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covenofagatha · 22 days ago

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A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 2)

A look into Agatha and Rio's home life, and you are reeling from having The Witch and Lady Death in your motel room

Word count: 4200

Warnings: mentions of murder, manipulativeness, light gaslighting

The same morning you get called to Westview, Agatha Harkness wakes up to find her wife, Rio Vidal, staring at her.

“If you were going to kill me, how would you do it?” Rio asks, and Agatha raises an eyebrow.

“Good morning to you, too,” she groans, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at Rio, who is lounging in the chair in the corner. “How long have you been watching me sleep?”

Rio shrugs. “You make it sound like I’m some serial killer who’s about to murder you.” Her eyes widen conspiratorially and Agatha snorts before plopping back down.

“She’s getting here today, you know,” Agatha says and she can hear Rio’s breath hitch.

She leans forward in the chair. “When do you think she’ll come see me?” The eagerness is evident in her voice, and Agatha knows how she feels.

“Once we pull off our little ‘Welcome to Westview’ stunt tonight? I bet no time at all,” Agatha answers.

Rio grins, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and picks up the skeleton mask sitting on the dresser. She fiddles with the strings and holds it up to her face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that Miami director books the appointment himself. Do police detectives usually include a business card to their wife’s therapy practice in their information file to the FBI?”

“Better hope he doesn’t just pull her off the case,” Agatha remarks, ignoring the question, and finally gets up out of bed and walks past the bouquet of purple azaleas on the vanity. “He’s pretty serious when it comes to protecting her. Especially after…”

“No,” Rio cuts her off and Agatha looks at her wife in surprise. Rio puts her mask down, stands up, and walks over so she’s face-to-face with the older woman. She reaches a hand out to put it gently around Agatha’s throat, who doesn’t even flinch. Rio smirks and drags her hand downward so it’s resting over her heart. “We’re finally getting what we want. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this? For her? I’m not letting her go.”

Agatha tilts her head to the side, thinking for a second. “If I were going to kill you, I’d fill a syringe with air and inject it into your bloodstream under your toenail. The death would mimic a heart attack and the track mark would be almost impossible to find. I’d tell the authorities that you were under so much stress as a therapist that it eventually took a toll on your body,” she says slowly, clinically even, watching Rio’s hazel eyes get dark.

She hums and looks down at Agatha’s lips. “You really know how to make a lady swoon.” Rio gives her a quick peck and leaves the room so her wife can get ready for work.

On her way to the kitchen, Rio steps into the spare room in the hallway and takes a deep breath, feeling the tension seeping from her muscles. The table in the middle of the room is covered in vials, all Agatha’s doing. They don’t call her The Witch for nothing, Rio thinks. She picks up her own dagger and twirls it between her practiced fingers while she admires the handiwork on the left side of the room.

From ceiling to floor, the wall is completely covered with you. Every single case file you’ve profiled for, pictures of you from now all the way back to your childhood, transcripts from Quantico and college. Rio’s favorite photo hangs front and center, the one of the scar you got from dealing with the Scarlet Killer, all rough and jagged.

Rio would’ve made it prettier.

Patience, she reminds herself.

The trap has been laid. All that’s left to do is wait.

***

You turn the entire motel room upside down, scourging for anything else the killers may have left behind: a camera or a listening device, or maybe even a clue.

Nothing.

And then you kick yourself for touching everything because now you can’t even test for prints. Plus, it’s a motel room so you’re not sure you’d be able to narrow it down.

The phone is in your hand dialing Tony back before you can think. He doesn’t answer and you slam it down on the bed in frustration.

They were here. The Witch and Lady Death were in your room.

You draw the blinds and deadbolt the door, making a mental note to ask the front desk to change the locks. How did they get in? How did they know you were going to get food?

A cold feeling sinks into your bones. They must be watching you.

And what’s to stop them from coming back? This time though, when you’re in the room?

Anyone could be next. Agatha’s words echo around in your head and you didn’t realize just how true they are until now.

You don’t realize you’re hyperventilating until you feel dizzy and gag. Then you run to the bathroom and puke into the toilet. Wiping a hand across your sweaty forehead, your mind spins with what to do.

You could call the police, but you don’t think they would do any good, especially after you’ve tampered with evidence. There were no cameras in this motel, you had already checked.

Pacing back and forth, head in your hands, you try and try and try to think of what to do.

And finally you think of something.

You punch in the number and hold the phone up to your ear.

It rings three times and then there’s a click.

“Dr. Rio Vidal’s office, if this is an emergency please hang up the phone and call 911. If not, this is Dr. Vidal, how can I help you?”

You take a shaky breath and press your fingers to your forehead to stave off the incoming headache. “Um, yes, hi, I was calling to see if I could make an appointment? The sooner, the better.”

There’s shuffling and then tapping of keys on a computer. “What’s your name?” When you say it, you hear a sharp inhale and then a cough. “Sorry about that. How does 1 pm tomorrow sound?”

You blink. You didn’t realize you’d be able to get in that fast, but you suppose in a small town like Westview, not many people are going to therapy. “Yeah, that would be great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Thank you.”

“Bye, Agent Y/L/N,” she says. You frown. You never told her you were an agent. But you figure it’s been announced that you’re coming, so you brush it off.

You take a quick shower and then get into bed, trying to relax and maybe get some sleep. You promised Tony you’d get five hours a night, but you’ll be lucky if you even get one.

At every groan and creak, you jump and grab your gun, sitting up completely alert. It’s always the wind or a tree branch or the building settling.

You lay under the sheets, hand gripped around your weapon, and you don’t sleep a wink.

When you get to the station the next morning, the first person you see is Agatha. She looks up at you, takes in your new outfit, and smiles brightly.

The killers replaced all your clothes so you had no choice but to wear the new ones until you’re able to go shopping. You wouldn’t be surprised if they laced the fabric with something and you end up dead before lunch, but it’s snowing today and you had nothing else to wear.

“Have a good first night in Westview?” She asks and you cautiously glance around the room.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” You ask urgently, voice low. Concern flits onto her face and she nods and stands up. She pulls you into the evidence locker. “They were at my motel last night,” you hiss.

Agatha’s hand flies to her mouth. “The killers? Are you sure?”

You nod furiously. “I had left to get food and when I came back, the door was open and they had packed my suitcase with all new stuff—” You motion down at your body and she checks you out again. “—and perfume and then they circled ‘lovers’ on a sticky note I had to tell me their relationship and they left the flower on my table!”

“Slow down,” Agatha says and you realize you’ve been talking so fast that you haven’t taken a breath. She puts her hands on your shoulders. “Did you see them? Did they come back?”

“No, not yet at least. I don’t understand, if they wanted to kill me, why not just wait until I was there? Or asleep?”

“Maybe they didn’t want to kill you,” Agatha suggests. “Maybe they just wanted to send you a message or something. It’s pretty big news that we have a profiler from the FBI here to help stop them.”

You frown. “So they wanted to let me know they’re not scared of me?”

She shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. Who knows what they’re thinking. But the most important thing is that you’re okay. We can send over some officers later to test for evidence, if you want.”

“It’s no use, I tore the place apart last night,” you say, shaking your head at your own stupidity. She squeezes your shoulders.

“Hey, don’t worry. Like you said, if they wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Let’s go out there and work on catching them so you and everyone else in Westview can sleep easy, yeah?”

You nod, feeling a little better but then you pause. “Agatha, are you afraid?”

Something flickers in her eyes before it's quickly replaced by humor. “I think they know better than to break into the home of a decorated detective such as myself,” she says haughtily and you can’t help but to laugh. She chuckles too, but then something in her face changes.

Before you can ask what’s wrong, she leans in and sniffs up your neck. You freeze and find all the air in your lungs gone.

“New perfume?” She mutters.

You had put it on this morning without even thinking about it as your usual had also been taken. Thanatos. The Greek personification of death.

Or as Freud defined it, a person’s urge to die.

“Yeah,” you stutter. Agatha finally pulls back and her blue eyes are dilated. You find your gaze dropping down to her mouth again and you want to feel her lips on yours.

“You said they packed your suitcase with all new stuff,” she says in a hushed voice and your heartbeat picks up. “Did they give you that too?”

“Yes,” you whisper, and instead of looking disgusted, like you thought she would, she looks excited.

She leans back in and presses her face into your neck and are you imagining her lips ghosting against your skin or is that really happening? It feels like your entire body is on fire.

They trail up, light as a feather against your jugular vein, and she’s at your chin when the door slams open and you jump back. She winks and then she’s turning on her heel and walking out. It’s an officer, trying to book evidence, looking very confused.

“Making friends, Miami?” He jokes and your face flushes before you quickly leave the room before finding Agatha and the rest of the detectives back in the room with the case information.

You tirelessly pour over every single detail for the next few hours to no avail. You toss out theories but Agatha always finds something that doesn’t add up and you’re always back to square one.

But then it’s time for your therapy appointment, so you drop your pen down to the table and gather the pages of your chicken scratch to throw in your bag.

“I have to head out,” you say hastily and Agatha glances up.

“Hot date, superstar?” She teases and the memory of her mouth on your neck burns through you.

You shake your head. “Just uh, going to the doctor.”

She raises an eyebrow daringly and smirks. “Have fun.”

You give her a tight smile and then you’re in your car driving to the office. There’s people walking on the street on your route and you can’t help but wonder which of them might be the next victim.

It’s always been hard to not get too attached to the people in the towns you work at. Looking at them, knowing tomorrow they might not be alive, it takes a toll on you.

That’s part of the reason you get so attached. The waiting, the not knowing. It eats away at you.

Dr. Vidal’s office is tucked away in the corner of a string of workspaces in a building, and you feel something weird in your stomach as you walk up the steps. For the third time in the past 24 hours, your scar sears with a pain you haven’t felt since right after. You have to stop and breathe deeply before opening the door.

A woman sits at the front desk typing on her computer. She barely even looks at you and you stand at the desk for a moment before clearing your throat.

“Um, hi, I have an appointment for one? I’m Y/N,” you say and it’s like she’s finally realized someone’s standing there.

She hums in acknowledgement and scrolls until she finds your name and clicks. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”

You tap the desk and go sit down, wiping your palms on your pants. It’s only a few minutes before a door opens and your name is called.

Walking into the room, the first thing you notice is the thick smell of nature. And then you see plants everywhere. Bookshelves line the walls, full with books and pots of every type of plant and flower you’ve ever seen. Your eyes narrow, but you don’t see anything purple.

And then you see Dr. Vidal sitting behind a large desk. You tentatively take a seat in one of the chairs across from her, squirming under her intense gaze. She’s an attractive woman, hair pulled back into a tight bun and brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul. There’s not a hair out of place on her desk; everything is meticulously organized and right where she needs it.

You clear your throat. “Big plant lover?” You say, and it’s an incredibly awkward way to make a first impression. You’ve never been good at therapy, or with uncomfortable silences.

But she doesn’t seem to care, finds it almost amusing. Her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek and she settles forward. “So, what brings you to therapy?”

You don’t even know where to start. “I just got to town, and um, oh – I’m a profiler, by the way, for the FBI. I’m here working on the case with The Witch and Lady Death.”

“Lady Death?” Dr. Vidal asks, giving you an intrigued look.

“Oh, we figured out that there’s actually two killers. That’s what I nicknamed the other one, because apparently she’s been seen with the bottom half of a skeleton mask on her face. Wait, this is all confidential right?”

“Of course,” she assures you, voice smooth as honey. “Anything you say here doesn’t leave this room unless you threaten to hurt yourself or someone else. So, you’re here about the case?”

You nod, playing with the hem of your sweater. “Yeah, you could say that. I sort of have some obsessive tendencies when it comes to cases like these, and I just wanted to get ahead of them before I spiraled again.”

“What does a spiral look like for you?”

Chewing on your nail, your gut twists and you can feel Wanda’s knife jabbing into you. “I stop eating, stop sleeping. The work consumes me, I can’t take a break. I don’t want to take a break. There’s just this overwhelming need to catch the killer and I won’t stop – I can’t stop – until I find them. It can be dangerous.”

She nods and writes something down in her notebook. “Why did you become a profiler?”

“To help people,” you answer immediately. “I like reading the killers, figuring out what they’re thinking, getting inside their heads and beating them at their own game.”

“When did you start knowing you wanted to do this? Why not just become a detective or something?”

This one takes a bit longer to think about. “I don’t know, I just remember being a kid and wanting to…” You trail off, suddenly feeling confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I was going to say.” Something is weird, wrong even. What were you thinking of?

“No, don’t apologize,” Dr. Vidal says, laying her hands on the desk with wide eyes. “You wanted to what as a kid? What happened that made you want to think like a killer?”

A dull ache starts to throb against your skull the harder you try and think about it. “I don’t know,” you repeat, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m not thinking like a killer, I’m figuring out the way their brain works. So I can catch them.”

She leans back and crosses her arms. “What do you feel when you think like them?”

“What does this have to do with–” But you’re cut off by a blinding burst of pain and then glimpses of something you can’t quite explain flash through your mind.

Snow.

Trees.

A clearing in the woods.

Red birds flutter from the branches, startled by something.

You hear your name and the images are gone. Dr. Vidal is watching you closely, breathing heavily. “What was that?”

Shaking your head, you try to make sense of what just happened. Memories or hallucinations? “Um, sorry, I don’t know. What was the question?”

Her eyes are dark and they remind you of Agatha’s in the evidence locker. How she had leaned down and smelled the perfume you were wearing. You shift in your chair.

“I was asking what your coping mechanisms are for when you start to feel yourself spiraling,” she says, and you’re still a little foggy, but you’re pretty sure that’s not what she asked.

You think you might be going crazy. “My boss back in Miami was pretty good about recognizing when I needed to take a step back. I’m trying to not get too involved and make sure I’m eating and staying hydrated and sleeping enough. And I’m here, so I think this should help.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dr. Vidal says with a smile. “If you ever start to feel too drawn in, take three deep breaths and then do the 5-4-3-2-1 technique. Are you familiar?”

You almost roll your eyes. That’s exactly what they told you to do during your mandated therapy. Name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. It was meant to ground you and reduce your anxiety.

“Yeah, I’ve tried it a few times, but it didn’t really work for me,” you admit and she waves dismissively.

She quickly scribbles something down and rips out a chunk of paper, sliding it across to you. “This is my cell,” she says. “Call me anytime, day or night, if you ever need to talk. Sometimes that’s the best way to calm down. I know you’re new here, but do you have anyone else, maybe someone you’ve been working with that you could talk to if you need to?”

“There’s this one woman I work with that’s pretty nice. She’s the main detective on the case, so I think I could reach out if I really needed to,” you say and she looks pleased.

“Detective Harkness?” Dr. Vidal asks.

In a small town, people are bound to be familiar with each other. “Um, yeah, do you know her?”

She smirks. “Very well. She’s quite attractive, don’t you think?”

The question catches you off-guard. Is everyone in this place weird? “I mean, sure, of course. Are you allowed to say that?”

“Well, she’s my wife so I would hope so.”

Your mouth drops open. Her lips on your skin, ghosting along your neck, filling you with heat and a need for more. “Oh, I’m so sorry for saying that, I had no idea, obviously. We just work together.”

“Don’t be, doll. I’m sure the two of you would make quite the pair,” Dr. Vidal says, and you ignore the possible unprofessionalism at the pet name. She doesn’t seem offended at all, only fascinated.

You shift in your seat again while trying to figure out what to say. “Well–” you start, but she cuts you off.

“Let me guess, she’s been flirting?”

Fuck. What do you even say? Is Dr. Vidal going to be mad, say she can’t treat you anymore? It’s not your fault, you hadn’t done anything.

She scoffs. “You’re such a pretty young thing, I can’t blame her. You’ll have to come over for dinner with us some night.”

“Um, is that allowed?” You ask, blinking slowly. You have absolutely no idea what is going on. Is your therapist suggesting a threesome with you and her wife and woman you’re working with?

“Getting a meal with your support system? Why wouldn’t it be?” When she phrases it like that, it’s hard to find an error with her logic.

You shrug. It would be nice to be able to talk freely about things. And you’re sure Agatha has told her about the case already. “Yeah, okay.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The question weighs on your mind as you chew on your lip and debate whether or not to tell her about the images you just saw. You don’t remember ever being in those woods. “Do patients ever, I don’t know, see things while they talk to you? Like false memories or something?”

This gets her attention. “What did you see?”

“Snow, and woods, and a flock of birds. I don’t know, it felt familiar but I’ve never…” You try to put it into words, but you don’t know how.

“What happens when you try to follow that memory?” She asks and you close your eyes, but there’s nothing.

“I–I can’t. There was like a pain in my head when you asked about what made me want to think like a killer, and then I saw it, but it’s not happening now.” You sound defeated, a testament to your frustration.

Dr. Vidal frowns. “Do you know what repressed memories are? And I never asked you that.”

It’s like the floor tilts under you and you stare blankly at her. You can only focus on the latter part. “No, you did, I remember…” You start to breathe heavily, panic rising in your chest, and she comes over to rub at your back. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s possible you’re feeling a little overwhelmed by all this. I think you need to go home and get some rest. Did you sleep last night?”

It makes sense to you now. You didn’t sleep at all, your brain is just playing tricks on you. “No.”

She nods. “Go home. Take a nap. Let’s book a follow up, though. See if we can get to the bottom of those images.”

