you promise,”

He lifts his head from the pillow, bracing himself up on his arm as he looks down at her with an expression that was somewhere between concern and peculiarity.

Holding onto her last scrap of courage, (y/n) continues.

“You’re destined for such magnificent things,” She murmurs, a ghost of a smile on her face. “And you’re the strongest but- but it’s not just because of that. You were always going to be destined for great things, because… because you’re you,”

She pauses, taking in a small breath and fighting the urge to look away from him, to spare herself from the eyes that were piercing into hers with ardent focus.

“And I… I’m just…” Her lip gets dragged between her teeth as she shakes her head in a slow movement. “You were born deserving so, so much more than…” In a lazy gesture, her free hand waves above her, fingers twitching in small motions. She doesn’t say me, but he knows it’s what she’s trying to convey.

“Don’t say that” He mumbles, offended that she could even think such an untrue, vulgar thing about herself, about the person he cares so much more about than she gave him credit for.

“It’s true,” She says back. “You could be doing so much more amazing things with your life, you could have anything in the world if you wanted it, but instead you’re- you’re here,” Her voice grows smaller as she speaks, the dread of what she needed to say next weighing heavy on her tongue. “And I… I know I shouldn’t be making you promise to stay. I should be making you go,”

She swallows hard, trying to get the lump in her throat to smooth away, but it lingers there, and makes her breath hitch as she closes her eyes before continuing.

“But I just can’t bring myself to do it”

She can’t see him, but Satoru’s shaking his head at her, refusing to accept any of the nonsense she’s telling him right now.

“Then don’t,” He says, his words rushed, desperate to make himself clear before actually thinking through what the right thing to say was. “You don’t have to. I don’t want you to,”

She’s refusing to look at him, so with his free hand, he cups her face, and he waits until she does. Her eyes are glossy, but she’s fighting the need to cry again.

“You understand me, sweetheart?” He murmurs, his voice softening as he gazes down at her. The snow-white tips of his hair almost touch her forehead with how close he’s leaning. “I don’t want to go anywhere, I don’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, even right now, okay?”

She presses her lips together in an attempt to hide her wince.

“Tell me you understand,” He whispers, eyes flickering between hers. “I need to know that you understand”

A small sniffle, and then a nod.

“I understand,” Her voice cracks even in her whisper. “I just-”

“No more of that,” He murmurs, his gentle thumb tracing her cheekbone in slow, lazy movements. “No more of that, I can’t stand it. You can’t push me away. Not again. Not ever again” He’s shaking his head to punctuate every word.

A single tear drips from her eye as she blinks, and he’s quick to wipe it away, just as he had earlier, desperate to make all of her tears disappear in any way he can, anyway she needs.

This wasn’t the first time she’d done this, but it gutted him all the same, recalling the last time she’d tried to force him away. She’d nearly gone and gotten herself killed by the hands of the Zen’in Clan. And before that was their fight, in the halls of Jujutsu Tech, when she’d told him that she didn’t need him. He nearly shudders at the memory. Of course he knew now that she hadn’t meant it, that it was her desperate attempt to keep him from prying into her life where she’d thought he was going to wind up hurt.

Now it was different. Now it was real. It was raw ache and fear before him.

“I promised you I’m not going anywhere,” He tells her. His eyes trailing down to her lips on their own accord. “I need you to promise me the same,”

There’s a pause as his words hang between them, and then she gives him a shaky nod. Her wide eyes don’t leave his, they remain searching, needing to be sure that he means it. There’s not a bone in her body that tells her otherwise, but she’s so terrified of the fear of losing him that she just needs to be absolutely sure.

“I’m the one being unfair,” Satoru murmurs, his eyes following the movement of his thumb over her cheek. “I know that, I know that you don’t want more and I overstep anyways because… because I can’t help it”

There’s a shift in the mood, she can feel it, how it lightens the pressure on her chest before slamming it right back down.

He leans closer, and her breath hitches in her throat at the prospect of him closing every last inch of distance between them. She should stop him, she should put her hands on his shoulders and push him away until he’s at a safe distance from her again. But she doesn’t.

She pulls her hand out from under her pillow, and it blindly slides over the sheets until it finds his. Her movements are slow, almost frightfully so as her fingers slot between his. She tries to calm her breathing but it’s hard to focus on it and him so she settles for keeping her focus on him.

With her fingers fully tangled with his he squeezes her hand, maybe tighter than he should have, but having her so close is intoxicating, and he just wants to savor it for as long as he can.

(y/n) takes in a deep breath.

“I never said I didn’t want more,” She whispers, peering up at him from beneath heavy lashes.

His heart is beating so quickly he’s certain she can hear it. It pounds heavily in his ears, almost louder than her hushed whispers. Was he understanding her right?

“I was just… afraid” She admits it softly.

Satoru furrows his brow, but his lips curl into a smirk that had her regretting saying anything because she knows he’s about to tease her now.

“Afraid?” He repeats with a small laugh. “You think I’d ever do anything to hurt you?”

He’s teasing, but the thought makes him want to throw up.

“Course not,” She shakes her head, before gently pressing her face further into the warmth of his hand. She hopes it’s an unnoticed movement, but from the way he also applies more pressure in his touch, she thinks otherwise. “More like I’m afraid of hurting you”

Satoru laughs louder this time, his face splitting into a delighted smile. He’s completely amused by the idea, and (y/n) frowns at him.

“You can’t hurt me sweetheart,” He practically purrs, and then he’s leaning closer. His chest hovers over her close enough that she feels almost caged in by him. He’s close enough now that the tip of his nose nearly bumps into hers. “I’m completely untouchable”

She squeezes his hand with an affectionate roll of her eyes.

“I think you have to actually activate infinity if you want it to work” She murmurs.

It’s quiet again, the two of them smiling at each other fondly, foolishly, both taken away by a deep infatuation that had been repressed for far too long. It seeps out of them now like an overflow, pouring out in the cracks that were their adoring eyes.

Her free hand reaches up towards his face, fingertips ghosting over the soft ends of his hair that hangs down over her eyes. She combs her fingers through the silky strands of white before trailing downwards, her touch light and gentle as she traces his forehead, followed by his nose, then cheekbone, down towards his jaw. Her sleepy gaze observes every drag of her fingers, as though committing it all to memory.

Satoru’s frozen above her, allowing her to explore every inch of his face if she so pleased. It was a face she’d known for years, but she touches him now like she’s only recently been bestowed the gift of sight. He’s not sure the last time he’s been touched so gently. There’s a distant memory of his mother’s hand caressing his cheek, but even in a fond memory the touch is fleeting.

Being touched like this- softly, sweetly, carefully, lovingly- by her, it’s as though she has all the time in the world.

Her fingers fall still over his chin as her eyes flit back up to his.

They meet for a brief moment before his eyes are falling shut and he’s closing the space between them. As soon as his lips touch hers she’s sliding her hand under his jaw, keeping him perfectly in place as she kisses him back.

His mouth is warm, and still sweet from the cupcake they’d shared, which seems like forever ago. In fact everything seems to fade away. The only thing she can feel is his soft lips, his soft hand splayed over her cheek, the soft swipe of his thumb over hers where their hands are still interlocked.

The kiss is experimentally slow at first. They’re both holding their breath, each half expecting the other to pull away prematurely with remorseful eyes. Neither do.

They part for a second, only because oxygen becomes a necessity once more. Satoru smiles down at her when he sees her eyes are still shut, and he can’t help but to lean in and plant one more quick kiss on her lips. He’s waited this long to get his chance, he might as well steal as many as he could get.

As he lays back on his side of the bed, he moves his hand from her cheek to her waist, gently coaxing her to lay closer, until she’s curled up into his side, one of her legs thrown between his, her head resting in the soft place below his collarbone. Their conjoined hands rest over his stomach. He’s still stroking his thumb over hers. She’s drawn to sleep by nothing but comfort.

“G’night, ‘toru” Her words are mumbled, and a little slurred.

He plants his lips at the crown of her head sweetly. She drifts to sleep with a faint smile.

“Goodnight, sweetheart”

___

The next morning she’s lured out of sleep by the smell of bacon.

It smells like a lot of other delicious things, too, but the bacon is what has her peeking open an eye to check the time. Sure enough, her bed is empty, and it’s mid-morning.

This time when she slips out of the covers to go check out the buffet of breakfast foods Satoru had been whipping up- effectively making an absolute mess of her kitchen- she’s not hungover. Her head isn’t killing her with such a brutal headache that she couldn’t open her eyes. As she walks quietly into the kitchen, she’s able to watch as Tsumiki pours pancake batter out of a ladle, carefully making shapes on the griddle. She leans into the fridge while she watches Satoru talk through his bacon frying process while Megumi sits on his shoulders, leaned over the top of his head, and apparently actually listening to him.

Tsumiki flips a pancake with perfect precision and they all cheer. Satoru reminds her to add chocolate chips to the bowl of pancake batter once she’s made enough for herself, Megumi, and (y/n). Because I refuse to eat pancakes without them, he reminds her, even though she doesn’t need it. He’s spent enough breakfasts with them now for the kids to realize how debilitating his sweet tooth was.

It’s Megumi who first notices (y/n’s) secretly joined them. With a boyish grin he tugs at Satoru’s hair, who cries out and almost stumbles at the sudden and sharp pain.

The pain is eased when he sees what Megumi was trying to catch his attention for. (y/n’s) trying to stifle her laughter from behind her hand, but she’s failing.

“Awe, the surprise is ruined now” Satoru frowns.

She drops her hand and shakes her head as she wanders further into the kitchen to see what else this mess had created. Megumi reaches towards her in a silent ask to be let off of Satoru’s shoulders. She lifts him up with ease and sets him on the ground.

“It’s not ruined at all,” She says with a smile. “But if you want to do it all again tomorrow, I’ll pretend I didn’t know” She adds in a tease.

“Yeah! Can we?” Tsumiki asks excitedly. “I want to make omelets!”

“No! French toast!” Megumi declares.

The pair break into a fit of bickering, which is quickly silenced by Satoru.

“Hey! You two are ruining this perfect morning!” He barks. “Stop fighting and we can have both!”

He doesn’t know how to make omelets, hell, he struggled with the bacon, so he’s hoping he can find a youtube tutorial decent enough to teach a helpless cook like him how to make some. But his promise does the trick and Megumi and Tsumiki work together to make more pancakes.

“Do you even know how-?” (y/n) begins to question his ability as she eyes the crispy bacon in the pan he’s no longer paying attention to because she’s there now and she somehow looks so pretty first thing in the morning. Her hair a complete mess, and donning a fluffy robe with bunnies all over it, he thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.

“Sh sh sh,” He hushes with a shake of his head, his hand wrapping around her hip as he pulls her into his side before finally looking back at the bacon. “Oh, shit” He mutters as he darts to turn off the stove while (y/n) picks up the tongs and plucks the strips off the pan before they start to completely burn.

“Yeah, maybe tomorrow I cook,” She muses, nose wrinkling at the overcooked bacon. But when she looks up at him again, she smiles happily. “You and Megumi will be on french toast duty,” She says decidedly. “I’ll teach Tsumiki how to make omelets”

His lips curl into a smirk at the simple instruction.

“Little Hex, are you inviting me to stay the night?”

“Ew!” Megumi grimaces, sticking his tongue out at the obvious flirt.

Tsumiki’s giggling, and starts to make a heart shaped pancake on the griddle, complete with Satoru’s chocolate chips.

(y/n) rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are undeniably warm, pink blossoming across her face.

“Only if Megumi says it’s okay” She replies, tilting her chin up at him teasingly.

Satoru turns the other way to look down at the kid that had a sinister smile on his face. Jeez, sometimes this kid creeped him out. How come (y/n’s) golden boy had to be such a goddamn menace?

Apparently she just had a soft spot for menaces.

Satoru meets Megumi’s ruthless stare with narrowed eyes.

“I’ll give you three hundred dollars”

“Satoru!” (y/n) picks up a kitchen towel off the counter to smack his arm with it. “No bribing the kids!”

“Fine,” He grumbles, catching the soft weapon mid swing before she could hit him again. Then he peeks back towards Megumi, and in a slightly quieter voice says, “Four hundred?”

(y/n) gasps at his blatant disregard for her rules, but before she can scold him again, Megumi gives a firm nod of agreement, and looks over to her.

“He can stay,” He says decidedly, but mutters to himself as he goes back to helping his sister with the pancakes. “He stays over every other freakin’ night anyways”

Tsumiki’s giggling as she whispers her own little rumors, much to the boy’s dismay, but he listens anyway.

“I think he’s warmin’ up to me” Satoru grins at (y/n). She presses her lips together so as not to laugh too hard at the statement.

“You’ve done right by them,” She tells him, something that he’d told her not too long ago. From the way his grin turns into a soft smile, she has a feeling he remembers. “And besides, everyone warms up to you eventually”

“You think you ever will?” He asks, only teasing.

She shrugs a shoulder, humming as though thinking it over.

“Maybe,” She muses, plucking a chocolate chip from the open bag on the counter. He furrows his brow at the sudden playfulness rather than a real answer. “We’ll see”

[ this is a place where i don’t feel alone / this is a place where i feel at home ]

___

a/n: i just want to gush about how much i loved writing this series, and sharing it with you all. it has been my absolute passion project. sorry the slow burn was so slow but i tried to keep it as realistic to the events of the manga and just how things would play out irl. i have a couple other spin-off fics related to this series in the works so i suppose it's not over yet- i just needed more fluff related to these characters that have brought me such comfort and entertainment!! thank you all for your continued support and love for this series (and my other fics too!) having this be so well received warms my heart <3 xoxo ~ jordie

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sim0nril3y · 9 months

Note

hii, I LOVEE your Simon x civilian! reader series!

