#“There's no hope for me or you [...] Everyone's going to feel my loss.”

[raevpng]

in between (pt. 1)

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

requested by this anon <3

masterlist

summary: paige and azzi spending their quarantine together, and maybe realising their true, hidden feelings along the way.

a/n: hey everyone! as usual, it’s late at night i know but i just couldn’t get this out my head! i plan on making this fic pretty long so i decided to make this a two part fic! i hope you guys like this and as usual, let me know what you think <3

—

it feels like a fever dream, really.

the way azzi’s eyes widened at the news of paige visiting all the way from minnesota, the way azzi ran to her outstretched arms with no hesitation, the floral scent of her shampoo lingering in her sweater even when they pull away, the way azzi’s parents’ eyes shone with a knowing glint.

the sheer fact that paige was really here, standing beside her after long months of distance.

it was 2020. the world was just shuttering into stillness, the streets suddenly quieter, the air heavier with uncertainty – covid had flipped everything upside down, and when the commencement of lockdowns were first announced, paige didn’t hesitate — she knew exactly where she wanted to be.

she remembers pleading with her parents, voice earnest and slightly desperate over dinner. she argued that she hadn’t seen azzi in so long, that being apart felt wrong in a way she couldn’t explain. paige remembers whining and her solemn promises to to use her own allowance and paycheck for the tickets as well as to always wear a mask and sanitize everything in sight. it took a while and definitely lots of begging, but amy had finally caved after several facetime calls with tim and katie, who promised to keep her safe and fed. paige still remembers the way azzi had let out the loudest cheer when she heard the news, so loud that even her parents laughed through the phone.

it was familiar.

now, standing in the doorway of azzi’s house with a duffel slung over her shoulder, paige felt that warm, grounding comfort settle into her chest.

azzi walked beside her, fingers threaded with hers like it was second nature. she carried one of paige’s bags with her free hand while her parents followed behind them, chatting quietly.

“okay honey,” katie smiled, stopping at the base of the stairs, “i’ll let you two settle in while i finish dinner. call us if you need anything, or if azzi refuses to let go like the clingy little koala she is.”

azzi pouted, clinging tighter to paige as katie ruffled her curls. paige just laughed and nodded in response, heart warm and chest tight in the best kind of way.

azzi’s grip on paige doesn’t waver as they wobble to azzi’s small but cozy space, paige trying to suppress the soft, fluttery feeling she always seems to get when azzi was close to her.

“azzi,” she laughed, nudging her lightly, “you gotta let me go so we can unpack y’know?” paige laughs softly, her heart warming at the soft sound azzi makes as she separates from her, as if it’s physically hurting her to put even an inch of distance between them.

she mourns the loss of warmth of soft skin immediately, but decides to laugh instead at the younger who was giving her a tour of her bedroom as if she hasn’t been here several times before.

“i cleared this drawer for you,” she said casually, zipping open one of paige’s bags, “so you don’t have to go digging through your old suitcase the whole time.”

“hey!” paige feigns offence, snatching the bag from azzi’s hands to do it herself, “first of all, rude. second…thanks az, you really didn’t need to. i’m already crashing here for a while, i wouldn’t wanna bother you more.” she finishes, her sincerity making azzi’s eyes soften.

azzi froze for a moment, lips parting like she was debating something. her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.

“you’re never a bother, paige.”

the words were soft. honest. and when she looked up again, her eyes were steady yet vulnerable in a way paige didn’t see often.

“besides…” azzi bit her bottom lip, like she was still considering if she should say it at all.

fuck it.

“i’ve really missed you. i always do, and i really need you here — with me.”

the quiet sincerity in her voice left paige momentarily stunned.

they’ve always been close – endless of facetimes till the dead of night, friendship full of inside jokes and subtle jabs that held an affectionate undertone. but even then, their friendship always lived in that in-between space, filled with banter and shoulder bumps, with rare, almost accidental tenderness. they didn’t really say things like this. they didn’t need to.

but recently, they’ve just been… more. more affectionate in their words, more affectionate through actions, and feeling that soft, fluttering feeling pools in their stomach… more.

and paige didn’t know what to do with the soft fluttering in her chest, or the way azzi’s words echoed in her head louder than they should. they always just chalked it up to the distance and the closeness of their friendship, but it’s easy to pretend that the blush in their cheeks when they get too honest is because of the lighting in their facetimes.

but standing here, in azzi’s bedroom, with azzi looking at her like that? yeah. paige didn’t think jokes were gonna cut it this time.

and the worst part?

she didn’t want to.

–

they settled into azzi’s room slowly, almost like slipping into a favourite, worn out hoodie – comfortable, familiar, something that felt like home. paige’s shared playlist with azzi sounded softly through her speakers, just loud enough to make the girls hum along yet still soft to let a comfortable silence breathe between them. the late afternoon sky was darker now, streaks of pink and gold painting the sky just above azzi’s dresser where paige was folding her clothes in.

azzi was laying on her stomach, her eyes crinkled in silent laughter as paige folded her clothes messily. “you fold your shirts so weird.” azzi teased, head tilted.

paige gasped, feigning offense as she clutched her chest dramatically, “i do not!”

azzi let out a snort, burying her face in her covers to muffle her laughter. when she looks up though, the atmosphere shifts noticeably as she meets paige’s eyes – so soft, tender, with an unnamed yet loving feeling swimming in her deep blue eyes.

the moment lingered, quiet, yet so full at the same time.

“hey,” azzi broke the silence suddenly, her voice softer now, “do you remember the first time we talked? like really talked, in facetime and everything?’

paige raised an eyebrow, amusement filling her features, “you mean the time you accidentally you called me cause you were trying to add me on snap?”

“okay first of all,” azzi groaned, hiding her face in embarrassment, “that was a very understandable mistake. second, you’re welcome, cause if i didn’t you wouldn't be here in my room hogging up my space.”

“uh-huh.” paige grinned, setting down the last of her clothes in the dresser, turning fully to face azzi, “i remember you getting so flustered you hung up after like, two seconds. didn’t even say hi or bye or nothing.”

“yeah because you looked too pretty and i panicked.” the words left azzi’s lips before she could catch them.

it was quiet for a beat, the soft hum of the fan and whatever song was still playing filling the air.

paige blinked as her heart stuttered. “what?”

azzi’s eyes widened, realization hitting her like a wave. she sat up slowly, avoiding paige’s gaze but not looking away entirely. her cheeks flushed the softest shade of pink that god – paige thinks it’s just unfair how pretty she looks. “i just mean… well yeah, you did. you looked really pretty, and i wasn’t expecting to actually see you face-to-face yet, so i kinda just freaked out.”

paige’s heart was hammering now, not from surprise, but from the way azzi looked at her with brown eyes so earnest – like she wanted paige to know the truth for once instead of hiding it in a joke. paige wanted to say something, knowing the silence on her end was stretching too long for it to be comfortable. so she blurted out the raw truth in her head, “i thought you were pretty too. still do.”

azzi looked up then, brown eyes meeting blue.

for a moment, everything else faded – the soft music, the buzz of the fan, the faint sounds of katie calling for dinner downstairs, it was still. it was just them, breathing in the same air, looking at each other like they had more to say but didn’t know how to say it yet.

paige let out a shaky laugh, chest tight, needing to defuse the tension before her heart gave out. “god, we sound like we’re in a movie right now.”

azzi grinned, that shy dimple that paige adored with everything in her making an appearance. “a really slow one.”

“the slowest,” paige agreed, nudging azzi’s leg with her foot, earning a soft smile from the other.

azzi paused, hesitation clear in her body language, but with rare boldness within her seizing her, she reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind paige’s ear, fingers lingering a moment too long on her cheek.

“but maybe worth it,” she said softly.

paige swallowed hard, the space between them suddenly feeling a little too charged, too electric.

“maybe,” she whispered back.

from downstairs, katie’s voice rang out again, jolting them from the moment.

“girls! dinner’s ready!”

azzi stood first, offering her hand to paige. she took it without hesitation, her fingers curling into azzi’s like they belonged there.

and maybe they did.

maybe they always had.

–

the dining room glowed with a warm light, scattered conversations around the table while paige and azzi settled to their seats which are, of course, right beside each other. the spread on the table was mouthwatering, paige’s stomach grumbling at the heavenly sight of baked salmon with roasted vegetables on the side, fresh garden salad in the middle, and a plate of steaming dinner rolls fresh from the oven. it smelled like home, like comfort, like everything paige had yearned for all this time, even if she didn’t know what it was yet.

tim sat at the head of the table, already two bites into his dinner with a satisfied groan, while katie flitted between making sure everyone had enough water and playfully scolding her husband for not waiting.

paige laughed softly, watching the scene unfold with a fond smile. she’d always loved being in the fudd’s home, similar yet so different from hers. louder in some ways, and softer in others, yet the unmistakable familial feeling settled in her chest, fondness overwhelming her as she watched the banter between azzi’s siblings and the teasing looks between tim and katie.

and sitting here now, thigh brushing azzi’s under the table, she felt it even more.

as they start eating, katie starts handing out food, “paige, want some veggies?”

before paige could even open her mouth to protest politely, azzi beats her to it. “yes, she definitely does.”

paige raised an eyebrow quizzically, nudging her best friend softly with her elbow, “damn, speaking for me now huh?” she teases, making the other stick her tongue out before plopping a few greens and baby corns on her plate.

“i just know you, that’s all. you need to be forced or else you won’t have anything healthy in you.” azzi teased, a little smirk tugging at her lips.

tim raised an eyebrow at the girls’ interaction, eyes twinkling with mischief, “you two have been awfully close lately.”

katie joins him with a soft hum, a small smirk forming in her lips as a light blush makes its way to the girls’ cheeks.

“we’ve always been close,” azzi replies, trying her best to seem cool and collected, choosing to ignore the heat in her face and instead reaches for a roll, passing one to paige without even looking.

Paige, on the other hand, seemed to have given up on trying, mumbling a silent thanks before stuffing it in her mouth trying to diffuse the stubborn blush that won’t go away.

tim just hummed in agreement, skeptical but clearly not wanting to push, “it has been a while though paige, we missed you around here! one of us more than the others.”

azzi just groaned at the implication, but paige smiled warmly at the confession. “well, the feeling’s mutual.” paige whispered, feeling a little bold.

and if azzi’s parents gave each other a knowing smile, paige didn’t notice.

not with azzi letting out a ragged breath while she reaches under the table to link her fingers with hers.

–

“your parents are crazy observant, huh?”

azzi looks behind her shoulder as she settles the dirty dishes in the sink, looking over at paige who was collecting the glass cups. “what do you mean?”

paige licks her lips, trying to decide how to phrase the mess of thoughts she had in her head, “i mean, they were just totally watching us the entire time.” azzi just shrugged.

“maybe they like seeing me dote on you,” she said with a teasing tilt on her head.

paige hums, “very true, you have been extra doting tonight. you want something don’t you” she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, making azzi laugh loudly at paige’s accusation.

“i have no idea what you mean, p.” azzi grinned, stepping closer to the blonde, “i’m just tryna be a good friend.”

“mhm.” paige hums, a bold idea popping in her head. feeling braver, she slips her hands around azzi’s waist, whispering in her ear, “you sure you’re not trying to make me fall for you?”

azzi’s breath catches in her throat, her heart beating so damn loud she’s almost sure paige can hear it. her hands slide to the other’s chest in such an instinctive way azzi didn’t know what to think of it. she learned in slightly, “maybe, and what if i am?”

it was paige who froze now, every ounce of boldness in her body dissipating at the reciprocation of azzi’s actions.

were they…flirting?

before paige could process the younger’s words, she stepped away suddenly, a satisfied smirk replacing the shy one that was there literally just a few seconds ago, knocking paige’s breath away.

“better get these dishes done.” she said, walking to the sink like she didn’t just completely flip paige’s world upside down.

paige stood frozen for a second, stunned.

what is happening right now? what is this feeling right now?

then came the oh moment.

“oh fuck, i’m so screwed.”

[angelltheninth]

Hey I got into arcane recently. The art is just so goooooood. A feast for the eyes really. And everyone is hot like… help. Anyway, sorry for this loser request, but if you haven’t already can you do arcane characters with a virgin fem partner please

Loser request? I really hope that the loser part isn't that the virgin part, because I will have you know Anon that I am no loser. I am on my way to becoming a wizard!

Pairing: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Maddie Nolen, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Sevika, Viktor, Jayce, Mel x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, kissing, virginity loss, gentle sex, praise, cunnilingus, size kink, fingering, orgasm encouragement, aftercare

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I'm also asexual so my chances of becoming a wizard are higher than your average persons. Only a few more years and I can be a better version of Harry Potter! Chat please tell me you know the meme I'm referencing and I don't sound like I'm crazy.

Was surprised for sure

She doesn't exactly have a ton of experience either but she has some

Can't say she's not excited about taking your virginity

Literally vibrates with excitement and anticipation of having sex with you and being the first one to make you come

At least as orgasms that are given by someone else that is, she would like to watch you fuck yourself sometime

Gets pussydrunk so easily, her grin smug and eyes literally shimmering

Really into making you ride her face, as you will learn over the course of your first night together

Has so much stamina that you can never even hope to keep up with but she never expected you to

Flattered that she could make you come just with her tongue

But wants to work on your stamina in the future

At first she thinks that she should tease you about it

Then she thinks better of it, since it's not exactly something to be ashamed of, she didn't mean anything bad by her teasing either

It's just... she knows she's not your first girlfriend, so how come you never had sex before

Nerves, well in that case she'll go slow with you, make sure you're not overwhelmed by her

Enthusiastic as she is she holds back, her fingers spreading you open slowly, only pushing them in a bit and then stopping fully

Doesn't stop talking dirty to you, grinning smugly when she feels your pussy tightening around her fingers

Likes it when you're flustered around her, not when you're uncomfortable

Cocky for sure, especially when she manages to make you come and didn't even need to touch your clit to do it

If she did she would have overstimulated you, you were already shaking so much

Keeps assuring you that you don't need to return the favor, but would love it if you do

Been a while since she slept with a virgin so she's actually a little nervous as well

Romantic dates, candle lights, relaxing baths, a massage, she pulls out every trick in the book to make it the best night ever

There's a lot of soft touching and affirmations from her

Has to battle a smile when you're blushing because she's making you feel good

Asks what makes you feel good when you're doing it by yourself and tries to do the same

Experimenting can come later, she wants to make your first time a nice experience, a memorable experience

Kisses down your body, almost like she's worshiping you

Seeing you sopping wet for her definitely helps her know she's doing a good job before she dives forward to eat you out

Tells you to pull her hair a lot, she won't mind

Keeps saying how pretty you are, how beautiful your moans sounds, how she wants to be the only one you moan for from now on

Feels really happy and excited that you'd trust her enough to be the first person to sleep with

Very touchy with you, not just as she's undressing you but in general, so it doesn't feel like it's too much when she guides you to the bed

Grinning she pulls you into a deep kiss and wraps her arms around you to press you against her, thighs sliding between each other

She guids your hips to move against her thigh, chuckling when she feels how slick you're making it

Kisses you the whole time because it's her favorite thing to do and because she knows it'll calm you

Doesn't go for penetration for your first time

But really wants you to sit on her face and to fuck you with her tongue

Subtly writes her name on your clit

Won't rush you into an orgasm, she lets you chase it on your own, her hands soothing against your trembling thighs

Post-orgasm cuddles are some of her favorite things so don't think this will be a one time thing

Before you told him you were a virgin he was a lot more relaxed

Now he feels a kind of pressure on himself to make your first time good

His first time was a quickie and not that memorable at all

So as your boyfriend he wants to give you a better experience and make sure you remember it for the rest of your life

Teases you to cover up his own nerves

He talks to you a lot, particularly when he's getting ready to push his cock into you

Before he does he does warn you that it can be painful but it won't last long

Shakes while pushing his cock into you, he really wants to fuck you but he's holding himself back, he's being considerate of you

Keeps his thrusts slow, smiling down at you before he pulls you into a gentle kiss, telling you how good you feel around him

Leaves it up to you if he pulls out or not

Genuinely surprised, so surprised he drops a glass and it breaks

Doesn't think you should be embaressed by it at all

Some people take a lot of time to feel safe and comfortable to be intimate with others

He's actually pretty flattered that you want him to be the one who took your virginity

Knows he's on the bigger size in terms of dick size so he really doesn't expect you to be able to take all of him, maybe half if you're lucky

It can be too much for your first time

You can just make up for it by giving him a really nice handjob

Pulls you onto his lap and wants to cuddle you afterwards, he was always pretty protective and caring towards you

Now that he's your lover you can expect that his protective tendencies will get even stronger

Surprised when you want to go again so soon but he won't argue with you

Had a feeling you were inexperienced but he didn't want to say anything

Then you might feel pressured into having sex with him and that's the last thing he wants

Besides if he was only after sex then he could get it easily

He wants more than just a one night stand, by now you know that he cares about you and wants this to be a serious relationship

Just because he's serious about this doesn't mean he can take the day off

Actually he thinks it might be better if happens spontaneously

His cock is rock hard when he pulls you onto his lap when you tease him in his office

You need to learn that there are consequences for your actions

Keeps his hand on your mouth as he fucks his cock into you, it would be bad if you were interrupted for your first time and you don't get that orgasm you've been so desperate for

From this moment on he expects you to be at his full disposal and he will be at yours, naturally, there's a lot you still need to learn about pleasuring a man like him

Tries to hold back her cocky smirk but she just can't, oh this is too good, a hot lady like you and no one's fucked you yet

Just means she gets to be the first one to show you how good sex can be

After she's done with you there won't ever be anyone else that'll be able to satisfy you like she could

Has to brag about her skills but won't make fun of you for your lack of skills

Offers to do it in the 69 position so you can mimic her movements

The best way to teach is a hands on method, or in this case the mouth and tongue on

Even though your own movements are a little clumsy and you can't focus all that well you still try to follow her lead the best you can and believe her she loves that hard working side of you

Smokes after sex, that's a habit at this point

But the catch is that she smokes after really good sex so you should take that as the highest of compliments

How soon can you go again because she would love to keep you going all night long

Well he doesn't have much experience to speak off either

So you can both learn new things, you don't have to be nervous around him

Gets hard for you really easily and has to focus to keep himself from coming too soon

Usually this isn't a problem for him but you've been the object of his fantasies and dreams many times before, he hopes this isn't another one of those fantasies

But the moment he pushes his finger inside of you he's convinced it's real, it feels right, to pleasure you, to love you

Keeps rubbing his cock while fingering you, he wants to show you he's just as eager and excited for this as you are

He moves really damn fast when he finally pushes his cock into your pussy, he can't help himself, he can't hold back, it's almost overwhelming

After he feels your inner walls pulsing and massaging his cock he slows down just a little

Not fully slow, but enough to get some control over himself

Doesn't want you get you pregnant on your first night together but in the future you can discuss such things

Almost comes in his pants from excitement

Now that would be embarrassing, for him not for you, he bets you'd love to see that

Someday maybe you will but for now he wants to focus on your pleasure not his

Eats you out like he's been starving for eternity

You have to push him away to get him to stop, your juices dripping from his mouth and into his beard, making it all shiny

Kisses your thighs, covers them with kisses and bites actually, same with your pussy

His eyes roll back when he bottoms out inside of you, he honestly didn't think you'd want all of him for your first time but you were very determined

That determination should be rewarded

He has always been the giver, he loves making his lover feel pleasure, especially if he's the first one to do that for her

You won't escape his arms when he wraps them around you from behind, pampering the back of your neck and shoulders with lazy, appreciative kisses after sex

You should have told her this information sooner, then she wouldn't have flirted with you so hard

Not that she regrets having you naked in her bed or anything like that, the opposite is true, she thinks she should have given you more time to fall into her bed

But if you're still sure you want to do this with her tonight then she will be more than happy to give you pleasure until the Sun rises

Always had a way with words and praise is no different

She might be three fingers deep in your pussy and making you squirt but she'll be damned if she'll stop talking about how sexy you are or how lucky she feels tonight

Never been much of a cuddler, she was always very guarded, but this is a special occasion

Of course she'll let you return the favor

Don't worry about clumsiness or anything like that, just do what feels right, do what makes you feel good

Trust that she'll tell you if it doesn't feel good

She doesn't really do one night stands but she also doesn't sleep over at other people's places a lot, so if you want to do this again you're gonna have to make your intentions clear next time

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

The GDA scrambles to recoup losses. Relationships begin and end- badly.�� [Invincible Variants x reader]

TW: I dunno. It's! Uhm! Ref, you shouldn't say that!

[Part one]  [Ao3] [4]

5 * Godspeed, Kid [8k]

"You broke my heart, 

I hope you die,

Emptier than how I feel inside,

And when you lay your head to rest at night I hope that you,

Never fall asleep when you think of all the things you do."

Plate Glass Apology - Apes of the State

        "He's not even gonna see it." Your nosy co-worker says. 

        "It's the principle." You say, pouring the milk slower, getting to the bottom of the pitcher where the thick foam sat. "Can't work up the guts to say something so," your words ebb as you delicately shake the pitcher, letting a glob of foam sit atop the caramel latte, "I'll do this until he notices." With a flick of the wrist, you strike the glob through. Leaving a heart of milk foam you hide under a white lid. 

        "Black Americano, London fog, and a caramel latte for Nolan." You push the drinks out all at once. A teenage boy slides off a tall chair at the center table in the lobby. You avert your gaze as he grabs the order, muttering thanks. You watch him walk away, feeling heat in your cheeks and butterflies in your belly. 

        He slides into the chair, passing out drinks. Not taking the lid off the cup, not noticing again. It's whatever, you're too scared to say what you want. Too shy. What were the chances anyway? Cute boy and a yearning barista? 

        His brick wall of a father catches your eye. Mustache twitching up at you before he turned to his son. He speaks low, so low you can't hear.  "I think that girl likes you, Mark." 

        Mark stiffens, going bright red. "T-there's no way you know that."

        Nolan sips his Americano. Nothing close as good to the real thing, but passable for a peaceful morning with his family. "Oh, I know."

        His mother laughs into her palm. The order printer spits out a ticket, you get back to work. 

        At some point, your manager sets you behind the register. The Saturday mid-morning rush is killing you. Understaffed, flooded with orders. The customers keep coming with no end in sight. You're the only cashier, and the people are getting impatient. 

        You can feel the waves of contempt wafting off everyone behind your current customer. Some middle-aged nobody who was currently driving you insane. "I want something hot, no, cold, wait, mmm, maybe hot." You make recommendations. "It has to be keto. Are any of your syrups gluten-free? What's the calorie count per squirt of syrup? Do you have sugar-free milk?" You try and try to steer her in the right direction but she won't listen. The line is growing and honestly, you want it to move so you can talk to the boy in line. Holding his cup, blushing, looking at his feet, then at his parents for moral support. 

        You shouldn't do it. Using your powers in public was a terrible idea, it always was. People don't much like mind-fuckers. You'd been demure using them. Controlling people wasn't right, it felt icky. You were determined to be good and very, very normal. 

        But you have no choice. She's not shutting her fat lip and you wanted to flirt. 

        You lean forward past the register, whispering, "You're gonna get a black coffee. Gonna love it so much you'll tip me twenty bucks. Then you're never coming back."

        Her eyes glazed. "One black coffee, please."

        "Coming right up!"

        He's two customers behind. You get them out of the way. Lean on the register, like you're too cool for fast food- or is it fast coffee? 

        He sets the cup down, looking anywhere but at you, "Tell me if I'm being weird or crazy or whatever but uhm..." He lifts the lid. The heart had melted into the latte. Oh, he hadn't seen it, had you just forgotten the caramel syrup? He didn't actually want to talk to you. 

        Across the cafe, his father loudly cleared his throat. 

        Mark forced himself to make eye contact. "Uh. I just wanted to say this is like, the best latte I've ever had and I uhm- wanted to give you something." He fumbled with a scrap in his back pocket. Pushing it into the tip jar. You see numbers hastily written on the back of his dad's receipt. Then he's flipping open his thin wallet, "I'm also gonna actually tip too don't worry, I'm not that full of myself."