You choose to come back in three days in the afternoon again and then you drive back to the motel. Your exhaustion suddenly weighs a ton and all you have to do is stumble in your room, collapse on the bed, and you pass out.

The snow crunches underneath your boots as you trode through it. Branches claw at your legs through your pants and the wind whips your cheeks.

It’s cold, but you can’t feel it.

Where are you going? You don’t know, but your legs do. They take you through the woods into the clearing.

You stand alone for a few minutes and then you hear someone – something? – approaching.

A purple wolf.

You crouch down to your knees and it saunters up to you. One eye is a piercing blue, the other is hazel.

So familiar, yet otherworldly. You don’t understand.

It opens its mouth to say something, and you’re leaning in to make sure you hear it, when –

Your phone rings and it jolts you awake in a cold sweat. You roll over in bed to find you’ve been asleep for hours. You reach for your phone when you realize that you’re completely naked.

How did that happen?

When you were younger, you know you had problems with sleep-walking, but you would always keep your clothes on. You file that away to talk to Dr. Vidal about next time.

“Hello?” You say groggily, not even checking who’s on the other line.

“It’s Agatha,” the voice says and it’s like a bucket of cold water gets thrown on you. “There’s been another murder.”

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha all along #agatha x rio #agathario x reader #agathario #rio vidal x agatha harkness #rio vidal x reader #rio x reader

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na0koz · 29 days ago

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Moving in with jinx hcs? Like imagine how fucking insane she’d be getting to be around you 24/7 365

mention of name carving (sh)

lmfaooo omg she’d be like triple crazy.

toxic!jinx masterlist

- jinx following you would tone down a bit. every time you go out she’d just come with you. but if it was something she couldn’t tag along to, like meeting a friend or work or something, she’d still follow you. she’d just make sure to be home before you so you don’t get suspicious.

- the first few days weeks of you moving in with her she was just so excited to have you with her. literally clinging to you the whole time, trailing after you everywhere.

- you peeling her off you before you go to the bathroom. jinx whining outside the door about how she misses you until you come out.

- when you first arrived, her kitchen was coincidentally stocked with every single one of your favourite foods, only a few of which you’d actually told her about. jinx acts like they’re her favourites too to explain why she has them but the truth is, she can’t stomach most of them and she’s the most picky eater there is.

- she’ll literally buy you a new house if you don’t like a single aspect of hers. if you find her bed uncomfortable she’ll buy a new mattress, whatever. she wants you to want to stay.

- gets you gifts like every week. could have bought you something nice or made you something, even just a nice shaped rock that she thought you’d like.

- sometimes jinx thinks she’s dreamt your entire relationship. she can’t really believe she’s managed to bag someone like you and sometimes you catch her pinching or slapping herself, trying to see if this is all real or not.

- in all honesty i think she’s carved your name into her skin at least once. she really makes an effort for you not to see and it’s basically the only time she’s not clinging to you, because she knows you will definitely figure out how crazy she is if you do see.

- i’m pretty sure she has bpd? (like in the show) so she will freak the fuck out if you say something or act in a way that makes her think you’re mad at her or don’t like her anymore. locks herself in the bathroom for hours until you coax her out.

- she’s grateful for you being there to look after her when she gets depressed too. before you lived together, she would sometimes disappear for days at a time but now you’re there to help her feel better.

- sometimes jinx lets you choose what she wears that day. she wants to look as pretty as she can be and she thinks you’ll find her prettier if you choose her outfit (you find her pretty either way but you won’t tell her that).

- sleeps with her make up on. one time you cleaned it off for her, wiping the smudged purple and black shadow off her eyes. she was awake but she let you do it. now she sleeps with her eye makeup still on on purpose so you’ll clean it off. no matter how many times you tell her not to.

- has a piece of your hair in a jar that she cut off in your sleep. maybe even has it braided with a lock of her own hair she cut off especially.

- watches you sleep most nights. she barely sleeps yet is somehow full of energy all the time. no one knows how she does it. you catch her ‘resting her eyes’ sometimes but you’ve only seen her actually sleeping in bed at night like once or twice.

- is a bit weird about laundry. she’s volunteered for it to be her job to “take it off your hands” but behind the kind act, you fail to notice that a couple of items of your clothing take a little longer to return. panties (obviously), shirts, anything. anything with your smell on she’ll take and do whatever with while you’re out of the house.

- she has a lot of jewellery and lets you wear it as another way of claiming you.

- the only problem with you living with her is that she has to hide all of the stuff she’s taken from you in the past, the pictures of you and the notebooks filled with your every move to somewhere you definitely won’t find them. she absolutely cannot have you finding them. maybe she keeps them in your old apartment using the key she made for it. hopefully you don’t have a reason to go back there.

- all in all i think she’d be good to live with. she knows everything you like and will literally do anything for you.

#jinx arcane #jinx fanfic #jinx league of legends #jinx x reader #jinx

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spacexgrl · 21 days ago

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Bittersweet ! 💋

mdni <3 you’re here pt 8

series masterlist 🍒

~ in which Ellie breaks up with you and you go a little crazy ~

ex! ellie williams x fem! reader , abby anderson x fem! reader

college au!

warnings: SMUT!!! angst, break up, cheating,cursing, toxic behavior, smut in future chapters, sexual themes<3 feminine and girly reader ,not proof read!!

taglist: pls comment if you want to be added! <3 @elliessweetheart @lonelyfooryouonly @vamp1reg1rrrl @autisticintr0vert @amsxdoll @addthespaghetti @hemmo01 @elliecoochieeater @to-the-stray-dogs @teenagemoonharmony @velvetcakegirlie @kl1q @cirrusdoll @icedsimpsayo @softrosekisses @bbnbhm @5sos @hopelesssheaven @gingerpines

The short drive to the restaurant was so fucking shitty already oh and don’t get her started on the fight that ellie had with dina while getting ready. She recalled that annoying voice of her girlfriend screaming and nagging at her for her outfit even though it was the most formal thing she owned…it had a meaning also but dina absolutely hated it ellie are you serious? you can’t wear that it’s like 40 years old what will my family think?! Ellie rolled her eyes and ignored her comments, she didn’t give a flying fuck it was a perfectly fine outfit and she looked so good in her newest pair of black pants, a white button up shirt and Joel’s old jacket that he gifted Ellie because it didn’t fit him anymore..(it was from his young years he saved it for her!)

she remembered when you surprised her with sewing it tighter so it fit her properly! She can’t stop looking at the small detail you also left for her..your initials sewed on the inside of her right sleeve by her wrist..in a delicate baby blue color..she let out a heavy sigh on the passenger seat of dina’s car, her head glued on the window not daring to take a look at her girlfriend..she insisted on driving not wanting her family to see her get into Joel’s beat up truck ellie please i’ll drive..not planning to drink anyway..my family can’t see me get into your old ass truck at this point ellie just accepted that she’ll never meet the expectations of her girlfriends family..thank god dina’s driving because ellie would’ve driven into a tree on full speed wouldn’t survive without a drink or two..

that’s when her mind wandered to her first meeting with your parents it was a hot summer night you and ellie spent the entire day outside got some ice cream and forced ellie to tan with you..which resulted in a big sunburn on her back..it was painful as fuck but she didn’t care because she just had so much fun with you besides you took care of her sunburn for the next few days so she didn’t complain…later that day you invited her for dinner with your family it was a barbecue in your backyard your dad busy with everything that was on the grill he always placed extra meat on ellie’s plate so she can get big and strong as she commented that she just started working out..your mom giggled don’t eat too much from the grill i still have dessert in the fridge! and it was the best tiramisu she’s ever eaten in her entire life

..that night she also stayed at your house..you stayed up until you could see the beautiful sunrise from your balcony..your eyes were glued to the beautiful scenery in front of you but ellie’s eyes never left you..the way the sunlight kissed your nose and spread all over your face making you look like the angel you were and still are today..if the sun was a person it would always be you. ellie look the sunrise is so pretty! your smile almost blinded her because it was so beautiful and bright under the golden light..yeah it’s pretty..but you’re prettier…

Ellie woke up from her daydream as dina parked the car, heart heavy in her chest as she replayed the memories of you in her head..rethinking about what she could’ve had if she hadn’t been a total asshole..in moments like these she’d smoke a blunt or/and ‘pop’ an edible as she’d always say..(depending on how horrible she’s feeling) ever since you broke up her consumption habits have increased..she couldn’t even remember the last day that she was fully sober..but she wanted to make a good first impression today right? she regretted staying sober so bad

Ellie and Dina got into the restaurant silently, the friendly waiter walked them to their table with freshly baked bread, olive oil and red wine vinegar..ellie munched mindlessly on a piece of bread and burned her tongue while they waited for her family to arrive, still in complete silence…as she was about to give some lame ass excuse to go outside to smoke an emergency cigarette she had in her pockets (just in case she needed to calm herself down) Dina’s family arrived , not noticing you and abby right behind them.

here goes nothing

💫

you were blown away by the restaurant, you couldn’t even believe that it was a real place..it was on the highest floor of a tall building surrounded by big windows allowing you to see your city from above..you could see every single light and movement of the night it was really beautiful.

“ahh yes miss anderson! It’s a pleasure to have you and your beautiful lady here, please follow me i’ll lead you to your table.”

you and abby thanked him and took a seat.

“would you like a bottle of our finest vino tinto? i can also get you champagne or something from our variation of cocktails?”

both of you looked through the menu and decided that you wanted to share an appetizer, then you moved on to the main course, convincing abby to choose something you wanted to try too so you can share.

“i’m the driver today so i’ll take a sparkling water with lemon please and no dessert for me”

the waiter nodded as he selected her choices on his electronic device then he turned in your direction.

“i’ll take a frozen strawberry daiquiri and a matcha crème brûlée for dessert please”

he thanked you two and moved on to the other tables.

Ellie’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets by her starstruck expression as she spotted you and anderson. The way you held onto her bicep as you walked to your table made her blood boil, the fake smile she put on her face fell almost immediately. The fact that you looked like a model in your pretty dress and obviously new designer shoes didn’t make it any better. You looked like someone out of a movie..you looked like abby’s trophy wife and it hurt so fucking bad how perfect you looked together.

Ellie’s sadness quickly turned into pure disgusting jealousy as abby pulled her sleeves up to her elbows, exposing her obnoxiously shiny rolex and her stupid toned and veiny underarms. She observed how you drooled over her, biting your lip and giving her those bedroom eyes Ellie used to receive…as if you’d fuck her right there and then and she hated it she hated every second of it..

or did she?

Ellie started losing herself in her thoughts again..the voices of dina and her family slowly fading away as her mind wandered while her eyes were focused on you..suddenly you stood up and climbed onto the table, now you were on all fours moving towards abby until you were eye to eye with your noses touching..abby was already unbuttoning her shirt, exposing her chest.. the way you arched your back made her head spin it only got worse as you proceeded to crash your lips on abby‘s, devouring her mouth with your wet tongue while biting and sucking on her lower lip..

you let go of her and got on the ground again, you slipped your dress right off of your shoulders..red fabric pooling right by your ankles leaving you in nothing but your expensive designer heels. Ellie was a drooling mess she could cum from the sight alone..jesus fuck she cursed under her breath as you undressed abby, revealing her big navy strap on underneath her slacks..she took a seat on the table with you on top of her facing your backside..her rough hands grabbed onto your waist and picked you up..hovering your asshole on top of her lubed up cock..giving ellie a perfect view of your fucked out face while spreading your legs open..your dripping pussy on perfect display.

“abby fuck my ass please! yesyes fuck just like that-ah!” you begged for abby as she lowered your body down on her length..your tight walls swallowing her whole as she moved you up and down..Ellie’s eyes almost missed the way you mouthed ‘come here’ as she ogled your bouncing tits…your pornographic moans filled the entire room but the other guests acted like you weren’t there..Ellie didn’t give a fuck she needed to be inside you now..she hurriedly got up from her chair and undressed immediately on her short way to your table where you were being fucked in the ass by abby..as she unbuttoned her pants she revealed the strap she was suddenly wearing herself..it’s so thick and your favorite shade of pink..god she remembered how much you loved it when she fucked you with that one..ellie positioned herself in between yours and abby’s spread legs..she teased your drooling hole with her tip and grabbed your jaw “beg for me slut” your eyes proceed to water yes you loved the way abby split your ass open but you needed ellie you needed more “ellie baby please fuck my pussy! a-ah i’ll do anything just stuff me daddy!”

your breath hitched when ellie held both of your legs open as she slammed her hips into your cunt..every time her fat tip dragged across your sweet spot you could see stars the sensation of your holes being abused and filled at the same time sent you into an entire different dimension you were about to squirt everywhere if they kept going like this!!

“god ellie just like that! so fucking good baby! gonna cum so hard oh-!”

she loved when you screamed her name

“ellie! ellie!”

you sneaked your arms around her neck and pulled her into a heated kiss, teeth colliding as you tried to kiss her harder and harder while the familiar sensation of an orgasm approached

“ellie ‘m gonna-“

snap!

“earth to ellie? your food’s getting cold”

Ellie woke up from her second daydream of the day with uncomfortably drenched boxers as dina snapped her fingers in her face, seemingly disappointed in her girlfriend’s inattentive and distracted behavior..she quickly figured that it had to do with you..of fucking course it’s always your fault for appearing in the same places as ellie all the damn time..dina rolled her eyes as she looked in your direction nausea creeping up from her stomach as she studied how flawlessly perfect you looked..there’s no way ellie could get over you..the sting of jealousy that appeared on her heart was starting to turn into defeat..not knowing how long she can put up with ellie anymore ..she loved her she truly did but there’s just no way that ellie could love her the way she loves you..and deep down she knows that you’re not one to blame..dina wants to despise you so fucking bad but she can’t..she was the reason why your relationship with ellie fell apart after all and she’s developing feelings of pure guilt..she wished she could apologize to you but she’ll never have the guts to do so..and to be completely honest? you don’t want to hear shit out of her fucking mouth because it’s not her job to clean up after ellie’s mistakes..you’re not having any of that.

“yeah sorry needed to let it cool down for a bit”

ellie said quietly while taking a bite of her cold ass food..following with an extremely awkward silence until talia picked up a conversation with her again..eager to know all about her sister’s new lover girl..praying that she could be the one for her..

if she only knew..

💫

you and abby had a fantastic night..your meals were absolutely delicious but the cocktails were definitely your favorites! you were on number three by now abby noticed that you got more chatty the more alcohol you consumed and she found it really cute..she could stare at you and listen to your random rambling for hours to no end..right now you were telling her about you dream designer bags she had her phone by her lap and put them into her shopping cart to surprise you with two or three bags soon..she prayed to god that her dad wasn’t checking her bank account history..

“wanna head back home, baby? i’m craving some dessert right now..”

🎀

to be continued!!

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makethemhoesmad · 6 months ago

Text

shit you sippin

this took days off of my life to write but at least it’s over 1k words(for the first time ever)

@bueckersstrap was the chosen one

—

some people go to the club for fun. some people go to the club for sex. i needed to forget. get so drunk i didn’t have to think about my piece of shit ex boyfriend and the bitch i walked in on him fucking. i don’t know how many i’d had at this point, but i did know that i was grasped by the hips by an attractive blonde that i thought i knew but couldn’t figure out from where.

“you here for any reason tonight,” she shouts over the music.

“y-yeah i walked in on my boyfriend fucking some other girl,” i say. i try to keep the tremor out

of my voice, staying cool and collected, for the most part. i cock my at her, grinning. she takes my chin into her palm and tilts it up, making me look right into her eyes. my god, her eyes are driving me wild.

“you into girls, baby?”

i shudder at the nickname. collecting myself, i run a finger down her arm while stating, “never thought about it till now, but i just might be.”

“cmon,” she says, tugging my arm. “i’m taking you home with me, baby that alright with you?”

i stare in shock, nodding open-mouthed. she must’ve drank much less than i had, because she leads me out to what i can only guess to be her own car, and after opening the passenger door and helping me inside, she seems to be clear-headed enough to drive.

as she pulls out of the parking lot, i look over and realize who’s car i’m in, and why i recognized her face.

“wait! you’re paige bueckers,” i say, my words slurring together slightly.

“that’s right, baby. basketball fan?”

i almost can’t answer her, all my remaining focus zoned in on her hand that is now resting on my thigh.

“mhmm,” i mumble. she rubs her thumb in slow circles on the inside of my leg. i let my head thump back against the car seat and close my eyes, only to open them a moment later when the car stops.

paige rushes out of her door to open mine, and i nearly fall flat on the ground when i climb out of the car. she pulls me into her, wrapping an arm around my waist to steady me. i zone out at the action, then trip over a doorframe and realize i’m in her bedroom.

“hey, baby, listen,” she says, sitting me on the bed and rummaging in her closet for something

“you’re, like, really drunk right now, but i really don’t wanna kick you out because i like you. so how ‘bout you put this t-shirt on and we talk about it in the morning?”

i nod, then reach back to try and unzip my dress. i can’t do it. could barely zip it up sober, so there’s no chance i can undo it in my inebriated state. i look up at paige with a pout, hoping that she’ll take pity on me.

she unzips the dress, then helps me put on the t-shirt she gave me. she sheds her shorts and top, leaving her clad in only a bra and boxers.

“god, fucking athletes,” i mutter, shamelessly raking my eyes down her body.