I was thinking maybe of Simon finding readers scketchbook and discovering that it s pretty much filled with him? maybe reader has some drawings of a favourite picture of the both of them that s also colored with little hearts?

please and thank you! <3

Thank you thank this is actually so CUTE! I absolutely LOVE the thought of this, like I’ve actually be dreaming about it!

There would be times when Simon would catch you watching him. Like, he would be making a tea, putting the dishes away or sharing out the take-away you’d ordered between a couple plates when he’d feel that eery sense of being watched. Glancing over his shoulder he’d spot you just observing him with great interest, sketchpad in your lap and the moment Simon was aware your eyes would dart away and continue to focus on your pencil against the page.

You had been so happy to show him so much of your art, but that sketchbook in particular was on that you had very clearly kept to yourself. Each time he would pick it up you were overly protective and practically snatched it back, hiding it behind the sofa or throwing it into a drawer. “You hiding something from me?” He quirked a brow and you pressed a soft hand to your chest and replied. “Not at all. Cuppa?” You always seemed to pull his attention away quick enough that he’d drop it.

It was a few nights later that Simon spotted that sketchbook again left vulnerably on your coffee table whilst snoozed, cutely curled up on the sofa beside him, head resting on the arm of the chair whilst your feet rest happily in his lap. His eyes flicked from the football game, back to the book and then back to the game. Fuck it. He leaned forward and snatched it from the table, carefully beginning to flick through the first couple of pages.

It was as he had expected, just a few innocent sketches of flowers, all different types that he certainly couldn’t name. He almost placed the book back down before turning to the next page and feeling his face becoming very warm. Your interests for sketching had changed away from pretty flowers to sketches of him. They were all him doing very mundane and candid things. There was one of him sipping tea from a rather fancy cup, then another of him lifting his heavy dumbbells, another of him running his hands through his hair Simon noticed you’d taken great detail to sketch his hands, another small sketch of him pulling off his shirt and somehow, you’d manage to capture every little scar that littered his body.

As he continued to explore the book Simon noticed that there were some sketches of the two of you. He remembered when you had forced him to take a photo together on a woodland walk, the first picture taken of him for years but he was willing to do it to make you happy. You had taken time sketching that photo, taking in every little detail, even the disdain on his face. He should have given you a smile that day, but instead he just looked pissed whilst you beamed at the camera. His little ray of sunshine. God, he fucking loved you.

“What are you doing?” From beside him your voice was full of surprise before quickly attempting to steal the book from him but he held it up from your reach. “I was looking at your sketches, love.” He mentioned, laughing as you clambered onto his lap attempting to grab it from his greedy hands. “You wanna explain them to me?”

A quiet sigh of embarrassment fell from your lips before you stopped trying to snatch the book from him and just sunk into his body, burying your face in his throat whilst he rubbed your back comfortingly. “I like them.” He whispered into your ear. “I’m not mad, love.” He assured you softly, rubbing small circles into your face. “I just like drawing you, Si.” You whispered into his throat and he chuckled. “You’re so handsome.” He felt heat rising on his cheeks then. “And so strong… I see you doing all these really normal things and… and I just need to put it on paper… I don’t know…”

“My sweet girl…” He chuckled rubbing your back and placing the sketchbook beside him. “Don’t hide things like this from me, love…” He placed a few small kisses to the side of your face. “You don’t think I’m some obsessed weirdo?” You whined softly and he chuckled and shook his head. “I love that you’re obsessed.” He growled, quickly moving you to be flat back on the sofa with him looming above you. “Now, let me show you how much more I’m obsessed with you~”

Masterlist | Ask | 08-09-2023

#simon riley x oc #simon riley x reader #ghost x oc #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley imagine #simon riley x y/n #simon riley smut #simon riley cod #ghost smut #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost imagine

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feyreswaterybowels · 1 month

Text

⟡ Princess of Dreams ⟡

# 2 Lucien x Rhys!Sister

⟡ Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 ⟡ Part 3 ⟡

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Following the events of the Solstice ceremony.

Warnings/Tags: smut. implied past sexual assault. fluffy romance. feyre and Rhys’ sister being besties and wanting to destroy tamlin. possible grammatical errors.

Authors Note: All likes comments and reblogs are appreciated, welcome and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for part 3! Bold italics are mental communication, regular italics are inner thoughts. (Mood Board)

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It’s hours later when the intensely bright sun had finally sunk back below the western horizon, giving me back my beautiful night sky.

There had been more countless hours of…well of not much really but it was still exhausting to be standing around all day surrounded by thousands of flowers and brightly colored streamers, watching Feyre and Tamlin greet and speak to everyone while Ianthe followed around trying to explain what happened.

The cauldron had blessed her chosen friend, she told anyone who would listen—how the sun had altered its very path to show how glad it was for her return. I would silently mock her every time she repeated those words.

There hadn’t been many interested in her tale, and the ones that were showed mild interest at best.

Feyre had stuck close to us for a majority of the time. I didn’t mind. I felt extremely protective over her. Not only as my High Lady but as my friend. I may not have access to my physical powers but I could still enter a mind in half a second and destroy someone if they dared harm her.

I’d enjoyed watching this new Feyre. How confident and sure she’d become. When the adoring fae wished to touch her hand, weep a bit over her, thank her for all she’d done she would have cringed away before. Now she openly accepted their thanks and gratitude. Thanking them and smiling as any High Lord would. Mostly genuine. Though for some, like courtiers and sentries, she put on a better show.

After six hours many retreat to freshen up.

“Tell my brother I love him.” I tell Feyre when she hugs me as she leaves. She promises to tell him for me.

Lucien and I stay, watching as lunch is cleared away and the band sets up. I would give anything to be spending this day with my family, but I was always grateful to have my mate at my side.

So when the band finally started playing and the fae around us took to the dance floor I dragged Lucien up. He hadn’t put up much of a fight—we loved dancing.

And dance we did for hours. I had even stolen Feyre away from Tamlin a few times much to his annoyance and my satisfaction.

We laughed together, spinning around the dance floor. It reminded me of myself and Mor—how we would get drunk on wine at Rita’s and dance the night away. I couldn’t wait to have nights like that with Feyre, too.

I spun her back into Tamlins arms as Lucien stole me away this time, practically begging me to come with him to eat and I realized why when I noticed Ianthe prowling around the tables.

Even she couldn’t put a damper on my mood right now. We fixed our plates and seated ourselves. More wine in our glasses as we sat tucked off away from the largest parts of the crowd—talking in hushed voices and feeding one another as if we hadn’t been mated for nearly two decades now.

Eventually I had shifted from my seat to stand behind Lucien, playing with his hair while we watched those on the dance floor become increasingly more drunk. I started braiding his hair, a taunt braid along either side of his head, curling behind his pointed ears.

“Your hair is getting so long,” I tell him, those auburn locks well past his shoulders now.

“I know,” He says, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been thinking of cutting it—”

I gasp, drawing his attention up to me. “You better not!”

The laugh that leaves his mouth goes straight to my core. He reaches up and pulls me to bend over him so he can kiss me.

“Is that an order, Princess?” He asks against my lips and I grin.

“More like I’ll kick your ass if you do it,” I tease, kissing him again.

As I’m pulling away to go back to braiding his hair I feel eyes on us. Violet meeting teal and I bare my teeth in a wicked smile. I slide my fingers through his hair, gently pulling to tilt his head back, keeping eye contact with her as I lean down to kiss him again… stroking my tongue over his. He gasps in my mouth, reaching up to caress my head with a strong hand.

Anger lights in those eyes across the way and I grin as Lucien’s lips move to my throat, my free hand sliding around and down his chest—slipping under his shirt to feel heated skin.

I moan as he sucks on my skin, digging my nails into his chest and tightening my hand in his hair.

“Fuck,” Lucien growls, standing quickly from the chair, towering over me. “Come here.”

Then I’m being dragged away. I look over my shoulder smirking at Ianthe who is red in the face looking like she’s about to have a tantrum. She takes a step forward as if about to follow Lucien and I only to be stopped by Feyre, though I couldn’t hear what was being said before we disappeared into the thick woods.

“You’re nothing but trouble,” Lucien taunts, pushing me against a tree and attacking my mouth.

“You love it,” I gasp against his lips, reaching between us to work his pants open, ignoring the way the tree bark digs into my wings.

“Turn around,” he orders, but before I can move he’s got me spun around and pressed against the tree. “Hands.” Is his next order.

I present my wrists to him behind my back and his large hand wraps around them, pinning them to my lower back.

“I’m gonna fuck you right here, Princess,” Lucien says, the sound of his buckle coming undone making me shiver. “I want you to be loud enough that she hears you.”

I moan at that. Knowing exactly who he’s talking about without saying her name. Though it’s unlikely she’ll actually hear me from this distance over the music but the thought that she might? And probably had many times is something I love. She wants him so bad—not that I blame her. But to remind her he was mine over and over, that she would never get to have him made me feral.

I’m pulled from those thoughts when the skirt of my dress is being lifted, that hand of fire trailing between my thighs, rubbing at my wetness before ripping the stocking and panties I wore beneath.

“Tell me, sweet girl, are you turned on because of me? Or because you know she knows exactly what we’re doing out here?” Lucien asks, fingers sliding through my wetness, rubbing in that perfect spot until I was weak in the knees. Only held up by his weight pushing me against the tree.

“I asked a question,” He grunts, pulling that heat away from my center.

“Both,” I gasp out in a moan, needing his hand back. “Fuck, both.”

“That’s a good girl,” He praises, hand sliding back between my thighs, rubbing at me, two fingers sliding inside.

“Oh, fuck, Lu,” I moaned. His fingers weren’t as thick or long as his cock but they felt so good filling me up, curling perfectly to find that spot that had me seeing stars.

“I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” He leaned over me to breathe in my ear, careful of my wings, fingers pumping faster, “then on my cock. Then I’m gonna take you back to that party filled up. We’re going to tell everyone goodbye then I’m gonna take you home, tie you to the bed and have my godsdamn way with you.”

“Yes, please!” I cry out, clenching around his fingers, cumming entirely too easy just from the way he rubs that spot inside of me, just from the way his voice rasped against my ear.

His fingers slide from me but before I can protest I feel him press against me, pushing in, in, in until he’s fully sheathed inside of me. He pressed a kiss to the back of my neck, the back of my shoulders between my wings. I wished he had ripped the damn dress from my body so I could feel his lips against my skin.

“That could be arranged,” He purrs, reaching around to grasp my breast, not realizing I had sent that through the bond.

“Lu, please,” I begged, pushing back against him. He hisses in pleasure, nipping at my neck before straightening his spine, still holding my wrist as he pulls his hips back, thrusting all the way back in. “Yesss.”

Then he fucks me. Hard and rough.

Bent over against a tree in the middle of the forest. I let every sound imaginable fall from my lips exactly the way he ordered me to. Between the events of the day, the flirting, the unwanted looks from another and the wine I was falling over the edge easily for the second time.

He slows his thrusts, giving me only a moment to catch my breath before he’s pulling out and spinning me back around. My knees buckle and I fall to the ground directly in front of him.

“Look at my pretty girl, so fucked out she can’t even stand,” Lucien coos, grasping my chin gently to tilt my head up, sliding his thumb into my mouth. I suck on the digit, batting my eyelashes at him, watching that fire burn in his eyes.

He reaches down, grabbing me around the waist and hauls me up, lifting me easily into his arms, my dress bunching between us. My arms and legs wrap around him and I kiss him. I can’t help it.

It only takes some slight maneuvering before he’s back inside of me, my calves over his forearms as he’s thrust into me. It was always such a turn on the way he could hold me like this, so easily, as he took me.

The bond suddenly lights up with warmth and my mind goes blank as I come again.

“Fill me up. Please, cum in me, I want it.”

I can feel how close he is without him saying anything. The sounds he’s making, the feelings through the bond. I know exactly when he’s about to cum and I moan as he fills me up

“So good, that was so good, Luc.”

He moans, eyes meeting mine and I smile at him. Pushing a few strands of hair from his sweaty forehead.

He takes a few gasping breaths, holding me in his arms still, basking in the high of his orgasm. I wrap my wings around us as we stand there, providing us with some form of privacy should anyone stumble upon us.

“We should get back,” I tell him, kissing the tip of his pointed ear. Wanting nothing more than to just skip out on the goodbyes and just go back to the house.

“Just another minute,” he said breathy, one of his hands reaching to grasp my ass cheek. “Just wanna be inside of you.”

“Mm. We could just go say our goodbyes like this,” I offer, playing with the braid I put in his hair earlier. “Unfortunately that means quite a few males would see me with your cock—”

Lucien growls at that and I giggle when his eyes meet mine. “I would kill someone.”

I hum in response, kissing him.

“The thought of you killing someone simply for seeing my body shouldn’t be so sexy.”

His hearty laugh vibrates through my body—my favorite sound.

“Come on, Princess. Let’s get this over with so I can get you in my bed,” He says, slipping from my body and setting me getting on my feet, making sure I was steady before tucking himself away.

We take a few moments to collect ourselves, kissing softly between straightening the other clothes and fixing disheveled hair. Of course no one was stupid. They would scent the smell of sex on us but that didn’t mean we had to make it any more obvious.

By the time we got back the sun had been long gone from the sky, dozens of blazing fires lit the area now. I didn’t spot Ianthe anywhere but Feyre finds us within moments of us taking up a spot by the fire.

We had meant to say our goodbyes but Feyre offered me a glass of wine. Which led to another. And another. We danced with one another around the fire—Lucien taking turns spinning us around. I had no idea where Tamlin was and I honestly didn’t care.