        Your fingers fish the number out the jar. "This is more than enough for me." The words hit him like a mallet. He almost jumps out his shoes. Horrified a girl actually flirted with him.

        And that's how it started. A nudge from Nolan turned into texting late at night about shitty minimum wage jobs. Turned into his mom driving you to the theaters, to a first kiss for you both, after seeing a terrible adaptation of a comic book. Turned into wanting to go to college together, you'd never even thought about college before. Turned into him saying he'd help you figure out the money situation. You lived alone as a teenager, circumstances, life and powers you didn't tell him about. Turned into a single job for Machine Head, offering enough money for tuition.

        The funny thing was, Mark gave you his number the same day you caught Machine Head's camera eye. Hell, in the same five minutes. He'd been right behind the lady you'd hypnotized. Came up to the counter when the rush died two hours later. Long after he'd left, come back just to give you a sleek business card. His number, the address of his high rise suite.

        "If you ever wanna actually do something with your life." He'd said. And with him and Mark, you actually started to consider it. 

        ***

        He's leaned over her body, bandaged and still. Pulse slow but strong. Leg in a sling hung off the ceiling. His new mask resting on the edge of her bed. Not looking up when Cecil walked in, followed by you. 

        "I already told you, I'm not leaving her." He says. Back moving as he speaks. So much wider than when you knew it. Voice deeper, matured, and so tired. 

        "Yeah, yeah, they could come busting down the door any minute to kill her to get at you." Cecil says, "But I just hit them with all I've got and they're fine, Mark. So please, turn around and talk to us."

        "No."

        Cecil turns to you, jutting his jaw toward Mark. Telling you to talk. You already know your powers won't work on him. You were still weak from Narcan. Exhausted from being passed around and almost dying. So God forgive you if you don't speak with good faith.

        "You're pathetic."

        At that, he whips around. Brows twisting. "Who-" He stares, taking seconds to process, too long. You're almost unrecognizable. No light in your eyes. No teenage awkwardness. No smile. "If you're bringing her out to convince me, the answer's still no." He turns back to Eve. You're not important enough to look at longer than twenty seconds. There was none of the barely contained want you saw in the alternate Marks, no immediate recognition. 

        Your fists ball. You were just a chess piece of Cecil's to him? 

        "He almost fucking vaporized me with nukes and they're fine." You would play the role of pawn just fine. Your anger at the situation was genuine, leading you right into Cecil's trap. "If that won't work, nothing will. The planet needs you."

        "Then Eve needs me more than ever." He says hollowly.

        You want to vomit. All over him and his puppy-dog eyes. All over her and her pretty face, and altruistic personality- always thrown in your face on the news. 

        It had nothing to do with the current happenstance but it comes ripping out of you.

        "Do you even care that you ruined my life?" He doesn't respond. You want to hit something. Break someone's bones. You remember Seventeen falling to the ground dead. The swirl of emotions you felt. You think if you did it again, there'd only be one emotion. 

        You go on, watching for a reaction. A shoulder slump, a sigh, anything. "I owed Machine Head after the job because I didn't deliver. You threw me in jail. He protected me. I owed him more, and if I didn't pay up, he'd kill me. Do you even know what I had to do? Did you ever think about it? I never even got to finish High School, Mark!"

        He doesn't flinch. Braced for a lashing. You realize then and there. He'd must've known you'd gone back. He worked for the GDA long enough for someone to fill him in. Flew over the city all the time. Knew people who knew people. He'd have heard it through the grapevine at some point. He'd only come looking the once. Maybe thinking to himself in his stupid puppy brain that you were better off without him. That you could make your way in the world. That you didn't want to see him and weren't totally drowning and in such desperate need of saving.

        "Look at me." You try to grasp for power that doesn't come, you could make him, but you can't. Your lips wobble. Cheeks burning with humiliation. Not only because he wouldn't look at you but Cecil was there, witnessing the whole thing. You turn your mind to something more pressing, another thing that makes you so angry you want to rip off heads. "If you're gonna fuck the planet over, have the decency to look at me and tell me you're not helping."

        His head dips. Leaning closer into Eve's orbit. "No. The answer's no. I can't leave her."

        He won't look at you. You're nothing but an unimportant memory. Something in you breaks. The onslaught of Marks you didn't even know cared about you more. But what had you been expecting from him? Hope for a romance re-lit? Hope to have the balls to kill him? You don't know.

        You hold back tears. Force your quavering lip into a hard line. "Fine. You won't do shit? I will." Cecil looks at you, brow raised as if he wasn't wanting for one of you to step up.

        "I'll figure it out." You tell him as you storm out the room. Unable to hold the tears any longer. 

        ***

        You're gone. Gone. Blasted to dust. Dead, again.

        He knew the trap was coming, but he couldn't stop it and save you at the same time. He thought he could be stronger, faster, but that damn noise got him. Made his ears pulse and bleed even with the noise cancellation device in his suit. Hell, part of him hoped since the others seemed to care so much, maybe they'd stop the bombs.

        Now he's in the pit that used to be an island. Ocean water roaring down the ledge. Looking for pieces of you. But there is nothing but water and rock.

        He checks his tracker, coming to his senses after minutes of reeling. Your dot doesn't appear. Your vitals no longer showing in the corner of his lenses. 

        He wants Angstrom to appear. Wants to rip that engorged brain off his scalp. He should've known it was a ruse, a sick joke because you were dead everywhere but here, and no way in hell would he- or any of them- be so lucky as to hold you again. 

        Angstrom doesn't come. Nor do anymore bombs. The planet is out of defenses. 

        One by one the Marks give up. Speeding off the to nearest city to level or person to kill. Blaming this world for false hope. Leveling it more than it already had been. Suppose that's what Angstrom was planning. For that, he'd kill the bastard whenever it was time to meet at the rendezvous.

        ***

        There is nothing to do but wait. Cecil withheld the remaining heroes in safe houses across the globe. The ones that didn't listen, the ones that thought letting the Invincible's scourge the planet was stupid, never came back. Cecil's plan was simple, wait for it to be over. He'd tried taking them down one by one, tried en masse, tried everything but only a handful fell. The remaining were too much for any defense the planet had and the real Invincible wasn't lifting a finger to help. 

        So Cecil made every other hero follow suit. Biding his time. Waiting to launch the rescue missions rather than offense. 

        He did things where he could. Trying to contain. Remotely launching tear gas specially compounded to fuck up a supe, but of course it did nothing to Viltruimtes. Playing that awful sound that made Mark weak. Except most speakers on the planet couldn't play it at the correct pitch, so the most it did was cause a minor annoyance before the speaker was smashed.

      Psycopomp watched as you avoided everybody. As you went unpunished for your crimes, many of the same things she'd done, but shit. Making people do as you said was just immoral. At least with the dead, they couldn't feel or even know what was happening. 

        Cecil wanted Psychopomp to help. To zap her into areas under attack for her to raise the re-dead re-animen. She refused because he let you walk free. 

        Then he'd laid it on her like this, "There's only a handful of people on the planet left with a chance of killing any of the alternate Mark Graysons. She took one out single-handedly, that's not for nothing. Listen, if you help us we can think about opening an investigation on (Y/n) but as long as this lasts, we need her." 

        Psychopomp agreed. Glazing over the word think. She was sent into the field, one disaster after another raising the dead undead. Watching them get killed again and again. Being zapped back to the GDA just to be sent somewhere else in the next five minutes, rinse, repeat. 

        Day one was bad, day two was worse, and on the dawn of three the destruction started to lull. Cecil lost more employees than he'd thought possible. The hospital wing keeping Eve alive was down to three staffers working round the clock. They'd drop of exhaustion any moment and they'd all be fucked because Mark, the real Mark, would be so angry he'd finish the destroying the planet before his alternates could.

        Then there was you. 

        Hovering around the remains of the GDA headquarters like a ghost. Useless because you didn't understand military strategy. Petty gangwar bullshit didn't apply anywhere here. Nowhere else to go because there's nowhere to go, as if Cecil would let you leave anyway. Keeping you around as a last resort, plans tumbling around in his balding head. Nothing solid enough. 

        So he let you wander, let you have time alone in the one working bathroom, washing your body with hand soap and mineral thick water. Didn't bat an eye when you pulled the armor off a guard's corpse. Even down to the white tank top undershirt and shorts he wore under. Least you had the decency the put the guy's hands over his dick.

        Cecil wasn't blind or stupid. You dressing yourself in the black and green armor of a GDA solider was no coincidence. There were plenty of dead lab techs to take normal clothes off. 

        You looked for nearly an entire day for a pulse rifle that was fully loaded and still shot. Most of the dead guards fought for their lives before being cut down. You could shoot, but had no idea how tech this advanced was reloaded. Hell, just holding the rifle felt awkward compared to your six-shooter. It wouldn't be enough and you knew it. But you didn't know what else you could do. 

        You practiced firing, using guns with less ammo. It was the only thing that felt useful to do. The only thing that felt right, because marching into the hospital wing and shooting Mark wasn't an option.

        The last of the engineering staff reverse-engineered the remnants of the cuff they'd broken off your ankle. Barely. The signal was spotty, and his location was never exact but they had an estimate of where one of them was at all times. 

        It rose alarms when his signal was stopped above the Grayson household. Cecil cut to the closest working cameras he had, which happened to be real close since he had dozens of eyes on the Grayson's since Nolan went rogue. 

        The tracked one wasn't alone. Hovering over his childhood home was Mark, Mark, Mark, and Mark, and a handful more Mark's. They were speaking so far from the nearest micro-mic the sensor could barely pick up the words.

        "--s taking him so lon-"

        "How is he late? He--  -teleport."

        "Stop whini--"

        You push off the wall. You'd been waiting. Watching. Hoping a handful of them would group up again and you could kill Mark over and over and over. All you could think about these last two days was Mark. His back toward you. How long it'd taken him to recognize you. The memory of meeting at your shitty job. The anger boiled you alive. Made you stupid enough to stay with the GDA and not move into a safe house. Though Cecil never suggested you did. Part of him hoped you could do something.

        Their conversation carried on. You moved to Cecil's side, pulling the dead guard's helmet over your head. "I'm going." Your tone leaves no room for argument.

        He should argue. You're barely a real adult. So much to live for. So easy to kill in a Viltrumite's hands. But he doesn't, because he knows you killed one of them, you could kill more. Rest and rage have fueled you with diesel and you're ready to light the match. 

        "Are you sure?" Donald turns from the screen, monitoring the Marks. "There's no guarantee we can get you out once we send you in." The teleporter was fixed for a few hours, but sending in all those re-animen for the bombing? Fucked it over again. The first few times they sent out Psychopomp, she was fine, but the last trip went bad. You vaguely heard she refused to go back out into the field. That the teleporter didn't work when it was supposed to, that she got hurt by one of them.

       But at least she found Caligula while running for her life. Fuzzball came bounding up to her, happy to run beside her. She was smug when she'd come back despite shaking and being paler than an eggshell. Caligula sometimes came to you for love, but it wasn't enough to heal the chasm that'd opened in your chest. You shooed him away, no love to give. Psychopomp took the role of mommy dearest.

        Fine by you. 

        You weren't actively suicidal, just angry. Spiteful. In your wildest dreams, you thought of people praising you for bravery. Cash prizes and a penthouse. Everyone knowing Mark didn't go to the final confrontation, but you had. He let you go alone so he could be sad at his girlfriend's bedside. 

        Then again, you didn't give two horse shits about saving the planet. You knew you wouldn't live to see glory and that was fine. You wouldn't know how to live with glory. To uphold a shiny new hero status. You were bad and couldn't conceive of any other way you could be. 

        "I'm sure." You tilt your head toward the teleporter, "Are you going to let me go or not?" 

        Cecil's scarred lip twitched. "It's a death sentence." His words weren't meant to convince you away. They were a warning label slapped down for legal reasons.

        "I know." You made your way to the teleporter. The men trailing behind you. 

        You look back at the screen. The Marks chatter on. You let the rifle rest on your knee while your hand goes to your pocket.

        "You should know drugs like that don't actually enhance powers." Cecil nods to your soldier pants where you'd stuff the last two bottles of codeine atop your phone, wallet, keys, other odds and ends. As if you'd need them where you were going. Old habits, they say.

        "They do for me." Your foot hovers over the teleporter edge.       

        "We've done extensive testing on drugs combined with powers. Enhancements are always from a placebo." Donald says, robo jaw clinking. 

         You don't want to believe him, but you do. Because the 'power-up' was never consistent. You drop the bottle back into your pocket. Just another thing you had hoped for that wasn't true. "Well, thanks for ruining the placebo."

        "Doesn't help anyone if you overdose," Cecil says gruffly.

        A wry smile ticks your lip under the gray-tinted visor. "You saying you believe in me?"

        "You're the last chance we've got, so I have to." He can't see but you roll your eyes.

        Your foot comes down on the teleporter platform. You turn to the tech running the thing, "Get me close enough to shoot but not close enough to immediately die." They nod. 

        "Hey!" Her voice cuts the room, the finality of the moment. Psychopomp weaves around Cecil and the techies. Right side of her supersuit torn away. Banadages wrapped tight around the stump that came a few inches off her shoulder. Entire arm gone. You hadn't noticed, so lost in your own head.

        "You said there'd be an investigation." She says before Cecil tells her to go lay down. The medical staff barely saved her life yesterday. 

        "I said I'd think about it." Cecil says, waving to a tech to get started on powering up the teleporter. 

        She snarls, rearing on you. "So what? You're just gonna leave on some suicide mission before telling me where my brother is? Like it'll make up for all the shit you've done? You a hero now?"

        You blink slowly at her. Unbothered because so much worse had happened these last days you couldn't bring yourself to care. Around you, the machine rattles and glows. 

        "Tell me!" She snaps. 

        "If he wasn't dead before, he's dead now." Not an admission, by any means, but enough for her to put the puzzle pieces together.

        Just before you're zapped away to your early grave, Cecil says, "Godspeed, kid."

        The light around you apexes. You can't see anymore. "Fuck you."

        You hear her voice, not letting you get the last word in, "No!"

        You're shoved backwards. A hand on your arm. Then you're both gone. Leaving Cecil to care for the cat, already winding around his legs.

        ***

        Back-first, you hit the pavement. Head cracking against the ground. Armor absorbing the blow. 

        Psychopomp peeled herself up wobbily on her one arm. Shoddy supersuit no match for the unpaved road.

        She's going to scream questions about her brother. Going to call their attention to you. You do what needs to be done-  crack the side of her head with the rifle's butt before she can even open her mouth. Her eyes roll back as she goes limp on top of you. You look to the sky and find nothing. Carefully, you slide out from under her and begin to walk that painfully memorable trip to the Grayson household.

        You'd recognized it immediately on the GDA screens. Remembered making out on Mark's bed. Dinner with his family. Texting him while you were in the same room, giggling about it.

        The world around you is ashes. Most of the fires already gone out, all the houses eaten up. You withhold a, "Jesus Christ." Keeping the gun's muzzle tight to your body. You wonder from where Cecil watches. 

        You peak around the corner of LeBolt Street and Green Drive. Sure enough, the last house on the left stands on its last white legs. Car gone from its driveway, making you remember Debbie. You liked her, hoped she wasn't dead even though her son was a prick. 

        Above the ruin, they wait. You can't hear their conversation. You count, one, two, three... eleven. Fucking eleven. You took down one because the others were distracted, but distracting ten to remove one? Seemed impossible. 

        You were afraid, not in the traditional 'oh shit I'm going to die' sense, because you had felt like that for the better part of five years and it was easy to tune out. The feeling that filled you was more final, a righteous 'I need to kill at least half these people before I go to hell'. You figured it was best to start small, experimental. You hide in charcoal rubble and fire a single blast into the curbside in front of your hiding spot. 

        "Oh great, somebody left a survivor." Mohawk bitched, "No wonder he won't come, he's too afraid someone else is gonna see his fucked up head."

        Some of them snicker, most don't.

        "I've got it." A voice says, "Gotta work out the kinks in my back still, think that kid actually knocked a disc loose."

        "Who cares, just do it." Someone snaps.

        He's at the curb in a flash. Falling on his haunches, flicking at the still smoking debris. His swim-capped head gleaming from the distant sun's glow. "Alright guy, come out. I've got worlds to take over and I really-"

       You dare not speak for fear of being heard even at a whisper. Your arm comes out, fingers beckoning. He'd been looking in your direction. Lazy smile playing on his lips before the control sunk it's claws in.

        He hobbles over and crouches in front of your hiding spot.

        Before, you'd have drunk codeine and given it the credit but now? Credit was given to the rage this place brought you. Walking around this very block, talking about nothing and everything. Hope for the future. Mark's back to you. 

        You point through the charcoal of the shuddered window you'd been hiding behind. His eyes follow, landing on Scars. Your finger goes to your throat, crossing it in a slow, deliberate line. Kill him.

        You wish there was a universal gesture for 'come back when you're done so I can tell you to murder these other freaks'  but there wasn't. Unless he knew ASL, which you highly doubted.        

        He blasts off the ground. The shudder falls and you barely duck out of the way before it could pin you to the ground. You find another hiding spot to watch from.

        Someone already murmuring, "Took you long enough," at his return.

        Knowing these freaks, they'd jump on Swimcap the second he attacked. He'd be the one who wound up dead. Sex offense poster boy would be a nice bonus. Then they'd come, searching for what drove Swimcap kill crazy. You'd use them to kill each other. Make the last one standing snap his own neck- if you got that far, if your power didn't drain.

        Scars opened his mouth, "I didn't hear a scr-" His teeth clacked shut on his tongue. Blood filling his mouth as he's shot a mile into the sky. You watch Swimcap shoot up after him. Your puppet got above Scars head before he could regain his bearings and balled his fists over his own head before bringing them down on Scars' chest. He came back down to Earth like a meteor, smashing the remnants of the house. Sending shockwaves through the busted neighborhood.

        Swimcap flew down, feet extended, aiming to sever Scars head from his neck. Scars catches him by the ankles, rolls, and slams Swimcap  facedown into the foundation of the house. "Fuck's wrong with you?" He doesn't wait for reply, climbing atop the other version of himself, letting fists rule. 

        The others lower in the sky, curious. 

        "You can't double cross me, I was going to double cross you." Scars snaps between blows.

        Swimcap finally regains his bearings, catching one fist then the other. Four teeth knocked out of his mouth, blood vessels burst in his eyes, the lenses of his cap broken. Scars catches the look in his eye, the glaze of control before a knee slams into his dick. Swimcap gets on top.

        You lean forward. Smiling like it was the best movie you'd ever seen.  

        A fist is raised. Then grabbed by a red glove.

        "We're supposed to be working together, not killing each other." Omni-Mark says. 

        Scars sneers, "Like we weren't going to turn on each other at some point."

        Swimcap brings his free fist down. Snapping Scars head to the side. 

        "Stop it." Omni-Mark says, "Or I'll be forced to act on the aggressor."

        "I can handle this myself!" Scars hands come up to either side of Swimcap's head. "He just surprised me!" The muscles in his arms bulge, veins on his hands pulsing as he presses and presses and presses. Swimcap's jaw ticks, goes unnaturally to the side, eyes go redder, bleeding tears before they pop out, dangling on his cheeks. Then the top of his head pops up, brains squirting up in a pressurized blast. Chunks landing on the front of Omni-Mark's suit, much to his distaste.

       Scars shoves the body off, not minding the blood. Omni-Mark lets his limp wrist fall, holds out his newly freed hand to help Scars up. He slaps it away. "Didn't need your fucking help."

        "Really?" Mohawk's scratchy voice calls down, "Cuz it sure looked like you needed it to me!"

        "Shut up." Scars says.

        Together, the landed pair rejoin the group in the air. 

        "Any idea why he did that?" One of them asks.

        Looks and shrugs are shared. "Guy blew his load too early, I guess." Mohawk says. A minute passes. He speaks again, "Seriously, what's taking that guy so long?"

        "This would pass a lot faster if you'd shut up," Emperor says.

        "He knows he can't deliver on his promises anymore." The bald one looks from version of himself to version of himself. "He's scared shitless."

        "No way he can't deliver me more universes." Scars spits. 

        "Don't act like you weren't losing your shit when she died." Mohawk jerks in the air. Tense all over. Waiting for someone to come at him so he could hit something hard as he could.

        "I think it was fitting." Scars tone is all confident sarcasm, but he won't look at anybody. "Bitch deserved it."

        Two of them look at each other. A Mark in his old blue-yellow uniform, no mask. The other in what looked like a tracksuit with a fluttering mask covering his face. Puzzlement crossed between them.

        Mohawk was on him, fists twisted in the bottom of Scars mask. "I was gonna kill you eventually, but I think now's a great fuckin' t-"

        "Dregs! Dregs, you bitch! Where the fuck are you!?" Screeches through the neighborhood's exposed bones. So many of them go rigor mortis stiff. Then the sound comes again, "(Y/n)! I know you're here!"

        You peek out of your hiding spot. See Psychopomp shambling down the street where you'd popped into existence. Blood streaked down her pallid forehead. A snarl on her thin lips. 

        She's stupid. You think. She's suicidal. You think. She wants to get me killed.

        She throws her head back, "Come out!"

        Phantom is the first on top of her. Grappling her hard by the shoulder and stub. "(Y/n)? You said (Y/n)? You said (Y/n) is here?" Desperation pierces through the modulator. That of someone teetering on the edge of an endless chasm. 

        "Who-" She tries to slap his hands off and finds she can't. She switches gears, fighting not an option. She'd already seen what happened back in New York with the other contingencies. Remembered just who had ripped her arms off before Mercy healed them. Her voice held a quiver, "Yes, did you see her?" 

        "Obviously not." Emperor lands beside her. "You said she's present?"

        "We came together." Psychopomp breathes out. A nervous sweat shone on her cheeks, like she finally realized what she was doing. "Knocked me out and left."

        Jesus Christ, she'd switch sides if it meant getting at you.

        Lensless is next to touch down. "Uh, I saw those bombs go off like, right in her face. She's dead. You just know you can't escape without us catching you. I mean, shit, I'd do the same thing but-"

        In goes a breath, out comes a hateful scream, "Dregs!"

        You don't budge. She ruined everything on purpose. Most of the Marks had come from above the house to swarm around her. Only three remain above the house, impassively watching. The maskless one, the tracksuit wearer, the white-clad warrior. Eyes in the sky. If you even put a finger out of your hiding spot, they'd see. It was best to stay put, make her look crazy, let her die, then resume the plan.

        Except Phantom had sensors in his lenses. A sensor he used to scan the area, quickly picking out the outline of your crouched form behind a wall. He was on you. Tearing off the GDA helmet before you could attempt to shove him off. 

        It was you. Oh God, it was really you.

        The helmet falls out of his hands. He hugs you quick, almost imperceptibly so, before the other versions of himself round the corner with Psychopomp in tow. 

        "Stay where you are." The command is for them, not her, as if it'd work anyway. You had no idea how long they'd hold. You're not coming off Narcan so probably more than a millisecond. No longer than forty-five seconds at best.

         You dip down, snatching the helmet, pulling it back on over your head. But they'd all seen. The helmet was a matter of protection and anonymity of emotion. Protection that'd do little against them but still, it was something.

        The collective paused. Marks stiff, most of them anyway. A few seem unaffected, just waiting to see what would happen. Blood is already starting to pool at the top of your nasal passage.

         Psychopomp prowls closer, stopping when she sees a gun the size of her thigh cradled in your arms.

        "Where is Digby?" She demands. Ah, the whereabouts of her heroine skinny brother. That old chestnut.

        You watch the Marks for signs of a cracking hold. Look at Psycopomp, pale with yesterday's bloodloss. And run. 

        You can't deal with all of them at once. This was a one-by-one operation. You needed, "Cecil!" To get you the fuck out of dodge. You needed to regroup. Come back later. Not have Psychopomp fucking ruin everything.

        But the teleporter light doesn't consume you. You are not saved.

        You are grabbed from behind almost soon as your legs started pumping. Arms tight around your midsection. Pulpy eyehole pressing to the side of your visor.

        "Jeez, you're slow." Lensless says.