“what was that,” she asks, smirking. i turn red and she pulls me onto the bed with her, tucking us both under the covers. i curl my body into her, hiding my face in her chest.

“ ‘s nothing,” i say, the words muffled. she strokes a hand down my back and i whine gratefully, falling asleep almost instantly.

i wake up confused, sore, and with a boiling headache. i try to roll over, but find that i’m pinned under someone that, instead of smelling of beer and cheap cologne, smells like mint and aloe. shockingly, despite my headache i have a fairly decent recollection of last night’s events. as i’m realizing this, a few things happen. first, i realize exactly who’s bed i’m in and immediately try to free myself from her grasp out of pure embarrassment. second, the strong arms grasping me pull me down closer into the person they’re attached to. finally, said person nuzzles her nose into my neck, and says,

“how are you even prettier now?”

i push my face into the mattress

“ugh, liar. my fucking head, it hurts so bad. like, so, so bad,” i complain. she tries and fails to stifle her laugh.

“hey ma, i’m not sure if you’ve heard this, but i’ve been told head fixes headaches?” i blush, then realize she isn’t kidding when she pulls the covers off of us. she nestles her face in between my thighs, lifting her chin up to yank my panties down.

“you okay, baby,” she questions, waiting for approval. i nod weakly, and she dives in, licking a stripe against my pussy.

“oh fuck,” i moan, my fingers curling around the bedsheets. she flicks her tongue at my entrance, causing my eyes to roll back. when she takes my clit into her lips, it’s all i can do to not release right then and there.

“so good, so perfect,” she breathes while laying sloppy open mouthed kisses on my cunt. i fight to stay alert, but every bone in me wants to sink into oblivion, and when her moan vibrates my core, i do just that. i climax on her tongue, with her name on my lips, and if you had asked me my own damn name in that moment, i probably wouldn’t have been able to tell you.

“how’s that head feeling, ma?” she asks. i look at her in dead shock.

“fucking gone, babe, how can i get you back? i’ve never, like, done it with girls before.”

she grins wickedly.

“oh, baby i’ve got an idea.”

paige’s idea, it turns out, resulted in us not leaving her bedroom until 2 in the afternoon. when i finally checked my phone, i discovered not one, not two, but three missed calls from my now-ex boyfriend, and about a million texts telling me how sorry he was. i show paige, and she just about growls in frustration.

“lemme call him back,” she protests. i shake my head, turning to face her and letting her capture my lips into a kiss.

“pleease,” she whines against my lips.

“fine.”

she opens my phone and pulls up the contact now only labeled with a gravestone emoji, and clicks the facetime. he answers almost immediately, to paige showing off our current position on her couch, under a blanket with me tucked into her side.

“stop textin her, bro. she’s mine now.”

he shouts profanities through the phone, but is aggressively cut off by paige kissing the top

of my head and saying, loud enough for him to hear, “it’s okay baby, now you can be with someone that can actually make you cum.”

he doesn’t like that, but i couldn’t care less.

#paige bueckers #mutuals💀#uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader

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dilf-lover99 · 2 years ago

Text

And I Love Her | J.P.

Pairing: James Potter x Female Reader

Summary: The 3 times James tries to get the girl and the 1 time he finally does. Or In which James Potter is hopelessly in love with his best friend.

Warnings: so. much. pining., idiots to lovers, miscommunication(s), a dash of angst, some heavy kissing, james potter being the literal definition of boyfriendism

Word Count: 4.8k

a/n: hi ! james potter won the poll and i am so completely okay with it. i really intended for this to be angst but he's just SO boyfriend. this may be my favorite thing i've ever written and i really hope you enjoy it too ! p.s. i missed u guys lots and i'm so grateful you've stuck around after months of crickets from me. love u love u love u<3

(y/n).

Depending on who you asked, it was only a name. The name of a classmate, or a friend, or yourself, but only a name nonetheless.

Unless you asked James Potter.

It wasn’t only a name. Not to him. To James, it was everything.

Because it was your name.

Your name that hastened his heartbeat with every mention.

Your name that sent a salient stream of blood rushing to his cheeks, tinting them a lucent shade of scarlet.

Your name that, once mentioned, seemed to follow him everywhere, as though the wind itself would begin whispering it, rustling alongside the branches of the whomping willow tree before floating its way over to his ears, sounding sweeter than any melody he’d ever heard before.

To state it simply, James Potter was irrevocably, inconceivably, in love with you.

But saying it that way didn’t seem like enough.

He didn’t just love you with his heart, for his heart could stop beating. And he didn’t only love you with his mind, for his memories could fail him one day. James Potter loved you with the entirety of his soul, with every fibre making up his being. Of that, he was certain.

What he wasn’t certain of however, was how to bare his infatuated soul to you.

After all, how exactly does one tell his best friend he’s besotted with her?

He tried the gentle approach first.

The train back to Hogwarts was filling up quickly. Stories of his peers’ summer holidays flow obstreperously through the air as James’ eyes remain glued to the door of him and his friends’ usual compartment.

“Ease off it with the evil eye, Prongs. She’ll be here.” Sirius’ teasing voice breaks James away from his thoughts, which were unsurprisingly fixated on you.

He doesn’t bother denying it, well aware he’s been staring daggers at the door since he stepped foot off platform 9 ¾, anxiously awaiting your appearance after spending the entire summer holiday apart from you.

“Leave him be, Pads. He misses her.” Remus interjects kindly, not lifting his eyes from the well-worn pages of whichever book he’s decided to burrow his attention into for the ride back to Hogwarts.

“Well he can join the bloody club then, can’t he?” Sirius starts, intent on ignoring Remus’ suggestion, “I’ve just about fallen for her myself after spending my entire holiday listening to this git recite his bloody sonnets for her,” he continues with a not-so flattering mimicry of a lovesick James, “It is the east! And (y/n) is the sun. O Romeo!” He throws himself dramatically to the floor on his knees, clasping his hands above his heart.

Peter watches the spectacle with a grin, covering up his chuckle with a cough after James sends him a look of warning. Before James can defend himself against Sirius’ melodrama, the door to their compartment slides open, revealing a beautiful and slightly out of breath you.

And suddenly you’re not the only one who’s out of breath.

You’ve gotten even prettier over the summer, somehow. If somebody had asked James before, if he thought you could possibly have gotten any more beautiful, he’d’ve laughed in their face, telling them tales of how your beauty could put Aphrodite to shame. But now? Now his heart was beating so violently in his chest he was almost certain it was attempting to escape, trying to take its rightful place upon your sleeve.

“Sorry I’m late, I nearly broke my neck out there!” You stop briefly to catch your breath, the jog on your way over winding you more than you’d care to admit. “Someone ought to tell those first-years there’s enough seats on here for the lot of us. I’ve just been walloped by a bloody eleven year old! Cheeky little-” You cease your rambling amidst your confusion at the sight before you, Sirius on his knees at James’ feet.

“Have I interrupted something? Perhaps a proposal of sorts?” You jest, your amusement growing at the wide eyed look on James’ face as he scrambles to stand, coming to greet you properly with a hug that doesn’t last nearly as long as you wish it would.

“No!” He protests instantly, amidst wrapping you in the soft embrace.

“Cor, I’ve missed you.” He mumbles after pulling away, leaving a hand on your back as he gently guides you to your seat beside him, hesitant to do so, as once you’re sat he’ll no longer have an excuse to touch you.

“I missed you more!” Your enthusiasm brings him optimism, there’s a chance she means it the way you do, he thinks, there’s a chance-

“And what of me?” Sirius and his bloody interjections. James has half a mind to lock him out of the ruddy compartment and leave him to fend for himself amongst the overzealous first-years.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” You feign confusion, though not very well, James can see the brilliant smile forming leisurely upon your lips. What I would do to those lips, his thoughts are running rampant after a summer spent away from your presence, too caught up to hear the jokes you and Sirius are trading back and forth, and that laugh! His internal monologue continues, ’s like a proper bloody song. Just ask her, right now. If she says no you can play it off as a joke. It might sting a bit, but surely it’d be better than keeping it all locked away.

“Will you go to Hogsmeade with me? Just us two? We’ll have a lovely time, I swear it.”

He knows what he was hoping you’d say, something along the lines of ‘Yes, James, I’d love to!’ but he wasn’t expecting it.

He also wasn’t expecting your given response.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Jamie, thank you! D’you see that, Sirius? A helpful suggestion. You ought to try one of those sometime.” You’re back to chatting with Sirius and Remus as Peter leans over to James, whispering an explanation to his visibly confused friend.

James had caught you mid-complaint about how you’d forgotten to bring the dittany leaves you need to make the special healing chocolates you gift Remus after a particularly bad full moon. After Sirius’ not-so-helpful suggestion to try substituting them with pot leaves, you gladly welcomed the chance to pop over to Hogsmeade with James and buy some more.

You’d mistaken his date proposal for a shopping trip.

Marvellous.

This is going to be the year that James tells you how he feels. He’ll make sure of it.

If for no other reason than this was your seventh and final year at Hogwarts together. His stomach churned at the mere idea of allowing you to slip through his fingers for good; you acting as the coarse sand to his adamant hourglass. He wouldn’t have it.

So he’d try again.

In the few weeks since you’ve returned to Hogwarts, your time’s been consumed by studying for your N.E.W.T.s. You’re also determined to acquire a spot in the internship programme at St. Mungo’s. The sheer amount of time you’ve spent there with your boys over the last few years has more than prepared you for a future as a healer if you end up enjoying the work.

“Alright, who was the first witch to extract floo powder?” James has spent the last hour and a half quizzing you on all matters Herbology, if it were anyone else he’d’ve been bored to slumber by now. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was you.

The two of you were sat outside together on a blanket, taking full advantage of the uncharacteristically sunny day. James is leaned comfortably back against a tree as you sit across from him, simultaneously taking notes and answering each of his questions without pause.

“Ignatia Wildsmith. Ravenclaw. Come ‘ead James, I’ve told you to stop going easy on me! Every seventh-year applying will know all of these.” Bloody lucky I love her so much, James thinks to himself, I thought that was a hard one.

He’d like to laugh your nerves away, crack a few jokes and tell you that you may be going a bit overboard. You’re going to get the internship, and not just because you’re brilliant and perfectly qualified, but also because your Herbology professor had written a glowing recommendation letter singing your praises.

But he can’t find it in himself to mess around when you’ve got that adorable little wrinkle between your eyebrows displaying your worry, and your lips have turned down into a delectably kissable pout. It takes nearly everything in him not to brush it away with his own lips.

“(y/n),” He starts, wetting his lips with his tongue as he desperately attempts to keep his thoughts from overtaking his voice, “It’s going to be alright, I promise. You’re more than ready for this. Why don’t we try taking a little break?” His heart feels as though it’s leapt into his throat when you glance at him and send a delicate smile of gratitude.

“I’m sorry, Jamie. We’ve been at this for hours, you must be exhausted of me by now.” You smile, more cheerful this time as you realize a break is precisely what you need.

James can’t contain the laugh that escapes him.

Exhausted? Of you?

The absurdity of thinking he could ever grow tired of you was an inherently laughable concept to him.

He’s nearly clutching his stomach when he finally manages to compose himself, making heart-stopping eye contact with his equally amused and puzzled best friend.

“Are you mad?” James’ dimpled smile sets a kaleidoscope of butterflies aflutter in your stomach, “I’d spend all my hours with you if I could.” He means it with every atom that makes up his being, he’s meant it for years but now he’s actually saying it to you.

Your smile grows wider with each word he speaks, your own thoughts matching the underlying sentiment of his articulation more than he could ever know.

“I-” He pauses, inhaling deeply and squeezing his eyes shut tightly in an effort to maintain his courage, “I love you.” You did it, he thinks to himself proudly, you actually bloody did it, Prongs! He exhales shakily, reinitiating eye contact with you as a small smile begins to blossom on his tender lips.

“James,” Your voice holds an underlying tone of sadness that causes an adorable crinkle of confusion to settle between James’ eyebrows, “I love you too.” You smile tightly, almost as though it’s causing you discomfort to do so.

“You do?” James is more perplexed now than he had been when you’d explained to him in painstaking detail the intricate relationships between each member of Fleetwood Mac the first time the two of you listened to Rumours together.

“Of course I do,” Your smile stretches intimately, the somber quality of your voice never wavering, “You’re my best mate, after all.”

Best mate? James thinks, is that really all she sees?

Had he not been so caught up in his own racing thoughts, he may have picked up on yours. He may have realized that his situation was holding a gargantuan mirror up to your own, casting a perfect reflection of the feelings within.

Best mates, you internally chastise yourself, that’s all he sees.

A proper bloody mirror.

“It was completely humiliating, Pads. She might as well’ve called me her bloody brother.” James has been yammering on about what happened that day for the past three weeks. Three weeks. Sirius is going positively mad, somehow having become James’ sounding board to rehash his complaints every time he remembers the encounter.

“I mean, how am I supposed to tell the girl I’d like to spend the rest of my life with her now?” James is pacing back and forth agitatedly at the foot of Sirius’ bed, as the aforementioned boy lays back uninterestedly, wishing his duvet would come to life and swallow him whole in an effort to escape the worlds most redundant conversation.

“She’d probably tell you that sounds lovely. Make you her future child’s godparent.” Sirius jokes dryly.

James abandons his invisible footpath, a wave of panic comically widening his warm hazel eyes substantially.

“She what?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Prongs! I can’t take any more of this,” Sirius sits up agitatedly, now far beyond his capacity for James’ lovesick commentaries, “Just go tell her. Right now.”

“Are you mad? Have you not just heard everything I’ve said?” James would normally find humour in Sirius’ lackadaisical attitude, but confessing his feelings for you was an entirely serious matter with no margin for error.

“Oh I’ve heard it, Prongs. For the past three weeks. And the entire bloody summer. And every single year before that.” He moves to stand in front of James, his agitation fading into sincerity, “I know how you feel, Prongs. But does she?” James swallows thickly as Sirius continues, “I don’t mean just telling her you love her, I mean telling her how you love her. As more than a friend. Maybe she feels the same way.”

James takes his time considering Sirius’ words. He’s tried to tell you, clearly, but he assumed that you’d only seen him as a friend. But what if you hadn’t? What if Sirius is right, and you told him you loved him as a friend because you’d assumed that’s what he’d meant when he said it?

“I’m a proper git, aren’t I?” James concludes aloud.

“Most certainly, Prongsy. It’s why I keep you around,” Sirius’ playful mood returns swiftly, “Makes me feel better about myself.”

You’re talking softly with Remus in the library, voices low enough not to disrupt your peers but just detectable enough for James to catch your words when he finds you, internally preparing his declaration of unwavering devotion for you.

“You’re not going out with him, are you?” Remus’ hushed voice holds a curious tone.

“Of course not, Rem.” You smile softly, “Could you honestly imagine that? Him and I dating?”

James’ eyebrows furrow together in confusion, he presses himself slightly against a nearby bookshelf in an attempt to hear your conversation more clearly.

“No, I guess not,” Remus chuckles faintly, “It would certainly make things awkward if they didn’t work out. Being friends and all.”

“No kidding.” You chuckle good-naturedly.

James feels like a bag of cement has been poured down his throat, constricting his lungs and settling into a block of concrete in the pit of his stomach.

Sirius had been wrong. You didn’t love James as more than a friend, in fact, you’d practically laughed at the thought of it. In his hasty escape from the scene of the melancholic crime, James neglected to hear the rest of your conversation with Remus.

“He’s a lovely lad, truly,” You smile genuinely, “Any girl would be lucky to call Amos Diggory her boyfriend. We’re just better as friends is all.” You trail off, leaving out the part where your heart already belongs to another shared friend of yours and Remus’.

It’s not like it was ever going to happen anyway. Your love for James Potter was entirely unreciprocated.

Wasn’t it?

James is avoiding you.

As painful as it is to spend each never-ending moment of spare time away from you, James can only think of how much more agonizing it would be to spend those moments with you.

To fix his loving gaze on your sparkling eyes, only to find them filled with affections one would hold only for a friend.

To accomplish the feat of bringing a luminous smile to your delicate lips, only to remember those lips would never brush tenderly against his own.

To be so close to the girl he loves, only to be denied her heart in equal measure.

It’s easier, in a sense, to push you away.

It’s only temporary, just until he can stomach the thought of spending the rest of his life as your best mate and nothing more.

But it’s been weeks, and the idea still makes his head feel like it’s underwater, like he’s fighting to reach the surface but his leg’s been caught on a viciously determined blade of seaweed.

Still, he’s convinced himself that this is his best course of action.

Unbeknownst to James, however, you’ve been going stark raving mad.

You’ve hardly spoken to him in weeks. When you think about it, you’ve barely even seen him, save for a few quick glimpses in your classes and across the dining tables in the Great Hall.

You’ve tried to talk to him, clearly something is bothering him. Maybe you’ve said or done something to upset him without realizing it. But he’d brushed you off before you could even get out the words ‘are you alright?’

You’d asked Remus, Sirius, and Peter about it, each of them giving you vague semblances of justification that fell entirely flat, a few “He’s just busy with quidditch”s and a couple of “Must be studying today”s. You’ve grown tired of the excuses and you’re determined to get to the bottom of it yourself.