It was when Feyre asked Lucien and I to escort her back to the manor. Being ever the gentleman he agreed. I was much more drunk than Feyre but Lucien offered an elbow to each of us, letting us hang on him as he led us back to the house.

We left Feyre at her bedroom, I giggled out a goodnight, grabbing her face and kissing her cheek. As we were turning away I tripped over my foot and giggled again.

“Luc, I’m drunk,” I said, as he grabbed my arm, wrapping it around his neck.

“Yeah, Princess, I know,” Lucien chuckled, leading me to our bedroom.

I felt so light and blissful, letting him undress me and clean me up. He pulled the pins from my hair and cleaned the makeup from my face sliding a nightgown onto my naked body.

He laid me back, pulling his comforter over my body, tucking me in tightly. “Get some sleep, sweet girl,” He smiles down at me, kissing my forehead.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

I woke up hours later to Lucien tossing and turning. Ever since the Mountain his sleep was more restless than not, dragging up traumas old and new.

My head pounded from all the wine I’d drunk but I watched his face, still peaceful despite the unease of his sleep. It was when a horrified grimace crossed his face that I took over. When I felt the bond run ice cold with fear, when I got a glimpse of that nightmare—one he’s had before, where it starts with Jesminda’s torture and right as she’s about to be executed she changes into me as Beron and Lucien’s brother’s force him to watch me be murdered.

I slip into his mind, caressing it gently, ending the dream easily before it gets to that horrid part. I crawl next to him, laying his head in my lap and carding my fingers through his hair, braiding and unbraiding pieces, scratching at his scalp gently.

Instead I show him Velaris, the life I want us to have there together, the life we always talked about.

Living in our home right on the river. Late night stroll under an endless diamond sky. A long and happy life with beautiful red headed, winged babies. All the adventures we could go on together when no longer stuck in the boundaries of the Spring Court. Having the bond declared in a ceremony, a proper wedding, going swimming in the Sidra, taking him to see Ramiel—there was so much I wanted to do with him.

We’ve had a good life together here in Spring. He had done everything to make it better for me once he realized who I was, that I was stuck here. Picnic dates by the pond, visits to farmers markets, naps under beautiful trees, drinking wine, horseback rides, festivals and gardening.

But we could have a better life. An amazing one instead of a good one and I wanted to spend it with him.

He shifts, arms wrapping around my legs, nuzzling against my thigh, pressing his lips to my tanned skin but he doesn’t wake. I lull him into a deeper sleep, thumbing away the crease between his eyebrows.

My head whips up at a sound across the hall, Feyres room. I listen carefully, hear her door open. Then there’s a gentle knock on our door. She must have had a nightmare too…maybe I should start checking in on her at night.

I gently untangle myself from Lucien’s embrace, pulling the bed sheet over his body before sliding from the bed. There’s a second knock just before I reach the door. I scanned her head to toe quick—sweaty and disheveled but not physically harmed.

“I heard you, are you okay?” I asked, stepping to the side to let her into the room, scanning the hall for any sign of trouble. There seemed to be nothing.

The room was lit mainly by the moon light and I watched her look around the room. The night gown she wore was above mid thigh but she turned around to look at me before I could question her motive.

“I had a dream about it,” she rasped thickly, “Under the Mountain. I couldn’t remember where I was.”

I nod my head in understanding. Lucien had similar dreams. I wanted to kill Amarantha all over again for what she had done. To Feyre. To Lucien. To my brother. To thousands and thousands of fae.

“What did you dream of tonight?” I asked, stepping closer to her.

“She had me spiked to the wall like Clare Beddor. And the Attor was—” She shuddered, running her hands over her face.

I walked closer to her, a frown on my face, wanting to provide her with some kind of comfort. There’s something in the house, a vibration, I feel it but before I can question it she’s thrown her arms around me. I don’t object as she buries her face against my neck, warm tears falling on my bare skin. I let out a small sigh, sliding an arm around her waist, the other caressing her head, stroking over her dark golden hair.

“I’m sorry, Feyre,” I breathed, kissing the crown of her head. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Her cries and tears eventually subside but I continued to hold her. Allowing her to take the comfort she needed from me. I pulled back slightly, caressed her face gently, wiping away the remaining tears. I looked at her, I knew she could see the concern in my eyes, but there was something else in hers, something not completely of the fear and sadness she was presenting.

“Why are you—”

“What’s going on?” Tamlin’s deep voice rumbles through the room. I turned my head slightly to look at him, he stood there face a mask of cold calm, the beginnings of claws glinting at his knuckles—looking as if he’d caught us in the middle of something naughty.

“I had a nightmare,” she explained, pulling, straightening her nightgown. I fought the urge to smile. “I-I didn’t want to wake the house.”

Tamlin knew I didn’t sleep in here most nights. Lucien either slept in my room or we slept separately, so in his eyes Feyre had to have been seeking out the comfort of Lucien after her nightmare.

He just stood there staring at us. Eyes glancing at Lucien before looking at me with narrowed eyes, a glare that I returned. His mouth tightened into a thin line and I nearly snarled at him—those claws still half drawn.

“I had a nightmare,” Feyre repeated sharply, walking forward to grip Tamlin’s arm, turning him but he looked back at me. I crossed my arms over my chest and smirked at him as she led him from the room closing the door.

“You little shit, your lucky Lucien wasn’t awake, Tamlin would’ve killed him,” I told her crawling back in bed with my mate.

“I wouldn’t let that happen. I needed to plant some kind of doubt in his mind. You seemed to do the trick though,” Feyre’s answer came five minutes later, laughter in her voice.

“You should have told me I would have kissed you right in front of him,” I teased back, sliding under the sheet, cuddling up to that warm body.

“Next time,” Is her response, a mental image of her winking and blowing me a kiss followed.

I laughed out loud.

“What’s going on?” Lucien asks, a slight frown on his face at being woken suddenly.

I grinned, kissing his chest.

“Nothing, my love. Go back to sleep,” I whispered, easily slipping into his mind to lull him back to sleep.

I grinned to myself.

“Burn it down, Feyre” I told her. “Burn it all down.”

Fuck Tamlin. And fuck the Spring Court.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

tag list: @sleepylunarwolf @stained-glass-eyes0708 @saltedcoffeescotch @cherry-cin @xmalfoyweasleyx @jesskidding3 @minaethrym @scorpioriesling @inloveallthetime @paleidiot

#the way I’m obsessing over my own story #I’m already considering a prequel of sorts from the beginning of the first book #BUT #Feyre and Rhys’ sister is one of my fav relationships so far #they’re just so fun #yes I have that Lucien scene to Rhys’ sister #tamlins jealous self would definitely think they were about to get down and dirty together in their tiny night gowns #lucien vanserra #lucien vanssera x reader #lucien fanfic #pro lucien vanserra #Princess of dreams

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fettuccinealfred0 · 5 months

Text

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 4

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 7.6k

(CW: general vampirism, very light descriptions of injury)

Summary:

Astarion’s cold hand reaches out to catch your own as you move to drop it back to your side and he presses your palm against his cheek. His skin is like silk and you can hardly stop yourself from softly running your thumb over his beautiful cheekbone.

He leans in closer, lips just a breath away from yours. You hope he will lean down and kiss you. That he will wrap you in his arms and never let you go. You close your eyes and tilt your head up in anticipation.

Instead, you feel him pull away, your hand dropping limply back to your side. It stings your heart.

“Sleep well, wife,” Astarion says, before he’s turning on his heel and walking swiftly down the hallway.

Read on ao3 here

“What are you reading?” Astarion asks, flopping himself onto the settee next to you.

You lift the book up so he can see the cover. Bram Stroker’s Dracula. “I’m doing research on vampires.”

“Very funny,” Astarion says with a sour face. It makes you giggle as you turn back to your book.

Astarion watches you for a moment before he lets out a frustrated huff that you know is meant to draw your attention back to him.

“Why are you spending all your time surrounded by dusty old books when you could ask me, a real vampire?” He does a self-important flourish with his hand that causes you to snort out another laugh.

It seems too harsh to say ‘because I still don’t know if I can trust a word that comes out of your mouth.’ And really, you do mostly trust him now. You just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something bigger going on around here.

You see Astarion whispering with Shadowheart and Gale in dark corners. You see the weird visitors- the giant, friendly woman, the stern looking warrior-woman, and the man with two different colored eyes- that Astarion always immediately rushes into his study. You had tried listening at the door the last time they came, but you still couldn’t hear anything.

Astarion couldn’t necessarily be called paranoid because, yeah, you were listening at the door. But to be fair, his actions were definitely suspicious. And what were you supposed to do- not try to solve this puzzle which had so wonderfully presented itself to you?

“Come, little flower, ask me anything. I promise there’s plenty of juicy details that are far too scandalous for your books to mention,” Astarion lightly pulls your attention back to him when he notices you chewing on your lip as you think.

He’s hooked you there and he knows it- you never could resist the opportunity to indulge your curiosity. You curl up your feet so Astarion can settle more comfortably next to you and he slings his arm over the back of the settee. Perhaps you imagined it, but you could swear you caught his eyes darting down to your bare calf when you shifted, before you could adjust your skirts to cover yourself.

“What happens if you come into contact with garlic?”

“Aside from bad breath?” Astarion wrinkles his nose. “It’s not deadly or anything, it just reeks. No sane vampire would ever go near the stuff.”

“What about silver?”

“A very pretty metal, though I’m partial to gold,” He answers, gesturing down to his waistcoat, which is made of a shimmery golden silk with swirling floral patterns. Your husband never was one for minimalism.

“What about running water?” You ask, practically having to rip your eyes away from his waistcoat. For under his waistcoat, lay his chest. And the idea of that lovely expanse of alabaster skin had quickly become an image which plagued you in the dark of night.

“Should I be growing concerned about this line of questioning? You seem to only want to know about things that can harm me. I thought your questions would be much more fun.”

You smirk at him. “Please. If I wanted to hurt you, I already would have.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that at all, you feisty little devil,” Astarion says with a wicked grin. His red eyes flicker dangerously, like fire. “As for running water- I do love a bath. Though, it would be all the more delightful if you decided to join me. I could make it… very worth your while.”

His eyes rake over you and you struggle in vain to ignore the familiar flames of heat licking at your cheeks. You can’t decide if the cause is embarrassment or arousal, or both.

“Do you remember what color your eyes were?” You ask, figuring you’ve teased him enough with your initial questions.. Astarion looks genuinely shocked for a moment before his forehead creases a bit. “You know, I’m not sure I do. It’s been so long.”

“How long?” you ask cautiously, like you’re approaching a wild animal. You expect him to skitter away at this line of questioning. Astarion doesn’t like deeply personal questions. He likes wordplay and teasing and, occasionally, dropping the odd fact about himself if you listened closely enough.

“A couple hundred years,” he answers. It breaks your heart to hear that. To know he’s spent so long like this. He couldn’t have been older than his thirties when he was turned, which means he had been a vampire many lifetimes longer than he was alive. Does he even remember what it was like?

“I think they were gray. Or maybe green?” Astarion is still thinking, lost in his own little world. He sits for another moment. “Whatever. You have to admit that the red suits me, doesn’t it, darling?”

He shoots you a wink, said red eyes glinting playfully. You almost have whiplash from how quickly he was able to fall back into his flirtatious performance. By now, you have spent enough time with Astarion to know this act is what he reverts back to when he wants to reestablish control in a conversation, when he wants to stop himself from settling into uncomfortable emotions.

“Your eyes were blue,” you tell him and he looks at you warily. “I ran across the portrait of your family one day. You looked so much like your mother.”

You don’t tell him of all the hours you had spent studying the painting, turning the image over and over in your mind trying to figure out how this piece fit into the puzzle.

“Why would you tell me that?”

And to your surprise, he’s angry at your words. You note this reaction in your mind- that bringing up his past will warrant anger and leave you without any useful information.

“So you could reclaim a part of yourself that was either stolen from you or that you forgot,” you say softly. Astarion’s eyebrows bunch together and he looks deep in thought. It’s making the room too heavy, his thoughts seem too dark.

“How were you turned?” You ask, trying to distract him while also trying to get more of your questions answered.

When he speaks, his tone seems too measured, too rehearsed. “Someone is turned when a vampire drains them dry and buries their body. It’s a rite of passage to dig yourself out of your grave. Of course, the body has to be buried almost immediately or the ritual won’t work and the person will just be dead. It’s a… delicate balance.”

He technically did answer your question, but the story of his turning is noticeably missing.

“Have you ever turned someone?”

“No, I didn’t have that ability for a long time. And now, I don’t really care to.” He’s trying to feign nonchalance, but you see the way his fist is clenched so tightly in his lap that his nails are digging painfully into his palms. He’s hiding something.

“But you’re a vampire?” Your own brow furrows in confusion, because it doesn’t make sense that he would be a vampire but not be able to turn someone.

“Am I?” Astarion asks sarcastically, examining his skin. “I hadn’t noticed. Thank you for that astute observation.”

You nudge him with your foot. “You know what I meant.”

“Yes, but it’s just so fun to tease you, pet. I simply can’t resist.”

He’s trying to get himself out of this line of questioning by baiting you with teasing. But the way he’s still holding his shoulders so tightly, you know there’s still valuable information to be gained.

“So, you’re not a ‘real’ vampire?” you ask again, trying to coax him back on track.

“Now I am.” Astarion takes a deep breath in and out. “For a long time, I was just a vampire spawn.”

“How’s that any different?” You had read a bit about vampires and vampire spawn while doing your vampire research in the library, but the accounts were so varied that it was hard to discern what was true or false. From what you could gather, a vampire spawn serves a vampire lord. And it is rather strange that Astarion doesn’t seem to have any running around the manor.