        "Let go."

        He does. But your control on the others had gone. They could converge on you whenever they wanted and "Cecil, God damn it," won't, "help me!"

        Help doesn't come. Rescue doesn't come. 

        Scars laughs, wiping bloodstains off his suit to little avail, "You're on your own. He never comes if it means his own neck." Just like Cecil had warned.

        Psychopomp moves through their ranks. Not accepted in, but so insignificant there'd be no point in killing her. They all had to wait for Angstrom anyways. 

        "Where is he, Dregs?"

        You're on your own unless you convince her to work with you. "Last our guys saw, he fell into the lava pits when Invincible fought Doc Seismic." You lie through your teeth. The first thing you could think of while tying in Invincible. 

        "Bullshit!" She calls. The Marks frame her back. Watching. Curious about you, your life, your enemies, your petty human squabbles. "He couldn't be in Washington, he couldn't drive."

        Crossed arms tensed over a red-white chest. "Keep speaking to my wife like that and your other arm is gone." 

        Psychopomp looks. Visabily shaking at the Omni-Man impersonator's presence. 

        You ignore him. "Machine Head sent him to do mule work there to pay off his debts." You go on, rolling with the story. "Best not to tell you so you couldn't bail him out again." 

        Her eye twitched. "I was the last person who saw him alive in New York, Dregs. Don't lie after you said that cryptic shit at the GDA. Don't I deserve to know- don't you still care about me a little bit?"

        No, but you don't say that. Instead, you pivot, "If those motherfuckers behind you don't die right now there'll be no justice system to help you find out what happened."

        Mohawk cackles, "Hah! That's so code for she killed that guy!"

        "Is it?" Psycopomp asks. 

        "Don't listen to them." You insist, fingers tightening around the pulse rifle. "They destroyed the planet, Psych. Don't be stupid. Work with me here."

         "If the planet's already destroyed, how is she going to take you to court? 'S better if you just get revenge right now." Scars grins. Knowing exactly what buttons he's pushing. 

        You have to tell the truth. Make her so blind with hatred that waiting years for supe-prisons to be rebuilt just for you to rot didn't even seem like an option.

        "Alright, fine." Your breaths come short and humid under the visitor. You're not sure you should be saying this. Before it'd definitely get you killed for sharing confidential business information, but Machine Head was out of the picture so who was going to punish you- God? "Digby's somewhere in the Colorado River." At that, her face falls, a single tear slipping hot down her cheek. His death had always been a suspicion, no evidence, no confirmation. No CCTV. Nothing. All set up by Machine Head's men. But now it was confirmed, after two years of searching, wondering. 

        "So he's..."

        "Dead, yes."

        "And you..."

        The sorrow is morphing, unstable, but in a state so fresh and raw you could mold it to your advantage. The only card you had left to play. "I had to. You know how our line of work is. If you want to kill me, I get it but if you want the actual privilege of doing me in yourself- help me deal with these assholes first." You knew the undead civilians would do nothing to them, but a minor distraction was the best thing you could pull out of this situation she'd forced you both into.

        She blinked. Tears coming faster, faster. "You..."

        You see one of their fingers twitch, wondering when he should step in. 

        "You can't kill me if they do first, Michelle." Her name is a slap to the face. Only passed about in private, such as your apartment air mattress. Anger reddens her. She's shaking her head, mentally trying to ward off your manipulation. Hands are flexing now. 

        "Kill you? What? No, babe, I'm here to take you home." Mohawk says loud and clear for all to hear. Taking a mallet to your plans.

        "He's lying." You say. "You saw that one," you nod toward Emperor Shoulder Pads, "had me by the throat. He's trying to trick you." Except you didn't think he was. 

        "You made me do it." Shoulder Pads replies. "But I wasn't going to k-"

        "Shut your mouth." You turn back to Psychopomp, desperate, "These people are not our allies or enemies of an enemy. They are going to finish the job and kill us both if you don't do something." 

        And Psychopomp saw right through your flimsy manipulation. "You're scared of what I'm going to do to you."

        She wasn't listening. You had to go in, hard, unnecessarily brutally honest. Full-on nuclear blast.

        "I didn't have to tell him to kneel." You say, telling the truth to her for once, "He knew he was screwed. You knew how deep in debt he was to Machine Head, but you just kept letting him use. Telling yourself he'd quit before he overdosed. He knew he'd never be able pay and never be able to stop." Her hands come up and start to glow. You hoped those zombies would be pointed anywhere but at you. "He wanted to die. He knew he couldn't give his daughter a good life and knew Shelly was too religious to abort."

        "Shelly-" She says, dimly remembering his brother's girlfriend. Remembering she hadn't seen her in years. The last time she saw her was with Digby. For awhile she blamed Shelly, then there was you. Machine Head. A tip from a friend. "-Was pregnant?"

        "Oh shit." One of them says. You don't look to see who.

        "Five months." You supply. "She didn't want to die but she walked in, couldn't be helped."

        "You killed my niece?" It was more a question than a statement.

        "Machine Head would've killed me if I hadn't, Michelle."

        "You killed my brother!" Her fingers curl, as if sucked in by the light vortexes of power in her palm. "My family!" The only she had left.

        Mouths twist into smiles and horrified frowns at your cruelty. 

        You don't know where to aim the pulse rifle. At them or her. "You can kill me when this is over. Fuck, throw me in the slammer even."

        "I don't give a shit about justice!" The houses around you stir with dead residents coming to life, "I'm going to fucking kill you- now!"

        "Listen!" You were losing control of the situation. Once the action started, you weren't sure you'd be able to escape. 

        "No! Jail isn't enough! I've seen what you can do. I've been there to see the kinda shit you make people do. There is something wrong with you, and you just need to die." She can't stop crying.

        The first of the undead shamble out of their broken homes. They aren't slow. On you in what feels like moments. You're forced to turn to fire green blasts into their heads. Stepping out of the way of their still reaching hands when they fall. 

        "God- Jesus- Damn it." You elbow, pistol whip, kick, and shoot at the growing horde but it's too much. You'll be overwhelmed soon. "Stop being stupid. They'll kill you." 

        They look like they will. Phantom surges forward to save you but is grabbed by the ankle by Scars.

        "I want to see this." He says.

        Phantom forces himself still. He must not reveal how deeply you'd infected him. So he watches, waiting for things to be dire enough to actually justify jumping in. As do the others, who felt that tickle of desire to play hero. 

        Some, Mohawk, Scars, Lesnless, watch because it's so nice seeing you kill. There were other approving glances, but so quiet and unnoticeable you didn't catch them in your panic.

        "I don't care! I don't fucking care!" The buzzed hair atop her scalp seems to bristle at the sight of you still living. Her palm glows brighter, extending her reach much as she can with the bloodloss. "Die! Just die!"

        No amount of coaxing will do it. You made a bet and lost. You had to take whatever winnings you could still scrap.

        You let decrepit hands hit the body armor. Forcing yourself through the crowd of gored families. Whacking heads and shoulders to make a clear lane for you to aim- and fire. The first shot is taken by a women with no eyes. She goes down. More zombies surge to block your shots. 

        The Marks twitch with nervous energy. Thinking of jumping in, but uneasy to show their weakness for you in front of the others. Deciding if you're not out in ten more seconds, they'll do something.

        You take a breath, steadying as your line of sight crowded with the dead. Their teeth gnawing at your arms and ankles. Weak fists at your back. And shot, once, twice, thrice through the bodies until the fourth blast goes through Michelle's head. Spitting her face from the top of her lip to her buzzcut. 

        Michelle hits the ground. Brains splattering on the pavement. Her minion's grip and teeth loosen. 

        Arms scoop under your knees, support your back faster than you can breathe. Taking off before you can think to scream. Shooting toward the clouds. The rifle falling out of your hands.

        He couldn't take it anymore. Seeing you covered in blood. Seeing you holding that weapon. You weren't supposed to be like that. Supposed to look like that.

        "I thought I lost you." You feel the rumble of his chest. Black and blue carbon fiber suit rubbing against your body armor. You have to force your head up against the sudden G-force. Mask covering all but the horror and relief in his tone. You can see the shell of your mask reflected back in those blue lenses. 

        You don't think just speak, "Let me go."

        He does. Involuntarily. Mortified that he did. Unmoving, waiting for your next command but you drop so fast, scream so loud, it never comes. He watches as you plummet five-thousand feet.

        "Catch me! Catch me now!" No one could hear you over the whistling of the wind. 

        All that fighting. Days of angsting, building up their deaths in your head. Only to kill one, then yourself on accident. Way to go, idiot.

        You see a white flash. Feel yourself stop. Your body jerks against the suddenness. Head snapping back, whacking against a solid arm. You are gone, nothing but black swimming unconsciousness. 

        "She's fine." You hear him say, Mark for sure, but in a tone you hadn't come to know. "To my understanding, humans can not withstand sudden changes in atmosphere."

        "Let me see! I wanna see if she's still breathing." Mohawk, definitely. "Hey, dickhead! You almost fuckin' killed her! You happy up there!? Yeah, you better stay away from me, pussy."

        "She is." The new Mark says evenly. 

        Another comes to volley. "We should get back to the rendezvous." 

        Green light penetrates past your closed eyes. Making them twitch and flutter open just in time to see him step into existence. Red lights screwed into his supermassive brain. Metal welded to his body. Power pooling at his feet, sustaining himself in the air. "No need." Eyes, one brown, the other milky with blindness, slide to you, "The location doesn't so much matter, as long as we have the guest of honor."

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

There is something so captivating and sorrowful about the Dynasty lore book that I honestly think makes it one of my most cherished lore books.

My Witness project is being discussed in a few days (my stomach just dissolved itself at that thought what) and for this project, I’ve collected thoughts on how species that use the darkness to form their spiritual beliefs (Psions and Qugu specifically) have similarities to spiritual beliefs often found in the Caribbean and in South America (with discussions over matters like spiritual substance use with ayahuasca (Qugu), ancestral veneration and communication from Western African practices (Both), and the suppression of panentheistic/pantheistic and harmonizing thought (Psion)). The Qugu have been such a comfort to me for a while now and whenever I think about their fate in Dynasty, I am filled with such a sense of anguish and mourning.

The unfolding of the events in the lore book is just plain devastating to read; seeing Te’Qal’s absolute best efforts to save their people not be enough to stop the Hive and the Witness speaks on something I think is underdeveloped in Destiny.

We hear so much about the annihilation of countless star systems at the hands of the Hive and Black Fleets, but often, due to the information coming from beings who lead those fleets or people reflecting back on their escape, the sheer scope and emotional impact of these losses is not captured in a way that is truthful to the matter.

Dynasty’s narrative following Te’Qal and the Qugu people changes this trend and it makes the extermination of the Qugu people all that more impactful.

It starts off with familiarizing readers with how the Qugu came to be; how they developed their spiritual beliefs and their way of life. It’s delicious world building (which I always love from Destiny writers), but it also establishes just how much will be ripped away and snuffed out by Savathûn, Oryx, and the Witness.

Te’Qal is a competent, determined Warden who vows to do nothing but their best to defend Seht, both before and after they understood their vision of the fall of the Qugu. They were well trained and the various descriptions of their armada’s defenses provides evidence of them being a masterful tactician. In fact, Dynasty even admits that on the basis of skill, the Qugu were beyond the Hive, who were winning off of their brute force and numbers (“When evenly matched in numbers, Te'Qal's superior tactics pick the Hive forces apart” - Dynasty)

Te’Qal is relentless in their desire to preserve their people, their beliefs, their home. They sacrifice their well-being to offer hope to the Qugu people during a hopeless time, pushing their body and mind beyond its limits to keep themselves alert enough to lead ark ships and give speeches to bolster morale.

Te’Qal did everything they could and it wasn’t enough and I don’t think there is anything more devastating than that.

To have hope against intentionally-made hopeless, only for it to not be enough to save your people?

What a defeating, soul crushing, utter helpless feeling.

Destiny tells us that hope is worth having and it will lead to you defeating impossible odds, but as shown in Dynasty, hope is also a tireless thing that sometimes doesn’t pay off fast enough to save everyone.

Te’Qal’s determination to not just give into the Black Fleet and the Hive, their determination to let their hope go out loudly instead of fizzling into nothing, lead to them destroying a pyramid with their final stand and thwarting countless hive vessels that were in their star system.

Their final stand left a mark on the universe and set the Hive and Witness back, even if it was momentarily, but that still wasn’t enough to save their people.

However, I think the cruelest part of it all is how the Hive and the Witness refer to the extinguishing of the Qugu; how everything Te’Qal held dear and fought til the very end for was meaningless to them.

Oryx, in the Book of Sorrows, speaks of the Qugu in such a disgusting way, completely minimizing them as sentient beings and acting as if ridding them from existence was a noble act of “liberation”.

“Savathûn and her broods have liberated the Qugu from jaw-beasts, and indeed from existence…I know more joy and more anguish than the entire Qugu race could ever experience… Joy that we have put down these blights. Scoured them away and left the universe clean, ready to move towards its final shape. “ - Oryx, Verse 3:3, “Fire Without Fuel”, Book of Sorrows

Part of his view of the Qugu as lesser is their veneration of Jaw Beasts and their ability to receive visions, saying “For millions of years of evolution the Qugu have been infected by a virus so insidious that it wrote itself into their genome…They venerate these beasts and treat them as gods”.

He says the relationship between the Qugu and Jaw Beast is “insidious” and there is a tone of condescension when talking of their spirituality. Oryx sees Qugu spirituality as a blight and burden, but if it truly was so, then the Qugu wouldn’t have spent so much effort in preserving the land around their “mountain” for their ark ships. To the Qugu, there could be no new home for them unless their beliefs came with them.

The ancestral visions Te’Qal receives are so heart wrenching and beautiful, and when they are at their lowest, when all efforts seemed futile, they wanted nothing more than to drink the nectar and receive those visions. They speak to their Te’Dura for support and it is by remembering all who came before them as well as their capabilities that Te’Qal finds the strength to prove that the Qugu not only existed, but existed proudly ("Not because you forget, but because you have been hopeless before." Te'Dura rears into a taller posture. "There is victory in that darkness. A kind. Find it." - Dynasty)

The Qugu and their belief in the power of the darkness were intertwined, making it a key part of their identity. It gave them meaning, it guided them to become more than what they could be alone, and yet, in the eyes of the Witness, it didn’t mean anything at all compared to its belief in the Final Shape.

“Far distant, there is a people lacing ribbons of Darkness through their thoughts to bring them closer together, that no one might be divided from the purpose they have dreamed for themselves. But they have not come to Darkness through the Gardener's neglect — it is simply their natural course. In time, we shall enfold them into our shape, but they need not urgent salvation…Some resist the rampaging Hive, crying out into the Darkness. It is to us they reach, in the end. We hear their pleas and grant them succor, salvation, enshrining them in our monument. Toward our inevitable final shape.” - The Witness, “Cacophony, Euphony.”, Destiny Grimoire Anthology, Vol. VII: Penumbra

“The purpose they have dreamed for themselves” was not a respectable purpose to the Witness for it wasn’t the purpose it wanted to enact upon them. The Qugu are not specifically mentioned, but they fit the description of the darkness species mentioned.

The Witness saw the “waywardness” of the Qugu as a problem to be solved, something that had to be corrected to give them a proper place in their vision for the universe, and though the Qugu never asked for anything more than safety and the ability to keep their connection to their ancestral lines, the Witness forcefully responded by sweeping up every memory of the Qugu people into an echo, extinguishing them and turning a cacophony of expression into a euphony it found fitting.

It was never once mentioned that the Qugu ever knew about the light or Traveler, yet they were still treated to ruinous assault for the crime of crafting their own meaning out of a power granted by the Witness’ pyramid; a pyramid they had revered as a mountain and watched turn on them in their moment of need.

Even when Te’Qal and all the ancestors they drew power from showed that they wouldn’t let their sacred mountain become a cursed pyramid without a fight and that they were willing to do the ultimate sacrifice to refute the corruption of what they exalted, the Witness still forced them to accept it’s “salvation”.

That is cruelty beyond imagination and no justification the Witness could ever offer or belief in its righteousness would erase what it did to the Qugu.

The Art of Symbiosis entry from the Inspiral lore book is one I have read again and again and again. To be completely vulnerable, it is an entry that has elevated me from the depths of gripping grief time and time again. I actually have the entry printed so that I may reach over and read it when I need my resolve strengthened.

It’s a bit strange to feel this way towards an entry, I know, but The Art of Symbiosis and it’s Qugu narrator offered assurance to me that the beliefs I held that gave me meaning, that allowed me to move on from scorning a universe I didn’t truly believe in, weren’t as “meaningless” and “distant from the truth” as others made me think.

The way the Qugu speak of those who have passed is just so consoling and it reminds me that the person I’m doing this project for mattered as much in death as they did in life. They may be no more, but I still am, and there is meaning in wanting to create an impact on a finite world that will show that people like them existed, and that existence mattered. There is meaning in being perfectly fine with a finite existence because you don’t need your lost loved ones to be eternal and “perfected” to matter to you.

I don’t want people to think of people like them the way Oryx and the Witness thought of the Qugu. I’ll do everything I can to ensure it isn’t that way and I thank the writers for giving the Qugu a voice beyond the one in the Book of Sorrows years ago to remind me of why I feel so strongly towards this matter.

I’m doing this project for them like Te’Qal did it for Seht, and though my efforts and hope may not win now, I hold onto the idea that this tirelessness will help those who come after me win in ways my lost loved one couldn’t have imagined.

[twilightsumu]

Episode #3: The Sun Always Shines on T.V | tlou k. nanami au

Summary: The Nanamis’ and Yuji are falling into familial bliss - a game is played where Yuji and Nanami realize they both hope for the same thing. Later on when a shocking discovery rocks Nanami’s core, he realizes that their hope may just be feasible, but at the expense of Yuji and of his wife’s growing love for the young boy. 

Genre/Warnings: tlou au, post-apocalyptic setting, discussions of infection and virus outbreaks, emotional distress (guilt, fear, anger, grief), heavy themes of loss and survival, death, violence, some suggestive act goes on (mdni), talks of pregnancy, some cursing, depictions of violence done on a child, talks of blood, talks of vomiting. 

Director’s Note: What a chapter! This chapter was a lot and I fear that every chapter after is going to BE A LOT. I just love these little characters so much. Thank you for reading - your comments, likes, and reblogs mean so much to me. Can you tell that I work with children, haha? I wanted to make sure Yuji’s child-like wonder spoke to you through these words. 

Keep an eye out for a possible extra :)

Word Count: 9.1K+

The light coming in from the windows behind them almost makes them look ethereal. Soft. The orangery hues of the sunset highlights the boy’s pink hair, creating our own personalized sunset in the living room of our shabby village offered apartment. The halo of light contrasting with the glow of laughter emitting from her eyes. 

She’s sitting across from me at the dining table, something I’m still not completely used to. I miss the slight brush of our arms whenever it was just us two and I was passing the salt over. Or the way I could just bring her chair closer if I felt she was too far, she usually wasn’t. Yuji is sitting to the right of her. Both of them laughing at something that happened during their day - a shared memory they’re now allowing me to join. A little sliver of their own world. 

This is the twenty-third dinner with Yuji. There are remnants of a world that is so loud compared to our world, just for us two. It is splattered around our apartment; an extra toothbrush in the bathroom (and toothpaste all over the sink after he’s done), children's books and graphic novels scattered around the library table, and paint colors - really just smears of dirt and water - cover ripped out coloring pages on our beaten-up fridge. He never did leave. And watching them from then to now, I don’t believe she would’ve let him. And me, I’ve always had trouble saying no to her.

No one questioned the new addition to our home. No one seemed to care. This pink haired boy and his litter of questions behind him were able to fit in. No lingering glances. No memories dragged back to the failing south side fence. Just him, as my wife’s shadow. 

“Mr. Nanami?” Two pairs of eyes on me, one pair that I could get lost in for the rest of my life and another pair that questions me and I question back. 

“Yuji?” I questioned back. 

“Me and Mrs. Nan-,” 

“Mrs. Nanami and I,” she corrects him. Her voice is soft and calming. 

“Right, Mrs. Nanami and I came up with a game.” Yuji tries to hide the embarrassment from his voice from getting corrected - the tint of pink on his cheeks didn’t get the memo. “Actually, Mrs. Nanami came up with it and I liked it.” 

“It’s okay, Yuji!” She smiles. “You could take credit. I don’t think I would’ve thought of the game without you.” Yuji smiles back at her, big and bright. I swallow down that little bout of jealousy that crawls at the back of my throat when I realize just how much of a world they created. Just for them, just theirs. My invitation somehow got lost in the mail. 

“What’s the game?”

“I haven’t thought of a name yet,” she grins and my heart lunges. I feel a grin creeping onto my face too. “…but basically every night at dinner, we’ll go around and everyone will tell us something good and bad that happened during their day. And-“ 

“Don’t we do that now? When we ask how everyone’s day was?” I wondered.

“Mr. Nanami, there’s more!” Yuji bellows, earning a chuckle from my wife. Her hand reaches out to his arm that wants to excitedly pump into the air. Something I’ve noticed he does often. 

“I’m not done, Ken,” she hums. 

“Sorry, love.” I mumble, feeling the tips of my ears getting warm. 

“Okay, so we’ll tell everyone something good and bad that happened during our days. And then we’ll finish it off with a hope that we have. Make your hope be as silly - or in your case,” she pauses and points at me, the sunlight catching the gold of her wedding ring perfectly, “as serious as you want it to be.” 

I roll my eyes at her dig, hiding the chuckle that wants to escape. 

“High, low, hopeful.” Yuji hums, more to himself.

“High, low, hope,” I drawl. 

Yuji’s wide eyes meet mine, and for the first time since he came here, I see the same expression in his gaze that I see in my wife’s.

He nods so hard I’m afraid he’s going to give himself a headache before we even start the game. But I can’t stop the smile spreading on my face - Yuji’s widens as mine grows.

“Perfect name, boys!” She yelps, her hand reaching to give his pink hair a ruffle. Her eyes find mine, the most beautiful smile etched on her lips. “I’ll go first!” 

“Can I go last?”

“You’re okay going after me, Kenny?” She nods to Yuji before looking at me for my answer.

“Fine with me.” 

“My high would be…” There’s a sweet smile on her face, like she’s reminiscing on a beautiful day. “That Ken did not wake me up before I was supposed to be up.”

A laugh escapes my throat so abruptly that it surprises me, and she laughs too. Our laughs weave together like a basket of our love. I think back on the petty arguments we used to have whenever I couldn’t resist waking her before I left for work. Just to give her one more kiss. Just to see one more smile.

After we calm down, I catch Yuji staring at us. His chin rests in his (my) hoodie-covered hands, his eyes flitting between my wife next to him and me on the opposite side of the table, like he’s studying our movements, trying to learn our rhythm so he can join in on the jokes from our life. The way I catch myself doing with theirs.

“My low would probably have to be that I finished my favorite book earlier,” she hums. I remember seeing A Grief Observed tucked on her side of the shelf.

“For the hundredth time,” I tease. From the corner of my eye, I catch Yuji watching the exchange - his gaze moving from the side of her face to the front of mine.

“It’s a good book!” she shrugs.

“Anyways, I am hoping that, with some special force in the universe, my beautiful, sweet, kind husband might possibly smuggle more chocolate for our new friend and me.” She wiggles her eyebrows and nudges Yuji’s side with her elbow, making him giggle. “Your turn, Mr. Kento Nanami,” she declares, bowing her head in faux regality.

“I’ll see what I can do, my lady,” I play along, sending her a wink.

“My high today would be that I didn’t trip on Yuji’s shoes when I walked in.” I shoot a fake stern look his way, and the laugh he lets out vibrates the empty dishes on the table.

“I’ve been trying my best, Mr. Nanami,” he says bashfully, laughter still in his voice.

“It’s okay. I’ve learned to jump over them when you forget.” I make sure to send him a smile.

“Thank goodness,” my wife mutters, rolling her eyes. “Yuji, if this old man trips on your shoes again, he may just break his hip.” She throws her hands up dramatically while Yuji throws his head back in stomach-aching laughter.