You’re leaning picturesquely against the wall outside of the lad’s changing room when James finally sees you again. His curly hair is spilling droplets of water from the shower he’s just taken, successfully washing away the evidence of his quidditch practice.

You’re beautiful. That’s all he can think as he finally allows himself to take you in fully for the first time in weeks. He feels like he’s been holding his breath since he saw you last and now he can finally exhale, a sense of euphoria filling his chest as his lungs deflate mercifully.

“Hi.” You state gently, a delicate smile painted daintily across your lips.

“Hi.” James echoes once he’s relearned the inhale-exhale repetition of breathing again.

“I waited for you,” You start after a brief silence, “Which- You can see that, obviously.” You chuckle a ebullient breath that causes a small smile to form on James’ face, Merlin, I’ve missed that, he thinks as you continue. “I just, um- I thought maybe we could talk?” You’re fiddling with your fingers, a nervous habit of yours that James has long since memorized by now.

He instantly reaches for your hands, tenderly taking one in his own and carefully intertwining your fingers together with his. The action is like second nature, he hardly thinks twice about it.

You smile visibly at the act of comfort, if he’s upset with you and that’s the reason he’s been avoiding you, it makes your heart skip a beat that he’s putting it all aside to calm you down when you’re anxious.

“About what?” He tries, though you both know that’s not going to work.

“Nice,” You smile teasingly, “Want to give it a real go this time?”

James swallows something akin to a lump in his throat, averting his resplendent hazel gaze from your eyes to land somewhere along the floor as he overthinks which approach he should take.

He could try honesty. Yes, he thinks, because that would go over proper well. I’m avoiding you cause I’ve been gutted since I heard you’re not in love with me. Surely she’ll find that real mature, Prongs.

He could also try lying his arse off. And that would work, he sarcastically chastises silently, Me? Oh nothing’s wrong at all. Just tired, y’know? Practice and homework and the like. As if she’s ever believed a lie you’ve told her before.

He finally chances resuming eye contact with you, heartbeat hastening expeditiously as his hazel orbs lock onto your patently awaiting eyes. You should be looking far more frustrated, James wouldn’t blame you if you were. You have every right to be upset, and yet you’re not.

Instead, you’re you.

You, who’s calmly awaiting a response, fingers still gently intertwined with James’.

You, who’s looking at him with soft, sparkling eyes, eyes that are silently promising him no matter what he says, everything is going to be alright.

You, the girl he loves more than anything in the world.

“You.” He states after an implicit eternity.

“Me?” Your features mix together to create a perfectly darling display of confusion that, even despite the circumstances, causes a modest smile to tug upwards at the corners of James’ mouth.

“I’ve been avoiding you.” He conveys, sounding as though he’s just revealed to you a hidden secret you’d’ve never otherwise been able to uncover.

You can’t contain the short laugh that escapes you, a smile taking its rightful place on your face. “Yeah, ‘m not exactly Sherlock Holmes, but I managed to put that one together.”

James can’t subdue the traces of guilt that seep onto his face.

“I was hoping maybe we could talk about why. If I’ve done something to upset you-”

“No!” James cuts you off, “No, love, you haven’t done anything. Nothing you could control anyway.” His voice is less than half of its usual volume at the last sentence he utters.

Your face is back to holding that adorably confused expression that James so desperately yearns to kiss away.

“I have to admit, Jamie, I’ve got no idea what you’re on about.”

James sighs, finally releasing the hand that’s been holding comfortably on to your own and running it through his leisurely drying hair. He releases a sigh of distress and squeezes his eyes shut firmly in an attempt to figure out the best way to explain himself.

“If you’re not upset with me, then why have you been avoiding me?” You’re trying to put it together on your own as James is proving to be no help, “Wait a mo! Is this some kind of prank or something?” You smile, though you’re not entirely certain you’re correct yet, “Are you trying to get back at me for dying your knickers pink? Because that was an accident!”

James can’t help but smile at your incorrect deduction. Merlin she’s adorable he thinks, how am I supposed to tell her now?

“Yes!” James concludes untruthfully, “You got me. Just a prank. Might’ve gone a bit too far with it though. Sorry ‘bout that, love.”

He brings you into a hug and, after going weeks without it, it feels like home.

You feel like home.

You’re hugging James, after having just gone weeks without it. And you just know.

You have to tell him.

You have to tell him, right now, that you’re in love with him.

And so you do.

“I love you.” You state breathlessly, pulling away from the warm solace of his embrace and looking bravely into his glimmering hazel eyes.

James nods his head mechanically, as if he’s agreeing to your suggestion on what to have for dinner and not taking in the confession of eternal love you’ve just spouted.

“Yes, I love you too,” He smiles a tight, strained smile, “Mate.” He punctuates his final word by bumping his fist gently into your shoulder.

Oh, you think, I’m going to have to spell it out for him, aren’t I?

“No, James. I love you,” You take a step closer to him, not breaking eye contact despite the nerves that are jostling around your insides like a violent sea in a raging storm, taking a deep breath before exhaling somewhat expeditiously, you continue, “Like- Like, I’m in love with you.”

The first thing James feels in that moment are his eyes widening emphatically behind his round-rimmed glasses, his dark lashes making direct contact with the top of his eyelids. He’s certain he must have heard you wrong, that or he’s understood you wrong.

The second thing he feels is hope. What if he hadn’t understood you wrong?

The third thing he feels is his heart, beating faster than it ever has before, so fast he thinks it might be ready to do him in for good. Surely a heart shouldn’t be beating that fast.

“You’re in love? With me?” James speaks disbelievingly, though he’s unable to hide the traces of optimism he’s feeling as a modest smile begins to form on his face.

You nod your head assuredly, a genial smile of your own starting at the sight of his, “Yes, I’m in love with you. Madly, in fact.”

You’ve spent months, years even, deliberating on how you would tell James, if you would tell James. You’d spent countless hours wondering how he would react and what would happen after all was said and done.

You’d planned to tell him all about that. About how long you’ve felt this way, when it started and why it’s taken you so long to tell him, how you were too afraid of risking your best friend should anything have gone wrong.

What you hadn’t planned on was what happened the second you got the last word out.

James eagerly presses his plush lips onto your own, savouring the long overdue sensation of your mouth against his. He tenderly brushes your bottom lip with his tongue once he feels you respond to the kiss with equal fervour. Enthusiastically, you grant his tongue access into your mouth, pulling him closer to you by the roots of his damp hair.

James lets out a low groan at the contact, pulling you flush against his body by your waist, his hands hungrily gripping onto you for dear life as, somehow, the kiss deepens even further.

When the need for oxygen outweighs your mutual need for each others lips, you reluctantly part the slightest of distances, foreheads resting tenderly against one another.

“I’m in love you too. So bloody madly.” James whispers contentedly with a lovesick grin.

You’re each donning smiles brighter than you can ever recall before.

The moment you’ve caught your breath you’re back at it again in full force, gripping at each others clothes and tangling nimble fingers through the other’s hair. James pulls back when your beaming smile makes it a little harder for him to kiss you, returning a smile just as wide that compels you to pull him back in for another kiss, or two, or three.

When the two of you finally feel satiated enough, James pulls back again, a noticeably farther distance. He’s still smiling but it isn’t quite as bright as it was a moment ago.

“What was all that about in the library, then? With Moony?” He asks you the question that’s been clawing at his insides for the last few weeks.

You pause, visibly confused as you shuffle through the files of your memories until you land on one a few weeks ago with Remus in the library. The two of you were discussing a friend who’d asked you on a date. You’d declined as politely as you could, valuing his friendship but knowing your heart had long since been beating for James.

“What about it?” You smile confusedly.

“Well, you were talking about me, weren’t you?” James looks down to the floor, expression now almost devoid of the happiness that had previously overtaken every inch of his face.

“What?” You laugh briefly before it registers, not just his words, but the reason he’s been avoiding you for the last few weeks.

“Wait- James!” You tilt your head into his line of vision, gently cradling his face with your hand as you turn his head to face you fully, “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? You thought.. Oh, Merlin.”

You pull him into a hug, holding him tight enough to convey just how wrong he’s been.

“I was talking about Amos Diggory.” You state with a gentle exhale, something between a laugh and a sigh, pulling back you rest your arms at your sides. “He asked me to dinner.”

James doesn’t hide the relief that courses through his body, despite the slight scoff of jealousy he lets out at your final sentence.

“But,” You wrap your arms back around him in reassurance, looking up into his eyes that are once again sparkling with happiness, “I’ve been a tad busy, being in love with my best friend and all. So I told him no. Obviously.”

“Right, obviously.” James replies with a cheeky smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’re a git, you know.” You roll your eyes, the action a mixture of lovesickness and frustration. “You could’ve just asked me then. Instead of hiding in the books like a proper stalker. And then avoiding me. For weeks,” You’re smiling, but you know you’re still getting your point across, “You git.” You punctuate your final word with a gentle swat to James’ chest, smiling adoringly when he grabs that hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a tender kiss to it before dropping your intertwined hands back at your side.

“I know,” He admits apologetically, “I’m sorry.” He’s smiling breathtakingly, “Still love me?”

You can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him, because in some roundabout way, it’s what led you to this moment right now, where you can reach over and kiss him if you want to.

And you want to.

Pulling him into you by the fabric of his shirt, you plant another kiss upon James’ lips. The passion and tenderness in the kiss meld together just as perfectly as your lips do.

“Yes.” You mumble happily when your mouths finally break apart. “Always.”

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star-girl69 · 11 months ago

Note

i think aphrodite kid reader x clarisse is simply just better??? like the trope is just superior??? like, we have clarisse who is tough, and mean and one of the strongest people at camp, then we have reader who is kind and compassionate and really doesn’t care all that much about fighting. so naturally, clarisse is super protective and treats reader like a princess?? how could people dislike it 😔😔

no exactly and i actually must write about this - basically this is just all about the little things clarisse does for her perfect princess angel daughter of aphrodite gf (me!!!!!!)

okay as payment for my absence please accept some shitty headcanons I LOVE YOU ALL BYEEEE

she’s just always DOING THINGS FOR YOU

she’s so perceptive and she always knows exactly what you want and need even if you don’t know it yourself

like if you like wearing high heels one) clarisse genuinely wonders what is wrong w you

she sees no practicality in them bc there isn’t lol

but also she’s like omg???? MY GF feels safe enough around me to wear shoes she can’t run in???? WHAT JOY!!!!!!!!!

and you’ll come back to your cabin being all ugh omg my feet hurt so bad laying on the bed and putting your feet UP

and clarisse is like “well i could have told you that”

excuse me????

“don’t get me wrong baby you look gorgeous and i love you wearing heels but it’s your funeral”

“DIE”

she just laughs and takes your shoes off

she’ll continue to bully you as she’s literally massaging your feet like ok girl yeah we see you

clarisse is also a MENACE about making sure you eat

“did you eat today?”

“babe you SAW me at lunch”

“just making sure….”

you’re just so kind and amazing and clarisse loves you so much but you are not the best at fighting!

she is constantly stressed when you’re not by her side

bc no one loves you like her who will protect you 💔💔💔💔

when someone takes advantage of you she gets so PISSED OFF

bc it’s not like someone is beating you up it’ll be like someone is using you as their personal therapist or smth and you’re just like “pls go speak to an actual professional wtf 😭😭😭”

and she’s so pissed off bc WHY IS THIS BITCH PSYCHOLOGICALLY AND EMOTIONALLY TORTURING HER GIRL??????

she’s not afraid to beat people up for you and actually enjoys it!

anyways, clarisse is also a koala bear

and an emotionally stunted caveman

she’s not good with her words so these actions are all she has to show you that she loves you

idk if y’all have noticed but clar rarely saying ily to y/n bc it’s my personal headcanon that she has such a hard time saying those words. she shows you she loves you but for some reason it’s just so hard to get the words out. (…BC SHE IS AN EMOTIONALLY STUNTED CAVEMAN)

so she quickly adapts to do all these little things

if you’re walking down a flight of stairs trust she is holding your hand

QUEEN of opening jars for you

if you’re not feeling well or you’re tired or just feeling lazy she’ll bully someone into doing your chores for you

also this bitch is NOT afraid to stand up for you and make sure you get what you deserve.

like that one meme

“UM… she said NO PICKLES… you fucking dumbasses…”

“CLARISSE 😭😭😭”

also like in “better than revenge” she loves to watch you do your makeup

finds it so fascinating that you can only get PRETTIER

like she’s okay at makeup but you can do that shit perfectly like standing on your head

you make it seem so effortless

she’s not a HUGE makeup girly but sometimes she’ll let you just go crazy

so you can sit on top of her….. that one sapphic meme yes…..

also she’s constantly bragging about you

“yeah… i have the prettiest gf in camp… y’all are just losers what can i say”

ofc if anyone were to agree w her she would go insane

“yeah y/n is so pretty”

“um ok yeah you don’t have to say it i say it enough….”

even if one of your siblings gives you a compliment she’s like HOLD THE FUCK ON- then she remembers THATS YOUR SIBLING ITS OK and she’s like oh this is so embarrassing.

will she stop? no ofc not

she’s constantly telling you how pretty you are. beautiful. gorgeous. exquisite. all the words

loves kissing you all over

KISSES YOUR HAND 🤭🤭

anyways going back to the clarisse koala bear agenda that got away from me

she’s just always touching you

hand on the small of your hand guiding you somewhere

hand around your waist

SITTING IN HER LAP AT CAMPFIRES

no matter what type of hair you have she’s obsessed w it. if you have pin straight hair she’s so obsessed w the fact that you don’t need a huge curl routine like her, finds it fascinating

if you do have curls she loves doing a curl routine together

whatever whatever type of hair you have she’s obsessed with it and will wash it for you if you want

so soft and lovingly like a more of a scalp massage than a hair washing

will brush your hair for you, braid it for you, anything you like just OBSESSED

she loves when you like sit on top of a picnic table and then she gets to sit in between your legs on the bench thinks it’s so so fun and so so silly

she LOVESSSSS sleeping w you OBVI.

on top of you, you on top of her, she’s a koala bear. like entirely wrapped around you

partially bc she is as aforementioned a koala bear and partly bc she is overprotective even in her sleep

if you move in the middle of the night even just a little bit

she’s a super light sleeper i feel like

always on the guard fr ✊

a little bit better when you’re there tho

so if you move in the middle of the night she’ll just like caress your hair and kiss your cheek and try to shush you back to sleep

like bitch you’re still asleep have you never heard of ADJUSTING? MOVING? SHIFTING?

hope you’re not one of those people who has to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night bc with clarisse that will stop

you can’t abandon her even for 2 minutes even for basic bodily functions like you just can’t it’s so inconsiderate to her… 💔

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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chronicdisasterwrites · 1 year ago

Text

death is pretty but his eyes are prettier

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (gojo’s past arc)

genre + warnings: - blood, injuries, mentions of death, passing out and intestines spilling out of the body (it's a bit gory but nothing crazy), swearing, reader is shorter than satoru but other than that it's gender-neutral (i'm pretty sure), shoko smoking, protective satoru and suguru.

a bit angsty but definitely FLUFF !!

word count: 3,191 (yikes lmao)

authors note: okaaay, so i was inspired by taylor swift saying "you drew stars around my scars", and also i love slow burns and two idiots silently but obviously pining for each other; SO satoru and reader aren't dating here yet. but they very much do like each other.

also apologies in advance if i messed up any location descriptions :')

enjoy this chaos lol <3

I’m an idiot.

The curse was dead. The special grade curse you were assigned to kill was dead and you were almost dead.

As the dissipating remains of the curse mixed with the wind and faded away, you heaved as the blood from the gash across your stomach soaked your dark blue uniform and colored it an even darker shade. Taking a few steps towards the nearest wall, you lean against it, legs buckling and gasping for breath. The light-headedness was growing exponentially and you had to force your eyes to stay open and your legs to stay upright. Blinking rapidly and trying to regain focus, you press one hand to the gaping wound on your abdomen. Red bleeds through your fingers and you feel like you might just pass out. Or die. Or both.

Feeling liquid drip down your chin, you lift your other hand to the right side of your cheek to assess the source of what you assumed had to be blood. Sure enough, your previously bloodless hand was now stained with sticky crimson. Slowly moving your finger on your cheek to figure out where the blood was coming from you felt a sharp pain when your hand made contact with what seemed to be a pretty large cut.

Shit. That’s gonna leave a scar.

Your scythe was broken so you had no weapons to worry about carrying back to Jujutsu High. Sluggishly taking your phone out of your uniform pocket you pray to every force you know to let your phone be okay. The black cracked screen stares back at you and the reflection of your worn out, disappointed, and bloodied face is all you see.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Now the question is whether to go to a hospital and get questioned by non-sorcerers about the horrendous wounds covering your entire body or, to go to Shoko and get patched up and hopefully not get asked too many questions and look like an absolute idiot.

Shoko will ask questions and she’ll obviously be concerned. If Shoko knows, Satoru and Suguru are bound to find out and they won’t be happy with the higher-ups about this… misjudgment.

So, the hospital sounds better. But the nearest hospital is further from my current location than jujutsu high.

Your breathing is getting shallower and your head feels so light you feel like it’ll just fall off. Closing your eyes and taking the deepest breath you could take without feeling like your stomach will tear open from the searing pain, you decide.

Fuck it. Shoko it is.