Astarion is still quiet, so you rephrase the question. “What’s the story behind how you were turned, then?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” Astarion finally snaps, shooting you a glare.

“You said I could ask you anything.” You remind him, sure to keep your tone calm and measured.

“I said you could ask, I didn’t say that I would answer,” he says through gritted teeth. He’s so tense, jaw tight and shoulders nearly up to his ears.

You pout and he softens a bit, lowering his arm from the back of the settee to graze his fingertips gently over the back of your hand.

“There are some stories that only serve to harm when they are told, little flower,” he says quietly and the pained look on his face sends a twinge to your heart that makes you drop the subject entirely.

In moments like this, you must remind yourself that his beauty is a shield- a defense mechanism meant to amplify his pain and provoke a response from you. Even though you are aware of this, the way Astarion looks when he’s in pain has you nearly falling to your knees and begging forgiveness for ever daring to hurt him..

“What happens if you drink the blood of someone who’s drunk?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood after the heavy turn.

You know he’ll welcome a silly question like that. And the radiant smile that lights up Astarion’s face is worth dropping your real line of question. You could ask another time. Right now, you would do just about anything to keep him smiling like this in front of you.

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask! You can get drunk from them, but you have to drink a lot and the effects fade far too quickly. I much prefer wine for a quick buzz.”

“Makes sense with that cellar I found downstairs,” you tease. Though, cellar was a bit of an understatement. Grand network of caverns filled with more wine than you could ever conceive of existing was a more apt description.

“Darling, you should know by now that I collect and cherish the things I enjoy,” Astarion says in a deep, husky voice, eyes looking up at you sinfully from underneath his pale lashes.

The image of him cherishing you fills your mind and sets your face aflame. It would be so easy for his hand to reach out, to tilt your chin up and present your face to his. All he would have to do is lean over, just a little bit closer, and his pretty pink lips would press against yours. They would be soft and cool against your burning skin.

No. Stay focused. This was the time for getting some much needed answers out of Astarion, not the time for silly romantic fantasies.

“Do you like being a vampire?” you ask after clearing your throat. You take great care to keep your voice as calm as possible, afraid you might again be leading Astarion into tumultuous waters.

Astarion takes a moment before he speaks and you can watch his thoughts play out on his face. The slight frown when he first processes your question, the way his eyes dart around the room as if he will think up some witty response to distract you, the gentle furrow in his brow as he tries to think of a genuine response.

“I honestly don’t know how to answer that.” He’s trying hard to keep his own voice measured and controlled when he speaks. “It’s… complicated. I certainly don’t regret being turned. Not anymore, at least.”

Not anymore. So, he did regret being turned at some point. But why? What horrors has he witnessed that were so unspeakable? Was his turning really that traumatic?

Perhaps he had been in a war? You had read many stories that portrayed war as the worst of what humanity could do to one another. But no, that’s ridiculous. Astarion is nobility, he practiced law. And Astarion isn’t the type to involve himself in other’s petty squabbles, anyway.

But the faraway, pained look in Astarion’s eye has you thinking that whatever he had suffered must have been akin to the worst of war.

“Would you ever want to be a vampire?” He surprises you by turning the question back on you. You curl your arms around your knees, pulling them closer to your chest. Your reaction isn’t an immediate no, which surprises you a bit.

“I don’t know. Depends on the circumstances, I think,” you tell him.

What you really mean is that it depends on if eternity would look like this. If eternity would involve reading in the gardens or Astarion and you sitting next to each other on a settee and talking. Those might be terms you could agree to.

“I think I would really miss the sunlight,” you give Astarion a sad smile.

No sunlight means no gardens during the day, no talking strolls in the forest, no swimming in a river and sunbathing on a rock to dry yourself off. The life of a vampire is cold and dark and lonely. Only, maybe it wouldn’t be quite so lonely for you?

“A small price to pay for eternal life,” Astarion says with what you have come to understand is his hollow performance voice. Meant to dazzle an audience and distract people from the fact that his real feelings contradict what he is saying.

You watch him carefully as he settles deeper into the couch, crossing his arms over his chest and attempting to tamper whatever melancholy had been brewing inside him.

“Come on then, darling, read to me,” he says, giving you a wicked grin, “I can tell you what they got wrong in your little book.”

You read aloud and Astarion chimes in with little quips like ‘that’s not right,’ and ‘what do you think about me taking two more brides like this Dracula fellow, pet?’ and ‘good gods, just skip over the parts about Renfield, he’s a disgusting, pathetic character.’

But as you continue to read, Astarion slowly lets his head rest against the back of the couch and his eyes grow heavy before they eventually fall closed. The frequency of his interruptions slows until he’s just giving little hums of acknowledgement when you read something especially shocking or profound.

When you make it over two pages without a single interruption, you pause to look over at him. His deep, even breaths lead you to think he might have fallen asleep. With a smile, you turn back to the book and keep reading, perfectly content to never let this moment end, even if the number of remaining pages was starting to dwindle.

—---------

The longer you spent around Astarion, the more you realize that he did occasionally sprinkle the truth into his words- for even the best charlatans use truth to make their facades seem more real. Astarion wasn’t unique in that regard.

As such, you were determined to find the flakes of truth in Astarion’s story, determined to piece together the puzzle of the man you called your husband. It would be your most challenging and most rewarding prize yet.

So, you study him. You watch and you learn every tiny expression on his face. Astarion might be a masterful performer, but there were involuntary reactions even he could not control- a slight furrow of the brow, an inhale, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. And sometimes, there were flashes of something in his eyes- joy, wonder, terror, despair- so quick that a lesser trained eye might have missed them completely.

You notice these details because they are important to your cause. And yet, they stick around in your head for hours, repeating like some terribly wonderful time loop.

And you find yourself craving his company. You tell yourself that it’s not because you particularly enjoy his presence, but because every interaction gives you more information, gets you one step closer to discovering the truth beneath the mask. And yes, he was beautiful and wonderful to look at, but you only gazed upon him so often because you were collecting valuable data.

Though… it was remarkable how he seemingly had no bad angles. How the candlelight bent to his whim, following him around and dancing against his skin.

And gods damn him, Astarion can be funny, when he wants to be. He’s well-read and full of little tales and salacious secrets about the other nobles and their ancestors. In another life, you would have thought the gods crafted him especially for you- your perfect conversation partner.

Although Astarion will never love you, never desire you in the way that you secretly know you will always want him, you think he has come to find some enjoyment in your companionship, too. Some of his smiles seem a bit too real, some of his laughs a little too wild to be rehearsed. You imagine he regards you as a sort of… pet. Or, if you really dare to dream, perhaps a friend.

You must constantly remind yourself that his flirtations are empty, practiced phrases that are meant to disarm you. They do not show you he cares for you or that he wants you. You try to ignore that deep, viscous part of you that calls out to him, that wants him to think of you fondly, that hopes that you are driving him as mad with your presence as he drives you.

Over the past month, you’ve become semi-nocturnal. You find Astarion is much more active once the sun has gone down and the later you stay awake, the more time you get to spend with him. It’s unsettling how naturally your life seems to shift to accommodate him.

When you do make your way out to the garden in the late afternoons, Halsin happily congratulates you in his friendly, over-the-top way on the state of your marriage and how you and Astarion have managed to grow together despite your initial difficulties. You know he means it sincerely, but the words leave you a stuttering, embarrassed mess. You didn’t think you were being so obvious about your growing… affection for Astarion.

So, you start reading in the library more often than the garden, now that the air has started to turn crisp in the autumn nights.

Or at least, you’ve convinced yourself that’s the reason why and not because you secretly hope that Astarion will come join you.

And he does join you, some days. He’ll stride in with a book or some papers and take up residence on the couch across from you. On the really good days, he’ll sit on the couch beside you and ask you to read aloud and you get to lean against him while you read to him.

Tonight, he decided to accompany you to the library after dinner. He’s sitting in a chair across from your favorite settee and he’s only wearing a flowing white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You keep sneaking peeks up at him, mesmerized by the blue veins in his arms and how the lean muscles move when he turns a page. You’re trying really hard to be subtle- only letting yourself glance up for a moment every couple of minutes.

But, gods, it’s so difficult to focus on the words in front of you with that expanse of skin teasing you.

“You haven’t turned a page in a very long time, darling,” Astarion says without even looking up from his own book.

“And how attentive are you to your own reading if you’ve been listening for me to turn the page?” You shoot back.

“Oh, I’ve been finished for ages. I just couldn’t stand to leave you.” He gives you that devilish, tantalizing grin where one corner of his mouth curves up more than the other. It sends your heart fluttering like a hummingbird in your chest.

“Well,” you sigh, shutting your book and attempting to act casual, as if your formerly self-declared enemy hadn’t just caught you gawking at his forearms. “I suppose I’m not going to get any more of this finished tonight.”

“I apologize, I know my presence is entirely too distracting,” Astarion says, and the arrogant look on his face makes you roll your eyes. He’s not wrong, but he'd be entirely too pleased with himself the rest of the evening if you admitted it out loud.

“Yes, how does anyone get anything done with you around?” you say sarcastically instead.

“I haven’t the faintest idea how,” Astarion lets out a suffering sigh, as if his beauty is too much for the world to handle (it is). You can’t let yourself think about it too long or you’ll devolve in idle fantasies about what it might feel like to trace those beautiful veins in his arms all the way up to his chest.

You snap your book shut, “Want to join me on a walk around the gardens?”

You need to get out of here, where the stifling air and Astarion’s flowy white shirt are clouding your mind. But you don’t want this night to end yet. Not just yet. In truth, you gladly and greedily take as much time as Astarion’s willing to give you.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be in the world.”

He says it with that easy, flirtatious tone and you know he probably doesn’t really mean it. But that deep part of you that feeds on Astarion’s praise still preens.

The cool air is refreshing when you step outside and your head finally begins to clear. Astarion holds his arm out for you and you let your fingers brush against the skin of his forearm as you tuck yourself into his side.

When you turn to look at him, he’s practically luminescent. The moonlight was made for him, bouncing off his white curls and casting a gentle glow over his pale skin. As the moon reflected the sun’s light, Astarion seemed to reflect the moon’s. You were simply lucky to bask in his presence.

Arm in arm, you wander through the garden, pointing out your favorite flowers to Astarion and checking in on the blooms. It’s reached that part of autumn where some perennials have started to sleep, ready to reawaken in the spring. The sunflowers, always one of your favorites, are drooping for the night, waiting to chase after the sun again tomorrow, and you frown a bit when you see them.

“It’s a shame you never get to see the gardens during the day. The colors, the blooming flowers. It’s truly one of the most remarkable things I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say, as you and Astarion move into the rose garden. Everything new you find out about vampirism makes it sound like an isolating, dreary existence. You make a mental note that Astarion could use some cut flowers in his study every now and then, though it feels like a poor substitute for the splendor of the full gardens.

Because it is your mission to study Astarion, you don’t miss the fleeting, pained look that passes over his face, the look he always gets when you dig a bit too close to a truth he’d rather keep buried.

You used to push him on these, but you quickly found that got you nowhere. No, Astarion responded far better to a gentle touch rather than provocation and name calling. You were coming to realize that he would tell you in time, in his own way. And you had started to find that you didn’t mind waiting for answers if it kept you in his company that much longer.

And oh, how rewarding those answers were when he gifted them to you in the dark of the night, offering up little pieces of himself like Tara delivering you a dead mouse.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be prattling on- '' you try to backtrack, to apologize for the sadness that you have caused to enter his eyes.

You sometimes wonder what his eyes would look like if they were still blue- would they be pale blue like soft ocean waves or rich and deep like the blue flowers in the garden?

With his red eyes in front of you, his sadness is akin to pain, all blood and gore and unspoken horrors. No, you decide, if Astarion had blue eyes they must look like dark rain clouds when he is sad. For if Astarion weeped, would the heavens themselves not cry for him?

“Nonsense,” Astarion cuts you off and you’re acutely aware of how your husband has been studying you just as intently as you were watching him. Admittedly, the two of you were remarkably similar underneath it all. All sharp teeth and claws masking scared and fragile hearts.

He gives your hand a little squeeze where it rests on his forearm. “It’s wonderful to see the world through your eyes.”

He says it so casually, like he hasn’t caused your knees to buckle and your soul to leave your body. Occasionally, he slips in sentiments like that, with no regard for your poor heart. You’re dangerously close to having hope that he actually means them.

But no, you remind yourself. There was no way Astarion’s words could be trusted. He said things, he did things to get a reaction out of you because he grew bored and because he knew how badly you wanted him, how badly everyone wanted him. There was no reason to hope. He had entertained you at the ball because he was hungry, he had married you to tie up loose ends, and he spent time with you now because he had very little other company up here in his lonely manor.

You do not mean as much to him as he does to you.

You distract yourself from that thought spiral by talking, amazed at how easy and willing you are to offer up information to him now, “I used to have a book with flowers drawn in it as a little girl that I would stare at all day. There were so many that I’d never thought I’d get to see in real life, until I came here. And there were some flowers that I didn’t even know existed until I saw them here for the first time. These gardens are everything I could have ever dreamed of.”

Astarion gives you a smile that lights up his whole face and he seems so proud, like the whole purpose of his life is to make you happy. Your heart sings again and you shush her immediately.

Astarion’s beauty was not something you would ever grow used to. And in the lighting tonight, his profile sent a cold shock through your body. You had never felt so alive. You had never yearned for death more.

“My mother used to love the gardens here. She used to always try to get me to help her plant things. I wish…” He trails off, reaching out to stroke a delicate rose petal with his fingers. “Well, I wish I would have appreciated that more when I was younger. You never realize as a child how precious those memories will one day become.”