I almost wish I had a camera to capture this. Proof of their tiny world, with me still lingering at the edges.

“My low would be my wife calling me an old man.”

“Are you like, super old?” Yuji asks genuinely, and now it’s my wife who’s doubled over in laughter.

I roll my eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at my mouth.

“I’m not old,” I huff. “She’s only a couple of months younger. So if I’m old, then so is she.”

She sticks her tongue out at me.

“Hope! Chop chop, Ken!”

“My hope would be…” I debate going the playful route. But then the weight of work climbs up my spine and settles there. This always happens, the loud reminder in my bones that we aren’t living in regular times. “For a cure to be found.”

There’s a stillness in the air. One I immediately regret bringing in.

“Mr. Nanami?” Yuji’s voice is small and uncertain. A strange tightness tugs in my chest. His voice is child-like, but something in it feels older than it should. “What do you need for a…” he looks up at the ceiling. I glance at my wife - her smile has turned confused. “...a cure?”

“We don’t know,” I murmured. His eyes are everywhere but our faces. “I don’t think we’ll know until we meet people who can fight the infection on their own.”

“What does tha-”

“Yuji,” my wife interrupts, her voice soft but firm. “Why don’t you do your high, low, and hope? We don’t need to get into a science talk at the table.”

She sends me a look, and I rub my hands down my thighs.

“My high is that I found a copy of a book I used to read all the time before I lost it!” Yuji’s voice immediately bounces back to his usual tone - light and full of wonder.

“How fun!” she exclaims, her excitement mirroring his.

“My low is that the last page is missing and I don’t remember how it goes,” he pouts.

“What book?” I ask.

“Oh, The Places You’ll Go.”

“Oh,” my wife shifts in her seat like she’s preparing to perform.

“‘Your mountain is waiting. So… get on your way.’”

We both watch her in awe. Yuji smiles softly, and I feel one spreading across my own face.

“What?” she asks bashfully, her eyes bouncing from Yuji to me. “It’s a great book,” she mumbles, shoulders lifted in a shy shrug.

“We’ve got a librarian in the house,” I say to Yuji.

“Shut up,” she rolls her eyes. “Your hope, Yuji?”

“My hope…” Yuji looks down at the hoodie sleeves pooled around his small hands. “For a cure to be found.”

His eyes meet mine, and in that tiny shift, I feel it - that click. Like we’ve built our own little world now, too.

-

Journal Entry #456

Takuma Ino, average built, dark hair, friend, lower level lab assistant 

On a hunt, an infected was crawling in the long weeds - near the south side entrance. Ino didn't notice - no one else on the hunt didn't either.

Ino was bit near his left ankle, 

Infected was neutralized on the spot by Suguru Geto

Ino was taken immediately back to the lab where he is now being watched for signs of infection. 

No other reaction besides being afraid. 

Has asked if I could be the one to ‘finish’ him off when the infection overtakes him

1-6 Hours Since Bite:

Regular breathing patterns 

Fear - not talking much

Bloodshot eyes (could be because lighting - super bright)

Ino was offered food (rice, toast, tea, and fruit - strawberries) 

He does not have an appetite. 

Movements are regular, he is able to walk around the closed off room. No ultra quick movements happening

Also aware of bite, keeps looking at the bitten area

Listens to directions - able to place fingers where we tell him (nose, cheeks, stomach) 

Slight shoulder tremble (the left) - I believe it is because of fear. 

The area around the bite hasn't shown any signs of swelling, only the area where contact was met. 

No sign of tiredness

8-12 Hours Since Bite:

Eyes are even more bloodshot.

Ino has no desire to eat nor drink water. 

Trembling in his left shoulder is more persistent, harder. Right shoulder has started trembling as well. (Not from fear)

Hands are fidgety, left hand is rubbing the right hard - his fingers getting caught together because of how quickly he's rubbing them together. 

Area near the left ankle (bitten area) is red, braised, and slightly oozing a yellow substance. 

Mood has drastically changed - no longer fearful. Angry and short. 

Sweating profusely 

Movements around the room are fast, without any rhythm to them.  

Still able to communicate - knows who is talking to him and what we are talking about 

Still could follow directions given to him, however it is done sloppily

Has not slept yet

14-20 Hours Since Bite:

The swelling of the bite has spread, already reaching up to the middle of his calf. (Puss is a fragrant yellow, the bite area is a maroon red, like dried blood)

Ino still has not ate - no interest whatsoever. He was offered more toast, tea, strawberries, and chocolate. 

Still sweating profusely 

Super disoriented 

Suguru Geto entered the room to check vitals - Ino shielded himself away. Retracting into the corner. 

Geto was not allowed to get the vitals 

No sleeping yet

24-30 Hours Since Bite:

He has started slightly humming - to no rhythm just a low hum coming from the back of his throat

When asked about humming - he isn’t aware of it. However, he does not stop when we question it

Eyes are erratically moving - eyes quickly move from in side of the room to the other before narrowing down on one spot before quickly averting to something else

Communication has ceased - he understands what we are saying and would comply but he isn’t talking back. 

Hasn’t said a world since the 25th hour mark. 

Will only comply with things that Kento Nanami (me) says through the microphones. 

Does not react to other lab assistants

Sight of food enraged him - was offered the same food as before and furiously threw to the side

Skin had taken on a yellow/jaundice coloring. 

Lips are pale 

Eyes are cloudy and pupils are overblown - and his eyes are still bloodshot 

Hands can’t stay still, pulling at his hair, running along his legs, arms, anything he could touch on his body.  

48 Hours Since Bite: 

Ino Subject is no longer a reliable source of data

Subject has stopped responding to any stimuli.

The hum has gotten louder - like a swarm of bees erupting from his chest 

Subject’s entire left leg has swelled, yellow puss is leaking from pores, thick crimson veins are scattered from the bite up to his groin. 

Very sensitive to sound - screeches or bare teeth when a sound passes into his threshold. (Sounds as quiet as whispers from lab assistants passing by subjects room)

At any slight movement or sound - subject is ready to attack (pounces on walls, the door, the humming intensifies)

No form of life in eyes - very clouded, vacant look. 

Subject was neutralized by me and buried past the South Gate entrance. 

-

Ino’s hat is in my back pocket, a revolver in the waistband of my jeans, my journal tucked in my arms, and tiredness rattling the inside of my bones.

My wife is walking next to me, our hands together - mine holding on a little tighter. Yuji is a few beats ahead of us, kicking rocks as he walks. Every couple of steps, he steps into a light cloud of dust.

The sun is setting. The usual orangey skies are grayish, storm clouds rolling in and making the sky look almost ominous. Like it’s going to swallow us whole and not let us out. A few shops on the south side of the village are still open - their lights elongating our shadows, lighting up the path to the gray sky.

I’m so deep in thought that I don’t even notice we’re steps away from the gate. It looks even more shoddy in the nightfall - the fence around it is misshapen, and on the left, I can make out the little opening where Yuji must’ve been sneaking in. An opening so small to my frame, I can’t imagine how he maneuvered through without causing a ruckus… or even getting hurt in the process.

Help yourself help others, is scribbled on the failing fence. I almost want to scoff out loud now when reading the motto that is forced down our throats. I quickly avert my eyes back to Yuji’s opening. 

Since the lab assistants and I do regular patrols around this area beyond the gate, I assume that’s why it’s not as well maintained as the north side. Still, three days ago being a prime example - we’ve seen an influx of straggler-type infected laying low here. I’m surprised Yuji made it out on his own.

“You okay?” she asks, head tilted up to meet my face. Her hand is so warm, so soft in mine. It makes me forget about the three days at the lab. It almost makes me forget about losing a friend - no, a coworker.

I shrug, feeling more tired than anything. I reach in my back pocket, and the feeling of Ino’s hat makes my chest hurt a little. The sun is almost fully down now, the moonlight peeking through the storm clouds. If I train my ears, I can hear the low rumble of thunder rolling in.

“Mrs. Nanami!” Yuji yells, waving his hand in the air to get her attention. He’s standing a little ways away from us, the graying sky behind him clashing with his yellow hoodie, wide bright brown eyes, and pink hair. A happy sunrise melting into a storm-ridden night.

“Is it okay if I check this out?” He throws his thumb behind him, pointing to logs piled up against the leaning fence. Logs that are supposed to be used to reinforce this side.

The pile is stacked hazardously -  logs balanced on top of each other, basically making a narrow alley between the stack and the fence it leans against. Yuji looks so small standing next to it. The logs go up at least seven feet high. It looks daunting during the day, and in the graying sky it looks even more so. 

Yuji is bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting for the okay to run off. His hands are fidgeting near his pockets and that usual boyish grin smeared across his face. 

“What is so interesting about a pile of sticks?” I whisper to her.

“I don’t have an answer for you,” she says, a light laugh leaving her lips. Her eyes are on Yuji, so I could only see the side of her face. The light breeze twirling her hair around her ear, shielding her eyes away from me even more. “He finds joy and playfulness in everything,” she shrugs, a content smile tugging at her mouth. “Or he’s about to climb and jump off of them and possibly break his leg or something. I don’t know.” A gust of wind brushes past us, carrying the concern laced in her voice around us.

“Sure, Yuji!” she nods, and Yuji is already turning to head over. “Just make sure you tie your shoes!” she yells after him. 

With that, Yuji runs off. Puffs of dust trailing behind him as he kicks off and heads to a makeshift playground that is most definitely going to be the creator of broken bones. 

She sighs next to me, a wistful sigh leaving her mouth. She quickly averts her eyes from the running boy and looks at me. Her eyes remorseful and the grip on my hand a little tighter. 

“You never answered if you were okay or not?” 

“I shrugged. Isn’t that an answer,” I answer, hating the tone that I am using with her. 

“No, that isn’t an actual answer, smart ass,” she huffs, rolling her eyes towards the evening sky. There isn’t any annoyance evident in her actions. 

“I’ll be okay, I guess,” I reply, watching her watch me - as if she's looking for another answer I know only she could coax out of me. “I’m just tired,” I finished, averting my eyes to the employee entrance. Where Ino and I last walked together, just a couple of days ago. 

“Physically or emotionally?” 

“Both,” her thumb rubs my knuckles. “I’m getting tired of watching people get taken by this…” I stop and just look ahead at the gravesite I’m about to walk through to get to Ino’s plot. 

“Want me to go with you?” 

“No, it’s alright,” I take my hand out of hers, reaching for the hat in the back pocket and shivering at the cold revolver pressing into my back. “I don’t want to smuggle you in,” I try to joke, earning a very stern look and another eye roll, one that has annoyance etched into it. “Also, one of us should be watching Yuji on that death trap.” I point my thumb to the log playground where we see Yuji trying to climb on the structure. 

“I’m pretty sure that boy could live through anything,” she laughs, a real one. Not one being masked with concern or the weight of my feelings, or the scary gray sky that wants to swallow us. A laugh like the days before there were infected crawling around, before we had to squeeze into this shabby apartment, or before that pink hair kid eased his way into our homes and her heart. When it was just us. 

“I’ll be here, even if you don’t need me,” she smiles, her left hand squeezing my shoulder as I start my walk out the safety of her laugh and deeper into the graying sky. 

“You know I’ll always need you.” 

“I know,” she says to my back, and I feel the warmth of this little interaction fighting with the warmth of Ino’s hat. 

As soon as I walk out of the gate, a light rain starts and I try to speed walk to Ino’s recently dug up grave. His is actually not that far from the entrance I am walking through, but with the heaviness of the day and the sludge on the ground below me, the walk is longer than I anticipated. 

There is a sort of peaceful eeriness weaving through the air. It is quiet, dark, and the light raindrops are starting to feel nice on my clammy skin. But at the same time, the quiet was that type that took hold of your bones and held you down, with a promise that something is going to happen. The quiet that keeps your head on a swivel because you're not sure what is going to catch you in its grasp. 

I make it to the unnamed plot - the one I dug up alone and the one where I had to set Ino’s infected riddled body into earlier this morning. I am not completely sure what to do here or why I even decided to come to his plot. I have seen multiple people be taken from this infection, I am aware that there are no words to be had before and after the ordeal. It happens and then they're gone. 

I am squatting right by the plot, Ino’s hat now in my hands and my journal laying by my feet. I do not know what to say, or do, or even think. Again, I am not sure why I am here. 

I place his hat on the plot, knowing by tomorrow, the wind might just flitter it away with his dreams and inspirations as well. 

“I’m sorry,” I say to the air, hoping that wherever Ino is, he knows how sorry I am. 

I stay there for a minute, a feeling of sorrow that I know we'll never escape filling my chest. 

Right before I hear it, there is stillness in the air. A bird flying by and giving a calling cry to warn others of the storm brewing. And then a scream, so bone chilling, I freeze for a second. Then, I hear it again and I register that it is my wife's voice. A scream I have never heard, from her.

My blood runs cold and I run as fast I could to her. 

I’m met with a bleeding Yuji, clutching his left arm. His eyes were so wide, even in the dimming evening sky I could make out his brown orbs. My wife is a few feet away from him, her back to me but I catch the fear that's radiating through her shivering body.

Coming out of that little alleyway is an infected - the person could not have been older than Yuji. In torn clothing, a purple graphic tee with a cartoon character I have no idea is, ripped up blue jeans and no shoes. Their matted hair is separated in two pigtails, obviously telling me someone cared enough to have their hair done. The infected is moving so slowly, like a slug on a very wet branch. Their hand grabbing into the earth and pulling their limp legs behind them as they crawl towards the three of us. A slight tremble in their movement, as if it hurts them to move at all. 

Their yellowish eyes are locked on Yuji, who is jumping away and still clutching his arm. The one that's bleeding, the left sleeve of his hoodie ripped. The infected’s face is riddled with grime and dried blood I would assume. Their protruding veins make the grime stand out even more. Their face in a permanent scowl, as if they are blaming us for the way they are. As if there is something we could do. 

The scene freezes me in place. I feel every ounce of blood drain into the puddle at my feet.  The infected was laying low, possibly even trying to find shelter - just like what Yuji did for three months before she smuggled him in. I don’t give much thought on how my heart sank, imagining this could have been Yuji’s fate instead. 

Yuji must have been caught off guard - bitten before he could even jump out of the way. The alleyway between the logs and the fence is a perfect breeding place for scary things to be hiding in the shadows. 

In one quick, but devastating movement, just as thunder rang out and shook the ground below us. I took out my revolver and shot the infected, talking them out of their misery but filling the air with more. A yelp rings out of Yuji, as his eyes filter down to the dead infected and his grip on his left arm tightens. I move my revolver to point at the pink haired boy. 

“Kento. Yuji needs help,” I ignore her. The duty of knowing what I have to do weighs so heavy on my shoulders, I feel like I'm about to be dragged down to hell. She starts to inch closer to him, her arms out. Like a mother to their child that just scraped their knee. 

“Get behind me,” I rush out, almost reaching out to drag her back. Her movement is quick but hesitant. She turns to me, fear in her eyes and she softly shuffles behind me. I feel her tug at my jacket. 

Yuji is watching us, like he does at the dinner table. His eyes wide and his feet shuffling from side to side. Whenever our eyes catch each other's, he skips the revolver being pointed to him and stares at me, as if he's trying to worm himself into my brain to see what I'm thinking. I feel sick, and I hope he can pick up on that. 

“We could help him,” she whispers. And at this moment, I realized I haven't heard a word come out of Yuji’s mouth. It makes me uncomfortable thinking about this boy who talks through everything being as quiet as the night sky. The gun feels wrong being pointed at him.

For the first time ever I don't want to use it - even if it's to protect her. 

“And how will we do that?” I say, my eyes are not leaving Yuji’s. The heavy rain is making the blood wash off him. 

“How are you feeling?” I call out to him. I ignore how stupid this all is, I know how he is feeling. I know what happens next. 

“I promise I’m okay!” He yells, he moves his hands above his ears. His wide eyes are bouncing from the revolver, my wife, and I. It's as if right at this moment, he understood the implication for what was about to happen. “This has happened before and I was okay,” he rushes out. 

Everything inside me slams to a stop. As if a wire has snapped in my chest. As if the earth, the rain, the boy - none of it makes sense anymore. 

“What do you mean this happened before?” I say, trying to steady my voice. I feel bile making its way up my throat. 

“With my Grandpa,” his voice is lower, his eyes quickly looking at his shoes, “I got bit before, when I was with him.”

“You knew about this?” I steady my voice, briefly glancing at my wife. She’s standing so still, I could mistake her as one of the logs from the death trap behind him. 

I do not know how to take this statement. Is he lying to get out of me having to kill him?

“No,” she whispers, finally moving by shaking her head gently. A huge raindrop falls on my glasses frame and the moment looks distorted before the drop slides down. “Yuji, what do you mea-“

“I could show you the other bite mark,” he whispers, his eyes filled with guilt rather than fear. “Is it okay if I move to show you?” His eyes are staring back into mine, as if this is the little world we created but instead of laughs and painting like the one he created with my wife - ours is overflowing with fear, questions, and the fact that neither of us would ever truly know the other. It brings me back to that little moment we had at the dinner table during our game. We thought we understood each other but here we are - questioning the intentions of the other. 

At this very moment, it’s as if she didn’t speak. As if we can’t both see her trembling, as if I can’t feel her breathe. It’s just our world - the pink haired alien and I. A world I never asked to be apart. One that was thrust into my home and etched its way into every little thing that I do. 

I don’t know what to do at this moment. The revolver feels heavy and my hands are so sweaty I think it’s about to slip out of my hand anyway. The rain is picking up and moving with the cold sweat dripping from my body. The warmth of Ino’s hat and my wife’s laugh from some time ago has disappeared. 

“Are you going to hurt me if I move, Nanami?” The informalness of the questions throws me off guard. His usual child-like voice is cold, hard, and wobbling with guilt. 

“He isn’t, I promise Yu-“

“Mr. Nanami, are you going to h-“

Words fail to leave my mouth, so I just shake my head no. However, I dont drop the revolver, it is getting heavier by the minute. 

Yuji moves slowly, not dropping his eyes from mine and it truly feels like we are the only two people on the planet. Just us two and his bites. 

He hikes up the leg of his right pants leg, and there it is - even in the light of the moon and the haziness of the rain falling in front of us. A bite, the veins protruding and the scar is enough to make my breath hitch in my chest and I feel like I need an asthma pump to help me get my breathing flowing again. 

“I just slept after and nothing happened,” he shrugs his shoulders. 

“Slept?”

“Yes, my Grandpa said I slept for fifteen hours after,” the child-like humor is in his voice, his eyes are still wide with guilt. 

“You don’t sleep after getting bit. No one we have studied sleeps after,”  I narrow my eyes at him. 

“Well I did,” he says back, a defensive tone I have never heard in his voice bites hard and I'm taken back. 

“I’m telling you I am fine,” the fear and guilt is starting to escape his voice. He wants to be understood, believed. 

“What else happened,” I pointed my chin down at his leg, “when you got bit?” 

“It itched,” he shrugs, as if we’re asking about a mosquito bite. “Nothing else happened. Not that I really remember,” his bloodied arm reached to scratch at the back of his head. Red streaks of blood mixing with his pink hair. 

“You’re telling me that your body fought this infection by sending you to sleep for fifteen hours and having the bite mark be itchy?” Work rushes to my mind. Is he what we need? Is this boy who my wife smuggled in the answer? 

“I guess,” he shrugs his shoulders again. I don't miss the eye roll, as if he is the one being bothered by the discovery of what this could do for everyone. 

“I could maybe find some ointment,” my wife’s voice from behind us brings us both back from our world. His eyes are questioning, as if he forgot she was here, as if it is hard to believe she would do that. "To help with the itchiness."

The domesticity she is bringing to this fucked situation angers me for a minute. I roll off the tension from my shoulders and keep my eyes trained on Yuji. 

“You don't have to do that Mrs. Nanami,” he smiles at her. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“I know you would be Yuji,” she whispers back and I don't miss how Yuji’s eyes widen with trust, with love. Happy to be believed.

I ignore their little moment and think back to dinner a couple days ago, when we first played that game and our hopes. I think back to Ino and just watching this infection eat his body, mind, and soul for days. Think back to work and Geto, the fears of having to watch experiments be done on pregnant women for a cure. 

A cure. 

A person able to fight the infection. 

A cure. 

Instead of fear and confusion, hope starts to course its way into my chest. Mixed with guilt, because what does this mean for Yuij? What does this mean for my wife and her love for this child? 

“I just want to sleep now,” Yuji says, a yawn ripping out of his chest. The rain is pelting us hard. “Is that okay if we go home?” 

I want to tell him yes. I know she wants to tell him yes. We’ll take you to our home. But now, home is a battlefield too. 

-

The lights are off, the moon highlighting little things around the living room. A spotlight on Yuji’s blue backpack. His red shoes - the ones I tripped over this morning. A copy of an old Spider-Man comic and Oh, The Places You’ll Go that are tucked in the cushion where his head lays. The old, rickety fan wobbles on the coffee table in front of the couch where Yuji lies sleeping, the moonlight shining on him so brightly I’m shocked he hasn’t covered his eyes with the quilt. He looks calm - hands curled under his squished cheek, pink hair messily plastered to his forehead. He’s curled up in a fetal position. He looks smaller than he actually is. Somehow, there's still the feather of a grin on his lips.

Next to me, she shifts, and from the movement alone, I can tell she’s antsy. Either from what we possibly found out, the implication of what this means for us.. for him, or... everything.

I still feel numb, like I’m floating on a gray cloud that’s waiting to erupt into a storm. A cold sweat is still coating my back and making my hands feel slimy. 

“Kento,” she whispers, her hand grazing mine. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

I smile softly, hiding the chuckle that wants to escape at her childish phrasing. Her hand is fully in mine now, our cool wedding bands brushing as our warmer hands press together and the movement makes me feel grounded at the moment. Her question almost made me forget what we have sleeping in front of us. 

“If you’re referring to Yuji, then yes. We’re thinking about the same thing,” I whisper back. “How could we not?” My voice seems like it belongs to someone else, it sounds vacant and chilling even to my own ears. 

Her hand twitches in mine, the movement so sudden that I shift my eyes from the boy on our couch to her tense frame beside me.

“I don’t think we’re on the same page,” she admits. She’s still staring at Yuji. The rickety fan sends strands of hair swaying near her ear.

“What do you mean?” I keep my voice even. “What page are you on?” I bring our joined hands into my lap and look back toward Yuji.

“We’re not giving him to science,” she whispers so fast I would’ve missed it if I’d moved. “I know he seems like a breakthrough, but we can’t do that to him.” In the dim light, the sadness in her voice adds another layer to the eerie quiet of the day.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Both, I guess,” she says, letting go of my hand to rub both of hers down her face. “He’s just a child, Kento.”

“I know. You remind me every time we talk about him,” I say, my voice hard. 

From the corner of my eye I watch her turn to look at me. Her eyes filled with an emotion I don’t think I would’ve ever seen from her - distrust. I almost want to run to the bathroom and hurl. Her eyes are racking over the side of my body, the same side she wakes up too whenever we somehow end up in a different sleeping position than our regular one. 

The foreign look in her eyes throws me off because it's the first time I've seen it etched into her eyes. Eyes I have memorized, the way she has memorized the words from A Grief Observed. Even then, I don't think that the feeling shouldn't be running through her. I do not know if I deserve her trust when it comes to Yuji. Not if I'm sitting here wondering what we could trade him for. A cure? Safety? To go back to when it was just us again? 

“The world shouldn’t be placed on his shoulders just because he might be useful to someone’s plan.” Her words float through the room like a sad melody. “I know your loyalties lie with the sc-”

“My loyalties lie with you,” I cut in, a huff escaping me, annoyance melting into my voice. Her hand slides back into mine, palm to palm, and presses gently. I almost shudder at the touch this time around. 

Yuji shifts on the couch. A soft snore slips from his lips, and his left foot kicks the quilt halfway off. There’s no sign of infection threading through his bloodstream, nothing waiting to take his life - or ours. Just a kid. Just a sleeping child who makes you want to curl up beside him on the floor and fall asleep too. Bodies nestled together, warm, safe, loved.