Pushing yourself off the wall with one hand still clutched to your bleeding stomach you start moving towards Jujutsu High. You control your breathing and use every last bit of cursed energy you have left to staunch the bleeding and somewhat ease your pain. With that, you urge your legs to move as fast as physically possible without breaking down.

---

You don’t know how you made it without bleeding out in the middle of the road, but the gates of Jujutsu High have never looked prettier. But, the sight of the stairs was enough to make bile rise to your throat. Swallowing it down and heaving some more, you make your way up the neverending steps of your inevitable doom.

Upon reaching the final step, your legs give out and you fall, wounded cheek first onto the stoned pavement. The pain was like nothing you’ve ever felt before; shooting upwards to your neurons and all the way down your body, right to the tips of your fingers and toes.

It feels so nice to lie down. No no, get the hell up and go to Shoko. Or all this damn walking would’ve been for absolutely nothing.

Hours was it? Or minutes? You’re not sure but you managed to get back up. After first turning from your side to your back and then bending one leg and then using one hand to help your body up and then finally sitting up. Then at a snail’s pace, managing to stand up on your two feet you start moving towards the morgue, where Shoko spends most of her time anyways. That was your best bet. And if she wasn’t there, well then death seemed like the next best option.

Slugging your way to the morgue, one hand still clutched to your stomach, you aggressively slap your free hand on the doorknob and turn it with your full body weight on the door. The door swings open and unable to keep your balance, you fall again, right cheek hitting the cold floor for the second time that day.

All you remember hearing before your eyes finally shut is the sound of a chair screeching on the floor followed by the sound of rapid footsteps and a string of unintelligible words you assumed belonged to Shoko.

---

Darkness. More darkness. Muted voices. Yelling. Some more darkness. Pain.

When you finally open your eyes, everything is a blur. You blink a few times and look around until your eyes find something to focus on. The white walls, the green curtains, and the smell of antiseptic chemicals all lead you to believe you are in the infirmary. Flexing your hands one, two, three times before slowly lifting your right hand up to gently caress your right cheek, you feel the soft cloth of a bandage taped to your skin. Bringing the same hand down to lay it flat upon the blanket covering your abdomen, you apply the slightest bit of pressure down until you feel a slight prick of pain. Lifting the blanket up you tilt your head down to check the situation. You’re wearing a flowy hospital gown and your stomach looks a bit bulky. Feeling around the wound site you realize there’s a bandage there too. Laying your hand back down by your side, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering how you were even alive.

The creaking of the door opening breaks you from your stupor.

“That was fast. Thought you’d be out for longer,” comes the smooth voice, the smell of cigarettes and that familiar sandalwood sweet perfume you know only belongs to Shoko.

Turning your head to the side you watch her sit down on the chair next to you fiddling with an unlit cigarette and crossing her legs. Her bangs almost cover her left eye and you notice how tired she looks. She sighs and looks at you with a lazy smile, fingers still twirling the cigarette with ease, she asks, “How you feeling?”

You shift and push yourself up to lean your back against the headrest of the bed. With a loud exhale you look back at her with a half-assed smile, “I’m great actually. Good job, doc.” You give her a thumbs up and hope it’ll be enough to squash any more questions she might have.

With her smile still on her face, she looks down at the cigarette and hums, “You know, Gojo was about to unleash hell on the higher-ups for giving you that mission.”

Your smile is immediately replaced with a frown and you feel unbelievably small upon hearing this. With a scowl you ask, “I mean, the mission was a success, wasn’t it?" You shrug, "And I’m fine too so win-win.”

Finally, her smile fades as she stares straight at you; and you think this is the most serious you have ever seen Shoko look, “You could’ve died. That doesn’t seem like “fine” to me. For once I actually agree with Gojo. It wasn’t right of them to assign you on that mission, especially without warning.”

“I’m feeling unbelievably underestimated right now, Shoko,” your voice is small as you fiddle with the seams of the blanket covering the lower half of your body.

Shoko sighs and shakes her head, short hair swishing as she leans forward with her arms on her legs, “I’m not doubting your abilities. No one is doubting your skills. But your wounds were really bad, you know that as well as I do.”

It’s quiet for a bit before you speak again. You look at her downturned head as you reach out your hand to hold hers. Your voice is demure.

“I know. I’m sorry for worrying you, Shoko. But I promise I’m fine. And that’s all thanks to you.” You smile at her as she lifts her head enough to lock her eyes with yours. A smile she doesn’t return but her hand holds yours back and you know she believes you now.

“Yeah well try not to pass out with your intestines all over the floor next time, thanks.”

You laugh. “I promise. I hope you’re joking about the intestines though.”

Shoko huffs a short laugh and lets go of your hand. Bringing the cigarette to her mouth as she stands up she says, “Your cursed energy is the reason that’s a joke. It’s amazing you held out for that long. But don’t get too used to that luck.”

Bringing your hand back to your lap, you watch as she makes her way out and shuts the door.

Immediately after leaving she pokes her head in again and says one thing before leaving again without waiting for your reply, “Please talk to Gojo and Geto. Go now actually.”

You sigh and bring down one foot then the other. The light-headedness returns once you stand up but it’s manageable, so you look around for a change of clothes when you find a new uniform folded neatly on the side table next to your bed.

Changing into the new uniform, you make your way out to look for either Satoru or Suguru or if you’re lucky (more so unlucky) both of them.

---

Jujutsu High really is beautiful this time of the season. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom and the campus looks downright ethereal. You think while walking the halls how this place would feel if it were just an ordinary high school and not a place teaching kids how to wield weapons and slay curses. The classrooms would be filled with boisterous students and teachers talking in the courtyard. Canteens with flirting couples and students playing football outside. The gymnasium would hold basketball games with students wearing the school jersey and cheering for the school team. It would be different. It wouldn’t be Jujutsu High, you think.

“Well well, look who’s up and walking already,” the loud, smug voice you know only belongs to one white-haired, blue-eyed boy.

Stopping in your tracks you turn around and stand face to face with Satoru. You give him a sheepish smile and with the sweetest voice you can muster you say, “Hey there Satoru! I was just looking for you!”

Satoru scoffs and walks closer to you.

"Drop the crap."

Oh shit.

Once close enough to touch you he waits for a few beats staring at your face, eyes locked with yours as he occasionally looks at the bandage on your cheek. He breathes your name.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he seethes.

You groan, exasperated but expecting this reaction.

“I’m okay, Satoru. I don’t get why this is such a big deal honestly.”

You can see his eyes widen behind his sunglasses with pure rage as he scoffs yet again. His voice gets louder and his arms flail around trying to prove his point,

“Oh, you don’t get why this is a big deal? Well for starters, you could have died. You’re a semi-first grade, why the hell would you even accept a job to kill a special grade curse?”

“Okay, I didn’t know it was a special grade. And I killed it, didn’t I? Have some faith in me,” your tone matches his and you glower as you cross your hands across your chest.

He starts pacing back and forth, facepalming himself to oblivion as he goes on a rant,

“Oh my- that’s not the point! It’s not about having faith. You were all messed up and half dead and you could’ve been fully dead and we were almost about to kill those stupid old geezers but then Shoko stopped us and I swear if she didn’t we would’ve actually gone through with it. I mean seriously what the hell-“

You stomp forward mid-rant and grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stop. Your voice is soft but steady like you’re comforting a child in distress.

“Satoru calm down. I’m okay. The curse is dead. It’s fine. Now please breathe.”

He stares at you through his sunglasses. His chest is heaving and fists are clenched by his sides, not trying to move at all even though he could easily shove you away and continue pacing and ranting.

He dips his head down and exhales deeply, shoulders slanted downwards and breathing slowing down. He moves forward as his arms encircle your body and his head rests on top of yours. Your nose is squished against his chest and you can smell his scent; a mix of sweets, laundry detergent, and his signature scent; the smell of dewdrops and what you assume would probably be some expensive brand of perfume. You relax against him as you breathe him in and your arms move to hug him back. Shifting your head to rest your cheek on his chest you hear his heart beat steadily. You close your eyes and get lost in the feeling of Satoru.

Neither of you say anything, but say everything at the same time. All his thoughts poured into that one hug, and you silently hear them all as you hug him a bit tighter.

You can feel him gulp as his Adam's apple moves against your forehead. His voice is small and honest as he says, “I would kill them all. If you didn’t wake up, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all.”

You know he would, so it’s not really a confession. But it feels like a confession. Satoru would turn the world upside down for the people he loves. You know that too well.

“I know,” your voice is quiet. You feel so safe in Satoru’s arms. You think it’s so embarrassing how safe you feel whenever you’re with him. You feel like a baby; guard down and vulnerable. You’re sure Satoru feels the same way. You’ve never once seen him keep his Infinity on when he’s with you.

He hugs you tighter and you can feel his heart rate quicken. He takes a deep breath and exhales as he lets you go and looks at you. You tilt your head up and try to find those cerulean blues hidden behind the shade of his sunglasses. Lifting your hand up to push his glasses up to his head you finally look right into the swirling blues of his eyes. They’re like the ocean. Calm, but with an unmistakable power surging within them. Like the energy you feel in the water right before a wave is formed, the blues in his eyes seem to pulse and flow with power. But they’re also still and serene, and filled with so much emotion. His eyes hold so much more than just power.

His hand comes up to your bandaged cheek and he slowly takes off one side of the tape and then another until the bandage flaps open. You suddenly feel smaller and even more vulnerable. You haven’t even seen your face with the scar yet (you’re positive there’s a scar). His eyes zone in on the cut as he traces the raised flesh lining the center of your cheek. As his finger runs down the scar, you envision just how large the cut really is; about 3 inches vertical. It didn’t hurt anymore. Shoko really is a fantastic sorcerer, you think. Not moving your eyes from Satoru’s even once, you see the whirlpool of emotions swirl around in those crystal blues. Anger, sadness, worry, relief, adoration, hope.

His jaw clenches as he furrows his brows ever so slightly, fingers moving across your scar with featherlight pressure. Moving his gaze to your eyes, he rests his entire palm against your wounded cheek. Adjusting his hand to hold the side of your face perfectly like two pieces of the same puzzle, his thumb lays on the scar with a gentleness you didn’t know Satoru had.

It’s so quiet, you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. The occasional breeze and the mellow chirping of birds bring you back to the world, otherwise, you’re positive you’d forget all about the outside world and be content standing in the middle of the hall in Jujutsu High wrapped in Gojo Satoru’s arms.

You and Satoru were friends. Of course, you loved him, but that love is no different from the love you have for Shoko and Suguru. They’re your home. You’re a family. You know they love you too.

But right now, it feels different than all the other times Satoru has held you. Held your hand, held your face, hugged you, clumsily threw his lanky arms over your shoulders, ran his fingers through your hair, wiped the blood off your face, flicked you on the forehead, patted you on the head, messed up your hair, rested his head on top of yours. This particular instance feels different. More intimate, perhaps.

Maybe because you really could’ve died. Your life was hanging by a thread and you don’t seem to understand that. You were so prepared to die, that such a close brush with death’s scythe didn’t affect you in the slightest. This job comes with a guarantee of death. Even though that is life in general; being a jujutsu sorcerer means your days are already numbered. Anytime you embark on a mission, your chances of dying are much higher than your chances of survival. So you always went out on the field with the thought of dying. Knowing you could die and leave everything and everyone behind. But this was the first time you felt you were one step through death’s door.

You can feel Satoru’s breath on your face, and you think he might kiss you. You keep one hand on his back as you lift the other to hold his wrist near your jaw. As he leans forward you close your eyes bracing for the kiss to reach your lips. But it doesn’t reach the place you were expecting. Instead, the lightest kiss touches your forehead, almost chaste; as he lingers there for a moment and then moves back.

By now, your heart is racing and you think you’re dreaming. Only when his hands leave you, do you open your eyes and realize this isn’t a dream.

He exhales as he stands straight, with both hands by his side. Bringing his sunglasses back down, perched on the bridge of his nose, he gives you a small smile, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You try to mask your stunned expression with a smile and nod.

As he turns to leave he says, “Suguru’s at the gymnasium, probably.”

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “Alright.”

He walks away and you go in the other direction.

part 2

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x y/n #suguru geto #shoko ieiri #bruh why am i blushing #reader is kinda nonchalant ngl

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 3 days ago

Note

Do you think Meghan felt a certain way about Catherine way before the engagement? Even before Harry?

Meghan has always portrayed herself as this “girls run the world” hyper-feminist where she values herself for being college-educated, having an intelligent career (I know), meeting tons of powerful and influential people, and having those powerful and influential people hanging onto her every word. She looks down on women who want or occupy a more traditional gender role - the homemaker, the princess, the stay-at-home mom, the woman who doesn’t use her college degree, the woman who doesn’t hustle, the woman who’s content with simple things.

She’s been that way her whole life. It’s an okay perspective to have, but she completely misses what it means to be a feminist with that perspective. Meghan’s view of feminism is “girls are independent and self-sufficient and work outside the home in powerful careers and we help each other hustle.” That’s not feminism. Feminism is “all women get to be whoever and whatever they want to be and we support every woman to achieve her goals.”

So because of Meghan’s “feminism”, she’s mean and derogatory towards women who prefer a more traditional gender role. She thinks less of them. They aren’t important enough. They’re not worth her time. She doesn’t see them as particularly contributory towards society. Not like her.

And that’s the attitude that comes across in Meghan’s Tig article where she mentions Kate. Back in 2014, Meghan got to “interview” Princess Alia Al Senussi (Libya) and the setup was “women dream of being princesses their whole lives - look at all the fuss around Princess Kate’s wedding. Not me, because I think princesses are stupid but here, I found this cool Princess who’s really smart and so much better for us to go gaga over than some girl getting married.”

So to answer your question, I think Meghan had always been resentful or judgmental of Kate for her choices to have a more traditional gender role. I think it comes across as jealousy or envy at times, almost as if Meghan’s childhood wasn’t easy or safe enough to indulge in that kind of imaginary playtime, like maybe reality smacked her in the face around ages 3-4, and she resents anyone whose childhood was easier, safer, more playful, etc.

And I also think reality smacked Meghan even harder in the face at age 35 (in 2016/2017) when she met Kate for the first time and realized that she isn’t the simple homemaker housewife Meghan thought she was: Kate is smart, Kate is powerful, Kate has a ton of influence over powerful people, Kate meets the people Meghan’s strived to meet her whole life, and Kate occupies the space Meghan has strived and hustled for her whole entire life without breaking a sweat. That to me is the source of Meghan’s feelings towards Kate - Kate embodies Meghan’s “feminism” without even trying (which makes Meghan jealous) and yet Kate also rejects it for a more traditional gender role (which makes Meghan see her as less than and unimportant, someone to use and climb over on her way to the top).

And to me, those feelings Meghan towards Kate have been made very clear in the books, Spare especially, and Meghan’s own PR. If you chart the evolution of Meghan’s attitude towards Kate:

in 2016/early 2017, Meghan has total derision for Kate and she launches a “I’m going to out-duchess the duchess” PR campaign. Meghan thinks Kate doesn’t do any real work, that she’s the stylish and prettier and harder worker so she’ll have to help Kate reach her full potential (in other words, Meghan is looking down on Kate for choosing to have a minimal, more traditional role).

In mid/late 2017, the PR and the attitude becomes “besties conquer the world together,” in the way Meghan is so overly friendly and causal to Kate, almost as if Meghan thinks Kate is so simple that she can be intimidated into giving up her #1 position to Meghan’s #2 or that she’d be thrilled and gladly pass over the #1 spot because she doesn’t want to work.

The final turn (and the brutal smack of reality in Meghan’s face) happens in mid-2018 when Kate starts flexing her power and it all goes to shit for Meghan. I think the inflection point is Trooping 2018 - when Kate got front center on the balcony and Meghan (whose PR (and hindsight) said she expected to be front center as the newest royal bride and Diana’s natural heir) was pushed behind, like so:

And it deteriorated from there. The more Kate “got,” the less there was for Meghan and the harder it was for Meghan to climb over her, the angrier it made Meghan because her “feminist” worldview was totally failing her - the harder the modern career woman hustled, the more the traditional homemaker girl succeeded.

Which is actually pretty ironic when you think about it, because now Meghan embodies that traditional gender role - her PR claims how fulfilled she is by being a mom, cooking for her family, and having a beautiful home and garden (all things that her PR derided Kate for in 2017-2021).

Since this already soooooo much longer than I planned (really, I was just going to cite the 2014 She-Ra story and post but…y’all know I like to ramble sometimes), I’ll just end with this.

I know there’s a lot of to-do about Meghan’s dress for marrying Trevor in 2011 being a Kate copycat so she must have always been envious and jealous of her. I see that point, but I disagree. Meghan’s Jamaica wedding dress was an unfortunate victim of 2010/2011 dress trends, not anything exclusively influenced by the royal wedding. That kind of dress - the strapless gown with a sparkly belt - was EVERYWHERE back in those days; just go back and watch the old Say Yes to the Dress episodes from 2009-2011. (You didn’t start seeing Kate’s influence on the bridal industry until the 2012 SYTTD episodes.)