“And I wish you could have seen it then,” he says, letting out a wistful sigh. “You would have loved it. The gardens were even grander and more vast than what they are now. When I returned, they were in such disrepair that it pained me to look at them for ages. I hired Halsin to help restore them and he did a wonderful job, of course, but it’s just…”

He continues to stare at the flower he holds in his hand, unable to find the words to finish his sentence.

“Not the same?” you complete the thought for him and he nods.

And although his words fill you with a deep sadness, you rejoice for a moment. Astarion offers up information about himself so rarely that his words tonight are practically a feast. You tuck away that little piece of his backstory in your mind to analyze later. Though, as usual, he leaves you with more questions than answers.

Where had he returned from? Where was it that he had spent most of his vampiric life? And you still don’t know the circumstances of how he was turned into a vampire or how that plays into creating the man standing before you.

You let your fingers rub in circles against his forearm as you think.

Astarion’s rests his hand over yours. “Your hands are cold, little flower. And we both know a pretty thing like you blooms better in the daytime. I think it’s time to get you back inside.”

You try to protest but a yawn escapes you and Astarion gives you a knowing look that forces you to roll your eyes and allow him to start guiding you back toward the manor. His footsteps are slow, as if he’s trying to prolong your time together.

“Thank you, Astarion,” you say quietly, when you reach your room.

Facing him, the low, flowing neckline on his shirt has the lines of his collarbone perfectly in your sight and you’re scared you won’t be able to resist reaching out and touching them if you have to look at that for much longer.

Astarion seems unable to resist touching you, either, and his hand reaches out to tug on the chain of your necklace which holds your wedding ring. It must have snaked its way out from under the collar of your dress at some point during the night. He rolls the gold band between his fingers, his expression unreadable.

“You’re wearing your ring,” Astarion states the obvious, his voice low and husky with some emotion you can’t decipher.

“Yes,” you whisper. It’s not embarrassing, per say, but it does feel a bit like Astarion has broken his way past your ribcage and is staring directly at your beating heart.

“When did you start doing that?”

He tilts his head and one, single white curl dislodges itself from his meticulously styled hair. You watch it fall gently, like a feather floating through the air.

“About a week after…” you trail off. It was still weird to admit it out loud. About a week after you were married. It had been a couple months since that day and everything after has felt like a feverish dream.

You can’t focus when Astarion is looking at you like this- eyes all warm and rich and red like the fading embers of a fire. And the loose curl that caresses the skin of his ear is just taunting you so sweetly. Your hand moves almost of its own accord, reaching out to brush it back into place and ghosting over the shell of Astarion’s ear. You catch his slight shiver.

Instead, you feel him pull away, your hand dropping limply back to your side. It stings your heart.

“Sleep well, wife,” Astarion says, before he’s turning on his heel and walking swiftly down the hallway.

Wife.

He called you that so rarely and combined with the rosemary and bergamot lingering in the air after him, you feel a bit dizzy.

Oh, it’s the first time he’s called you that without a hint of teasing or sarcasm. No, tonight he said it almost with reverence- as if you were a gift to him. He had said it like a true husband might. That silly sense of hope thrums again in your veins.

But hope for what? That this marriage built on deception and hatred might turn itself around into something based in love? You chastise yourself for feeding into girlish fantasies. You needed to stop reading so many romance books.

No, you were just relieved that Astarion and you had managed to grow into something that could be considered a friendship. That he respected you enough to give you back the control that so many husbands wielded viciously over their wives. You were content since you were safe, and never pressured into uncomfortable circumstances, and spent your days doing whatever you wished.

You did not really want Astarion to kiss you.

It is the baser, lonely part of you that wants him to kiss you, that wants to hold him, that cries out for his touch. You would want to kiss anyone after taking a midnight stroll in a romantic garden. Astarion just happened to make it especially confusing by being the most beautiful man in the world.

And yet, you still yearn for his attention, you long for his smiles like a flower chases after the sun. And was his smile not capable of rivaling the sun? The pure joy, the pure energy surging beneath the surface.

No, when Astarion smiled, the sun itself bowed her head in surrender to his beauty.

—------------------

Gale might have been right, though you were loath to admit it.

You really did have a hard time sitting still for your portrait. It was only a couple hours each day in the afternoon, but all the sitting and doing nothing felt like torture. You could have done it if you had been allowed a book, but the stupid artist needed to be able to see your stupid face.

On the second afternoon, Astarion wanders in, inspecting the painting critically, eyes narrowed and a hand held up to his chin as he scrutinizes it.

“The shade of her eyes is all wrong,” he finally says with a displeased frown.

“I’m sorry, my lord, the painting isn’t finished yet.” The artist attempts to defend himself but you can tell he quickly sets to work correcting the ‘mistake.’

Astarion comes in the next day, and the next, and the next and just watches over the artist’s shoulder. The poor man is sweating so bad he’s creating a small puddle on the floor. It’s rather amusing. You have to refrain from laughing the whole time.

The man can’t seem to be able to paint a single detail without Astarion critiquing his choices and giving corrections. It’s a flurry of ‘see how her mouth moves up in the corner when she smiles,’ and ‘no, look again at how the candlelight moves against her skin,’ and ‘her hair doesn’t curl around her face like that, you’ve made her look like a poodle.’

You’ve come to think that Gale was wrong and perhaps Astarion is the worst kind of fine art snob who believes they could do everything better than the actual artists. And granted, he probably could- Astarion was also the annoying type of person who was preternaturally gifted at everything they tried.

When Astarion finally deigns the painting satisfactory after many, many days of nit-picking, you’re allowed to see the final product. It truly is a marvelous piece. You are sure you have never looked more beautiful- not even at the ball where you met Astarion or on your wedding night. No, in this painting, you can only be described as ethereal, a small scrap of the heavens that created Astarion.

It feels as if you are seeing yourself anew, through the eyes of someone who loves you.

“I expect nothing less than perfection when it comes to you, my love,” Astarion says, a gentle hand on your waist as he stands behind you and keenly observes your reaction.

But the painting is not what has pulled the air from your lungs.

My Love.

That's new. In your time as a married woman, you had grown accustomed to the endearments that Astarion loved to dole out and had deciphered his uses for each. He seemed to have a personal vendetta against calling you by your name.

Darling was for emphasis and dramatic effect. Dearest was a bit sarcastic and typically saved for use around others. Pet was for when he really wanted to be a condescending asshole or a teasing little shit.

Little flower was perhaps the closest thing to a real endearment that Astarion had in his vocabulary, saved for the soft moments when the mood between the two of you could perhaps be considered friendly.

But my love was unprecedented, uncharted territory.

And with the way Astarion is looking at you, with eyes so open that his soul is practically bleeding out of them, you wonder if for the first time he actually means what he is saying. That maybe some part of his heart does hold affection for you. It seems impossible.

He spends the rest of the evening peppering darlings and my dears in nearly every sentence, like he’s overcompensating for the slip up earlier.

Your portrait is hung next to his in the gallery. And you do have to admit that the two of you look wonderful together.

—----------------------

You don’t like when Astarion leaves on trips. Especially since he never wants to take you with him. Apparently, you had annoyed Astarion so much about the issue that he now resorted to not even telling you when he was going to leave.

Instead, you awoke one afternoon to Shadowheart informing you that he was away on business for the next few days. You’re fairly certain he’s lying- that whatever he’s out doing involved those maps and papers you found on his desk when you had broken into his study.

You’re a bit peeved that he didn’t even bother to leave you a goodbye note but mostly, you want him to come back.

You know he will arrive home with a flourish and an extravagant gift. His last trips had awarded you with a lovely new silk dress, a newly released book, and a tiara, of all things. Out of the three, the book was the only item that was really useful and you had spent a few nights reading it to Astarion while his head rested in your lap. Though, you did wear the dress and tiara to dinner after you had received each and the pleased mood it put Astarion in was worth dressing up for no reason.

This time, Astarion has been gone for two days and you feel as if you are going to lose your mind with how desperately you need him to come back.

You’re pacing the length of the drawing room, working your lip between your teeth and focusing on how you want Astarion back so you can yell at him for leaving without telling you and not because you miss the little grins he gives you when you see him in the hallway. Or the way he’s started tracing patterns on the inside of your palm when you sit together after you read. Or how he sometimes stares at you with such awe you feel as though he is looking at your very soul.

You do not miss Astarion. It just… feels wrong when he isn’t around.

You’re still pacing and deeply rationalizing how much you definitely do not miss him when you hear the front door open. Your body begins moving before your brain could even register what you were doing.

The sight before you is a nightmare. Astarion’s arm is wrapped around a woman’s shoulder and she’s supporting most of his weight as she drags him through the door. You recognize her instantly due to her imposing frame. You had seen her around the manor from time to time when she would visit for those secret meetings that she, and the mean-looking woman, and two-color eyed man had with Astarion.

She had always been kind to you when you had seen her around, always quick to offer up a smile. But not now. Her forehead is creased deeply with worry and you faintly register her yelling for help over the ringing in your ears.

Astarion looks bad, which is a word you never thought could be used to describe him. His skin is already so pale, but now, he looks nearly white and there’s blood splattered across his face. His free hand is clutching at his side in a way that implies he’s been badly wounded.

You’re frozen in fear. What could you possibly do to help?

Shadowheart, who must have been on her way to bring you tea as you paced, immediately shoves the tray onto the first surface she can find.

“What happened?” Her voice is grim and she’s rushing forward, helping to support Astarion’s weight on the other side. He lets out a pitiful groan of pain as they settle him on a couch.

“Got ambushed on the way back. Too many of them, we couldn’t fight them off,” the tall woman answers.

But her explanation seems… off. Astarion’s carriage is grand, sure, and robbers like to target the wealthy, especially in the dead of night. But you had a hard time believing this woman would be incapable of fighting off a couple street thugs. An attack that would warrant this level of injury seems much more organized.

No. Something else is going on. What sort of business was Astarion tangled up in?

Shadowheart is a blur as she bustles around, collecting herbs, cloth bandages, and a needle and thread. You never knew she was a healer. Was everyone around here keeping secrets from you?

And you’re just standing there, uselessly, incapable of doing anything other than watch as your own heart bleeds out in front of you.

Your feet do manage to carry you to Astarion’s side and you try to stay out of Shadowheart’s way as she works, but all you want right now is to pull him into your arms and soothe the pain on his face.

“Astarion?” you call his name, your shaky hand reaching out to move a stray curl away from his face. It looks all wrong- his white hair drenched with red blood. His eyes crack open and a dreamy smile spreads across his face when he sees you.

“Come to grace your dying husband with a kiss, sweet wife?” Astarion’s eyes are hazy, but you can still detect a teasing sparkle in them. You’re relieved for a moment, because his condition surely can’t be that bad if he’s still managing to tease you.

You let out a laugh. “Leave it to you to be flirting on your deathbed.”

Shadowheart’s worried voice breaks you out of your momentary comfort. “He needs blood, desperately.”

“We need to get someone from the village,” you say, making a motion to get up and go call for someone, but Astarion’s hand is wrapping gently around your wrist. His grip is worryingly loose and you can tell it’s all the strength he’s able to muster right now.

“Not enough time,” Shadowheart shakes her head. Her voice is fraught with anxiety and it sends a needle of ice through you. Shadowheart didn’t scare easily. “He needs blood now.”

“Can you?” you ask and she shakes her head again.

“My blood’s no good and neither is Karlach’s,” Shadowheart nods her chin up at the tall woman.

“Is there anyone here who can give him blood?” You cry out. Someone had to be able to help- Gale, Halsin, another servant.

“Just you.”

When you look down at Astarion, there’s a cold hand squeezing at your heart and you realize that you don’t have a choice. You grab the dagger that’s strapped to Astarion’s belt- which, why did he have a dagger if he was going on a normal business trip? You glide the sharp edge along your palm, ignoring the sting of pain as you cut it open.

His eyes are closed as you squeeze your palm shut to help the blood pool and drip onto his lips. Almost immediately, his eyes are shooting open and he’s dragging your palm to his mouth.

It’s obscene to watch him- he lets out a groan as his soft tongue swirls and sucks against your skin. In another time, in another circumstance, there would be that familiar desire pooling deep within you as you watched him.

Suddenly, the idea of Astarion drinking anyone else’s blood ever again fills you with a jealousy so deep that you’re scared of what you might do if you get your hands on that unlucky soul.

A bit of color returns to his face and he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your wrist, seemingly as thanks. Later that night, as you sit at his bedside as he recovers, you’ll be pressing your own lips to the same spot, as if that silly act could imitate the feel of his lips against your own.

Astarion’s eyes are still hazy and unfocused as he purrs, “Delicious, of course. I can only think of one other way I could devour you that would be better than that.”

The fact that he loses consciousness immediately after saying that probably has the opposite effect than he intended. You’ll have to tease him about that after he wakes up. And he will wake up. Because you can’t bear with the thought of a life without him.

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

Notes:

Okay, I fully recognize that Dracula didn't come out until 1897 and I did say this was a regency AU, but we are simply ignoring inconvenient facts for the sake of a bad joke. Sorry, I get make to the rules around here!

This chapter was so much fun to write because I'm a slut for yearning but I can't even describe how excited I am to share chapter 5 next week!!!!!! It's a doozy! We finally get a peak into Astarion's smooth little brain and well… I did promise eventual smut. I hope you all know how much I appreciate everyone who reads this little story and I hope everyone is having as much fun with this as I am!

As always, thanks to AliensNSuch on ao3 for beta-reading! She is my live studio audience cheering in the comments of the absurdly long google doc where I keep this fic and, for that, I love her.

Taglist: @idkbrodontaskme @ayselluna @maruichio @fanfic-share

Just let me know in the comments or by shooting me a message if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist!