“Ken,” she sighs. “If anyone finds out what he is…” She pauses. “We won’t get to choose what happens next.” Another sigh, but this one catches in her throat. “I don’t want to lose him too,” she confesses.

Her words gnaw their way into my chest. A part of me -  the part that should be angry that she’s poked a hole in our little bubble - realizes it doesn’t want to lose him either. I don’t even know what to do with him, but the idea of him being gone. I know it’ll hurt her in ways I’m too selfish to understand. 

“But, thi-”

“No. I don’t care what ‘this’ is,” she shakes her head slightly, eyes still on Yuji. “…He deserves to climb that mountain.” And I smile faintly at the book reference from a few days ago.

“If he makes that choice?” I ask, the pressure of work and our discovery quickly washing the smile off my face. 

“He can make the choice, but…” Her voice trails off into silence. “…It’s not going to be given to him,” she says finally, gripping my hand tighter. “He’s going to be a child, and I want us to make sure of that.” 

“They want to start experimenting on pregnant women,” I whisper into the night. The conversation that has been haunting my thoughts since I had to take part of it finally entered the air stream to be heard by someone else. 

“That has nothing to do with him,” she whispers back. I don’t miss the shock that’s evident in her voice though. 

I don’t think I could hide the anger bubbling in my gut. The dismissal of others putting their lives on the line and losing their lives with an ugly infection. 

“Why do you want to save him?” 

“Because no one else would,” there’s no anger in her voice. She doesn’t want to fight. But her words are definite and filled with a hopeful tint and I can’t understand where it’s coming from. 

I know she is right. I know how it feels to fiercely protect something that is yours. But knowing, it doesn't make the anger any less suffocating. 

Not knowing what to say, we sat in a silence that crawled up my back - thick with the weight of today, my wife’s words protecting this boy, and the horrors of my job.

Eventually, she sleepily shuffled off to bed, and I stayed.

Just sitting there.

Watching the boy.

Sitting in the questions that kept brewing in my gut, the snores of the possible infected boy, and the waft of breeze coming from the rickety fan. Sitting there more infected with hope than I wanted to admit.

-

My eyes are heavy, like the curtains blocking the rosy colors of the sunrise trying to peek into the room. There’s barely any light - just the soft glow that creeps in under a doorway. Funnily enough, those thin streaks of light are hitting the boy on our couch perfectly.

If it weren’t for that light, I would’ve missed the way his eyes opened and how he immediately gripped his chest. Like he was in pain; not physical, but emotional. The kind of pain that makes you clutch your shirt like something’s trying to rip your heart out. His eyes are wide, his hands tightly gripping the hoodie.

I’m sitting on the couch across from him, so still I can’t even feel myself breathe. My thoughts are bouncing between my wife in the bedroom and the switchblade Yuji had, now tucked in the waistband of my pajama pants. I’ve been up all night, barely breathing, just waiting. Waiting to see if what he said was true. Waiting to see if I’d have to kill a child to protect my wife. Waiting to see if he’d be okay.

What kind of man am I, waiting for a child to prove that he deserves to live? 

Yuji’s fully awake now. His breathing is steady, and in the little light, his eyes look normal, just tired. His movements are exactly what you’d expect from someone coming out of sleep. He’s small, fragile. A child. His bedhead is almost laughable, and his fists are tight, one at his chest, the other rubbing sleep from his eyes. He opens his mouth in soft little yawns, one after another.

“Show it to me,” I say into the quiet room.

Yuji jumps a little and snaps his head toward me. His eyes are wide, lips pulled into a guilty frown. I ignore the way it makes my chest ache.

He lifts the sleeve of his left arm quickly, almost too quickly, trying to prove that what he told us was true. His arm looks too thin, too small. Like he never had a chance to fight back. The bandages she wrapped around his arm before he fell asleep are still tight, and underneath... It just looks like a regular bite. As if he got into a scuffle on the school playground and the other kid bit him. Swollen, but not infected. 

I check the clock. It’s almost been twelve hours. By now, it should be bruised, oozing pus. He should be trembling, sweating, short of breath. But he’s not. He shouldn't even be waking up from a nap.

Here is a boy, just sitting here. Afraid, remorseful, human. 

And I am the man who spent all night sitting here, hand on a weapon, his weapon- waiting to kill him if he twitched wrong. Waiting to see if we could use his body for some problem he did not create. 

The thought is ugly and crawls up my throat like bile. 

“Show me the other bite.”

He hikes up the right leg of his pants, and again, nothing. Just a scarred leg with a possible bite mark. The veins around it are slightly dark, the vine-like veins around the bite are protruding, but that’s all. No swelling. No pus. Nothing I’ve seen before on a recently bit or infected person.

Just the leg of a child who trusted us enough to fall asleep on our couch. 

“Where is Mrs. Nanami?” he asks, voice soft, childlike. Like a toddler asking for their favorite teddy bear.

I want to ignore him. I want to tell him he doesn’t deserve to know. That I don’t want him anywhere near her because he’s not safe.

“She’s in bed,” I say instead, jerking a thumb toward the bedroom. “She stayed up for a while to make sure you were okay.”

“I know.” He shifts upright, eyes still locked on the floor. “I know I said I didn’t get bit,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost shaking. “But I did. You know now. I should’ve just told you.”

I nod, even though he isn’t looking at me.

“I didn’t say anything because… I know what happens when people get bit.” He glances up at me, and I remember having to point a weapon at him. “I didn’t want to die.”

His voice is so soft I have to lean forward just to hear it.

“You could’ve told her,” I say. Because I know, and he knows, that she would’ve protected him. She believes him.

“I didn’t want you to be mad at her,” he whispers back. The realization that in his own little way, he was protecting my wife has me moving to readjust my glasses. He is not afraid for himself. He is afraid for her. 

We go quiet. The only sound is his occasional yawn, soft and sleepy. It hums through the room, warm and sad.

“Mr. Nanami?” he asks, eyes wide and searching. “Remember when we were playing that game and started talking about a cure?”

“Yeah,” I say, my heart already sinking. But my brain jumps back to that talk with Geto. My brain jumps to the possibilities he may be able to bring. 

“You think…” He shrugs, shoulders curling toward his ears. “You think since I’m okay… they could fix all this?” He gestures with a little circle of his hand.

“You should get more sleep,” I say, ignoring the question. Because the answer is too big, too dangerous, and too unclear. Because what he’s asking could change everything, or destroy him, maybe even possibly destroy my wife and I. 

This is Yuji and I’s world - a ticking time bomb of questions that neither of us could answer. 

“I’m sorry for lying.” He curls further into the couch, legs folded beneath him. “I’m sorry for knowing.”

That last part hits me hard. Like something’s slammed into my chest. It does not sound like a child apologizing for a mistake, but a confession. The anger and confusion are gone for a minute. Now I’m just sitting in despair. 

“It’s okay,” I say, finally. “You’re just a child.”

-

A couple days later…

Her legs are straddling my hips. One of my hands is tangled in her hair as I pull her face closer to mine. Our lips are locked in a fight of power. Hungry. Urgent. My other hand is not so gently gripping her hip, acting as a grounding act between us. I don’t miss the slight, teasing grind against me.

“Ken,” she whines, breaking the kiss. My lips, wanting to stay busy - starts trailing kisses down from her jaw to her delicate neck. “We have to be quiet,” she whispers. 

“Huh?” I mutter on her collarbone, already tugging my shirt up and over her head. She leans back to help, introducing more skin for my mouth to chase. “Why?” 

“Because we have a kid in our living room,” she mumbles. 

“We don’t have a kid,” I mumble, my lips finding their way back to her jawline. “And what? People with kids still have sex,” 

“Mrs. Nanami?” I hear the creak of the floorboard right outside our bedroom. “Mr. Nan-“ 

“One second,” we both yell in unison. I throw the blanket over myself - hiding a very obvious situation. My wife rushes to find the shirt we just discarded. Once found, she’s running to the door, sending me a playful wink before creaking the door open. 

“Hi Yuji,” she answers breathlessly, her hands smoothing down her hair. “Are you okay?” The warmth in her voice sends a little pang of guilt to my chest.

“I think so,” I can’t see him, but I could imagine that awkward, boyish grin etched on his face. “I think something is going on, though.” 

“Something with you?” I ask, harder than I intended. I start to inch out of the bed, looking for my own pants around the floor. My wife looks back at me, sending me a sharp look. 

“No, uh, not me,” he says softly and I instantly regret my previous tone. “Outside. I hea-“ before he could finish, I heard it too. 

A shriek.

Then another. 

Then several - shrill. All different tones and melodies to them, creating a soundtrack from a nightmare.

They sound far away. But close enough, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck start to prick. They shouldn’t be so close to our home. At least, the sound of how many are coming our way. 

“Hear what?” My wife shyly asks - as if she's embarrassed that she isn’t in on what we could hear. I don’t miss the waiver of fear that trembles at the end of her question. She turns around to give me a look, and she sees that my pants are on and I’m looking outside of our window. “Ken?” She whispers.

“Both of you,” I say as I start looting around our room. “Get dressed now!” I bark. 

I hear Yuji’s feet running back to the living room and it takes me a couple seconds to realize, I don’t hear my wife. 

I turn towards her and she isn’t moving.

Not even breathing hard like I am.

She is standing in the middle of the room like she forgot how to be a person. 

Arms crossed, hugging herself, nails digging into the sleeves. 

Shoulders hunched up around her ears.

Her hands are trembling so hard I can see them from across the room. Her lips are parted but no sound is coming out.

It's not fear. 

It's heartbreak. 

“Again?” Her whole body seems to ask before she lets it slip from her lips. “We have to leave and run again?” 

“Do you trust me?” I say, walking towards her. My eyes are not on her, as they are shifting through our room looking for things that are easy to pick up. I notice A Grief Observed laying on her bookshelf, and I make a mental note to grab it on the way out. 

All I hear is her breathing; shallow, uneven, like she's holding the world's weight in her lungs. A part of me itches to run to her, to take her face between my hands and make sure she is still here with me - here and real and willing. She is still mine. 

“Yes,” she breathes out. Yuji thrashing around in the living room and the chaos rising outside is louder than she is. 

I finally look over at her properly and for a moment, the fear vanishes. 

Just like that night five years ago, the moonlight catches her in a soft halo, outlining her trembling figure in silver. The way her knees slightly buckle, then stiffen, like she's fighting every instinct that screams at her collapse.

Even now, she looks so heartbreakingly beautiful that my breath catches at the bottom of my throat. The world outside howls. But here, for just a second, it's only her and me and the moon.

“We’ll be okay,” I whisper, closing some distance between us. On the floor between us, the moonlight reflects her restless hands, my arms reaching out both our shadows stretching and overlapping. “We made it out okay before.” 

“All of us. All three of us,” She says, her voice cracking as she avoids my eyes. “Will we be okay?”

I hesitate. Just a beat too long. Almost as if I forgot the weight that Yuji now carries in our lives. 

“Sure,” I say. “All three of us.” But even as I say it, I'm grabbing only two bags. Moving on instinct. Pretending I don't feel the weight of that slip between my ribs. 

“Two minutes,” I yell into the apartment, because if I stay in this moment, if I look at her again under that terrible, beautiful moonlight, I won't move at all. 

Masterlist | Last Episode | Song of the Episode | Next Episode

TWILIGHTSUMU — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platform.

[sakuraspoke]

had to sell my ritual tickets but got all my money back so it's almost like i'm getting paid to not see ghost. girl math.

[autobotmedic]

[ this is the part where i hit everyone with my own personal childhood nostalgia and i say that if ratch lost everything/finally did reach breaking point

he would just be vict.or fries from btas/bat.man: subzero with his own priorities only

[theabigailthorn]

What are we supposed to do now? By ‘we’ I mean UK based trans women and transfems. How are we meant to continue? Knowing the country hates us. The law refuses to accept our existence. Everyone wishes we would just shut up and disappear. How are we supposed to live like this? I know I can’t.

Let me tell you a very funny story that might make you feel better.

Not long ago I called the suicide hotline feeling exactly the way you describe. The volunteer on the other end was an older cis lady, and I was like, "Hey, I'm trans - all this stuff is happening, the government says blah blah blah, the court says XYZ, and I feel like I'm living in this really hostile country that hates me, and it sucks!" I told her how angry I was, how much all this makes me hate by fellow human beings, how much I wouldn't care if Britain sank into the sea or was burned away to ashes along with all its inhabitants, and how ashamed I am of feeling such venom and cynicism.

And there was a bit of a pause.

And the volunteer lady says, "What's trans?"

I - Joker makeup bursting from the pores of my face - explain to her what being transgender is. She has questions like, "So, what was the legal process like, what do you have to do?" and I'm like "Oh HO HO HO! Let me tell you the hoops I had to jump through!" and she's like "Wow, that sounds so difficult?" and I'm like, "HEE HEE HEE I haven't even gotten to the difficult bit yet!" I'm ranting, I'm pacing my living room like a tiger, quoting Merchant of Venice and Coriolanus down the phone to this woman on the suicide hotline, like "If you prick us do we not bleed?! If you tickle us do we not laugh?!" "I banish you, and here remain with your uncertainty!" (She's like "I remember this Shakespeare from school!") It feels like I'm vomiting up this black sludge of hate that I've built up, like people spit on me and I've absorbed all that spit and now I'm burning with it.

So at the end of all this the volunteer lady's like well yeah of course you feel angry, that makes perfect sense! Anybody with a heart would feel the way you do! Of course you feel cynical and bitter and despairing! And she tells me that she hasn't seen any of this, but it's shocked her. She thinks this court case sounds like a really backwards step; she thought Britain was progressive. And I'm like, "I used to think that too, and the loss of that illusion hurts."

But then she goes well look - these judges and politicians, they live in a bubble. They don't really know what life is like for ordinary people like me and you. There are plenty of people in Britain like her, who just don't really pay attention to this stuff. There might be some who throw things at me in the street and treat me poorly, but there are also a lot of people who are just... normal? And fine? And who are just doing their own thing, and who are appalled to discover this kind of thing is happening? And I'm like oh yeah - I guess if the country was destroyed all those people would go too... It's not true that everyone wants us to disappear.

And she says she's going to go home and look all of this up because it sounds like trans people are really being mistreated, and she's like "Thank you for telling me all this. I hope you feel better."

And I'm like yeah you know what, I kinda do. It helped to have someone else go, "I understand how you feel." So, y'know, we've got one more ally at least.

[melk-maid]

Sorry for never responding to messages or responding so inconsistently, im sorry for hardly being around, im sorry for being fucking weird and sporadic and unsure in everything I do lmao im not sure what specifically my problem is besides fear and paranoia but im trying to work through it because I haven’t felt like a normal person for months

[rainbows-caught-on-film]

I miss California...

[tonycries]

Cake or Fake - G.S.

Synopsis. The only birthday gift your brother’s best friend wants? You. And not just for fake-dating…

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, brother’s best friend! Gojo, annoyances to lovers, fake dating, PINING, jealousy (Gojo’s side), past Sukuna x Reader, matíng presses, vírgínity loss (Gojo), oraI (fem rec.), PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, size kínk, cervíx kíssing, he’s such a tease, cúmplay, p talking, making him WHÍMPER, spítting, pánty-steaIing, slight chokíng, reader is Geto’s sister, matchmaking, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 11.1k

A/N. In honor of my hubby’s birthday!!

“Wait, who’s coming to your party?”

“It’s not just a ‘party’, it’s my surprise party-” 

“Satoru, it’s not a surprise party if you’re the one organizing the surp-” You’re cutting yourself off with a heaving sigh, massaging your throbbing temples. “Anyway- continue.”

Growing up, you didn’t suffer through years of endless torment from Gojo Satoru to hope that he’d ever use logic. No, of course not. 

Instead, he’s brandishing the oversized birthday banner he’d bought himself, softly smacking the top of your head. “Besides- it’s not like everyone’s going to be there. Just our group, Nanami’s troupe, some Kyoto people, I invited Yaga but he kicked me out of his office- oh- and Sukuna.”

Ah, there it was. 

The one person you didn’t want to see just as much as you didn’t want to be roped into your brother’s best friend’s “surprise” party planning for his own birthday. But, alas, here you were. 

And here tumbled the next few words that would likely haunt you for the rest of your life. 

“I need you to date me.”

“Oh? Okay.”

“Listen I know it’s stupid and I know-” Wait…what? Cutting yourself off with a choked-up wheeze- for the first time since he’d barged into your life, Gojo had truly and absolutely stumped you. “Wait- you agreed?”

He’s shrugging one broad deltoid, tinted glasses that you’d bought for his last birthday sliding down that high nose bridge of his. And the grin you’re graced with is blinding. “Well, I knew it was about time before you fell for my charms~” Before one strong arm swings its way around your shoulders, manhandling you against the thin black t-shirt wrapped around his sculpted body. He wiggles his cloudy brows, “What was it- the hair? The eyes? The body? Y’know I’ve been hitting the gym more-”

“Gojo Satoru.” you’re gritting out through tight lips. “I need you to date me- just for one night.”

“So it was the body-” he’s gasping dramatically, beefy arms frantically wrapping around your middle. You could feel the curves of his washboard abs against your palm. Purring voice pitching up into what almost sounded like a whine, “At least take me out to dinner first–! To think that you just want me for a one night stand-”

In a split-second, your palms slap over his nonsensical mouth - hard enough that you almost spy a stinging stamp of red on his skin. 

And yet, Gojo doesn’t complain. Doesn’t display anything but a brazen gleam in his gaze that practically screamed out kinky~! 

“Shut- up- my brother’s in the next room.” You’re hissing, eyes flickering behind Gojo’s toned figure and towards the kitchen door for any looming sign of Geto. “I need you to date me-” Your digits tighten over his mouth as soon as you feel it moving to prattle away once more. “-just for tonight- no, not as a one night stand, put that banner down- We just need to ah- pretend?”

Damn, it sounds more of a garbage idea out loud - and you didn’t even know that was possible. 

At the question in his summer blue eyes, your hopefully explanatory words spill out a mile a minute. “S-so Sukuna has been getting around since our little break-up a few months ago- if you can even call it that…”

Ah, melding into such a big group with your brother’s friends and your own in university had always meant that there would be a few bumps along the way. 

From explaining to an overeager Haibara that no, you and Gojo were definitely not dating, to making sure that your brother and his best friend didn’t make Nanami suffer from an aneurysm too early in life, to perhaps the biggest of them all - your fiery, yet short-lived fling with Ryomen Sukuna. 

The most dramatic bump, according to Shoko.

Sukuna wasn’t a close friend, but it’d taken work to get over the worst of the awkwardness after he’d dumped you without a moment’s notice. And you weren’t exactly dreaming up a wedding with him…sort of, but you certainly did skip out on a few invitations to hang out if you knew that he’d show his smug face.

And right now it left you ironically wishing you’d heeded Gojo’s words when he’d first warned you that Sukuna “wasn’t right for you.” 

Though, you think part of it came from his own unexplainable love-hate animosity with the man.

“-but I’ve still been painfully single since the last time I saw him, and you know how he is. I can’t face him like this.” You, in particular, knew too well. “You two still have that weird rivalry thing going on, right? So help me show him up just for tonight- then later we say it fizzled out and everything goes back to normal. It’s a win-win really if- eugh!”

You snatch your hand back as far as it would go the very second you feel the sodden drag of something against your palm. Staring in horror at your clammy skin…he licked you.

And Gojo almost winces at the loss of your touch - he almost drags your hand back himself. 

But oh, it was worth it just to see the way your gorgeous features get scrunched up into an even more gorgeous glare - one that said if looks could kill, then he’d already be six feet under and having his surprise party thrown on his grave already. 

Truly the way to a man’s heart, he swoons internally. 

“Fine.”

And when has that particular tone from Gojo ever boded well for you?

“Fine?”

You find yourself gulping at the slight bob of his smooth Adam’s apple, the flex of his back muscles when he hunches downwards to crowd your space. Mere inches away. Somehow, he seemed too close and too far away at the same time. Too intoxicating with his cold, pinewood scent.

“Fine I’ll let you- heh, use me for my body.” Tone intentionally dipping into a low, rumbling territory. Gojo’s batting his long snowy lashes in a way you’d almost deem innocent - if it wasn’t for the next few words that tumble urgently from his mouth. “-only if you give me something back. A kiss.”

You jolt, “What?”

“I’m the birthday boy, and I say-”

Cutting him off with a thoroughly practiced scoff, “Well, I have common sense. And I say I should just ask Nanami instead-”

“Is the common sense in my five-star getaway cabin with us right now?”

“Okay! You two!” Geto’s roughened hands clap down on your shoulders with a little more force than necessary. His voice is patient - used to this. “Please try not to make this a funeral before we can make it a birthday party, Satoru’s decorations are non-refundable.”

Oh, shit.

How long had he been standing there?

Judging by Geto’s slight shake of your shoulders as if scrambling the practical part of your brain back into functionality - and the way he wasn’t lecturing your ear off just yet - you guessed that the two of you had been lucky this time. 

Face burning, you pray you didn’t look as guilty as you were. Swatting your older brother’s well-meaning hands away. “Speaking of, for a busybody hosting his own surprise party, I’m shocked you didn’t want any gifts.” Quirking a brow, “Is there even anything you want? Anything else?” 

Gojo knew what you meant - you weren’t just talking about the party anymore. 

And, well…he avoids your eyes. Yes. Yes, there is .

You. 

But, woe, even the utterly shameless Gojo Satoru couldn’t possibly say that out loud - especially in front of his best friend, and your brother - so he settles on an obnoxiously dragged-out, “Awww- Trynna make my birthday special f’me, sweetheart~?”

And even that was toeing the line.

He can’t help the way his rosy lips curl smugly at the edges when you’re hissing out a heated, “S-see if I try and have a civil conversation with you ever again, Gojo.”

“Ouch!” Gojo’s clutching dramatically at his heart with a willowy faint that leaves him hanging off of Geto’s shoulders - and it wasn’t too hard to fake with the way his heart lurches uncomfortably at the sound of his last name on your pretty tongue. “Right for the jugular- is this your way of throwing the towel on our truce?”

Truce…is that what he’s calling it?

You catch your own brother - that traitor - stifling a bout of laughter behind his hand when his towering best friend seems to cower in your mere presence. Because, really, who was Gojo Satoru against you? 

Sighing with that slightly infuriated pout you haven’t lost since you were a whiny, teary-eyed brat meeting him at his Digimon-themed birthday party many, many years ago. 

Gojo takes the moment to truly appreciate how you’ve grown since.

He hadn’t technically invited you back then - but what else was there to do when your older brother was off making friends in kindergarten already and being invited by his “new best friend”?

You’d been pouty the entire evening at that, he remembers, and his mother had gotten a ton of photos just of your bickering duo. A year younger and just barely an inch shorter than him, but to a freshly six-year-old Gojo that made all the superiority - enough to tease you badly enough that you’d left him with a tiny, throbbing pink handprint across his cheek, and his poor heart in your palm.

“No.” Your voice rips him out of his reverie, as it always seems to do these days. “So you better k-keep up your end of the truce, too.”

With you stomping your way back to your cabin suite, Gojo finds his twinkling eyes straying right after. Hot on your heels. Unable to tear away. You really have changed since then, all grown up - as is he - and yet-

“That’s after a truce?” Geto wonders out loud for the both of you.

Well, he’s eyeing his best friend. And Gojo was nothing if not a good- well, he was good at everything, quite frankly. Everything except for when it came to you. “Suguru, we might have to plan a surprise engagement party tonight instead of a surprise birthday party.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

Because he still feels as much the bumbling six-year-old with his first-ever crush as he was back then.

---

“Matching colors?”

You sigh, “Check.”

“Matching backstories?”

“Check.”

“Kiss me?”

“Ch- wait not yet-” you’re managing to shrill out, fingers curling even tighter around where Gojo had insisted you latch onto his bicep. And you feel him flex boastfully under his velvety button-up, “And do we really need to make some grand entrance? You literally planned the entire party.”