#sussexes #waleses #theories

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hhighkey · 6 months ago

Text

Taken, part 2 // Uvogin, one shot - part of hhighkey's phantom troupe universe series

Rating: mature Story Contains: stockholm syndrome, love??, implied past kidnapping, implied references to depression, suicidal thoughts, unnamed chronic illness, medical inaccuracies, marriage, rough sex, size kink, lots of come im so sorry, manipulation, female reader Note: about 17k words, ao3 link: xxx, link to part 1

The union could never be legal, technically Uvogin didn’t exist, but that didn’t matter. Not to you when he confidently proposed with the biggest grin months after getting you back from Bates, going on a ramble about the thought of you being someone else’s wife terrified him. To him, it furthered his ownership of you, and was another way to show his utmost commitment and love. Not that kidnapping you four years ago was a total display of it or anything… That it took someone else trying to marry you for him to think of it.

Never sure what to categorize as the happiest day of your life, for now that day took the cake. How even on one knee he was taller than you, a gorgeous ring in hand (you could thank Chrollo for that as you found out later). The idea of being someone’s wife when you were little had been like a dream, you’d always gawk at wedding stores and the dresses on display. It was more of a fantasy to look the prettiest surrounded by even prettier decor, not necessarily about the concept of ‘in life and death.’ After so long with Uvogin you understood that marriage wasn’t about a gorgeous wedding but about the vows and status it brought. Because your relationship with Uvogin was the epitome of together until death. And with each day getting harder to get out of bed, blood painting your tissues after coughing, you realize that death is on the horizon.

However, for the last few weeks Uvogin was doing his best to avoid a certain group. The term ‘bachelorette party’ became a forbidden term to me murmured around him, it’d be a night where he’d have no control. However, three people weren’t letting him off easy as you found amusement in him trapped.

“Fuck no.” Uvogin grunted, eyes tensely looking over the three female Troupe members, “She doesn't leave my sight when I’m not workin’.”

“It’s a thing Uvo.” Machi said, “You’re not supposed to see the bride a few days leading up to the wedding, especially the night before and day of.”

“Okay so you can have her tomorrow then.” He waves them off, going to grab your arm, but Machi cuts him off stepping in front of you.

“No, you can survive two days without her.”

“Whaddya wanna do babe?” He focused on you, pretending not to hear the pink haired woman.

Your mouth falls open as you glance between Uvo and Machi. Your chest flutters with discomfort being in the middle of a strange face-off, where you particularly didn’t want to see Uvogin perturbed with you if you agreed with the girls. “Um..”

“The four of us are going to do something tonight.” Pakunoda steps in, her voice level like she were talking to an overly large toddler not getting its way.

“Like what?”

“None of your business.” She stared at the larger man down.

“Well Y/N’s my business so, anything she does is my business.”

“It’s bad enough we can’t force Phinks and Feitan to let us have their girls, but let the poor bride-to-be have a bachelorette party where nothing can possibly happen. Then she’ll be your wife in two days and you can dictate the rest of her life, how about that?” Machi huffs, annoyed, “Go bother Nobu if you get bored but we’re taking her.”

“Yeah, no you ain’t.” He went to push past her, but she shot a hand up pressing on his chest.

“What do you want to do, Y/N?” Machi asked.

“I- Uvo I would really like to spend time with them.” With a slowly ticking clock on your life due to the state of your health, you think you should say what you want. For a second you remember, like a little flicker at the back of your brain, times spent with friends shopping, movies, gossiping about boys. Makes your heart yearn for that type of connection again. Clarity seemed to leak into the depth of your mind the sicker you got.

He frowned at you and time seemed to stop until he nodded, “Alright.”

“That was easy, thought we’d have to steal her in the middle of the night.” Shizuku said absentmindedly, which earned her a few glares.

Uvo fretted over you before he let you go, fingers prodding along your delicate skin as if you were the most precious treasure, as if you’d break from one touch alone.

“Behave.” His words come across as a warning but you hear the depth to it, the worry rather than a threat.

“I always do.” You tease, moving to hug his thick, muscular torso. A small part of you wants him to scoop you up and lock you away with him, your heart beginning to panic at the idea of separating from him. Yet your mind told you to stay strong no matter how badly you wanted to melt right into him.

Uvogin made a few more tiny threats towards the girls before he finally left, telling you he’d be at the Base. For a moment your chest twisted in pain knowing he’d be hours away, not working. You could survive being without him due to his job, but not knowing he was free.

So you stood in your townhome with Machi, Paku and Shizuku watching you. Sure, you considered them your friends at this point, slowly considered most members of the Troupe your friends. Yet you knew their loyalty to you was really loyalty to Uvogin, the help protecting you, keeping you healthy, keeping you happy- was all for him. While you’re sure they care for you as a person enough to make small talk, you’re Uvogin’s property through and through. But this moment as you debated what to do, made you want to feel hopeful. The three of them didn’t need to do this. It made no sense for them to fight with Uvo for days to let them host something.

How Machi’s fingers dug into your bicep as you involuntarily took steps forward,

“Don’t.”

You didn’t know how to be without him. Your body was slowly dying, and not the dramatic bullshit of aging. So perhaps it was quickly dying. The ever exhausting fog you lived in where all you had was Uvogin to care for you. His warmth disappearing from the room settled a chill and awareness.

Machi has her normal blank expression, but she seems pleased when you nod, “So, what are we doing tonight?”

The looks exchanged made you wary.

The devilish upturn of Machi’s lips makes you wonder if you should go run back to Uvo. But the part of you, stuck oh so deep down, that couldn’t rebel for years was overjoyed as it wretched its way out.

“We are going out.”

“Out..?”

“You know, what normal girls do, dress up and get drunk, flirt with men.”

You cringe at the last part, discomfort swirling in your gut. Normality. Normal girls. You play the words over and over, hearing her words echo as a harsh reminder. But also self reflection as these three weren’t normal either. Farther from it and yourself. Perhaps you nodded, agreeing to the location they wanted, because you’d missed out on so much. Though the sour taste in your mouth lingers as you all get ready as if it were any other night- that everyone in the Troupe was all aware of the fact Uvo kidnapped you. No one told him that he should reconsider, that it’d be selfish. But did you even want that? Would you have wanted Machi or Nobu to tell him to let you go? Because the thought makes your stomach flutter with wrenching nerves you don’t want to think about, as society’s version of normal wasn’t yours. And like that, you snapped back to the image staring back at you in the mirror, the girl chronically ill yet irrevocably in love with someone they shouldn’t be.

You look- strange. Yet you’re taken aback by the beautiful girl Paku had turned you into, makeup breathing life back into your sullen state. A flash of somebody else, a younger version of you reflected, prior to knowing what you’d become and with who. It’s nostalgic almost, thinking about the minimal times you’d gone to a bar with a coworker or an old school friend, how you debated over what to wear or how to do your hair. With Uvo it was simple- he didn’t care what was on your body, or if you had makeup, he controlled everything you could and couldn’t do and it simplified everything.

The dress fit you like a glove, pushing cleavage up and you wanted to retreat into yourself.

The night sky preys down on you. Buildings feeling like they were closing in, the openness of the town, the fresh air felt like a jail. The fact you were in the open with options was suffocating, but you walked with your arm linked with Paku’s trying to save face. Trying to push down your insecurities and thoughts of Uvo getting angry with you. He’d never have let you wear this, never had let Machi push a shot of vodka down your throat prior to leaving. Thrilling. Yet terrifying. The best way to sum up what coursed through your veins while wanting to turn around at the same time.

The lack of alcohol the last five or so years was clear, the shot made your cheeks tinged pink and a dazed smile on your lips. You tried hard now to sway as you walked and luckily the cool breeze against you the last few minutes helped to bring you back down. The taste of it was exhilarating- dancing on the edge of inebriation and the thoughts that came with it!

“I- Can’t.” You take a step back, “Too many people- I can’t.”

“Hey- Y/N.”

You stare at the ground as you stumble back to some steps, letting the cold pavement press against you. Stuck inside yourself as your world spun you began to ramble,

“I- Only people I’ve been around are the Troupe. No more than 12, never more. A-And Bates kept people away from me. No- No, too many. Feels suffocating, like I can’t breathe.” You look at them with terror written across your face, “Why are you all doing this for me? Because you know I’ll die? Or because you feel bad for me? Y-You know he kidnapped me, I’m not allowed to use phones or see my old friends, my family thinks I’m dead. Yet…”

Machi crouches down to get eye level with you, “You deserve a night of freedom and fun you should have had. You’ve given all of us more kindness than we deserve all these years. And Uvo has never been happier in all the time we’ve known him. We want to repay it back before you die as his wife.”

“We’ll take any backlash that comes of this, with your state Uvo wouldn’t dare to upset you.” Paku said, correctly inferring the nagging at the back of your mind that this would make him furious.

“You could get away with a lot more than you realize because he’s terrified of you dying, remember that.” Machi’s intensity bores into you in a way that makes you sit straight up. Either from the fact her nen could kill you in an instant or she was trying to instill you with a backbone.

“How much longer do you have, Y/N?” Shizuku asked.

“I… Don’t know.” You push your fingers against your temple, trying to stifle the weight of everything on your shoulders. The sting of the vodka still in the back of your throat, your eyes focused on the heels you wore.

“A year at most, probably eight months.” Machi replied.

“Why- Why would Uvo be scared to upset me? Hasn’t stopped him before.” You flinch at the reminder of your impending doom, no matter how much you were coming to terms with it; It was Uvogin’s karma.

“With my non-professional medical guess, who's been there since the start, is that there’s so much medicine can do if you’re giving up. Uvo doesn’t want you to want to die, selfishly wants you to hang on for as long as possible even if you’re in pain.”

Oh. It felt like you hit a wall. A harsh wave of soberness and the realization of where you were, “I wondered, why it took him so long to think of marrying me? Did Bates love me more to go through those lengths? What did I do to deserve all this?”

No one spoke. It would have been hypocritical for them to, they were just as big of monsters as Uvo. That they didn’t need you looking at the situation from an outsider’s viewpoint anymore, a discomfort settled within their guts.

“Can we- still go to that bar?” You ask, breaking the silence you caused.

As much as you spilled to them unprompted, knowing your words wouldn’t spur them emotionally to do anything, you were always smart not to let anyone in on the doubt you felt. On the anxiousness since Bates, on the second guessing if your emotions for Uvo were real. You knew everyone would take it wrong, that you’d been indoctrinated or rebelling.

Because hadn’t Uvo washed away every insecurity that made you doubt your love? All this hushed proclamations whilst his cock was buried in your guts. The small touches and the fact you no longer had to lift a finger. His ever permanent seeming presence. Right? Ringing struck up in your ears forcing you to shake it off, Right. Right. No question about it as you stared at the ring on your left finger. You were excited to be his wife, to further cement your love. You had to be.

“Of course,” Paku said, “Let’s go. You can hold onto us as much as you need.”

Everything was a blur after they helped you up from the step, urging you to forget about your woes. The line wasn’t a long wait before you’re stepping into what felt like an alternate dimension. Thick sweat-infused-air with the smell of alcohol, bodies shoved like sardines, and strobe lights beamed around.

Music. Music! Oh it made you sway in utter glee as the bass reverberated in the depth of your soul. You felt like a fish out of water with your fingers intertwined with Paku’s, looking around the room like an awe struck child seeing the world for the first time.

A glass was shoved in your hand and you indulged, then again, and again. Uncaring for the strength of the liquor or the overly sweet syrups, the taste of freedom was absolutely addicting. How you’d missed alcohol in all this time, you’d beg Uvo to let you drink again. Soon your vision blurred along with your doubts.

It was tiring always worrying. Always wondering. Being on edge. Doubting. It made you suffocate and being able to let go was pure relief. Giggle and laugh with the three Troupe members like any other friend group would. Even if they weren’t as into or as relaxed as you, watching your every move, you didn’t mind. They were doing this for you.

Any man that approached you was shooed off with a threatening glance from Machi. You were encapsulated in a perfect bubble as you bounced around sucking down another tequila infused drink. Not caring that you didn’t know any of the lyrics because this was music you’d never heard before. When was the last time you’d listened to music? You stop as you warm, bodies pressing to you, and you realize you don’t know.

You tug your dress further down your thighs, attempting to cover more. You falter in your steps and arms are on your waist in an instant.

“Ready?” Shizuku stares through her glasses at you.

You nod. Was it late? How long had you been inside the club dancing to your heart's content as your mind went to mush.

The air outside was frigid compared to your body’s temperature, to the red flush along your skin and sweat beading at your hairline. Hair a frizzy mess. Mascara smeared under your eyes with the glitter from atop your lids. You hadn’t smiled so big in so long, to the point your cheeks ached as you tried to skip along the paved sidewalks, giggling like a madwoman. Pakunoda never let you get far though, listened and responded to your entertainingly slurred words and statements. And how you slowly began to wear down, to slow in your steps as you wrapped an arm around her. Contentment resonated from you.

They’re on edge first, you not noticing the sudden change in atmosphere. That the aura around you all dropped, anger seething through it. Three forms stood past the turn. One particularly large.

Uvogin. Flanked by Nobu and Phinks, who looked more annoyed than anything. Yet it wasn’t them that brought concern, because Uvo looked halfway ready to destroy the local buildings.

“The fuck are you all doin’? Thinking you can take my soon to be wife out to get drunk, take ‘er somewhere I don’t fucking know.” He’s rigid, a murderous aura surrounding him. Muscles flexing as his jaw locked. Oh Uvogin was a big and terrifying man yet you looked at him like the dark, bustling city was naught.

“Uvo!” You squeal, delighted, your core flush with warmth as you don’t notice his anger. Your thoughts are screaming for him, chanting his name like a prayer because there he is! He’s suddenly in your sights, though you aren’t sure why there’s two of him, but all you want is to squeeze him, take him for yourself. The way his thighs squeezed against the fabric of his shorts you narrowed in on, thinking about running your hands against them, prodding into the skin. Massaging and kissing and moving to his thick co- your core goes warm, such liquid goodness that you can’t fathom being away from him any longer, your daydream making you go numb.

You push off Paku and skip over to Uvo, practically throwing yourself into him. Which he caught you with ease even without prior notice. You nuzzled into his warmth, feeling his calloused fingers run along your arms. You don’t feel how he tugged down your dress as it’d ridden up, or as he checked for any marks. And you certainly didn’t feel the genuine panic, terror past jealousy of you drunk around others. The fear of you out without him. Finding someone else more interesting upon realizing how much he’d taken from you. Living a life that didn’t include him. And if you wanted said life back over what you two built on the cracked foundations only help up on your (possibly) messed up sense of reality.

“Hi baby.” Uvo said in a fairly choked back tone; his attempt to seem relaxed towards you while he was really seething. In his mind he had to blame his fellow Spiders, that this was on them, not you.

“Want you.” You whined softly, eyes filled with heated want that bore into him. Your palms flat on his chest feeling his erratic heart beat like it was your lifeline, “Missed you.”

You don’t remember much, not as you swayed in his grasp, vision splitting your environment from doubles to triples. The hazed joy settled into a comfortable exhaustion as your eyelids drooped, uncaring for the voices that argued around you. It doesn’t matter that it’s getting heated, not to you, this night has been better than the stars above. Topped off with Uvogin at the end. As your head falls limp, knees buckling, your last drunken thought is on the wedding.

Feeling your body beginning to go limp as you mewled into him, Uvo picks you up cradling you into him. Your touch grounded him. Your excitement to see him might have been what stopped a possible massacre powered by his anger and fists alone. You’d missed him terribly even when you had the whole world at your fingers, and he loved that. Filled him with a sense of pride.

“We’re going.” Uvogin nodded to Nobu and Phinks.

“Good fucking thing I didn’t let my girl come. Will have to tell Feitan ‘bout this.” Phinks grumbled under his breath.

“We’re heading back to Base.” Nobunaga tells the girls, “Come if you want, will be a tight squeeze.”

The group began their departure, silence amongst a still bustling town. Tension thick enough to cut with a knife, trepidation building within a few of the Spiders. Strange looks from some, especially at the large man carrying a girl who looked like she had a rough night out.

Soon buildings died out. Lights limited. Roads turning to dirt, fences showcasing expansive private overgrown property. Countryside came into view with a car waiting, as Phinks pulled out the keys. For a second they all share uncomfortable glances unsure how they’ll all fit, but one person in particular had a dark cloud above her.

“Uvogin.” Machi said dangerously low, fists clenched and Shizuku ready to grab her if needed. “How long have you had her now, four years, or is it five? She’s not going anywhere she’s in love with you, as much as she’s able. She doesn’t know how to think without you telling her what to think about, nonetheless run away anywhere. Where would she go? She relies on you for everything and more, you are her life. And she’s happy about it I guess, babbled about you all night. She doesn’t have long and you know it, don’t let her go it’ll do more harm than good but… let her say goodbyes. Proper ones to those you took her from.”

“No.” He responded without pause, “You’ve gone soft, Machi I’m surprised. I ain’t letting her out my sight from here on out, I’ll let Chrollo know I need a fucking sabbatical or something. You’ll be lucky if I let any of you see her again.”

“She’d be upset about that.”

“Whatever.”

“You say that now.” She knew he was bluffing, and of course he was.

He squeezed your sleeping frame before settling into the passenger seat of the car, keeping you tight to him. He stared at your angelic form feeling his heart squeeze, “Don’t do something like this again. And one day maybe you might understand a sliver of what I feel for her and why I do what I do.”

Uvogin couldn’t fathom missing another one of your breaths. Not a single one. Because from here on out he’d claim them all as his.