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #x reader #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #til death do us part

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dilutedconfusion · 1 month

Text

A Moth to a Flame

Eustass Kid x F!Reader (Part 5)

Summary: It’s the morning after. Not the kind of morning where you wake up in somebody else’s bed but the kind where you’re wounded and in a cot. Kid is feeling bad. You’re feeling bad. Let’s see how the two of you handle the wretched ‘what happened last night’ conversation.

Warnings: Mentions of blood & broken bones

Word Count: a blasphemous 9k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tags: @st4rfevrr @archangelshavethetardis @likeeliterallywtf @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @tulipps-maehem @thesnailus @shamblespirate @gabi-moureira @ferretsqueen

A kaleidoscope of colors took up your worldview.

Swirling in an endless grace of sweet blues, deep rich greens, and soft mellow browns. None of them were very recognizable shape-wise. Each was holding something akin to maybe a building floating on its axis or a flower harshly bent at the stem. Either way, you didn’t care.

Eyes heavy with every tear you had ever cried in your lifetime somehow pressed against your pupil. The world cast ripples in your vision until they slowly turned into something more recognizable. Something that felt like home.

Or at least a very small portion of it.

“Just stay here. Don’t make a sound no matter what you hear okay?”

Your Dad's voice floated towards you warm and reassuringly like it always was. Soft eyes followed by his large hand reaching out to hold yours. Your round eyes blinked trying to see him. See him past the water ripples clouding your vision. You felt a warm liquid slide softly down your cheeks before the rippling water gave way.

“Pumpkin, it's okay. We’ve practiced this, remember? Nothing to be worried about, I'll come get you when it’s over.”

You were somewhere mostly dark. The walls were tight and small around you. Your father bent down on one knee, looking into the small wooden cave you reside in. A bright light behind him filtered through his hair softly. Looking down you felt his big hand tighten around your rather small one. Small and soft like it was new to the world. You squeezed his hand back with what little strength you had, urging him not to leave you alone again for just this once.

“D-Dad don’t leave me.” With each word that slipped past your tongue, it sputtered out messily. Your voice was high-pitched and whiny. Desperately wanting to just claw onto the man in front of you so he wouldn’t have the chance to leave. But you also supposed that he was holding onto your hand so tight so that you couldn’t move. So you couldn’t fight to stay with him.

“Baby we’ve been through this I can’t-” a loud rousing of yells erupted from nearby. The piercing sounds of gunfire broke any sense of peace. Each shattering echo made you flinch violently with every draw. Your father turned his head off to the left, eyes trained carefully at something in the room before he looked back at you. All that reassuring love once smeared on his face was gone. Instead that dreaded worry had replaced it.

He let go of your hand quickly. Bringing his hand closer to his torso so you didn’t have a chance to grip him. “I need to go. Stay here. Be silent. Don’t come out unless you hear our secret knock.”

You barely even heard him when he spoke. Barely even processed anything that was happening. All you could hear was your heartbeat twitching in your ears and the sounds of yelling outside.

It made a lump form in your throat. Lunging to either wail or scream or do something. To just do anything but you remained silent. That look in your father's eyes wouldn’t allow anything but silence and you knew that.

So he quickly grabbed something off the wall, using it to close the gap between you and the rest of the world. Between you and him.

Darkness slowly seeped into your space until nothing but a slit of light was fluttering through. Your Dads face peeking in one last time.“I love you Y/N.” He whispered, his voice soft and delicate against your ears like a stray feather floating in the wind.

But before you could even manage to speak he shut the door completely. Leaving you alone with the silence and the screams once again.

__________

Unlike all your other dreams this one didn’t cause you to wake up in a panic. Covered in sweat, your eyes groggily peeled themselves open. Met with just an average wooden ceiling in your view.

Your head was light as if it was full of helium. The corners of your vision were covered in a soft vignette just daring you to fall back asleep. Daring you to slip back into the comfortable numbness. To go back into the hiding place you had so long ago.

That is until you felt a sharp pain erupt in your chest when you breathed in a little too deep. In a rush, you tried to sit up. Contracting your muscles as always but instead of a smooth arising, a sharp pain stabbed at the center of your chest. A yelp escaped your lips and your back immediately stiffened against the cot once more. Jaw clenched in pain as you felt the raw flesh of your throat and lungs. It was like a cat had crawled inside you and scratched down your throat making you regret having made a single noise.

With your head propped up on a thin pillow, you manage to crane your neck to look at the rest of the room.

Am I in a med bay?

It was a small space and there was only one other cot on the other side of the room. The walls only held a whiteboard with some kind of tally marks and a covered window. A couple of counters and cabinets lined tightly right next to you. A mess of what looked like gauze, bandages, and tubs of what you supposed were ointment splayed out. Other than that you were left wishing for more discernible features about where in the hell you are.

Someone had been in here. Someone helped me. Where the hell are they now and what happened?

Being weak and vulnerable in a place you didn’t recognize wasn’t your ideal wake-up situation. But you also supposed whoever brought you here had helped you out. However, that didn’t make the sense of unease in your gut settle down much.

Fingers and palms splaying against the canvas of the cot you tried to ease yourself up yet again. Going at it a bit slower this time yet the second you applied some pressure you hissed in pain. Your hands stinging like sharp needles were tracing each fine line.

Taking your hands off the cot in a swift motion you stared at them now hovering gently above your face. They were both laced tightly with soft yet slightly scratchy bandages. An inkblot test of what you could only assume was blood seeping through parts of them.

I got injured on my literal fucking hands. My stupid hands of all places. What the hell did I do? Fight a raccoon or something?

Rolling your eyes you decided to trace your body for injuries before you tried to sit up again. Hands tracing over your shirt as you looked down at your body.

Wait a minute. Your hands paused, picking up the fabric of your shirt and lifting it closer to your face. This is not my shirt.

Eyes widening to panic you quickly let go of your shirt and felt down your hips to meet the hem of your pants. And these are not my pants.

You were in what seemed to be some spare clothes. Your underwear was still gratefully intact but the rest was just a pair of loose pants and a T-shirt one size too small.

Mouth agape and staring at the ceiling a warm wave of embarrassment washed over you. The apples of your cheeks and the nausea in your gut only getting worse.

Rubbing your hands over your face you tried to hold back any and all complaints. Your voice was fried and no matter how much you wanted to kick yourself and cry about it you just couldn’t.

As you shifted on the cot your hair hit the side of your face. A strong scent that you instantly noticed was the sea lapping at your nose. Your nose scrunched up as you paused your pity fest to sniff at it more tentatively. Not only did your hair smell like seawater, but so did your skin itself. Like you’d been sleeping in a bed of seaweed all night and hadn’t noticed.

Did I go for a swim or something? Gosh did I drown? Even thinking that made you swallow hard. Shame and dread at the fact that you might've done something unwise yet again. But drowning.

The undertones of that world sunk and swallowed your gut hole. Leaving you breathless in the worst of ways as a downpour of shame filled the dips and hills of your mind.

I remember being cold last night. I remember going to that bar. I remember walking home but then I must’ve done something. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Avoiding the imminent doom looming around you, you slipped your hand under your shirt. Immediately feeling the same tight bandage on your side and the center of your chest.

Great so I either have one or two broken bones. You softly rubbed the bandage on your side. Feeling the stark marks of what felt like torn flesh underneath. It wasn’t aching that badly but you knew if you tried to get up again it would.

Bracing yourself for the waves of pain pinching at your flesh you sat up finally. Eyeing the door across the room with small tears pricking your eyes. Your legs surprisingly didn’t hurt at all. They felt tired and worn out as you slung them over the edge of the cot. Yet when you stood up not a shot of pain erupted from anywhere.

Well, that’s good. Just upper body stuff then. You thought, holding onto the cot to try and find your balance. You could feel your body heaving a bit. Which finally let you take notice of the slight sway your body held. However, you couldn’t tell if it was just you being uneasy or the rest of the room swaying along with you.

This…feels familiar. A wave of nostalgia washed over you. Something so distant in your memory yet so raw with emotion. Looking at the window across the room a thought came to mind.

Am I on a boat?

It was a porthole with a blind shut over it. You were almost a bit afraid to go to that window. To open that stupid shade blocking out the warm light of day just to see something maybe you didn’t want to see.

No no no…I’m not on a boat. Why would I be on a boat? This person just likes porthole windows. Weird decorative choice but I’m not one to judge.

Your body crept towards it. A funny yet scared-looking smile tugging at the corners of your lips. If you didn’t see land on the other side of the window something in you was going to snap.

If I just see nothing but ocean on the other side of that window and not even a speck of island then…

You pinched the blind between your pointer and thumb. Lightly tugging on it until it naturally sprung upwards. A wave of light hitting your eyes as you licked your dry lips nervously.

Oh, thank the fucking lord. The docks of your home island were off to your left. The village was out of your line of sight but there was no mistaking the woods and shoreline you’d come to know as home.

Yet this sense of relief didn’t last long. The swaying of your body wasn’t all you then. Nearly pressing your nose to the glass you saw the soft churn of waves hit the hull below you.

So I’m on someone’s boat. A big boat clearly. A stranger's boat. You couldn’t see anything to identify whose boat you were on from this point of view. The window wasn’t the kind that opened so you were stuck just knowing the bare minimum of your situation.

I haven’t been on a ship in…

A growing wave of nausea hit your stomach again. Pitching forward as an unreasonable wave of panic stretches across you.

Walking staggerly to the door you reached out to open it. Giving only a moment's notice to listen quietly for any sound on the other side before quietly turning the knob and peering out.

It was a hallway that stretched out to your left and right. Even if you hadn’t seen the ocean on the other side of that window you still would’ve been able to tell this was a boat from the hallway.

The slightly lower ceilings, the wood paneling making every surface, the lanterns hung up periodically, and the few dozen scratches or patched-up holes from fights. It was tight and it smelled of the sea through faint drafts.

It's as if it had been ripped straight out of your childhood. Taunting you in an eerie reminder of what you were and somehow still suffocating as always.

I have to get out of here.

Without a thought you headed towards your left, closing the med bay door softly behind you. You needed to find a way onto the main deck and though you didn’t know your way around all you needed to find was a set of stairs.

If I’m on the lower side of the hull I gotta be at least one level down. Maybe one or two sets of stairs and I’m out of here.

With panic lacing your heels you noticed an open section of wall lining your right. You hurried towards it as fast as your weak body could manage before turning to see a beloved stairwell leading up. With bated breath, you started to climb it. Your side and chest aching from each little movement. The stairs creaking in some spots which only built upon the nerves ailing you.

When you finally breached onto the upper level you found nothing but another hallway to scour. Though you noticed this hallway was lined with windows unlike the last. Like a projector slide flashing between images, you saw those same windows filled with nothing but the sky and sea. Blurry silhouettes of men much taller than you walking past. Their rough visages and kind smiles just after visions in the blinding light. You blinked in a rush, rubbing over the space of your eyes and fumbling along the hallway.

It was like all the blood had been drained from your body. Weak and lightheaded you swayed with each step. Daring to pass out as another strong wave of nausea wrestled with your gut. It swelled into a deep ache that had you nearly hunched over. Grabbing your stomach tightly and using the wall for support as you shuffled along.

You couldn’t tell why this was happening. Well, you had a good guess but this sudden enveloping feeling constricting your throat was one you’ve had before. Another set of flash card images blurring your vision in memory of your father's much younger face, kneeled to look at you. Looking down the hallway you saw a door at its end. A bright light seeped through the slits and cast warm dusty rays across the floor.

I just need some fresh air. Some fresh air will fix this. I’ll be fine.

Yet this excruciating hallway seemed to be getting tighter and tighter with each step. You watched as the wall groaned as it crept closer toward your hobbled figure. Breath gasping in succession as fear arrogates your veins.

I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. This thought was a sledgehammer driving into the front of your brain. Forcing you closer and closer to the door until that 30 feet became one and you were a step away from some sense of freedom. With a sweat-covered brow and a shaky hand, you pushed the door open with a loud creak.

Like a flash bomb, the sun hit your face and you could breathe once more.

__________

Kid hadn’t woken up feeling fresh and relieved. He hadn’t woken up with his body feeling in the best shape it's ever been. No aching, no crawling nerve pain, no head thumping like a toddler slapping the shit out of a drum. If he would just lie to himself a little then all of that could be true.

The fact that he had gotten around maybe 5 hours of sleep because he had to stay up in the med bay getting all his bandages replaced wasn’t real. The fact that Killer had to wake up Hip, the only semi-medic on their ship, to clean his stitches wasn’t real. The fact that instead of the screaming fight Kid was expecting from Killer, he was met with silence. Silence that spoke a thousand words of disappointment and shame. Leaving the Kid wishing they would’ve just punched it out like they always did.

But what Kid didn’t want to think was real. The thing that absolutely could not be real under any circumstances was the fact that he had brought a girl home. Not the kind of girl wanting cheap sex and some fake affection for just one night. Now that would’ve been normal. If anything maybe that's what he needed on his little break.

Yet instead of a girl dressed in lust, it was the kind that he was forced to stare at for an hour on the other side of the room. The kind that had burned into his retinas so he could see his mistake even when he closed his eyes. A big human-sized mistake just laying there like a corpse daring him to think she was real.

Because the second he reached his ship with you in tow he was hit over the head with a reality anvil. One that broke through the layer of alcohol, delusion, and sadness wrapped around his skull.

They didn’t know whether to treat their captain or the barely alive girl first. Why waste medical supplies on a stranger? So when he had watched Hip look her over he had barely paid attention to her words. Asking him what had happened and why he had brought her back. Though when Kid was finally excused, his body two steps away from slamming against the ground, he gave the fake girl one last look. Hips back to him as her hands traced over the figment of his imagination to check if she was even alive. She had been breathing softly the whole time Kid was forced to get fixed up but she was still dead asleep.