He’s flicking your forehead - softly, you’ve seen Gojo roughhousing with your brother before and he didn’t use even half his strength on you. “Surprise party- the birthday boy has to make a dramatic entrance with his girlfriend. How else will we make a statement?” 

You’re grumbling to yourself about why you needed to make a statement at all - but you can’t argue, this was your idea after all.

And Gojo seemed well and fully intent to excel in his role…perhaps too intent. 

Now, you always knew that his family was disgustingly wealthy; but Gojo practically dragged you to the nearest high-end mall this morning. Insisting on the latest twinkling bracelets and bejewelled necklaces to match his fitted shirt. Cooing that you looked “absolutely gorgeous” in every single one. 

Was this official girlfriend treatment from Gojo Satoru himself? You’ve never known him to have had a long-term relationship in all the years he’s been your brother’s friend but…but it was all so much for just one night of acting. 

And when you’re twirling that flowy silken fabric of your dress around your fingers, you wonder if that’s all he was thinking. 

“Hey?” The rounded pads of his fingers skim over your cheeks, “Nervous?”

“A little.” you admit, trying oh-so-desperately to escape from his blazing sapphire gaze. 

And Gojo crushes you close to his body, one massive palm resting firmly on your hips, hardened front pressing up against yours. Warm. Steady. Voice so close now that you could catch every slight crack towards the end, the heat of Gojo’s feverish breath - practically burning - against your ear. 

You wanted to feel his hands more - everywhere. 

Woah. You’re shaking your head, thankful it simply looked like you were gathering your wits. Maybe you were more tired than you thought.

“We’ll be alright. Trust me, it’ll go smoothly.” Was- was Gojo Satoru comforting you? He’s cracking a smile, like the thought just occurred to him, too. “And if it doesn’t then I can beat up that b-”

SLAM!

“Why are you taking so lo- What. The. Fuck.”

Your first instinct is to wrench away from Gojo’s hold - but unluckily for you, his first instinct is the exact opposite. And you find his firm digits tensing to dig into the plush of your hips, both of your heads snapping towards that gravelly new voice. 

Catching a jaw-dropped Shoko with her half-burnt cigarette dropped to the floor, she looked nowhere near even thinking of picking it back up. You could practically see the gears curdling around in her head.

“Ah-” You’re gasping out in what you hoped was believable scandal, fingers latching around Gojo’s own cold ones. Not to remove - no, Gojo almost has a heart attack when you intertwine them with yours. “Hope we’re not too late, Sa- Toru here wanted to go shopping.”

“Wait-” Shoko runs her hands through her silky locks like she was pleading to the skies above. “Wait wait wait- wait- when did this happen no-” She’s baring you with her most aghast look, “Why did this happen?”

Gojo comes to your rescue, face falling into the crook of your neck with a grin. “Told ya she would fall for my charms eventually~”

“Yes, but I didn’t think she was that stupid-”

Yes! You have to fight to hide your smile, despite the blatant insult. One down - if you could get everyone at this party to believe in your little act, then Sukuna would have to. 

“Still here–” You’re deadpanning, hoping that your friends didn’t catch the slight tremors in your voice. Damn- why did Gojo have to be so warm. “-and uh- maybe we should head inside? After it is a certain someone’s-”

“Shhh! You’ll ruin my surprise.”

It all goes according to script - well, your entrance with Gojo and his entrance into the party. 

As soon as your duo steps in, the dim lights flicker on and you’re deafened with the cheery yell of surprise! Blinking your startled gaze to adjust to the blinding decorations upon decorations that Gojo himself had put up, you can’t help but let out a chuckle at the smiling faces that meet you. 

Geto and Haibara holding exploded party poppers, the rest of the group from Kyoto standing around a brightly lit cake you’d baked, Nanami the one turning on the lights - the farthest away from the birthday boy. Purposefully so, you imagine.

And there - in the center of it all - Sukuna. 

Arms crossed, a pink brow raised as he drinks in the sight of you - all of you. 

As was the rest of the room, eyes widening in true surprise. 

Gojo’s clutching the front of his shirt with almost-frightening theatrics. “You guys- You did this all for me? You’re the absolute best-”

“Eugh.”

“What did you blackmail her with?”

“Congratulations on your relationship!”

Your eyes latch onto Geto - who only takes a long look at you and cackles. 

Gojo’s huffing ever-so-slightly as he gets cut off, and that’s what it takes for you to realize that you still had his fingers looped undeniably with yours. In fact, he’s tugging you even close to wrap one heavy arm over your shoulder, the very picture of sappy devotion when he nuzzles his cheek into your own. “They’re bullying me~”

He was laying it on thick.

He’d barely steered you into the living room before you catch a flash of white and two firm arms curled around your neck - away from your supposed boyfriend. 

“My lovely!” Utahime cries, cocktail abandoned somewhere to wrangle you free from Gojo’s treacherous grasp. She’s cupping your face with visible concern, “Is your head okay? Did you knock it somewhere? I know a good doctor that can help with-”

“Hey! She’s my lovely-”

“I’m fine, Utahime.” You’re subtly stepping on Gojo’s toes before things can escalate any further. Eyes meeting red ones from across the room, “-I promise. We’re just ah- giving it a go. It’s very new and we didn’t want to make such a big deal out of it, honestly.”

Lies. The entire point is to make a big deal out of it. 

Shoko crosses over in a flash, droopy eyes flickering between you and a sheepish Gojo. “Giving it a-” Slicing their way over to the decorative blush on his cheeks, “-go…huh.” 

And as you’re surrounded by the tittering crowd, you’ve never felt more like one of those cell samples that Shoko would dissect in medical school and proudly show your reluctant self pictures of. 

Ogling everything from the weight of Gojo’s hand on your shoulders to that soppy smile on his face when he smushes his cheek into yours like some overgrown cat. And you can’t help but wear a grin of your own.

Can’t help but feel relief when she cracks a wicked smile, “Fucking finally.”

Haibara gathers your hands in his own, “I-I’m so proud of you two! Nanami and I have been hoping for this for the past five years-” Flitting his strangely wet eyes to a Nanami who couldn’t have looked more disinterested if he tried. “-isn’t that right Nanami?”

“No it’s not.” he’s rolling his eyes, but you catch the slightest hint of a twitch at the corners of his lips. And it hits you that he’s happy for you. 

Really, truly happy.

“Right right!” Haibara plows on, and you have half the mind to wonder if the obliviousness was a skill. “It’s been more like the past seven years-”

Geto slaps! his hand on Gojo’s shoulder, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “So he finally grew the balls, huh?”

“Eh? I mean-” you’re strangling out at your brother’s sudden comment. “-I mean of course. Had to practically force it out of him though, y’know?”

Shoko nods, eyes far away like she’s remembering something you can’t. “Of course, you did- pining fool.” And in the corner of your eye, you sneak a glimpse at the way Gojo’s sharp jaw clenches. Grinding ever-so-lightly as she calls out, “Well, I was almost at my wit’s end with your horrible taste in men. No offense, Sukuna, not that this one’s any better- let me know if you ever need his balls chopped off in his sleep–”

Utahime’s narrowed glare stays locked on Gojo, “Hurt her and it’ll be more than your balls.”

Sukuna, notably, says nothing.

.

.

.

Gojo Satoru was a liar. 

The guestlist for his birthday wasn’t simply your friends - it was damn near the entire campus by the time the cake had been cut and you’d all settled into your usual conversations. 

Body after body filtering in through those towering mahogany doors of his. Invitation or not. Rapidly and steadily, it was growing into another one of Gojo’s famed parties. Honestly, you wouldn’t even be surprised if you’d actually bumped into Professor Yaga somewhere in there. 

“Eheh- whoops.” His apologetic words hit hotly against your ear over the thumping music. Your body jostling precariously where you were sat all prettily in his lap on the overpriced living room couch. “I don’t even know half these people.” 

And, yet, more than half the people seemed to know you - or, at least, your relationship with Gojo. 

Sure, you were aware that your brother and his best friend were amongst some of the most popular students on campus, but this was ridiculous. You couldn’t pass two minutes without a few guests sauntering up to wish the two of you well and leaving Gojo with a “congratulations for finally growing the balls.”

“They sure know a lot about your balls, huh?” You’re raising a brow, back pressed up against the massaging ridges of his abs. And some part of you felt guilty for deceiving all of these people - they really did look curiously happy for the two of you. 

Gojo’s bemoaning, “I can assure you that you are the only one allowed to talk about my b-”

“Ugh, couples.” Comes your brother’s voice to the side of you, the cushiony couch dips as he takes his seat. “Though, it is much better than having him mope around.”

“Suguru…” Gojo murmurs. Low. 

“What? Scared I’ll embarrass you in front of your girlfriend?” Geto was such a provocateur despite that serene expression he’d constantly wear on the outside. Taking a long swig of his beer before musing, “Remember, she’s my sister, Satoru. And I think she should know about that book of pick-up lines you bought for her. And that picture in your-”

Immediately, two engulfing hands find their place on either side of your head, covering your ears so blatantly. Gojo’s strained screech is only slightly muted when he drags out, “W-we haven’t gotten to that stage yet!”

“Oh, I see I see-” And Haibara - dear, sweet Haibara - always chooses the worst times to pop up from behind the two of you. Ringing voice commanding the attention of about half of the room nearby when he’s humming, “So you two are still in the honeymoon phase, then? How romantic!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

There’s such dangerous possessiveness in Gojo’s limbs when they tangle in a mess with yours. One arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other gliding its lecherous pathway up and down your exposed thigh. Slowly. Savoring. 

Gojo’s fingers twirl over the short hem of the dress he’d bought, lips pressed up against your throat as he mutters. “Aw, c’mon– no need to be shy, sweetheart.”

And you’re sure whatever strange little flip your heart did showed on your face - because immediately, you’re being showered with awww’s and squeals from all around you two- when did you even draw in a crowd?

“Then why dontcha give ‘er a pretty peck to prove it.”

But of course, Sukuna was in it, too.

“What?” 

You try not to let your true feelings bleed into your words when you take a long look at that unchanged smirk, the way he’s tilting his tattooed neck in defiance. Shrugging up sculpted shoulders, “M’just saying. If you were my girl, I’d want to prove it to everyone here.”

Damn.

Geto nudges his best friend, and you grit your teeth - because proving it was exactly what Sukuna did when you two were dating. Often these parties found you sneaking away if he felt generous, and Sukuna’s lips hot against yours right on the dance floor if he didn’t. 

All in front of a fuming Gojo.

And, hell, if he could be petty then so could you. 

You’re ignoring the boiling in your veins to run a few stray fingers through Gojo’s angelic hair. Soft. It drags his steely gaze from Sukuna over to you with a gulp, “S’that okay, Toru–” Oh god, that nickname has Gojo wondering whether he’s in heaven. “-wouldn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“Tch, are you kiddin’ me-” He recovers quickly, and you didn’t know whether the raw awe in his voice was part of the acting or simply just Gojo being himself. “-provin’ to losers than I’m yours is the best birthday gift I could get.”

The last thing you see is that tiny, curvaceous dimple at the end of Gojo’s grin before he’s smashing his lips onto yours. It’s messy. Disorganized. The very beginnings of a sodden French kiss. 

Sheer teeth and lips and need as he suckles lightly on your lower lip, pearly white canines sinking in ever-so-lightly until you keen. Lost into the wolf whistles erupting from the party-goers - it seems to knock some sense into you two.

And Gojo breaks the kiss with a panting pah! sugary sweet taste of his birthday cake lingering on your tongue - over as soon as it started. “Happy birthday to me.”

“You are so corny-” you’re croaking, more so because you didn’t know what to say than anything. Because all your mind was whirling with weren’t words - it was the feeling of wanting more more more-

Shit. Your eyes widen, peering down at Gojo’s half-drunken gaze - even though you’re sure his lightweight self hasn’t had a single drink tonight. You wanted to kiss him more. 

“I-I think I’m going to get a drink.” you’re mumbling out, hastily standing on two unsteady feet. Mere moments away from stepping into the kitchen - from making your escape - before long digits clasp around your wrist. With a plastered smile, you turn to Gojo, gaze flickering down between his begging eyes and that vice-like grip of his. “You need anything, babe?”

“Ah-” Gojo lets you go as if your skin scorched him - as if he didn’t even realize that he’d been holding onto you this way. “No no, nothing for me- don’t take too long, m’kay~”

Every step you take, Gojo’s watching after you like it couldn’t be fast enough.

Because after that? That kiss that had him feeling like a pathetically melty puddle of teenage hormones? Shit, he’s almost on the verge of getting out of his seat and running after you like a maiden himself-

“So…ugh- was that part of the truce?”

“Huh?”

“Was that- dammit, Satoru fuckin’ look at me- she’s not even in your line of sight!”

“Oh- what?” Gojo’s veering his eyes over to his best friend, gaze still trailing after you like a lost puppy even when he registers the other man talking to him. Your little audience had mostly dissipated by now, leaving him to act as much of a fool as his idol-like persona on campus didn’t allow. 

Geto lets him stew in the strobing silence of the party music for a little longer, before heaving out a sigh that was much too worldly for a young man of twenty-something. As a younger sister, you really did give him grief - and he finds himself almost wishing he hadn’t interrogated Gojo after overhearing your strange agreement earlier today. “Man, you really are stupid, huh?”

“I know.” 

“And this charade of yours is even stupider.”

“...I know.”

“And you realize that you might just be helping her back into the arms of that Sukuna all over again, right?”

“WHAT?” He’s so desperately loud that a few guests in the vicinity jump. But Gojo didn’t care - he didn’t give a shit about anything other than grasping onto Geto’s collar, shaking him stupid. “Have you lost your mind- I’m supposed to be the nonsensical one in our duo-”

“I-I’m just saying.” Geto’s putting his hands up as if a shield, “Getting an ex-boyfriend jealous using the same man he was threatened over when they were dating? Sounds like the textbook recipe for jealousy sex if you ask me.”

Oh, Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone. Brows marrying together, he only wobbles his best friend harder. “B-but no- that can’t be- they hate each other, don’t they?”

And, ah, he hated how Geto always knew what to say. 

Hated how he already knew by the devilish curve of Geto’s lips that nothing that was about to fall out of it was going to do his sanity any good. 

Gojo flails, “No wait-”

“Don’t you two claim you ‘hate each other’? And yet, here you are.” Geto’s patting his best friend on the back as if consoling him, shaking his head with the patience of a mother with a few problem children. “There there, you complete imbecile. Now you might want to stay here sulking with a singleton like me, or- you might want to go over there and avenge the honor of your fake relationship, because I see an ex-boyfriend coming in hot.”

“What?”

He’s jerking his head around so urgently that Gojo’s vision blacks out for a bit - and that’s exactly the excuse he’ll use for years to come when he shoots up to his full height. Snatching a glass of liquid courage from Geto-

“Satoru, that’s-”

Knocking it back within seconds before storming off to just where he could just peak your beautiful self in the kitchen being crowded by Sukuna. That adorable furrow in between your brows betraying your thoughts, lips moving furiously with a frown.

“Do you think he knows that what he drank was just water and not alcohol…” Geto tilts his now-empty cup at a lounging Nanami nearby, head bowed like he couldn’t give a single fuck if this party burned with him in it. 

“No.” 

“Do you think he realized the ‘jealous sex’ was a bluff?”

“No.”

Geto lets out a slight huff of laughter, “And do you think he realizes that more than one person in our group knows it’s pretend?”

“No.” Nanami didn’t care if he risked sounding like a broken recorder, after spending almost a decade with you two dancing around each other, he thinks he’s owed that privilege at the very least. “I don’t think he realizes that had your sister so much as looked his way, let alone date his sorry self, then the entire campus would have been hearing about it for the past month.” For the first time since he’d found himself accidentally dragged into Geto’s conversation with him, Nanami raises his head to catch the tail end of Gojo’s lanky legs disappearing into the kitchen. “After all, Sukuna did break up with her because they were in love with each other. Just too stupid to see.”

Now, you might not exactly be his yet like he’s wished on every single birthday candle since he was six - but Gojo Satoru was to be damned if was going to let any other bastard steal his fake girlfriend.

“Sukuna-”

“Awww…what happened to ‘Kuna’, baby?”

You snort, arms crossing over each other while you fixate your glare on Sukuna’s leering form. God, the kitchen just seemed too small for the two of you. “I think you lost that privilege when you dumped me.” Attempting- failing - to sidestep, “Now if you’d excuse me, my boyfriend is-”

Scoffing, “Girl- what boyfriend?”

Sukuna looked to be on the very verge of laughter, and you were on the verge of breaking into a nervous sweat. He’s rasping out a rumbling snicker at that look on your pretty face, “Oh come on, now- you can’t really expect me to believe that sorry excuse of a kiss came from the same man that’s been wantin’ you for years, right?”

Shit. 

Wait…years?

Your fingers curl tighter around the beer bottle, “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And you watch as Sukuna’s mouth drops - now fully laughing in your face. “Damn- not even a hint? You really did downgrade after me, ma. At least I was honest.”

“Honestly an asshole, that’s for sure.” 

But the rest of your fire swims down the drain as he inches closer. And closer. Heat radiating off the rippling muscles of his body when a big, beefy arm of his cages you against the polished marble counter. Head inclining slightly towards the door, “Well- why don’t you and I-”

“Take your fuckin’ hands off my girlfriend.”

“Satoru?”

But the sight you’re met with seems anything but - gone is that softly teasing demeanor, vanquished is Gojo’s easy smile. His pretty features are twisted into such a feral snarl; and where his tone was ice-cool, his eyes were blazing with raw fury.

Gojo looked like he didn’t even hear you as he echoes, “I won’t say it again.”

“Well alright then, Mr. Boyfriend.” Sukuna lets go of the cool counter surface with a knowing chuckle, walking horrifically towards a seething Gojo himself. The two stand eye-to-eye, glare-to-glare. “Are ya sure you and your third-rate acting wasn’t interrupting anything between myself and my girlfriend?”

“Satoru, ignore him–” You’re pleading, trembly voice jolting Gojo out of his hypnotized stupor, and making him drag his heavy legs around to you. Fuck, that was close. You didn’t know what-

“That’s right. Comfort your friend the only way you know how- s’not like you can do anything other than pine for decades until the next one comes around to steal her away, anyway.”

CRASH!

In a split-second, Gojo has Sukuna pinned against the wooden cabinets by his cotton shirt. Ego and desperation wafting from the two men as his feet dangle a few centimeters off the floor. Gojo had his teeth bared - eyes wild, looking like he was seconds from foaming at the very mouth. And Sukuna’s own lips quirked upwards into a grin. 

“You better watch your fucking mouth.” Gojo hisses. 

“You wanna tell her or should I-”

“What is happening here-” Shoko’s sharp voice snaps the three of you from your little bubble of violence, and it’s like all of a sudden the music and the party comes pouring back into the kitchen. Strangers and friends alike hot on your heels to watch the drama unfold, being pushed back by a frantic Haibara. “You’re acting like children.”

Sukuna shoves the other man off of him, and makes his way out. “Well, I know one of us hasn’t grown up.”

And Gojo is just about to stride forwards- until you catch him with a hand hooked around his elbow. Feeling the washing sense of deja vu from not too long ago. Hastily spitting out, “N-now- oh! Look at that, let me get that bruise cleaned up-” There was no bruise, and there was no reason for you to drag Gojo from the kitchen as fast as you did. Yet, you did anyway. “We’ll be upstairs–”

“Man…Sukuna.” Geto whistles lowly, watching you lug his 6’3 mess of a clingy best friend up the stairs and into what he assumes to be Gojo’s bedroom. “I know you wanted to set them up together badly but wasn’t that a little much?”

“Oh shut up- I don’t give a shit if they get together or- or if she’s happy or not.” he gruffs, stalking off. 

Yet, Geto guffaws at the angry rouge that colored the very tips of his ears, and the slight wobble in Sukuna’s lower lip when he stops to watch you two make your escape.

Yeah. “Didn’t give a shit” his ass. 

“Ugh.” Utahime rolls her eyes, signalling at the DJ to raise the volume on the music just a tad louder. She had a dreading feeling they’d strangely need it. “Men.”

.

.

.

Ugh, men. 

You roll your eyes, the soft pads of your fingers tracing over where Gojo’s knuckles were slightly reddening after knocking against the cabinets. You were only glad that it didn’t escalate into something even worse - damn this stupid idea. 

“I’m sorry.”

Gojo breaks the thickened silence between you two, his sullen voice echoing across all four wide corners of the master bedroom. But all you can hear is the thundering of your own pulse when he blinks his eyes up at you, “I didn’t…didn’t think it would go this far.”

The two of you are sitting on the edge of his king-sized bed, practically sinking into the plush mattress. And you can’t help but notice how much the room smells like him.

“Ah, well- y’know…” you’re trailing off, and the way you look at him - so soft and raw will forever be etched into his honeyed mind. You were comforting him…what a night. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. B-beside- it’s over now, isn’t it?” 

He can only nod.

And you feel your fingers twitch where they were cradled in his much larger ones. Fuck. Here goes nothing…

“So that means I have to hold up my end of the bargain now, doesn’t it?”

Oh. 

Gojo blinks.

Oh.

“Wait- so was it the body or the char-”

“Unless you finish that sentence right now. In that case I’m never speaking to you again.”

And shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut Gojo Satoru up then you’d have been wielding this power much, much sooner. Breath hitching when his plump, pinkish lips instantly zip shut, and he’s scrambling off the bed to kneel in front of you.

Kneel.

Gojo was kneeling in front of you, knees clacking to the floor so hard that you think it must hurt. But all that he wears on his expectant face is the rosiest of blushes, and the slight pucker of his lips when he leans in. “I-I’ll shut up- but can I have my kiss now?”

You couldn’t gift an answer even if your dizzy mind could somehow conjure up one.

Because with the slightest nod of your head - barely motioning even a few millimeters - Gojo’s crashing his lips onto yours like he was starved. 

Like he didn’t want to breathe - didn’t need to - when his mouth was meshing against yours. Addicted from that faux kiss downstairs. Keening out a low whine at the very back of his throat, he’s gulping in steady heavals of your essence. Greedy hands circling your body-

“O-oh shit.” he kisses, mouth parting from yours ever-so-slightly because fuck, he had to breathe. But he’s completely and utterly sure that he could die happy right here and right now, lips firmly pressed against yours. 

You’re half-heartedly sputtering, “We should– the party–”

“D-don’t talk to me about a fuckin’ party, pretty.” His teeth pull lewdly on your lower lip, “One more- that was a practice run. O-one m-”

This time, it’s you cutting him off. 

Swallowing up the rest of Gojo’s sentence and forcing his body to wreck with a sudden bolting of lightning. And Gojo swears he tastes heaven on your lips, thumbing open your jaw further to pry out your lolling tongue and suck. 

You moan out what sounds like a slurring string of his name over and over - praying that these walls were as soundproofed as they looked. 

Fingers nimbling their way over to the first few open buttons of his shirt - the very graze of your skin down his burning one sends shots of electricity down Gojo’s body. It makes him jolt. It makes him drag in a heaving lungful. It makes his heavy palm drop its way to the curve of your ass and squeeze. 

“Wait-” he’s drunken. Seething. Silvery strings of rope snapping in the heady lack of space between you two when Gojo pulls away. “-what’s it that they say- one more for luck?”

One more. And another. Another. Another and another and it’s still not enough even when Gojo’s mouth was throbbingly red and raw from crashing against yours, whimpering at the slightest wet glide of your candied lips across his.

Meshing in a sodden pucker he’s trailing his plumpened lips down the splatters of dribble that’d made its way down the corner of your mouth. 

As lazy as his hands were, long digits drawing circular massages up, up, up your thigh. You’re gasping when the fat curve of his thumb nudges in through your drenched panties, drawing a sopping wet line down your teary slit. 

“I think…” Cutting himself off to let his tongue slide out and lick a languid stripe down your drivel. “...think I needa hah- kiss those other lips of yours for good measure, sweetheart.”

Oh.

Fuck.

He looked like he was seconds from drooling at the very thought. Nervous energy bleeding into his words, making them sound almost like a whimper. Gojo Satoru wasn’t asking - he was begging on his knees right before you to eat out your pretty cunt.