This was how it was meant to be- your wedding day- you realize as you stare at your reflection. You remember the attempted one with Bates felt like walking to your doom, while this time around with Uvo? It felt like you were walking through a floralled field surrounded by a thick lavender odor, heading towards the rest of your life. It felt right.

A white gown flows along your emaciated body that has a faint golden sheen from the joy swirling within you. Excitement coursed in your veins as you finished final touches for your hair and makeup, relying on Paku heavily for assistance.

It’s Fall, the orange and red leaves falling delicately around you as you carefully walk along a gravel path with grass laying flat from overuse. The cooling air filled with a cinnamon spice odor so acutely that of the lengthening nights as Hallow’s Eve was around the corner. Feeling wrapped in the comfort of your favorite season, a molten liquid spread as you inched closer and closer to the altar. Arm looped in Paku’s, a smile lives etched on your face as tears prick at your eyes, swirling sentient settling within. After much convincing, Uvogin agreed to an outdoor wedding at sunset, not being able to say no to you. The Trope had done an immaculate job at setting up a cozy venue

It was a whirlwind. Walking down the aisle to Uvogin. How he looked at you with misty eyes and utter happiness, looking devilishly handsome in a tailored suit, something you never imagined seeing him in. He towered over you with a powerful aura that made you feel safe. Nothing else existed when in Uvogin’s orbit. How his hands held yours, staring so intently like you were the entire world. That you were all that existed on this plane, that all he wanted was to whisk you away as soon as vows were shared.

You were always his, but to Uvogin this tied you to him forever. Emotionally linked your cute self to him in a way that meant everything to you, while to him the title of marriage did little to change his feelings. It made your heart swell and your face beam with love, making this worth it in his eyes.

And it was worth it to see you walking down the aisle to him. His pupils dilated, shoulders dropping, mouth quirked up at the sight of you in a white gown. An angel. His heart soared and he stood a tad straighter beaming with pride.

Closer. Closer to him. Time seemed to slow as you both became so consciously aware of the other, of how your hearts raced in rhythm combining. Circulating souls, winding and meshing, flowing together like pieces of twine twisting and twisting. Paku handed you off to him and he’s lit with a burning need as your smaller hands slot into his perfectly. A necessity so pure, like a starving man who’d kill for his survival, burn the world to the ground to have you.

Nothing else mattered besides you; not Chrollo who began the ceremony, not the eyes and pleasant words of the other Spiders and their partners (who stared hopeful at their lovers).

Only your tears of merriment as you peered up at him like he was your savior, mattered. He was your salvation. The sweet words that left your lips as you cried through your vows with breathy laughs, built him up more and more. Uvogin’s vows were strong, filled with his promises of protection and love, his thinly-veiled apologies for the past and the excitement to continue as husband and wife.

A faint cinnamon smell wafted on the breeze, heavy earthy-spice amongst the falling leaves. The sun is setting beyond the horizon. Dimming violet skies flourished as the ceremony ended- you in Uvogin’s arms as vows sealed with a kiss. A symphony of harmonious noises blurred out your surroundings, a deafening buzzing that should have made your stomach churn and your instincts blare red. Instead it’s elation that spurred your tunnel vision as you kiss your husband passionately uncaring for anything else.

Maybe you were too far gone from the clarity you’d had, from the questions of Uvo’s real feelings you once picked apart. All of it drowned and stamped out. Glowing delight crammed into every vein and bone, to your most miniscule of nerves. Plugged up so thick with the taste of Uvogin that you’re almost drunk off his scent alone, off the way his eyes raked along your body. The thought of him looking and touching anywhere else made you want to die. Like he was the oxygen you breathed. A fresh intake of air seeping with amber and intoxicating caramel, the taste of a maple tree’s smoky bark going up your nostrils to the tip of your head.

Dizzied by his musk. Dizzies as your mind buzzed like a million honey bees flew about in crazed circles. Unable to wipe the grin off your face as Uvogin picks you up Bridal style to carry you off. Marital bliss is already consuming the two of you whole, Uvogin’s aura a violent red as his chest swelled with possession.

Every inch of Uvogin; from his flexing muscles to his grueling height where his toes tingle with want. He was wounded so tight. Chords pulling and pulling, fraying as they did, and any moment they’d snap. He’d snap. Flustering begins to control him and you can see it in his eyes. The fire. The lust. All of it.

Uvogin wastes no time getting to his corridor of the Base, since everyone wanted the loud man in his own area to reprieve them of his usual antics.

And he wasted no time placing you on the bed with a thump, your giggles music to his ears. Pure joy shimmered across your features and it had been far too long since he’d seen it. Uvo relishes in it as he helps you out of the wedding gown (tries to help while you beg for him not to rip it). Because for the rest of the night he has plans that will keep you a mess on his cock as you cry and scream for more, drunk off overstimulation, none of your innocent happiness to be found. Only your reliance on him. Your need for him.

You’re on your back faster than you can blink, Uvogin pulling you to the edge of the bed. On his knees between your thighs you watch him with insatiable lust clouding your eyes, your senses, sending little volts of electricity up your spine as his rough fingers traced the skin of your inner thighs. How he kneaded and stoked, your mewls and constant jerking making a devious look fall over him.

“I ain’t gonna be nice, gonna fuck my pretty little wife til’ she can’t take it. Then I’m gonna keep going.” His breaths fans along your clothed cunt, your liquids beginning to soak through the white fabric.

You nod, feeling the numb tingle of anticipation wash over your body. Your mind as if it hung out to dry, lust dulling your senses.

The sudden onslaught of his tongue has you seeing stars. He knows exactly how to tease your entrance to make you squirm and gasp, knows how you like how he oscillates his long tongue inside you to pull out an orgasm. Stroking your inner thighs so playfully and feather like,

“Uvo- pl-please!” You beg, fingers yanking at his scalp. You need him like you need oxygen to breathe. Your senses are so dull, the air smelling thick of your juices and sex, a tangy musk that is sweet because it’s because of your love for him that you feel this way.

“Need somethin’?” The vibrations of his deep voice sent shivers up your spine, your mind spinning in lust as with a flick of his tongue, the way it then drags along your folds brings you back to your high.

Sobbing for him as you snap, squirt dribbles and he laps it up, sucking your engorged clit to make you shake. To make you tremble and jerk and try to push his face away as slurping noises fill the room.

“Ne-ed you!” You sob, “In me!” Your head is spinning and all you can think about is having his cock stretching you out.

He relinquishes with a final kiss above your clit, pulling to strip himself of his clothes.

Uvogin is more than aware of the size difference between you two, you’re so small beneath him, just so cute laying in awe at his naked hulking body as his hand goes to stroke his godly length. You’re so tiny, so breakable and while he is always as careful as a man like him can muster, right now all he wants to do fragment you into a thousand little pieces.

“You’re so damn tiny, wife.” Blood rushes to his cock, hardening it even more as the tip leaks precum swollen and red. The way his hand engulfs parts of your leg as he gropes makes him burn and he knows he can’t hold back much longer.

“You want this fat cock in your tight cunt? You wanna be nice and full, all stretched out? Gonna take all I give you?”

“God yes, Uvo.” You keen, “Please, fill me.”

“Who do ya belong to, wife?” His eyes darken as he lines his cockhead up to your dripping entrance.

You squirm and moan lewdly, unable to focus as pleasure grinds at your core, “Y-You Uvo! My husband, I’m yours- your wife- yours.” You babble as his swollen tip continues to tease you.

“Cunt is mine.” He thrusts in fully, a silent scream escapes you as your eyes roll back. Uvogin’s cock pulses and he groans in pleasure, muscled legs trembling as his nerves are shot full of an addictive high from your body, “Tits are mine.” He engulfs one of your breasts in his hand, thumb rubbing over a pebbled nipple. “Whole damn body is mine. Your fucking mind is mine, I own you.” His thrusts turn erratic, slapping skin reverberates in the room as your little pussy takes his ginormous size and violent force behind each fuck against your cervix.

Already a mess, you’re easy to move, easy to morph as Uvo adjusts you on the bed. Angle was just right, your ankles held down at your head and his hips just so to drive into you so deep you won’t be able to walk. Your orgasm blossoms as squirt juts from your hole as Uvogin’s long cock spreads you too wide and too deep, the pain electric and overwhelming but your hips shake.

“You’re so pretty baby, so damn good takin’ me like this.” He grunts, throwing his head back as he continues to fuck into you, his balls slapping against your ass. “I love ya, love how you squeeze me. You want my cum this bad? I’ll give it to you, get you nice and full from it. Take me deeper now, you can do it, yeah?”

His vulgar words are disoriented in your ears but they make you feel obscene, make you smile sordidly with tears in your eyes, and nod like your life depended on it.

You’re lost in his wicked aura. Your wedding night lived up to all you would have hoped for it, as your dress lay discarded and you were folded in different positions as your husband drove the both of you to pleasured highs again and again. Heavy spurts of come coated your insides, too much so that it trickled out and painted your thighs, painted the sheets. Again and again he plugged you with his cock and filled you with heavy grunts, letting you feel the hot come shooting out from him for far too long, far too much that you could almost taste it in your throat. He hit every sensitive spot you loved that made you feel mushy and braindead, just a reliant little thing on him.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You could barely hold your head up or moan how much you loved him and his cock. Your eyelids grew heavier, while your body shook from the continued rapture.

Uvogin kissed you so lovingly, so much so that it hid his true malicious intents you couldn’t understand in your fucked out state, “I got you baby, gonna let me use you?”

You nod. Smile like a drunken idiot, and go lax. You feel every thrust, every pulse and curve of his cock, each slap against your ass, each kiss, lick, grope along every open inch of skin. You knew this was heaven. Heaven as he pushed you to your chest, hiking back your ass and slamming in. Your poor cunt quivered, gaping wide from his girth as his come leaked out, lower tummy inflated and Uvogin watched you with a glint in his eyes, and he couldn’t keep his emotions in. He let out a monstrous roar, one the brute was known for, and he let you take every inch of him uncaring if you broke or said it was too much. But you took it. You always did. Even if your gummy walls tried to force him out, tried to tighten up too much but he’d always push past the defenses to claim you and feel your clamping cunt as it came, as it squirted. And god as he’d toy with your aching clit he’d see you spasm even in your passed out state.

His fingers gripped your hips, they’d leave bruises he’d stare at proudly tomorrow. And he knows more marks will follow, he needs to mark you, to show anyone who you belonged to on all open parts of your skin. Your eyelids were finally permanently closed at this point, once done-up hair a mess, makeup all smeared. Tiny mewls all that escaped your parted lips. Yet your pussy still squeezed him like a vice, milking him for all it was worth begging for more, “Still so fucking needy for me aren’t ya? Don’t worry I’ll fill you all night till I got nothing left, you know your husband will always take care of you.”

Uvogin could never help himself when it came to you from the second he laid eyes upon you. His feelings are too intense and overpowering of his superb fortitude, years of destruction and rigidness in his work. And it took awhile the first few months before he took you because he adored who you were, and did not want you to become a shallow version of yourself. But he always knew it was his job to protect you as your friend turned captor, turned partner, turned husband.

What type of man was he if he couldn’t keep his love safe? He’d spent years diligently watching over you, even going as far as to check your body for harm. Make sure you ate well, slept enough, and had a good amount of things to keep you mentally entertained. He knew you like the back of his hand and it was why he struggled from the start when you couldn’t get healthy. But with his mind set on it, it would happen, he was sure.

Uvogin wasn’t always suited for tough conversations when it came to you, overall happy with everything. Never complaining about not being able to contact anyone outside the Troupe or go outside without him or an escort. You stopped going stir crazy after accepting your feelings for home were true all those years ago, loving his clingy touches and loud humor.

But as the weeks went on after the wedding, your state got worse. And so did his helplessness, the gut feeling that he was still not doing enough. His optimism wore on himself as much as it did you.

Everything about you makes his heart race at such a speed he wonders if one day you’ll give him a heart attack. Simply based on his overly obsessive actions and thoughts, his every waking being is all for you.

“Uvo, stop it.” You swat at his large hand that held a protein bar, “I’ll just throw it up. Don’t wanna.”

So maybe it was all coming to head after almost two years. Exasperation with the situation that turned into taking it out on the other. More or less you wanted a break from the pity, the treating you like a little porcelain doll by your lover.

“You gotta eat, babe. Can’t survive off that baby food shit.” He sighed referencing the nasty apple sauces, ground up food into weird shakes that made him gag.

“Better than nothing.” You murmur, staring aimlessly at the blankets you sat under.

Uvogin ran a hand through his hair, feeling disgruntled by your frail form not even looking at him. He moved towards the bathroom, dropping the bar in the trash. He wants to scoop you up, pin your chest to the mattress to fuck into you to hear you chant his name.

He doesn’t mean to snap at you. But god he can’t fucking stand to watch what you’re doing, because he’s not stupid. He missed his girl, her smiles and snark, how she’d be equally all over him as he was towards her. His best friend and lover wrapped up in one. While he wasn’t cruel, swore if you were in pain then so was he, but he was tired of this push and pull.

“You’re giving up.” His words come out harsher than he intended, but the bitterness bubbling up his throat spurred them on.

“Stop.”

You wipe at your eyes because of the sudden tear that fell down your cheek. His words feel like a painful stab to the gut.

“I can’t- I won’t watch you die, Y/N. Not even thinking about what this is doing to me. I can’t be without you.”

Anger filled you but you couldn’t breathe, dry heaving through your sudden sobs that hit you like an avalanche, “Doing to you? I’m the one dying, Uvogin. I’m the one in pain every day and every breath.”

He flinched at the usage of his full name.

“Let me die, please it hurts so bad and I have fought. Fought for you, for us but I’m so tired. You need to let me go so you can move on with your life rather than be stuck as my caretaker.” Desperation laces your words, all you want is for him to hold you in his arms. Not for him to stand by the door with a faraway look. The sorrow on his features and the regret swirling in his eyes. You know he’s hurting, but this is destroying you.

“Is that what you think?” His fists clench, muscles going taut as they strain against his shirt, “That you’re a burden? That I’m better off without you? I take care of you because I love you, not out of some stupid fucking caretaker duty I’m obligated to.”

“But aren’t you? You are the one who kidnapped me, you have to care for me or throw me to the curb if I’m not fulfilling my duties.” You spat, and you don’t regret the words as they slap him in the face making it twist in a dark glare.

His brows pinched together, lips purse as he exhaled jadedly. The fierce mocking chuckle spewing out made your blood run cold, “We going there?”

“Maybe we should. We never have properly, always joking about it because it worked out for us. I downplayed what you did because you always respected me, kept me as me. Didn’t force me to fuck you, or be with you. And we always had amazing rapport even before that.” The aggravation of talking to him like he was a non-receptive 8ft plus wall made you want to rip your hair out. Not a flash of any emotions on his face leaving you to reel and second guess.

“What’s the point of this babe? Gonna start throwin’ shit at me again? Begging me to let you go?”

“No!” You sit up straight, rolling your shoulders back feeling frustration and the sudden want to rip your hair out, “I love you. Only way I’ll ever want to leave is if you no longer feel the same, or if you hurt me. But jesus Uvogin, put yourself in my shoes even with your limited fucking ability to empathise. Because sometimes I wonder if you love me the way I love you, or if I have fucking stockholm syndrome!”

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth, how you really feel.” You press, almost as if you wanted him to snap. You’re tired of half truths, of him dumbing everything down like you’re a child.

“The truth?” His eyes narrowed as his chest thumped, felt like his insides were turning inside out in absolute agony, “Truth is I feel fuckin’ useless and you no longer care about living. You are leaving me, you’ll be dead. And now I’m hearin’ you think your feelings are fake? What a fucking time this is.”

“How am I supposed to not die, Uvogin? Tell me. I sleep all day, take handfuls of pills, IV for fluids. My body is rejecting it all and you don’t care that I’m in pain, you care more about having me around so you can get off.”

An explosion of red aura escapes him with a growl, his fist coming down on the closest piece of furniture. You gasp, heavy sobs returning as you recoil in ear. Realizing what he’d done, he tried to approach you, but you cried for him to stay away. Fear. Dizzied confusion written on you and Uvogin doesn’t know how to take it away. Not even the first few months after taking you, had you looked at him like that. And it made him want to die.

“Y/N, M’sorry. Fuck. You’re my life, I love you. You aren’t some fucktoy to me, you’re the reason I breathe. And I’m so scared of the day I gotta live without you. It’s no excuse, but please. Would never hurt you, you’ve gotta know that right?”

You stare at him. Blank. Fingers gripping the blankets you used as a shield until your knuckles turned white. Wet streaks falling down your face, off your jaw staining the fabric.

“By begging me to stay alive… You are hurting me.” You whisper, but he can hear.

“Fine,” He growls needing to leave your presence before he lashed out more, “Then you got my fucking permission to die, wife. I’m done.”

He spares you no other glance as the door slammed behind him. You’re left trying to pick up the pieces, pick apart his words. Unable to hold back the flood of sorrow that seeped out, hysterical, airy cries as you heave. Pathetically quivering as you hugged yourself, slowly rocking back and forth atop the bed as it sets in. You think he means he’s done, he doesn’t want you, this is him washing his hands of you and your fate.

You call for him, his name falling onto nothing, sniveling and blubbering like a mess. The air suffocates you, thick as it wrung you out. Dull skin prickling like a thousand needles inserting within you. Searing pain behind your brows and temples as it felt like your head was being crushed as your eyes went puffy and red.