A part of him hoped she wouldn't wake up just so he wouldn’t have to deal with it in the morning.

But of course, morning had come to Kids begrudging dismay. Tossing around in sheets that now reeked of the sea because he hadn’t bothered to take a shower. He smelled, looked, and felt horrible.

I’d rather get beat by a bat than deal with this.

So little to say he started his day in a slump. The late morning did little to motivate him as he washed himself clean and then went to the kitchen to down a jug's worth of water. Dribbles of it spilled down his chin and onto the black tank top he wore. The loose swaying of shorts at his hips and the soft meandering steps of some flip flops gracing the halls.

Thankfully everyone else on the crew had started the day off by going into town to get the shopping done and over with. Kid could nearly see the stacked-up crates lining the dock outside in his near future. Yet he knew if he tried to help he’d get shooed away like some sort of child.

If they want me to be lazy I’ll be fucking lazy. I’m tired of trying.

With black coffee steaming gently out of the cup in his hand he sat down at one of the many tables in the mess hall. Trying to avoid the still very apparent problem that was probably still dead asleep just a floor below him.

He didn’t know what to make of last night. To him, it almost seemed like he was an entirely different person. One that wanted to wallow instead of rise to the challenge. One that wanted to give up instead of fight. One that wanted to save some girl because he could.

What the fuck is wrong with me? He rubbed over his face and brushed back his still slightly damp hair. No goggles to hold it up so it hung a tad bit looser around his face.

I saved one stranger and for what? For her to wake up and give me her thanks? I don’t give a shit about her. I don’t even know that bitches name.

There was no weaseling his way out of knowing why he had saved you. His choice to do it was entirely emotions-based instead of logic. There was no gain, no plan, no need for him to do anything when you fell into the sea.

I just...I just...Kid could barely think the words into existence let alone say it out loud. It’s one of the many reasons Killer had gone silent last night. Because no matter how many times he asked Kid why he did it, Kid couldn’t find an answer.

Kid’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft thudding of shoes walking down the hall. His body naturally froze as he heard the all too familiar footstep pattern of his first mate.

Why isn’t he out there with the rest of the crew? Shouldn’t he have left?

A sky blue and cream-colored mask came into sight as Killer rounded through the doorway. Taking a second to look Kid over but otherwise disregarding him as he turned sharply towards the open doorway of the kitchen. Not a single word leaving his lips.

Great. Now he's going to give me the cold shoulder then huh?

“So what? You’re just not going to talk to me?” Kid questioned demeaningly, a lick of vulnerability swirling underneath the thin surface of his tone.

Killer slowed to a stop, turning his head to gander once more at the redhead's large body filling up a small portion of the mess hall. “No. I just wanted coffee.” His voice was smooth and simple but Kid could still hear the underlying sarcasm he was barely holding back.

Kid clicked his tongue softly. Hardballing Killer as if he had said the most idiotic thing in the world. “So you decided to stay on the boat for some coffee? Shouldn’t you be out there? You’re the one in charge of the restock anyways.”

Killer’s voice punched out a little more than before. As if he was just now fully waking up. “I am but I thought you’d need me here. Can’t leave you alone with our little...problem.”

Is he tired? This thought floated in and out of Kids' brain immediately. Killer was always an early bird compared to him. But he knew if he could see past that mask of his, he might see the unusual purple hue sagging below Killer's eyes.

“I can handle it just fine. I’m going to give it a bit. Drink my goddamn coffee and then go down there and throw our problem out. Simple.” Kid’s voice didn’t sound as resolute as he hoped it would. He didn’t have a plan on how to handle this. He barely wanted to speak to the woman let alone throw her overboard, especially with all the injuries she held.

Injuries and death that me and my crew saved her from. Kid swiped his fingers over his eyes. Rubbing them to let the darkness behind his eyelids swirl.

Killer let out a low grumble and scratched the back of his head. Tufts of blonde hair getting frizzy as his voice became even more fatigued. “Is that right? Well, I think you’ll need me. If only to make sure you two don’t argue and she hopefully just leaves.”

Kid just stared blankly at Killer. Using the small amount of brain power he had left to look him over. He is tired. He only stayed up for an hour to watch me when I was getting patched up. Why the hell does he sound like that?

“Whatever. You don't think I can handle one girl so don’t fucking give me that.” Kid picked up his coffee mug. Taking a slow sip as he tentatively eyed his first mate.

Killer paused before he spoke. Chewing his lips a bit and turning back towards the kitchen doorway. Walking over to it and still talking to Kid despite the distance. “You can handle one girl but I don’t think you can handle one girl that you saved. She’s going to ask questions about what happened and why you did it. I’m going to be there to give answers when you inevitably fuck up and don’t say anything.”

Kids' eyes widened at that. A rush of embarrassment and a bit of anger rose to his cheeks. Taking another quick gulp of his coffee before cocking his head to the side. “You don’t know what I’m going to do. She doesn’t deserve any fucking answers so what does it matter anyways? You don’t have to be her shrink and tell her it's going to be alright.”

Killer's body slipped past the doorway and out of Kid's sight. Letting him only faintly listen to the sounds of him grabbing a mug and picking up the coffee jug. “Well if she was persistent about speaking to us last night then I doubt she won’t be this morning. You’re giving a psychotic fangirl a chance at being on our ship. Better yet the guy she wanted to talk to saved her. She’s going to ask questions. Questions I know you don’t want to answer.”

Killer spoke just loud enough for Kid to hear him. Kids face contorting more and more into pure and utter annoyance at the obvious facts that Killer was spilling. “She’s not a fangirl. We don’t have fans Killer were fucking pirates for Christ's sake.” Kid protested, his voice barely audible to Killer's ears.

“Yes, she is. She followed us last night. I know she messed with you or whatever. But love can often get mistaken for hatred. She probably just lied to herself for an excuse to be around us.”

Kid's eyes nearly popped out of his skull hearing that. The grip against his mug becoming firmer and firmer as he watched Killer stride back into sight. Now holding a steaming cup of coffee and heading over towards him.

“Don’t fucking say that to me.” That was all Kid could manage. If he said anything more than that a blood vessel might pop and he’d be left with the bloodshot eyes of an insane man.

Love can get mistaken for hatred? What the fuck is Killer on right now?

Killer eased down into the chair across from Kid. His mug thudding softly against the wooden table and a low grunt of discomfort rolling off his tongue.“What? Don’t you think that girl was flirting with you? I thought about it last night and it seemed weird. Like she had some sort of other agenda about why she was talking to you besides the whole ‘her being worried about you pillaging the town’ or whatever.”

As Killer settled in with his hand holding up his head by the soft fur of his chin, Kid was tensing up. His jaw stretched and snapped tight like he had to pry it open with a crowbar before speaking. His cheeks turning that uncharacteristically shy shade of red. “I don’t know why the fuck you’re telling me this. She can have whatever agenda she wants. I just don’t ever want to deal with her or see her ever again.”

Killer couldn’t help but find Kid's reaction a bit amusing even if it was surprising. Kid wasn’t one for affection and Killer knew that. That’s why seeing Kid turn red at the thought of this girl's supposed crush was extra funny. So much so that he couldn’t help but make it a little worse. “Then why are you getting red in the face? You’ve had girls swoon over you before. Is it just the fact that this one might want to get into your pants that bothers you?”

“Killer I’m going to reach over this table and rip your head off if you keep this up.”

Killer's tired demeanor became much more mischievous. A wry smile tugged at his lips and he leaned forward to speak in a sarcastic yet smooth and romantic way. “I bet it was amazing for her last night though. A big strong man comes to save her just at the right time-”

“Kil I swear to god-”

“Both of you were drenched and grasping onto one another. Looking into each other's eyes and whispering sweet nothings in the moonlight-”

“Killer shut the fuck up-”

“That girl was probably so turned on she was rubbing her thighs together. Wishing you’d just take her-”

“KILLER!” Killer got fully cut off when Kid lunged at him. Standing up and taking his first mate by the collar to tug him forward. Nearly knocking over his coffee in the process as Kid snarled at him.

Killer could barely hold back a laugh. Smiling wildly underneath his mask he softly patted Kid's arms to ease him off him. “Ah okay okay sorry. Couldn’t help myself. It’s payback for last night anyways.”

Kid's hand slowly loosened up. His cheeks burned a bright fiery red as he sat back down in his seat. Steam nearly puffed out of his nose as he took a deep breath. “Yeah? Well, it's a stupid fucking way to get your payback. It wasn’t like that. Quit making me out to be some kind of hero asshole.”

Killer eyed his captain in a attentive yet loving way. He loved whenever he got a chance to get under his skin like this.

And maybe this does make up for last night. We don’t have to focus on our fight. Just the girl.

“Well, I’m not letting it go. You saved some girl and brought her home. That’s hero behavior for sure,” Kid looked at Killer dead on, his face going slack with annoyance again. It made Killer pause for a moment feeling just a tad bit guilty, “But maybe it wasn’t romantic at all for her. Forget all that shit I said about love or whatever. I was just spitballing ideas anyway.”

“Well, I could tell. Saying that shit like you had any idea what you were talking about.” Kid rolled his eyes and finished off the last of his coffee. Letting the smooth and bitter liquid roll down into his stomach to gain an ounce of motivation for the day ahead.

Killer took a smooth sip of his coffee through the little bendy straw he brought along. Just nodding his head like he agreed though he was still pretty sure something more was going on with you.

Or maybe all that blushing means something more is going on with Kid.

A sudden loud noise erupted down the hall. It sounded close but at the same time echoed through the small enclosure and into the ears of the two men sitting idly together. Kid's body perked up, looking over at the doorway out into the hall expectantly.

“Is there anyone else on the ship right now?” Kid mumbled, looking over at Killer who had put his mug down almost instantly. Staring at the doorway more hesitantly than Kid.

“No. Just us. Everyone already left. I made sure of it.” They both looked over at each other. Their shared brain cells functioned at a slower rate before they both came to the same conclusion.

“It’s the girl.” Kid whispered, Killer's head nodding in agreement as they both started to stand up and head out into the hall. Kids empty mug and Killers half full one long forgotten as they walked towards the source of the sound.

“Goddamn, I was hoping she’d just stay asleep.” Kid mumbled to himself more than anything. Picking up the pace a bit as two sets of heels rampantly thudded against the wood below.

“I think it came from on deck.” Killer's voice was quiet. Mimicking the hesitation Kid's voice held. If they thought about it enough, they should be making their presence known. Yelling so she didn’t think she could run off with one of their possessions if that's what she wanted. But if they didn’t make their presence known, then maybe they wouldn’t have to deal with her. She could slink away on he own accord without talking to them.

It was a juxtaposition between hesitation and necessity as they reached a door. Pushing it open and stepping out together to scan the deck. A chill ran down Kid's spine as he felt the brisk wind hit his bare legs. Within an instant, he saw you but of course, you had a habit of surprising him at this point.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath. Panting softly as you clenched tightly onto the banister of the stairs leading down to the lowest part of the deck. Your face was a shade paler than usual. The blood ran cold inside of you as you desperately tried to pretend you hadn’t slipped on the stairs not a minute ago.

“H-Hey guys. What’s up?” Kid could instantly tell by your voice that you were hanging on by a thread.

Well, I think anyone with eyes could tell she’s a fucking mess.

“What are you doing?” Left Kid's lips before he could even really contemplate what was happening. Walking closer to the upper edge of the stairs to look down at you. Killer in tow with his hands crossed over his wide chest.

You looked between the two large men like you had done the first time you met them. The blondie is still quiet and reserved. The redhead, or Kid you supposed, is demeaning and talkative.

They’re already tall enough. They didn’t have to take the high ground for Christ's sake.

“Nothing.” Kids' eyebrows of course rose at that. Leaving you stuttering to come up with something that didn’t sound stupid. “I mean not nothing but definitely something. I don’t know.” Your body swayed a bit as you gripped the banister even tighter. You’re fingertips turned a shade whiter as you swallowed down what felt like oncoming nausea.

Did they kidnap me? Is that the only reason why they decided to patch me up was to sell me off? I can’t just tell them I’m leaving if that's the case.

“Well, you falling on the stairs doesn’t seem like nothing.” When the blondie spoke it almost partly startled you, it was the first time you could hear his voice. It was similar to Kids as if they were from the same area. But it was slightly higher and more raspy in tone. It almost made you forget what the man had even said. A blush rose to your cheeks as you shook your head defensively.

“Well, I’d like to see you try to walk down some stairs with wounds and nausea asshole.” That slipped past your tongue before you could even reel it back in. Still holding on for dear life as the panic seemingly never wanted to settle in your veins. “I feel like I got gutted. What the hell happened to me?”

Killer didn’t mind being called an asshole, he's been called much worse. But watching you spit that out with such a raw look of utter exhaustion and frustration on your face was a bit much. You seemed to be falling apart right in front of him for some reason.

Was she hurt that bad?

“What the fuck is with you? Are you about to keel over right now?” Kid took Killer's thoughts right out of his mind. The girl had barely walked that far from the med bay but she seemed to be sweating and breathing heavily like she had run a mile.

You frowned at the two men, taking a deep and shaky breath before you spoke. “I don’t like it on this ship. I want off and I want to know what happened.”

Whilst Kid's eyebrows furrowed, Killers raised. Confusion struck both of them at the mere fact that you didn’t seem to remember the events of last night. “So you don’t remember?” Killer asked calmly, taking a hesitant step down the stairs towards you. You’re shaky pupils locking onto him in fear.

“No, I don't remember. I don’t remember anything past…the walking home I think. What the fuck did you people do? Beat me and dunk me in water?”