Sharp inhales being sucked through his drunkenly parted lips when you slide your fingers through his sweat-soaked hair and pull. “Th-then you better make it worth all the trouble, Toru.”

Oh, his head tumbles backwards at the sound of that nickname on your lips once more.

Chuckling - chuckling - all humorless and crazed. Bleary eyes locked on you and only you, he doesn’t move them a singular inch once all the while dipping his fingerpads into the hem of your panties and pulling. Dragging out the drenched excuse of your panties, they’re splotching a glistening coating of your sweet, sweet juices down your thighs. 

And Gojo only turns to look once he brings them eye-level - up to his face and-

“Toru, you’re so nasty–”

“Ya think?” Gojo huffs out through the slicked-up fabric of your underwear, breathing in your essence like it was his favorite scent. And you swear you catch him sneaking in a few droplets of your syrupy juices that splatter onto his mouth. Groaning, “Oh, sweetheart- m’gonna make you realize just how nasty I really am.”

Without any apologies, without any warning, your thoroughly hypnotized self is being shoved down roughly onto the mattress. You bounce a few times against the navy sheets, legs hiking up on autopilot - exactly the way that Gojo wanted them. 

You really were made for him. 

Mewling, “Wh-what-”

“Shhh sh sh-” he’s whispering out in ragged rasps, still pressing a few pretty pecks against the mound of your translucently glossed panties. It was taking everything in him to part- to set them down…Well, perhaps not that far. Gojo stuffs your panties mindlessly into the back pocket of his pants, tongue swiping a moisturized coating over his lips when he takes back in the sight of you. “M’talking to her.”

All splayed out on the bed for him - it was like all his dreams materialized into real life. 

Literally. 

“Oh, look how wet she is–” His creamy fingertips push up your dress to make such a slurring mess all over your pursed lips. On purpose. Swirling the edge of his manicured thumb over and over in the tiniest of circles over your pulsing clit. And Gojo snickers at how greedy she was for his attention…how cute. “-whaddaya think she’s ngh- tellin’ me, pretty?”

Rubbing your fists over your eyes, you’re seeing stars when Gojo’s rude digits give your clit a sudden pinch. “I-I don’t know–”

“Awww- are you sure?” You’re being showcased the most innocent pout you’ve seen him plaster on his entire life, lower lip jutting out and looming so dangerously close to kiss the drizzling trail at your puffy folds. “Because she’s so talkative to me- might jus’ be nicer than you.”

You wish you could snap back as you usually would - oh, how you wish. 

But you’re sure that any and every noise that showers out from your dazed mouth wouldn’t even be heard. Because for one infuriating time in your life, Gojo was right. 

Those sugar-coated squelches from your dripping cunt replayed in your ears over and over. Every teasing pattern of Gojo’s fingertips has you rambling in a saturated song that sticks to your ears like cotton. And Gojo couldn’t get enough.

He couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t falter no matter how much he wanted to keep up this ever-cracking facade of being suave. Heeding to practically every word from your pretty pussy when his heated mouth gruffs closer and kisses you.

Slow. Filthy.

“T-Toru–” you’re whining, your fingers entangling with his snowy locks. And no matter how hard you tug, Gojo doesn’t move even an inch. “-make sure you ngh- b-breathe- fuck-”

“Don’t need to..don’t- don’t need it…” Gojo’s slurring out into your saccharine pussy lips, intentionally dragging out his words so that they vibrate all down your spine. 

Button nose massaging against your ample clit, the decadent room rings! with a sultry squelch. And you’re peeking down at that sinful sight of Gojo’s tongue smearing your puffed-up pussy lips agape. Swiping around and around the circular hole of your entrance before plunging in-

Oh.

Gojo looked like he was so in bliss. 

Eyes sliding all the way to the back of his head with one taste of your bawling cunt on his tongue- shit. Shit.

Shit shit shit. He’s out of control when he gasps, two hands curling under and around your thighs to haul you down the bed. Maw hanging ferally open when he’s gashing your poor pussy with the most sodden French kisses - Gojo’s never kissed a person like this before. And he doesn’t think he ever will - other than you. 

Doesn’t think he’ll ever feel as feverish as he does right now when he’s craning his deft fingers into his mouth. Sucking. Tasting. Each and every one with a messy pop! pop! pop! 

He really was nasty.

You gape at the way your slick hangs all down his lips and coats a sparkling glaze that drips down his chin and forms a little pool at his neck. His collarbones. Trickling down with pearly beads of sweat that sift between his perky pecs so mouthwateringly.

“F-fuuuuck-” Gojo’s hissing, brows scrunching together like he couldn’t even believe what he was seeing. “You jus’ got ngh- wetter. S-so much wetter…”

It’s said like a prayer. 

Like a plea because your cunt was driving Gojo crazy.

“It’s all because of ah- you–” You squirm at the way that these were the words tumbling from your mouth. And you already know that Gojo was about to tease you for this for the next few years - if he even remembered, that is. 

Because just about the only thing that he can do right now is twirl the edges of his fingers over your winking hole. Once. Twice. Before feeding you inch by long inch of his middle finger - in your lusty haze you think you manage to count about six inches from his staggering size. 

And it only had you imagining his size down below. 

“Don’t squeeze around m-me- fuck who am I kidding-” Gojo’s sleazy pumps of his hand has your cunt slobbering all down to his working wrist. Adding in one more, two. “-drool all over me- make a mess- hah- fuckin’ ruin me.” Mouth bumbling a mile a minute when his drives build up sloppily, swiveling around your gummy walls to nudge over all your tenderized sweet spots. “Yeah- heh- yeah suck me up like that. S-such a slutty girl, aren’t ya?”

“S-stop being so-”

So what?

Talkative with your cunt? So greedy when he shovels his face back in between your tottering thighs? So heated when he utters. Like a death sentence. All that he could. “I-I can’t stop- do you know how long I’ve ah- imagined this? Dreamt of this?”

Your palm constrict on his silky strands and Gojo’s so pliant when he lets himself be rummaged even deeper against your pussy. So ready to be used. “Th-think I like you better when you ngh- shut up–”

And even through it all, Gojo finds it in himself to roll his eyes - though, you think it’s a way to disguise the way he’s agonizingly swimming in euphoria more than anything. Chuckling out wetly, “Th-think I like it better when you’re ah- actually on m’tongue and n-not jus’ in my fuck- dreams when I have my cock in hand.”

Shit.

He’s so shameless. 

Fingers jackhammering in and out in and out in and out- 

“Where is it-” he’s spitting out into your squirming pussy, the lower half of your body being pinned to the mattress with one of his strong arms. You’re feeling the way his biceps bulge against your skin. Getting faster. Faster. “-where is it where is it where-” 

“What are you even ngh- looking for, Toru?” you’re crying out - it was all so much now. So close. 

But the only answer you get are your ankles being tugged to wrap around Gojo’s fervent head, pinned with one hand behind his back. “Lock it.” Keeping you held there until the ends of your feet knot as vice-like as possible to mash his face into your drooling cunt. 

Gojo wraps his rose pink lips around your weepy clit and sucks through furrowed brows when his thorough digits surge upwards at a bruising pace into a bulbous magical spot. That spot. 

“Found it.”

And you find yourself cumming with such a loud yelp of Gojo’s name - throat rubbing sore with every peak of your high. Your orgasm crashes into you over and over as he laps up every bead, every splatter, every drop that you’re giving. 

And he’s still parched. 

Spitting out a wet slew of saliva into your quavering hole, Gojo’s making such a mess of you. Absolutely ruined when he sucks up every wet smear that waterfalls from your cute cunt - so thirsty. 

It’s only when your high has died down to a few tingles, when your limbs twitch with overstimulation, that Gojo finds himself pulling away. His lips stinging rawly, nose slicked and dripping with your sweet, sweet juices - you’re hearing the most pained grunt from between your legs as he pulls away.

It hurt him to.

“Oh, w-would ya look at that—”

You weren’t sure if you trusted him enough to look - already knowing that whatever it was would have your mind reeling.

But how could you not when Gojo’s fat fingertips squeeze your cheeks together into a pathetic pout, opening your glazed mouth just wide enough for him to salivate. A thick wad of spit hitting your lolling tastebuds, his thumb swipes over the stray slops that’d made their home on the corner of your slack jaw. 

He grins, “I said look, sweetheart…”

Groaning, your eyes blink downwards - and you weren’t even sure what you were witnessing at first. Not even sure if you were daydreaming - because Gojo had his black dress pants unbuttoned. Shoved down until his thick, milky thighs just enough for you to witness his massive length.

Yeah, his fingers were definitely an indicator of something.

Because Gojo was so big that you felt nervous. His length swollen and thickened to an incredible girth. All pretty with a red, rotund ruby tip that blushes a cute strawberry pink all the way down, down, down until neatly trimmed tufts of white at his base. Saddling his tight, hefty balls that looked much too heavy.

He made your mouth water. 

But that wasn’t all - no, what really catches your eye and snaps you from your orgasmic haze and into a half-lucid state were the creamy rings upon rings that laminated his shaft. Frosting-like dredges of cum sliding lazily down his angry cock, spurting out a few more from his weepy divot at the very end at your unwavering attention. Did he-

“Yes.” Gojo gasps out in a condensed puff, his voice sugary and embarrassed. Shit, did you just say that out loud? “I-I came just from…you’re just so-” 

Damn, he curses his stupidly babbling mouth. So drunk on you that he can’t voice all the sinful thoughts sprinting through his melty head right now - all the thoughts that have been already for years now. 

It was impossible - even for his big fat mouth.

So without another word, Gojo tuts as he’s rolling his shoulders as if on instinct to pop a few joints; in one, fluid motion your body is being sidled into such an easy princess carry. 

Patting you down right into the cushiony middle of the bed, he looms over you - stalks over to you. And you can’t deny that the absolutely feral smile twisting his features makes your cunt twitch. 

“Too many clothes.” Gojo tugs on your dress - that darkened glint in his eyes not boding well for you or-

RIP!

-for this dress.

At the sight of your jaw dropping in adorable surprise, he chuckles out a rough, “Don’t worry- I’ll buy ya that again. I’ll buy ya the ngh- whole fuckin’ store jus–” And oh with a few masterful flicks of his fingers on your bra, you’re left in nothing underneath him. Nothing to hide your perfect body away from the way he was fucking you with his half-lidded eyes. “-just let me f-fuck this cute cunt, please?”

It takes you a few sloppy seconds of Gojo nibbling down your neck for you to realize that he’s waiting for you. For anything. 

Huffing, your shaky fingers clench around the glaringly open lapels of his button-up. “S’unfair th-that you’re the only one in clothes-”

And, well, who was Gojo Satoru against you?

You’re demandingly helping him shrug off that branded shirt, buttons hitting the ground, his pants hitting the floor-

“Whoops.” Gojo grins sheepishly when his pants and those tight boxers collapse onto the floor in a tatter of fabric and your panties. “Jus’ consider it a uh- birthday gift, pretty–”

No longer having his flaps of fabric to reel him in by, your fingernails dig neat little patterns of crescents on his heated skin as you drag him down to you. Heady breaths mingling with one another, “You said no gifts, remember? If you ngh- really want those panties- y-you’re gonna hafta earn it, Toru.”

And earn it he will. 

Because as soon as the bulging spherical shape of his fat head swipes a sopping kiss down your pussy lips, you feel yourself already moan. He was so hot. 

Already so pussydrunken when he says, “Hope ya don’t mind–” Teeth sinking into your tender earlobe, “-this is my first time.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

You barely even have the mindpower to register those words before you’re being split apart - gasping at the almost-unnatural feeling of being so thoroughly full. Of having our steamingly hot insides being fucked open with just the simple tip of Gojo’s staggering cock. 

“C’mon- c’mon–” He’s lunging up in slow, mindless gyrations trying to force his thick length inside. Powerful arms keeping your wrangling legs spanned wide open for him, they barely even let you budge. Biting down on his lip in frustration, “F-fit inside- shit, your pussy’s so tight, sweetheart– s’it too big for you?”

Stubbornly, “No-”

And Gojo only has to glissade the curves of his palm down to that inflationary nudge of where he was drilling into your cunt. “No?” 

“...no.”

Pressing down. Hard. “No?”

“Fuck- yes- you’re just too big-” And you meant it as a complaint - you really did. But those words only have every ounce of blood remaining in Gojo’s shivering body galloping down to his gluttonous cock. Pushing at the seams to make him expand even fatter, bigger- “Why are you getting bigger?”

Shit, you really needed to watch that mouth of yours. 

Because it has Gojo’s hulking body falling onto two elbows on either side of your head, like a heavenly cage you didn’t ever want to get out of. 

Sweat-simmered forehead bumping into yours, you feel his large fingers interlace dangerously on top of your head. “You need to-” He’s crashing his lips against yours in such a filthy open-mouthed kiss. “-s-stop talkin’ outta ya ngh- pussy. Leave that to her.”

Her. 

And you’re so utterly distracted by all his little ministrations that you didn’t even realize the way he was snugly fitting himself into your cunt. 

The stretch is impeccable when it hits you like a train at full speed, feeling the tiny nooks and crannies of your magical spots being brushed up against the thrumming upright curve of Gojo’s cock. He’s leaving no millimeter of your elastic walls unturned, unstretched. Untainted. 

Gushing out a sweltering hot wave of buttery pre that sloshes all the way against your womb. “Oh- oh what the fuck-” Gojo hisses, chest heaving. And if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered if he was in pain. “-what the fuck- th-this is what you feel like?”

Right - shit. In all the chaos, you’d forgotten those words he’d confessed just earlier - Gojo Satoru was a virgin. Because of course, he was. Don’t make him laugh, who else would he have ever wanted to see him like this other than you? 

A virgin that was currently pacing his slender hips back and forth to instrument the most syrupy squelches from the very gooey bottom of your cunt. His drooling mouth spreading wider and wider with every sultry half-thrust. 

You mewl, “H-how does it feel, Satoru?”

“I-I feels so- so–” But the words are failing him - the words are escaping him with every gummy squeeze of your walls like you wanted to swallow down more and more of his solid inches. And hand on your hips swirls your hips around ever-so-slightly to feel his sobbing tip paint tiny circles of gluey precum inside you. Gojo snaps his eyes open - wild. “-is it even l-legal to have ya cunt feel this good, sweetheart? This- oh! Heavenly?”

And he was sounding genuinely concerned. Genuinely worried for his sanity once Gojo manages to feed your needy cunt all of his length. 

Now in.

Fully.

And it feels too good - too blissful to have almost every single prayer in his life finally answered that Gojo can’t help but scrunch his eyes shut and cum.

Loudly. Pathetically. 

One hand dancing downwards to give your plump clit a punishing little squeeze as if it was your fault. The other curling around your throat to have you meshing your mouth with his panting one, you can feel it in the vibrations how his voice cracks at the very same second your gooey cunt is filled with such copious dumps of his seed.

There’s so much. 

As if he’s cumming and cumming harder than he has in his entire life, every splatter of stifling hot cum managing to paint the bullseye of your g-spot in pure white. Ounces of his seed creaming around his hefty base, it smears and slide around your thighs as Gojo continues to fuck you into the mattress. Pound after pound that make him see overstimulated stars. 

And it makes Gojo giggle - giggle - head lolling deliriously into the crook of your neck, now covered in a slather of his drool. Every slow ram into your splurging cunt has him grunting out the tiniest ah! ah! ah! 

“Shit- fuckin’ embarrassing-” You hear him groan into your neck, licking a languid column from his tongue before biting. Hard. Hard enough that you’re wondering whether he’d draw blood, “Can ya believe- s-saved my virginity for the ngh- girl of my dreams n’ m’cumming already~?”

He leaves a few final pecks against your lips, “Th-this pussy’s got me too haaaah- addicted, pretty–” As he’s moving to part sloppy ways, you’re gasping at the splatter! of something warm. Wet. And only then do you register the literal tears crinkling at his eyes from overstimulation. Crying. 

“A-are you okay– Satoru?” You’re whining, limp fingers skimming away the strands of white that cling to his prespired forehead. 

“No.” Comes the answer, comes the heaving gasp when Gojo’s fatigued limbs force themselves through his trembling muscles to heave back upright. “One m-more. That was a practice run.” Throwing your legs over his broad shoulders, you feel his flexing deltoids underneath you when Gojo brings one ankle up to his mouth and kisses. Muttering - more to himself than anything. “B-but m’gonna make y’feel good- oh- fuck- m’gonna make you t-take this big cock.”

His words have you just as stupidly fucked as his fat shaft does. 

Those lightning bolts of his veins thump down the upperside of your goopy channel, massaging your sweet spots over and over and-

“Th-think it was here-” Gojo’s palms feel everywhere and anywhere down your tummy for the vicious back and forth of him inside you. To feel that bulging opening, the way your snug channel clenches every time his bouncy tip recoils back from your cervix. Wanting more more more- “-or w-was it- here.”

“Fuck!” The entire expanse of your spine arches off of those thoroughly and filthily dampened sheets now, meshing up sluttily into Gojo’s body until his prespiry-glossed abs cushion your front, plush pecs so comfortably collapsing on top of you. “There- there there hngh- more-”

“More-” Gojo chuckles, hitting that precious spot over and over. His chubby head mashes in slurping soppy collisions until he was out of breath. Dizzy. “More she says- Greedy girl, wh-when you have me already ngh- dripping out of you. Shit- squeezin’ me so. Oh-”

And his vigorous fingers scoop up such lecherous volumes of his own milky cum, toying with the gushing waves of white your poor pussy leaks with every pound. 

He’s bullying them between your lips - cerulean eyes dilating, mouth sagging unsealed when you eagerly suck on his digits. Tasting his candied self, tasting you. Somehow managing to muffle out, “M-m’not greedy.”

Gojo can only grin, “S-say that to me when this oh- cunt of yours isn’t sucking the fuckin’ soul outta me.”

And Gojo would love to tease you more for this - to mouth away for hours on end into your ear about how drenched you were getting and muse out loud whether you’d dreamt of this just as much as he has, too. 

But instead, he’s pecking a flurry of lovely kisses all down your face. Gasping into your lips, “M-move that pretty hand f’me-” So rudely swatting those fingers of yours that’d snuck their way down to toy with your neglected clit, Gojo’s taking over himself to rub steady, methodical circles. Thumb peeking pressure on the hood of your clit just the way he’d read online. “-I’ve always w-wanted to ah- do this. To fuck you raw. T-to ruin you and ngh- fill you up-” As his words spill, so do a few ropey wads of pre. More. Frequent. “-a-and eat you out all over again. See how you taste like mine…”

“Y-you’re gonna-” You can’t even bring yourself to say it. “Again?”

“Of course, sweetheart- why? Scared I- oh.”

That’s when he does it - the mistake of peering his barely-open eyes down.

His weightily smacking balls that smooch against your ass with each thrust clench oh-so-painfully at the vision of your puffed-up pussy lips gaping around him. Drooling. Swallowing. Accommodating his ruthless cock for all you can, practically broken in half and still yearning for more.

Shit, the sight’s so hypnotic that Gojo doesn’t even realize when he’s letting his thoroughly overwhelmed body lock into yours like a puzzle piece. So hefty and sculpted. 

His abs practically melting into your body, and his sloppy hips pistoning into you even deeper. Harsher. Every raring grind of Gojo’s lengthy shaft probes into your g-spot so hard. Like he wanted to leave widely battered bruises of his circumference on your sweetened spots, your cervix, anywhere and everywhere he could reach. Like he couldn’t stop. 

Doesn’t even know the very word right about now in this filthy, filthy mating press. “C’mon- c’mon one more for ah- luck?” Whimpering, “My sweetheart, I-I’m gonna-”

Gojo sees white when he cums once more this night - and you do, too. 

You’re not sure if it’s because of the violent streaks of electricity that run down your entire body, or because of the treacly spurts of cum that overspill from your poor cunt. But fuck- did it feel so good. 

Your entire body tingles all the way down from your toes up to your bleary head - and the entire room feels like it’s fucking spinning at this point. 

Black tinging your vision with ever overfilling thwack! of Gojo’s tight, cum-filled balls as they empty out, out, out into your depths. It’s coating your insides like a sticky second skin, leaving stringy drizzles of seed seeping from between your slit. Adding to the ever-growing puddle before. 

You’re feeling it swashing around you with every drivel of his hips. Overstuffing your elastic walls until you felt like they were about to burst. 

And all you can do is simply grapple your nails into the bulging muscles on Gojo’s back, whimpering out a broken, “T-Toru–”

“M’here I-I’m here–” Yet his voice sounds airy, hitching like he was on cloud nine. A beefy arm wraps around your body and manhandles you close to him like some sort of ragdoll, “M’here- shit-” His lips graze against yours in what you assume must be a kiss, too oversensitive to even perk his head up and peck you senseless like you knew he wanted to. “Never lettin’ ya go- haaah- never- ah-”

Whatever promises Gojo always imagined whispering into your ear can be said and done later. 

Right now, the only thing he can streamline his body into doing for him is to search blindly for his discarded pants by the side of the bed. Searching for that bulge in the back pocket- no, not the panties he’d swiped right in front of you - instead, he’s feeling for the shape of his wallet. 

Pulling your tired body back into his, Gojo’s carding it lazily open to show you that. 

Exactly what they were talking about.

Splayed out proudly in the front and center of his wallet was a picture of the two of you. Years and years ago exactly on this date, the aged photograph showed a smiling Gojo Satoru in front of a candlelit birthday cake, tiny cheeks all pinkened. A small, surly you standing by his side - eyeing his Digimon hat more than you were eyeing the camera. 

But that didn’t matter, because Gojo wasn’t looking at the camera, either. 

He was looking at you - exactly the way he was right now.

Glowy eyes half-lidded, a mysterious little smile playing on his lips. Gojo nuzzles his face against yours and breathes out a tiny, “I…I might have loved you ever since then, y’know that?”

You’re gasping, eyes shining with…something. And Gojo’s heart stutters as he wants to find out. Wringing your hands to wrap around his broad chest, you’re coiling your legs together until you’re unsure where one ends and the other starts. 

Whispering three lovely words into his ear - and three more into the honeyed  air. 

“Happy birthday, Satoru.”

---

Gojo’s one wish was to wake up next to you - like this. Under soft blankets, with your sleepy breath puffing softly into his collarbone, your body tucked safely into his. 

And he never wants to let go - could never even dream of anything that could ruin this precious moment-

“Mind explaining who ordered wedding decor last night on MY account?”

Ah, that would do it. 

Bleary blue eyes wrench open, taking Gojo every shred of will in his body to not jolt at the unwelcome greeting of Shoko peering down at him…while he was all wrapped up with his best friend’s sister in a bedroom that could almost be mistaken for a crime scene. 

Would it really be too late of a birthday wish to hope that she hadn’t noticed your tattered clothes on the floor, the ruined state of the sheets, and the way that the bedframe sagged suspiciously on one side?

Gulping, he’s pressing your body even tighter into his, careful not to let you stir - well, at least it couldn’t get worse than this-

Footsteps. 

Close.

And an unmistakable few voices - and laughter. “Is that my sist- SATORU, YOU BASTARD-”

“Eugh.”

“WHAT did you blackmail her with?”

“Woahhh- congratulations on your relationship!”

A/N. Lowkey has the spirit of a crackfic, I fear. This was SAUR fun.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[teememdee]

normal guy shedding normal tears over a league of legends event they miss every single day (star guardian 2022)

[mosabsdr]

💬 Just a Small Update, and a Big Thank You

Dear friends, kind hearts, and everyone who has stood with us,

When I first opened my heart to the world and shared our story, I never imagined the amount of love and solidarity we would receive. Thanks to your incredible support, we’ve now reached $12,837—a milestone that brings real light to some very dark days.

From the deepest corners of my heart, thank you.

💔 A Journey of Loss, but Also of Strength

As many of you know, I’ve lost 25 of my loved ones during this devastating war. That grief lives with me every single day. It’s in the silence that once held laughter, in the empty spaces where we once gathered as a family.

But through your help, I’ve also felt something else: hope. And that hope is priceless.

“21/Oct/2023 Before It Reached Us: The Day Our Neighbor’s House Was Destroyed” A quiet moment of fear, filmed just before everything changed.

“22/Oct/2023 The Morning After: Our Family Home in Ruins” This is what was left behind after the bombing of our home.

🌿 What Life Looks Like for Us Now

Despite everything, we’re still here. Still surviving. Still hoping.

But things have only gotten harder.

The war has returned, more brutal than before—and for over a month now, Gaza has been completely sealed off. No food is coming in. No medical supplies. No aid. No trade. No one is allowed to leave, and no one is allowed to enter.

We’re trapped.

🏚 We live with the fear of tomorrow, every single day. Airstrikes, drones, and the uncertainty of what might happen next. 👨‍👩‍👧 Our family is forever changed—we haven’t just lost people; we’ve lost pieces of ourselves. 📉 Basic needs go unmet—even clean water feels like a luxury now. Medicines, if they exist at all, are unreachable.

And yet…

Your support reminds us that we’re not forgotten. It reminds us that someone, somewhere, is still listening. That someone still cares. That we’re not completely alone in this.

Every message. Every share. Every dollar. It tells us: You’re walking this road with us. And that gives us the strength to keep going.

💖 What You Can Do

If you’ve already donated—thank you beyond words. If you can share our story again, it could reach someone who can help.

Even $5 means warmth, comfort, and a chance to breathe a little easier.

✨ Why It All Matters

This isn’t just about reaching a fundraising goal. It’s about surviving war with dignity. It’s about believing in tomorrow. It’s about making sure my daughter grows up knowing that the world did not look away.

Thank you for your kindness, patience, and belief in our humanity. You’ve helped me find my voice—and I will use it to keep hope alive.

🙏 From the Heart: A Quiet Apology

There’s something I need to say—something that’s been on my heart for some time.

When I first began sharing our story, I didn’t know what the right way was. I was scared, grieving, and trying to protect my family in any way I could. I reached out to many people, hoping someone, anyone, would see us. In that process, I now realize I may have overstepped, and I might have made some feel overwhelmed.

If that happened, I am truly sorry.

Please believe me when I say it was never out of disregard or pushiness. It came from a place of fear—fear of being forgotten, fear of not being able to keep my family safe, fear of watching everything I love slip away in silence.

I’m learning as I go. I’ve slowed down. I’m more mindful now, trying to share our journey in a way that feels respectful of the space and hearts of those listening.

If my words ever came at the wrong time, or in the wrong way, I hope you can understand where they came from—and I hope you can forgive me.

Thank you for seeing past my mistakes. Thank you for still being here. It means more than I can ever explain.

Vetted by @gazavetters ( #309 )

With love and endless gratitude, Mosab and family ♥️

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.” 

[unintentionalseductress]

Razor's Caress

Warnings: MDNI, depilation, piv sex, oral (fem receiving), creampie A/n: Just felt kinky and needed to write Zayne. Also, it is my firm belief that Zayne is a clit kisser after he performs oral. Hope everyone's New Year is going well and that the pull gods have been generous to you in the latest banner!

You giggle as Zayne’s large hands wander over your body, softly squeezing your curves as he nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin. His tongue traces a warm line up the column of your throat and a contented sigh leaves your lips as you cling to him. Zayne takes his time, always keeping his touches light and teasing as he samples and savors every inch of your body that falls prey to his mouth. 

As he starts slipping his smooth hands under your top, cupping your breasts, you can feel desire pouring into your veins as you take in his appearance; those mesmerizing eyes that were starting to darken at the periphery, his hot breath as it tickled your ear, and the unmistakable hardening bulge that was pressing against your thigh. Longing falls heavily on your senses but you hesitate, remembering that this little rendezvous wasn’t planned, and as such, you were completely and utterly unprepared down there. 

It never failed to surprise you, how quickly the bush grew back like it was being treated with an extra strength hair growth formula, the coarse locks covering your mound and creeping onto your thighs. With a sigh, you knew you wouldn’t go any further tonight. You fully intended to make it up to him tomorrow, once you could groom down there and look presentable. Part of you knows that body hair is natural and you shouldn’t be fussing over it so much but considering this was a new relationship, you simply weren’t confident enough yet to bare yourself in your native state. It was the beginning of a relationship that was starting to solidify, and you wanted to stretch it out a little longer. After all, keeping the area free of hair was something that you did for yourself; it made you feel confident and well-kempt. 

You place a hand on Zayne’s shoulder to grab his attention and he gazes at you, fire in his amber-green eyes. It almost makes you want to forget your hesitancy but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to do it. “Yes?” Zayne’s voice is a low growl as he waits for you to speak.

You clear your throat before speaking. “I-I’m sorry but, I don’t think we can go further tonight.” The disappointment is subtle but it makes your heart clench as you see it in his face, the slight droop in his mouth, and the change of warmth in his eyes. He sighs, then composing himself, rolls off you and you feel the loss keenly. You knew he could be balls deep inside you and if you said stop he’d pull out immediately, and you ached because right now you wanted just that; to feel his tongue all over you, to have his hot, velvety, flesh invade the part of you that throbbed and radiated with heat. But you remember what you looked like down there and try to curb your impulses. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, reaching out to stroke his shoulder.

“Don’t be. It’s all right.” Zayne cups your cheek and strokes it tenderly, and it almost breaks your already paper-thin resolve. “Was I going too fast?”

“No. It was perfect.” You lean over and card your fingers through his silky hair, leaning towards him till your foreheads touch. “And believe me, you have no idea how much I want to.”

“Then why stop?” Zayne presses a kiss to the tip of your nose and you almost groan in frustration. 

“It’s…it’s just a thing I have to deal with.”

“What sort of thing?” Zayne pulls away to look at you and you feel yourself blushing under his gaze. How could you possibly tell him the reason?

“It’s kind of personal. I just need to take care of it before we can do anything.”

Zayne’s eyebrows knit together in puzzlement. “You know you can tell me whatever it is right?” There’s a pause and you look away, feeling strangely shallow about your reasoning for not wanting to have sex tonight. You shake your head.

“It’s nothing. Can we let it go?”

Observing the flustered way you’re avoiding him, Zayne frowns. “Are you sure you’re all right?” Embarrassment creeps into your being and you turn to hide your face in your pillow and hear Zayne make a noise of amusement. He lays down beside, you, reassuringly patting your head. “You can tell me if you want to. No pressure. But I can’t see your face now.”

His words carry a light, teasing tone making you feel like you’re about to combust spontaneously. You feel him continue to pat your head and finally give in and admit the reason. Your voice is muffled by the pillow as you say it.

“I haven’t shaved.” 

A moment of silence follows your words before Zayne lets out a huff. “Is that all?” His tone sounds relieved. “I thought I did something.”

“No! It’s not you at all.” You raise your face from the pillow and give him an earnest look. “I haven’t had time to do maintenance and don’t want you to see me like that.”

“Why not?” There’s a quirk in Zayne’s lips. “I think I’d very much like to see it no matter how it looks.”

“No!” you squeak the word and shake your head. “Trust me, you don’t.” Bemused at his reaction, you allow him to pull you into a tight embrace, his chest shaking with laughter, which did little to quell your insecurity. “Stop! This isn’t funny!” you pout, making him grip you harder. 

“Of course it’s funny. Darling, do you really think I’m unaware that women have pubic hair? Or that it’s impossible to keep it neat all the time?” His breath tickles the back of your neck and you squirm. 

“I’m not ready for you to see me like that! If we’re at that stage it means-” you stop abruptly before you could spill the beans. 

“Hmm? What does it mean?” Zayne rolls you onto your other side so that he can look at you. Instead, you bury your face in his chest, listening to the barely contained rumble of his mirth. 

“It means we’re in an actual relationship. Where you see me all gross and untidy and I’m not sure we’re there yet.”

You hear his breath hitch, and when there’s no response you boldly glance up at him. There’s a depth of softness there that you hadn’t seen before and your heart skips a beat as you see it; his gaze is making you melt and sends tingles through your body.

“Oh my god. You think we’re there.” There’s a moment of tense quiet as your heart hammers in your chest before he gathers you close to him. 

“Yes. I think we’re there. Is that bad?” Zayne murmurs into your ear and you feel like your being might burst from the tenderness of his embrace. 

“No. It’s not bad.” You play with his hands, letting your palms lay flat on each other, intertwining your fingers with his. “I wasn’t sure is all.”

“Then let me remove any doubts you may have.” Zayne kisses your forehead. “We are together. It is serious. And I’m honestly not bothered if you haven’t had time to shave.”

You swallow and look up at him. “Thank you for telling me. I like that. Us being serious.”

A calm atmosphere replaces the previous tension, and you relax in his arms as he strokes your back. “Would you like to go to sleep?” he asks quietly. You consider it, then shake your head.

“No. I want to pick up where we stopped.” You take a deep breath then say, “Can you give me a little time? I’ll shave right now and we can get back into it.”

“Oh? You’re ok to tell me you want to shave now?” There’s humor in his tone. 

“Yeah now that we’re serious. I think I can openly tell you that now.”

“Do you want any help?” The deep, sultry way he murmurs the question has your stomach doing flips. Wetting your lips you let out an awkward laugh.

“No! I mean why would you want to help me with that anyway?” Your pulse quickens as you realize he’s completely serious, based on the new intensity that forms in his eyes. 

“Why not? I have a clear vantage point. I can see all of it, but I’m sure it must be challenging for you. Not to mention…I have a very delicate touch. Surgeon’s hands and all.” Zayne flourishingly flexes his fingers and you lay down on the bed as a fit of giggles captures you.

“Zayne stop it! I can do it on my own, really!” You shake your head at the image of him kneeling between your legs with a razor in hand. “Why are you so keen on this anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because a certain someone once told me I’m not allowed to do anything and then helped herself to a variety of my personal toiletries. Including my shaving cream and razor.”

You blink as his words slowly settle over you and blush as you recall the day when you’d helped shave his morning stubble, watching his demeanor become increasingly aroused until he’d snapped and you’d rode him on the rocking chair until you’d milked his cock dry. Unsure how to reply you give him a sheepish smile, receiving a smirk in return. 

“So that’s it? Revenge?” You ask as he rolls off the bed. You squeak as he pulls you towards him then scoops you up in his arms, holding you securely against his chest. 

“Not at all, darling.” He nuzzles your hair as he walks towards the bathroom. “Think of it as me returning the favor.” He switches on the light and deposits you on the large counter next to the sink. Your heart hammers in your chest as you watch him open one of the drawers and take out his shaving cream, and an unopened razor head which he replaces onto the handle of his razor after discarding the old blade. 

“Must be sanitary after all. Don’t want to bring any bacteria to such a sensitive area. Now…I believe it’s time to disrobe my patient.” Your mouth goes dry as he stands between your legs, running his hands along your bare calves before flirting with the waistband of your shorts, hooking his finger into it and tugging it down, slowly revealing your abdomen and belly button. You shiver as the elastic lowers onto your hips and brace yourself on your hands to raise your lower body, assisting him in slipping off the garment. Once it’s been discarded, his eyes fixate between your legs, and you feel the unmistakable sensation of wetness. Could anyone blame you? Zayne’s foreplay was always intense and effective, it wasn’t much of a surprise that you had a stain of moisture on your panties. 

Zayne runs a finger over the patch and you suck in a breath at the contact. A small huff of satisfaction falls from his mouth as he looks back at your face. “Were you honestly planning on staying like this all night? Aroused and denying yourself relief?” 

“I would have calmed down after a while,” you murmur defensively, letting out a hum as he leans closer to you to lick and nip your earlobe.

“What a disservice that would have been to both of us.” Transfixed, all you can do is watch as he starts to remove your panties, the small strip of fabric clearing your legs in no time and falling to the floor. Chills race down your spine as your bare ass settles on the marble counter. You avert your gaze as Zayne takes a look at your hairy mound, the coarse, curly hair fully visible on your sex. He gently pats your knee.

“Open.” The word is a gentle command and despite the heat rushing to your face, you obey and part your legs, letting him have an unfiltered view of your unshaven pussy. You feel moisture gather in your core under his gaze, a familiar throbbing feeling returning to your clit, and your nipples start to perk up under your pajama top. A strangled gasp falls from your lips as his fingers softly pet the tatch of hair, running a finger down the crease of your thigh before he takes your ankles and sets them up at an angle on the edge of the counter.

Your sex was now fully on display to his probing vision and, heat and need gathering in your lower belly as he ran his fingertip down the partition that separated the labia from the inner membranes, then running it superficially over the length of your slit, and you can’t help but make a quick bucking motion at the touch. 

“Soon. I promise.” Zayne reaches for the shaving cream, pressing down on the nozzle until the foamy substance falls onto his fingers. He carefully spreads the cream all over your mound, the edges of your labia, and the creases of your inner thighs. Every small stroke only stokes the fire inside you, the unexpected eroticism of the act making you wetter and eager to feel his fingers on a more intimate spot. Your breath catches as the cold, metal edge of the razor is felt on your skin, and then with a smooth dragging motion, you feel your hair part company with your skin. The quiet noise of the blade removing your hair fills the bathroom, punctuated with the sound of both your breathing and the soft taps of the razor as Zayne clears the head into the sink. 

He’s meticulous and patient, slanting the instrument delicately to get into the small nooks and using a firm but delicate touch to hold apart your lips as he works the razor near the delicate spots, then going lower to the back ends of the labia near your core. Time seems to move slower under his ministrations, and when he’s finally satisfied with his work, he takes a small hand towel which he runs under warm water from the sink before cleaning off the excess shaving cream. You peek down to admire his handiwork, seeing how smooth your skin looked, at how tidy and tamed it now was. 

Your clit was conspicuously visible now, unconcealed from the hair that was hiding it from view. You can feel it throb from the attention and your calves quiver from holding yourself apart for so long on the counter. You’re about to drop them down when Zayne firmly puts his hands on your knees. “Just a little longer.” 

You don’t dare move as he bends, his breath ghosting your sensitive skin which feels even more naked than usual with the missing hair. You sensed what he was about to do before it happened. A soft moan of wantonness leaves your lips and echoes off the tiles of the bathroom as Zayne’s clever tongue delves into your folds, lapping at the gathering honey that’s been accumulating all night. He leisurely dives into your hole, letting the watery nectar flow into his mouth. Your cunt was ripe with the scent of desire and it takes all his strength to not senselessly fuck you on the counter at this very moment. 

His tongue drags upwards sinfully, stimulating every nook and cranny of your delicate sex before teasingly flicking against the base of your clit, upsetting your balance as your hips arch forward in need. Your heels almost slide off the counter but Zayne reassuringly has you in a tight hold that keeps you in place. The little moans turn into mewls of pleasure as he sets up a rhythm, letting saliva dribble onto his tongue and slowly tracing short lines on your clit, patient little strokes from the bottom of the little bud to the top that have you squeezing your eyes closed as you try not to scream out from insanity. His spit combines with your arousal and pools down at the base of your cunt, a little messy puddle forming on the counter. 

Your hands keep flexing before finally finding purchase on his shoulders, squeezing them tight, and you hear a low noise from Zayne as your fingernails dig into his skin. You’d never felt so exposed, so utterly defenseless, all of you display for him to toy with as he pleased. You can feel your walls spasming in expectation and let out a quavering whine as you feel his fingers probing your entrance, pushing into you and scissoring inside to stretch you out. As he begins to stroke that spongy patch of nerves inside you, you feel the control snapping away from your body like a curtain being ripped off its hooks. Unashamedly, you moan, your hips undulating on his face as Zayne pushes you to the point of ecstasy.

You cry out sharply as you orgasm, the delicious spasm of ripples from within bubbling into your core and sending a heady rush into your system. The aftershocks continued to trickle through you, and Zayne slowly pulled his fingers out, covered in your essence. He places a soft kiss on your clit, a tender gesture that has your heartwarming despite the carnal act that had just taken place. He licks his fingers clean, then cups your cheek lovingly, taking in the sight of your flushed face and bright eyes, the way your hardened nipples showed up through your sleep top. He rests his forehead against yours.

“Darling…What am I supposed to do with you looking so delightfully sweet right now?” His thumbs brush the sides of your breasts you’re acutely aware of how close he is to losing control. You can feel the rock-hard push of his cock against your legs and his breath mingling with yours as he leans down for a hot kiss. You taste the salty tang of your arousal coating his lips and greedily suck his tongue, reveling in the flavor and the muffled gasp of desire that bubbles from Zayne’s chest. His strong arms hook around you and you feel your bottom part contact with the counter and wrap your legs around him instinctively. Not breaking the kiss and positive he was taking you back to bed, you fumble with the elastic of his pajama bottoms, sliding them down with your feet and teasingly pressing against the heated flesh. 

Zayne’s body tenses at the feeling of your toes strolling along the length of his cock and he feels something primal unleash in his belly. Thoughts of a soft bed and taking it slowly are driven from his mind barely a few steps out of the bathroom door. He turns and you feel your back come in contact with the wall, eyes opening hazily as a string of saliva connects your tongue to his. 

“You make me insatiable you little minx.” Zayne growls in your ear and supports you against the wall as he tries to free himself from the confines of his pajamas. “Didn’t think shaving your cunt would get me this hard.” Swaying in his arms and seeing his struggle, you carefully unwrap a leg from around his waist and use it to push down the pajama pants all the way, hearing them swish to the floor as they pool around his ankles. 

You pull your leg back up and resume your position, purring in his ear. “Maybe we’ll make that a permanent arrangement then.” A growl of approval rumbles from within him as he holds you firmly in the air against the firmness of the wall. You slide your body ever so slightly, reaching down to help position him as he pushes upwards and notches his thick, weeping, cockhead at your entrance. You let your body slide further, moaning as he instinctively closes the gap between your bodies. The eroticism of the moment is heightened by the sensation of your pajama tops brushing against each other while your bare lower halves worked in harmony to seek and provide each other with the intimate pleasure you’d been craving all night.

Zayne’s hot, velvety, length glides into your wetness, each thrust pressing you back against the wall. Helpless to anything else but cling to him you moan sexily in his ear, holding onto him for dear life. Each stroke sent bursts of euphoria through you, your pants growing heavier and more broken as your nails dig into his back. You feel tension in his body, finally realizing how badly he’d been craving you all night and your body completely surrenders to his movements, content to let him have you anyway he pleased. 

Wet noises fill the air as Zayne ruts into you, his tip kissing your cervix and brushing against your gspot, his hips deliciously thrusting against yours. The stretch and fill of him felt undeniably satisfying. You stroke his hair, whispering endearments to him as he chases his orgasm. The soft feel of your lips near his ear encouraging him to let go have Zayne’s vision growing fuzzy at the edges, his fingers digging into your flesh as though you’re an anchor. His abdomen is taut with anticipation, balls heavy and ready to unload themselves.

His eyes squeeze shut as he feels every little contraction of your pussy on him, then finally gives in to the demanding needs of his body. The coil snaps in his belly and the ecstatic contractions of gratification grip his body as he thrusts into you as high as he can, sheathing himself fully into your wetness, thick jets of his seed rushing forward to paint your womb. He moans as he waits for the contractions to subside, then gently caresses your cheek, easing his body out of yours as he helps you off the wall. Your legs quiver and burn from the position they’d been in and you lean on him for support, clenching your walls as you feel the naughty liquidy slip of his seed about to fall from your channel. 

He tenderly runs his hands over your body, pressing kisses to your hair, then cradles you against him. “How are your legs?” he inquires and you chuckle weakly, feeling a sheen of sweat coating his chest.

“They hurt. But I think I’ll survive,” you say jokingly. Zayne huffs and starts leading you back to bed. You lie down on the cool sheets, eyes heavy with fatigue, and snuggle into Zayne’s body. 

Gentle moonlight falls across both of you as he strokes your back soothingly, bringing an uncontrollable wave of sleep across your body. As you settle down for the night, there’s a deep sense of comfort in knowing that Zayne was now going to be a constant in your life and you smile sleepily into his neck before succumbing to your dreams.

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@theimmortalbuns @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume

[5sospenguinqueen]

Princess Party | Lando Norris x Best Friend! Reader

Summary: Lando enjoys participating in all night life has to offer, particularly with his best friend. When Y/N falls pregnant after one drunken night, he panics. After all, why should he trade a club party for a princess party?

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Baby fever. Loss of friendship. Pregnancy. Lando is not great in this.

Blonde female reader with various faceclaims. Pics found on Pinterest.

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YourUserName just posted

liked by mclaren, lnfour and others

YourUserName a podium for my favourite boy 🍾🧡#AustralianGP tagged: landonorris

5,778 comments

YourUserName and another huge well done to my other papaya pookie @/oscarpiastri for p4 🥳

→ oscarpiastri i thought we agreed you’d stop calling me that

→ YourUserName WE agreed to nothing

→ landonorris um i should be your only papaya pookie

→ oscarpiastri disrespected in my home town

georgerussell63 excuse me, why don’t you make posts like this about me

→ YourUserName when was the last time you were on a podium

→ alex_albon hahaha

→ georgerussell63 @/alex_albon hey, i’m closer than you are

→ YourUserName now, now, children, behave

User1 is this his girlfriend?

→ User2 no, just his childhood friend. she comes to most races to support him as she’s been there since his karting days

→ User3 and she’s really close with the the grid, but particularly the 2019 rookies

danielricciardo well done, mate. well deserved

carlossainz55 always nice to share a podium with you

User4 i'm sorry but i can’t believe her and lando are just friends when she takes the most boyfriend-coded pictures of him

mclaren petition to hire y/n as lando’s full time photographer

→ alex_albon no, because i need her to be mine considering she actually managed to make lando look good

liked by YourUserName

→ landonorris oi!

YourUserName posted a new story

landonorris posted a new story

maxverstappen1 posted a new story

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User5 i KNEW they were more than friends

User6 oh so now she realises her ‘feelings’, now that he’s winning trophies

→ User7 bitch she’s been by his side since baby karting days

User8 you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me (the asylum being tricked into thinking y/n and lando were nothing more than friends)

User9 not max deleting his story after waking up and realising the consequences of his drunken actions

User10 y/nlando shippers rise! we’ve been waiting YEARS for this day to come

User11 what a gross invasion of privacy from that staff member. i hope they find out who it was and fire them

alex_albon @/LandoNorris awfully cryptic of you

danielricciardo @/LandoNorris how are you still alive

→ LandoNorris ‘cause I’m not old like you

User12 @/LandoNorris mr norris, tell us what you did

→ georgerussell63 more like who

(this comment has been deleted)

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A month later

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User1 looks like she removed everyone she didn’t personally know and made her insta private

User2 lando no longer follows her either

User3 what is going on in the house of commons

User4 maybe they truly weren’t dating but sleeping together screwed up their friendship

User5 looks like the rest of the grid still follow her tho?

→ User6 guys guys. GR63 isn’t following lando anymore either?!

→ User7 at least we know which side he picked in the divorce

→ User8 i'm worried this means lando did something wrong because whilst i love him, i can’t look past him screwing up their friendship just because he was thinking with his dick

User9 good, she wasn’t good enough for him anyway

→ User10 relax, he’s not going to shag you

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YourUserName just posted

liked by zbrownceo, flonorris and others

YourUserName me and you against the world. little bean coming soon tagged: yoursister

1,200 comments

YourUserName i think aunty @/yoursister might be more excited to meet you

francisca.cgomes can’t wait to meet little l/n

georgerussell63 me and carmen are so excited. she’s buying baby clothes already

lilymhe i call godmother

→ francisca.cgomes nuh uh

→ alex_albon get in line

→ yoursister we all know i win this battle

→ georgerussell63 whoa whoa whoa, back off, you already get aunt

charles_leclerc so excited for you, y/n/n

carlossainz55 congratulations

danielricciardo heck yeah! i can’t wait to meet the bean

maxverstappen1 do i see a red bull onesie in the baby’s future?

→ charles_leclerc try a ferrari one

→ alex_albon we all know it’ll be williams

→ oscarpiastri racing baby!

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Baby Fever Angst Series

Tag list

@lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @callsignwidow @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @elijahslover @hc-dutch @mxdi0 @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @glow-ish @reguluscrystals