The instant you said that Kids' anger rose from about an average 5 to an 8 out of 10. His one good hand clenched into a white line of knuckles as he stepped down the stairs in a stomping motion towards you. “We didn’t fucking beat you dumbass! We helped you. If I wanted to beat you I’d do a much better job than the fucking ocean did.”

The second Kid started stomping down the stairs towards you, you turned around. Finishing off the last couple of steps with trembling knees and scurrying out into the middle of the deck a good distance away from him. “Stay the fuck away from me!” You yelled putting your hands up defensively even though you felt like a pile of Play-Doh.

Kid paused when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Clicking his tongue and watching you with predator-like precision. “That’s not a nice way to say thank you.”

If your frown couldn’t get any deeper then somehow it found a way. Your throat tightening up like his huge fist was somehow already around you. “What do you mean the ocean? I..drowned didn’t I?” You ignored his other comments. This man didn’t deserve a thank you until you knew what had happened.

“Yes, you fucking did brat. Your fatass fell into the ocean. You ended up here with a fresh set of bandages.”

You barely even registered the insults he was throwing your way. Just swallowing hard as he called you a fatass before wearily speaking once more.“But…how…how did I end up falling into the ocean?” Your voice became a hint softer, frustration bleeding into sadness and maybe even regret.

“Because you’re an idiot that's why. You thought the jetty was a walkway and got swallowed up. It's all your fault so don’t blame me.”

Kids' harsh words hit you hard. Eyes daring to prick with tears as you took a minute to just settle into what you had learned. A weak and bandaged hand raked through your hair as you stared at the ground below you. “Shit.”

The two men just watched you work through it. Both of them having a hard time trying to understand why the hell you seemed so sad about it.

What the hell is wrong with this girl?

“Quit being a brat and dwelling in it. You survived and because you survived you get the honor of personally walking off my ship all by yourself like a big girl.” No matter how hard Kid tried he couldn’t strain himself to be any more reassuring than that. It's not like he wanted to be reassuring but you seemed to be an absolute mess in need of a push. A push off his ship that is.

And though Kid was taking a more aggressive approach Killer couldn’t help but notice the turmoil you were in. Walking past Kid and slowly approaching you with as much benign energy as he could. “Are you okay?”

You looked horrible. Face still a shade paler and your eyes glossed over somewhat. The clothes they had given you stuck to your skin with sweat. Your body swayed even more as if you were caught in a much stronger current than the one currently rocking at the boat.

His voice barely reached your ears. Those same memories, visions, and blood-curdling screams drowning you out. The warm fire on your skin. The ice-cold water in your blood. You tried not to pay attention to it. Eyelashes fluttered closed as you rubbed over your eyes. The darkness did little to help you as you stumbled backward.

Something took hold of Kid's heels as he walked closer to you. Stepping past Killer to land just a few feet in front of you. His chin tilted down to leer at you though his eyes couldn’t help but wander. Trying to pierce through the strange weak form of a woman you had become.

“What’s wrong? You’re fine. It can’t hurt that bad if you’re walking.” He spoke, his voice a bit quieter yet still just as harsh.

What the hell is she doing? Faking this shit for sympathy? Nothing bad is happening.

Hearing Kids' deep voice so close startled you out of your stupor. Your shoulders twitching as you finally slip your hands off your face to look up at him.

Kids eyes widened seeing wet crystal-like tears on the ridges of your eyes. Mouth going slightly agape and eyebrows raising in what you assumed was disgust.

“I’m fine. I can handle the pain. Just get me off this ship.”

Kid was confused to say the least.

Is she crying because she got hurt or because…she doesn’t want to be near me? Because she wishes it wasn’t me that saved her? For some reason that thought made his mind blare red. You’re once helpless figure now cast in something weak and greedy in his mind. A leech on the stray strands of his kindness that he felt like plucking and squishing to death between his fingers.

“Are a few screws loose up there or something? Why the hell are you crying? I let you on my ship that you were drooling over. I used my supplies to bandage you up. I gave you my precious and invaluable attention for more than a few minutes. I even risked my life to save your ass. You should be fucking thankful not crying.”

Killer's mask glided between the two of you. Your face scrunched up in confusion as your lips parted to speak. But before you could utter a single word he piped up. “Kid, what are you doing? I told you I could handle this.” Both you and Kid looked over at him like you had forgotten he was even there. A deep scowl turning more rich with wrath as Kid eyed Killer.

“I’m doing what I fucking want to. I told you I didn’t need your help.” Kid stormed closer, forehead laced with lines as he kept breaching the gap between you and him.

You couldn’t help but look at Kid with even more confusion. Phasing past his words speaking of your ungrateful self to focus on one part that didn’t quite make sense. “Wait did you just say you...saved me? Were you the one that found me?” Wiping your tears with the back of your hand in a quick motion you took a tiny step closer to the man. Not at all afraid of that look of wrath he seemed to be fostering in his eyes.

It was Kid's turn to feel a spike of panic as his cheeks daringly went a shade red. “N-No I didn’t save you! You’re a fucking idiot to assume I’d save someone as worthless as you. I would let you drown without a thought so don’t get me wrong and quit avoiding the question. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Despite the obvious turmoil you were feeling, another round of anger splashed into the cesspool of your mind. “Nothing is wrong with me! I’m fine. I just don’t like being on ships. I need to get the fuck off this thing like right now.” You looked away from Kid, shuffling towards the nearest banister parallel to the dock.

With one brutal step Kid bounded towards you once again. Spit flying past his red-painted lips as he spoke. “What do you mean you don’t like being on ships? Are you seasick or something? My boat is barely swaying ya baby.”

“It’s not sea sickness. I just don’t like it okay? Can you quit asking me why and just help me?” You kept just trying to walk away from Kid. Eyes scanning the deck trying to figure out where they kept that plank to walk down on.

Kid paused as he watched you. Your short fluffy head whisked in the wind as you helplessly looked around for a way off.

Is this girl always a helpless little puppy?

“Well, I’m not helping you until you thank me. So get off this boat yourself or fucking fall off I don’t care.”

“Kid don’t you want her gone?” Killer whispered huskily. Of course, it caught your ears though. Turning your head briskly to look between the two men as they exchanged sideways glances.

“What I want is a thank you from her but she’s too much of a brat to cough it up.” Kid laid it on real thick as he spoke. Taking the time to pronounce brat harshly as if his tongue was dripping with venom.

You swiveled your head back towards Kids. Sharp teeth coming into sight as you snarled at him. “Can you stop patronizing me? Quit acting like you're the better person here or that I owe you anything.”

“You do owe me something! A goddamn thank you and maybe an apology while you’re at it. Do you think you deserve to be on my ship? Do you think I wanted to deal with you? I’ve been putting up with you the moment I came ashore instead of fucking relaxing like I was supposed to!”

“How is that my fault?! You never had to talk to me at the bar. You never had to save me or whatever you and your crew did. I was just there doing what I wanted to and you made it your problem. So boo-hoo bitch you fucked up your vacation!” You flung your arms in the air and brashly pointed at him. Quickly turning around and stomping towards the banister in a rush. You gripped its wooden edge, leaning down to look at the fear-inducing height between you and the dock.

Kid couldn't believe what he had heard. Well, he could believe the name-calling and the crass tone in your voice. And though those things made him want to boil over it also made him want to disappear. You were right. He did inherently inject himself into all of your problems. He put himself into the line of fire that was you. And though he knew this deep down it wasn’t going to stop him from telling himself that it was a lie. That you were the villain plotting nefarious plans to make his life a living hell. That the moment you were finally gone maybe things would start going his way. Even so, he didn’t exactly understand why he wasn’t just escorting you off his ship if that was the case.

My life would be easier with her gone. So why do I need this? Why am I keeping her here? She means nothing to me.

That thought crossed his mind just to turn his cheeks red. His knuckles were white as he wiped off the small layer of sweat across his brow. He could feel his stump twitching with a pulse. The new bandages doing little to hide the fiery sensation pinching at his nerves.

That’s it. I’m ripping her fucking head off. He watched you with keen eyes. Not willing to speak in case he let something slip that was beyond him. Beyond what he was willing to admit.

Killer cautiously stepped closer to Kid with pleading yet gentle steps. “Hey, I can handle this. Go inside. She’s being a bitch I realize but you're in no shape to-”

“To do what? Kill this bitch? Let me handle it Kil. She’s my problem.” Kid roared, your head jerking backward to watch the two men. With yet another string of panicked actions, you tried to sling your foot over the banister. A ripping pain snapping through you as it pinched the injury on your side.

If there is a God can they just give me a break and let me get off this damn thing!

With quick succession, you tried to jump onto the banister once more. Hooking one foot over quickly and bouncing up to sit on the carved railing. Your ass slammed against the ridged wood making you grunt and lean over in pain. Hanging one leg off the side of the boat as you looked down to sea the line between dock and saltwater below you.

“What the fuck are you doing? Do you want to fall off?” Kid couldn't believe how stupid you were. Your round body hanging off the edge into what could be yet another nose dive into the ocean. “Are you trying to drown again because believe me sweetheart I can make that happen.” He growled walking towards you.

That look on his face spoke a million words and all of them screamed murder. But in the other direction was of course a one-story drop that made piss nearly trickle down your legs.

SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT.

“Okay okay! I’m sorry! I said I’m fucking sorry so stop!”

This wasn’t your proudest moment but it was one you hoped to walk away from with all your limbs intact. Despite your pleas, Kid didn’t come to a stop. Still barreling towards you as if he hadn’t heard a thing. You tried to shuffle off the banister but he was already right up on you. Watching with shadowed eyes as he leaned uncomfortably close. His face was a mere foot away as his one arm grabbed onto the railing to close you in.

“I don’t know. That didn’t sound very genuine to me. How about you try again?” The intensity of his voice was suffocating you. His mountain of a body caging you in and his face far too close for comfort.

You could nearly feel his breath fan across you as your cheeks slowly blossomed a deep red. Trembling lips followed by a quiet voice to match your submission. “I’m sorry for bothering you and being a nuisance.” You swallowed hard, dryness tearing at your already sore throat. If your blood was cold before it had gone even colder.

Kid's eyes flickered between yours. Soaking in that look of fear and desperation running across your face. It was palpable to the point where he could taste it on his tongue. Sweet and sour like the softness of your voice but the bitterness in your eyes.

Finally, the kind of reaction I deserve. He thought without a word. The silence between the two of you was so raw with tension. Egging on your fear even more. “And what else do we say? Don’t make me push you off so be a good girl and just say it.”

Confusion flashed through you. Blinking back and forth between his amber orbs. “What?” Your voice was so soft Kid could barely hear it. Cheeks going aflame as you leaned off to one side trying to get away from him. But as soon as you did that the boat tipped. A wave rocking along with you and your pants providing little friction to keep you upright. You tried to squeeze with your thighs but they slipped along with your hands. “K-Kid help!” You yelped, your body slipping right off the banister towards the waters below.

Kids eyes widened watching this all unfold right in front of him. He didn’t make a move to help you right away but as soon as your body dipped too far off and your legs unhooked from the banister he reached out. Taking hold of your forearm with a vice-like grip. “F-Fucking hell.” He let out a deep grunt. Abs leaning over and onto the railing to reach you. Your once-falling body now slack against the side of the hull. A wretched yell of pain escaped you as your injuries spasmed.

“Ahh fuckin shit K-Kid help me up!” Your other hand grasped onto Kid's forearm. Feet trying to kick upwards to propel you more.

“You’re not fucking light ya know!” He inhaled deeply through his teeth. His jaw clenched tight as he struggled to keep ahold of you. You’re soft arm slipping in his sweaty hand.

“Captain?”

Kids' eyes break away from your lingering stare up at him. Finally noticing the contents of the dock below. A line of his crewmates were standing idly watching the two of you. A few baskets and crates in hand as if they had paused mid-step to spot the two of you.

Kid didn’t know what to say. Almost forsaking you as his arm naturally went limp. “Kid!!” His body flinched back into life when he heard your voice again. Muscles contracting once more to reapply pressure before you slipped out of his grasp.

You didn’t dare look down at the crowd below you. Eyes focused on Kid and the fast approaching footsteps of what you assumed was Killer not too far behind. But Kid's eyes weren’t on you. Dare say they had paused in one particular spot further down the dock towards the island. Once wide and glossy with embarrassment now honed and focused on something else.

“Who is that?” Kids voice was low and quiet. Pulling you up towards him with a breathy grunt. Killer finally took up the space beside Kid. Grabbing onto your other arm and effectively sliding you over the banister like a towel.

Sliding onto the deck your head almost slammed right into Kid's chest. Killer quickly let go of your arm. Grabbing you by the shoulder to steady you until you stayed upright.

“Y/N?” a voice called. With wobbly knees and blushing cheeks, you held tightly onto Kid's arm for support. Your breath hitching in the realization of who Kid was asking about. Slowly and unsurely you turned your head towards the source of the voice, only to find the worst-case scenario just standing there.

“H-Hi Dad.”

A/N: Okay okay okay I realize that I’m making Y/N like EXTREMELY clumsy for no reason. It’s apart of her character yes but I promise she isn’t always the classic clumsy girl in need of saving trope!! Things will change. She will get better. She’s just GOING THROUGH IT right now. I mean like drowning, then on boat you don’t know, to fear for lore reasons, to angry man threatening you, to almost dying again!! Like it’s BAD BAD for her rn. ALSO I hope ya’ll are concocting some sweet ideas y/ns past lol. I feel like I’m making it too apparent but I’m also not sure??? There’s a lot to unpack there.

#one piece #one piece eustass #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #killer one piece #kid pirates #one piece x reader #x reader #eustass kid x reader #massacre soldier killer #eustass kid x y/n #eustass kid x you

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