Stuck in limbo staring at the wall. For months you’d been living under pitying glances, careful words, and locked up in an ivory tower of protection against the world. Even yourself.

Your actions not your own as you move like a woman possessed, a ghost haunting the halls of its resting place. How you dressed for the colder weather outside the Base, discarding the disaster of splintered wood Uvogin left during his outburst. You moved with whimsical intent and glazed over eyes. In a trance as you padded along the eerily quiet halls then the main room, not a Spider in sight. Not that they could have stopped you, or even noticed as Uvogin’s screaming caused them to scatter. Pity as they had no choice but to listen as his deep voice echoed through every cranny spewing hurtful words.

Nobody stopped you as you opened the door to the outside. As you stand in the doorway contemplating stepping out, you realize it’s the first time you’ve been able to go somewhere without permission, with your own autonomy. With that you leave, crossing an invisible boundary that leaves you feeling lighter.

You walk, slow, stumbling as your lungs struggle to adapt.

Unable to get far, you collapse unto a patch of grass, overlooking an expansive patch of trees overgrown with weeds and vines.

On replay in your mind is the fight you’d just had with Uvogin, how his words sliced you deep. How he struggled with your pain, and how you spent too much time keeping your thoughts from him to ease his own. A selfish feat. But they were fearful, self deprecating thoughts that plagued you day in and out. The heaviness of accepting an eventual death that could be at any turn. The realization of your complacency and how the doubt Bates’s kidnapping of you set a spiraling turn of events. That you doubted your love feeling anxiety over his touch or telling him those three words- and how it made you selfish. More than ever. That you now saw Uvogin’s actions in the evil, manipulative light they were, and you did not care. Not anymore. His charismatic, strong nature over you was irrevocably his property, his wife, and this would have happened kidnapping or not.

The cold, you feel yourself becoming one with it as your shallow breaths exhale fog around you. Your body feels numb as your pulse slows at an alarming pace. It’s comforting, serenely quiet before a high pitched noise sounds in your ears. The scenery is beautiful, you admire it as your eyelids droop, this was a good place to pass. To rest. The sky so blue, the sun high and bright, alluding to a perfect Summer day yet you shiver from the almost freezing temperature.

You hear footsteps approaching and you hope it’s Uvo, that he’d get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness, that he’d make it up to you. But it’s not and you almost laugh, maybe he really did mean he was done with you.

“Chrollo?” You jolted back to reality at the sight of the Phantom Troupe leader, at first having thought the figure was imaginary. In all these years you never conversed much, Uvogin having said the passing of his wife permanently altered him.

“Y/N, dear.” His tone is gentle. He approaches and you see the heavy coat and blanket he carries.

“Don’t.” You stammer, “I’ve made my choice, I ask you to respect it. Just make sure he’s okay once I die. I used to think he deserved it after everything, after taking me but- god,” You let out an insane sounding laugh, “I don’t want to leave him, but I can’t live like this. Coughing up my lungs, blood, always tired, unable to eat. My body is giving out on me.”

“When I lost her, I thought my life was ending.” Chrollo laments, closing in on you to wrap you in the warm fabric. He takes a seat beside you, “It did. I’m forever stuck, unable to move on. And truly? I am okay with it. But there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for any members of the Troupe so they never have to experience the magnitude of losing your wife.”

“I understand but-”

“I want you to tell me what it is you truly want. If you could have one wish.”

You respond instantly, not needing to think of your answer, “To be healthy and live the rest of my life with Uvo.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I believe you.” Chrollo sighed, “I wanted to respect your wishes but I had a feeling you were accepting the path of a martyr as all roads appeared exhausted. I found someone, a skilled doctor from another continent who has treated and helped patients with symptoms similar to or more extreme than yours. He likes the challenges of strange chronic illnesses.”

You straighten, an invisible weight feeling like it’d been lifted off of you. Your mind is short circuiting however, as if you’d been unplugged. You’d had to come to terms with your impending doom after a multitude of medical avenues were taken at no expense. But Chrollo’s outreach must have been intense, it must have taken ages to discover if you’re only now hearing of it.

Hope rushed into you. A re-ignited fire burning bright within, making the idea of living another day plausible. Something you wanted.

“Does Uvo know? Where is he? He left me I… Thought he was done. That he didn’t want me-”

“I sent Feitan to find him, I wanted to talk to you first. The doctor is already on his way. I did not want to waste time if you agreed. And if you truly wanted to rest for eternity, I’d have sent him back.”

“How.. But the Troupe- please don’t kill him after.”

“No, it would be a waste. He is miniscule as a threat to us, I actually thought him to be dead all these years. I knew him briefly in Meteor City, he would come to treat the children.”

“Ah.” Knowing the doctor wouldn’t die for helping you released you from any possible qualms you’d have had, “Chrollo?”

“Yes?”

“I appreciate it, and I apologize for making you come out here.”

“Do not. Uvogin should be the one apologizing to you.” Chrollo stands with ease, then helps you stand, “I wouldn’t let him off easy, while we all deal with things in our own way, he’d have always regret walking out on you if it were the final time. We should never take time with our loved ones for granted. I am only glad I could find a possible solution for you.”

You’re swelling with appreciation, genuine happiness that you don’t think you’ve felt since the wedding. And before that? Prior to your initial pneumonia diagnosis almost 18 months ago. And definitely prior to Bates. With the burst of joy through your veins you want to throw your arms around Chrollo and thank him profusely some more, but that’s not something you’re physically capable of. Your legs can hardly hold you upwards as you two walk, him having to keep a firm grasp on your waist and arm in case. Slowly the path turned into the walkway for the Troupe’s base, the walking time taking practically double what it should have. But that’s okay, you’re too filled with ambition dreaming about having a normal functioning body once more even if Uvogin still wants to be done with you.

Your teeth chatter, tips of your extremities a bright red from the chill. Unable to stop shaking even from the sudden heat inside.

Chrollo helped you into your bed in Uvogin’s room, telling you he’ll have Machi swing by. The warmth of the room and the mound of blankets covering you, it’s suddenly easier to sleep than ever. For now you let yourself dream about good health, about treatments working, but still worry scraped the back of your mind when it came to your husband. Burning deep in your gut at the thought of your vows meaning nothing. As you begin to drift off–

You hear a deep voice yelling laced with panic. Uvogin sounded ready to rage, to throw furniture across the room, you could picture the anger radiating from him through his tone. Because his words are hazy to you, and even as the door bursts open you’re unable to look. The feeling of large hands combing along your cool skin was the last thing you felt before falling into darkness.

Uvogin shudders in relief as he watches your chest rise then fall. Your wind stained cheeks still pink as his thumb dragged along your face. He’s coming down from an intense adrenaline fueled high, his heart hammering in his chest ready to burst. How angry he’d been as Nobunaga followed hot on his trail attempting to put reason into him. And how Feitan appeared out of thin air with a look mixed with pity and contempt, saying Chrollo needed him for an emergency. How his stomach dropped filled with nauseating butterflies as his mind jumped to you, that him storming out left you vulnerable. That you fucking died somehow, as he’d let you think he was done. His selfishness towards his lack of control wracked him with guilt as he raced back to the Base.

But instead Chrollo awaited him with a stern lecture even as he tried to push back yelling for you, body screaming for you to be against him. Yet Chrollo sat there amused over his idea to let Uvogin’s thoughts run rampant to a worse case scenario, sickeningly wanting him to feel the sorrow, the agony of losing you to get it through his thick head this wasn’t all about him. Then the leader informed him of the doctor on his way, giving one final effort to help you.

“I’m so sorry.”

Uvogin repeated as he pressed wet kisses to your skin, inhaling your scent like it was his own personal drug. His addiction to your frame in his as the bed creaked when he joined you under the blankets.

How tiny you are compared to his monstrous form, precious and fragile as you subconsciously nuzzled into his warmth even in a half conscious slumber. He can feel all the cold that rattled you melt from your body due to his own heat, how you no longer shuddered as you fell further limp with relaxation. Little mewls escaping your lips. The jerk reaction of your leg twitching as you murmured something under your breath. Not quite actual words but always made his lips quirk.

“Uvo?” You exhale with a smacking of your lips, a whimper as you attempt to shift. Arms and legs trembling as you stretch out waking from your quick douse of sleep, “You’re back?”

Your delicate lashes flutter as you languidly look about.

“Do… You still want me?”

Oh his heart shattered from your frail words as you rubbed at your eyes, eyes glittering from the wetness in your lash line. Your bottom lip trembling that all Uvogin can do to show you his devotion is press a chaste kiss to you.

“Always.” He grunted before deepening his lips against yours with force, slipping his tongue inside your mouth to taste and to claim.

You gripped his bicep, head spinning from the suddenness of his stealing your breath. Now suffocating in his warmth, his scent, and his touch as you lose yourself in the pleasure running down your spine. Emotions all over. Anger at him for leaving, for yelling. Relief he’d come back. His hands roam underneath your clothes to lay ownership over your body, a heavy groan vibrating into you as he tugged you closer. If it were even possible. He’d tie you to him if he could, keep you glued to him, be inside you to be molded as one.

As you become more aware, your feelings of betrayal towards him coming back, you push on his pectorals. And when he doesn’t budge you push again harder, words laced with venom shooting from your mouth.

“I want you off me.”

He looked like a kicked puppy, surprised as he pulled away. Someone so big with his bulking muscles looked like he wanted to shrivel up before he regained his senses, then attempted to entrap you in his arms.

“You don’t get to crawl into bed and kiss me after what you said. Would you have come back? Would you be this happy if Chrollo didn’t tell you about the doctor?”

“Baby.” He murmured miffed as you squirmed from his grasp, “I-”

“He found me outside, I was so cold and lost, going to just die there.” Uvogin’s face twists to something unreadable and devastating, but you continue, “He asked me what I wanted. If I would accept help from one last doctor, it would be okay if I said no. Uvo I’ve had to come to terms with all of this on my own, you’ve always been so convinced it would be okay. But don’t you understand we were out of options? We have limited time, all I wanted was to rest, to enjoy whatever I had left with you. Yet you storm off. I know it’s been taxing for you but I have tried so hard to stay alive.”

You don’t want to cry, you don’t want him to see you suffer more. You get up from the bed, seeing how his arm twinged as he held himself back from grabbing you, Uvogin was smart enough to understand times you needed autonomy to stick it in your head that you had a semblance of control.

“And I am going to do whatever it is this doctor wants to try, but if it doesn’t work you need to accept that I’m letting fate have its turn with me.”

It felt like an eternity as you and Uvogin stared into the depths of the others eyes, watching every movement the large man could make. The apprehension in his body language as the gears turned in his head put you on edge. For he was stubborn.

“Alright.”

Alright. He says it like it’s a defeat but offers a faint smile to follow it up. You sigh from the comfort it brought you, physically allowing your shoulders to relax from where you stood. The bed served as a thick barrier between you physically, but the expanse there mentally was like a cavern.

“Uvo.” You sniffled, lips quivering as the necessity for him brought you to tears. But you couldn’t, wouldn’t as you remembered his words from earlier.

“C’mere baby.”

“No.”

He says nothing though you have ideas what he’s debating doing.

“I can’t. Not after what you said. How willing you were to tell me to die, then walk away.”

From words spoken out of quick anger, Uvogin watched as the relationship cultivated between you two seemingly came crashing down. A thread wound so tight, pulling and pulling for months, finally snapped. And he knows he needs to patch it back up as quickly as possible, get you back into his orbit.

He groans into his hands, pushing against his cheeks running his fingers against his skin down to his jaw, eyes moist. An incredulous look flashed across his face as his mouth opened then closed, then opened back up to speak but with no words to follow.

A standstill, you wipe at your tears, “I think we need some time apart.”

“No. Absolutely not, you’re out your fuckin’ mind if you think I’m leaving your side.” From confusion to immediate discontent, his chest overflowing with annoyance at your stupidity thinking he’d give you space.

“But you did. Earlier.”

Uvogin had nothing to retort back for once as his brows pinched together. His thick fingers flexed as he focused on containing his growing temper he felt towards himself, the divide he put between you two.

“And I fucked up. Got no excuse for my behavior besides I was pissed, I know I’m big and breaking shit around you isn’t the answer. Walking away won’t fix it but I had to leave before I did anything I’d regret. Couldn’t scare you further or risk hurting you. The thought of me being the reason you’re ever hurt makes me fucking ill, I’d rather break every bone in my body. I love you, and I’ll prove it to you every single day over and over if I gotta. But I’m not giving you space.”

It’s the most genuine apology that’s ever left his lips, has you warm inside and brain flitting to accept immediately. You see and hear the regret, it pulls at your heart making your stomach flutter with butterflies. He knew exactly what you needed to hear but this time around he said nothing he didn’t mean in an attempt to sway you back into his arms. He was a truthful, passionate man overall, only straying when absolutely necessary in keeping you happy with him. And he sees you perk up. Knows he’s got you.

“I’ll hold you to that.” It’s hard to hide the twinkle in your eyes, the involuntary upturn of your lips, or your reddened face because of him. How you know you’re giving in to him too easily and that you should make him work for it more. Get on his knees and beg, maybe do a few things while down there too.

Because against better judgment you’re across the room and straddling the expanse of his large hips. Your lips desperately pressing into his uncaring for the way your lungs throbbed within you, not until you’re pulling back. A coughing fit comes over you, heavy and mucus filled, from the depths of you making you shudder. Uvogin holds you, petting your back as you hack against his chest. Burning. You felt so hot it was almost unbearable as the intake of any air was torturous for your frail body.

He sighed into your hair, listening to your erratic pulse, “My sweetest girl. I got you. No matter what happens with this doctor, I’m here.”

And you believe him, whether or not out of necessity. It doesn’t really matter anymore.

You fall into a strange cycle with him the following days. Uvogin becomes your ever present, ever hovering gigantic shadow that moved precisely when you did. His intense gaze feels like a permanent fixture upon you, watching, assessing every move you made. From the food you consumed so that it was up to his standards of health, to taking over shaving your legs, to not letting a single person touch you besides himself… It brings you back to the first year you spent with him before the relationship blossomed, to how robotically he controlled your life.

Pieces of you wanted to brush him off, punish him as exasperation boiled within you. Unable to push his hands away without a glare. His gigantic form pressing against you constantly.

But this was different, you had to believe so. He was scared to lose you. Bad enough you wandered outside with him knowing because he stormed off, almost leaving you to freeze to death. So day in and day out you're met with an onslaught of kisses and tender touches along with his over-protective barrage. In your soul you feel it though, the light at the end of the tunnel slowly approaching. Just what that light was- you weren’t certain.

Two weeks later on the dot does Chrollo arrive with the mysterious doctor in tow. You’re nervous sitting atop the table in the small infirmary in the Troupe’s basement. You remember the medicinal scent from the one other time you’d been down here and it makes you squirm, palms sweating as you fiddle with Uvogin’s fingers. .

Uvogin had pulled a chair to be beside you, a large hand engulfing one of your own as the doctor carefully looked you over, taking vitals, and a few vials of blood. You’d pouted at the sight of the needles, begging Uvo for some help which only brought a wicked grin to his face. You knew he liked how hard you’d squeezed him as blood was drawn, making a face at the nauseous feeling it brought. He’s trying so hard to keep your spirits up and you daresay it’s working?

Things had been strange, more tense in some ways, Uvogin seemingly walking on eggshells around you. Scared to upset you. Overly doting if that were even possible for the clingy man who would choose to spend time with you over Troupe business. (Which took you far too long to realize how serious he was the first time he told you that.)

“I’m going to run these tests I need real quick. I need to be able to count out a few possibilities to confirm what I think our path is. My nen will speed up the process so sit tight.” The doctor, who was a short man with an overgrown beard, said offering a kind smile.

“Thank you.” You take a sharp breath in and glance at Uvo. The door clicked close, leaving the two of you to sit in heavy silence.

You watched him slowly kiss your knuckles one at a time, expelling the unruly feelings of obsessive jealousy coursing through him. His overly possessive nature regardless of your health, hated the doctor’s hands on you. Was grounding himself as his lips dragged along your skin, “Feeling okay?”

“Nervous. Hated describing everything I’ve dealt with, though I know he needed to hear it.” You sighed. The insurmountable effort to get out of bed each day was wearing you down, at this point you’re surprised you’re able to at all. Mornings begin with faint cries and whimpers as Uvo helps you up. Then you stay placated in the same spots, droning away at whatever is shoved in front of you. And night time was when your bones could relax and mind could have its reprieve from the constant synapses shooting aching pain through you.

You didn’t speak much as butterflies spurred from Uvogin’s invasive touching, continuing to claim parts of you as his own as you wait. But there was a twisting past the sparks he made you feel, one dreadful and sickening. A wandering mind down alleyways of deceit telling yourself there’d be no magical cure or good news; that you’d spend your remaining time wasting away in suffering.

Eventually the door creaked open and the doctor strode in, head stuck in a clipboard, “Alright.”

You’re sitting straight, electricity shooting through your spine. Uvo tenses next to you, his grip on your thigh tightening ever so slightly.

The diagnosis was in the air of what you’d expected. Pneumonia from the time before Bates kidnapped you never properly healed. It expanded into more. Your respiratory tract was giving up and the rest of your body did too. It wouldn’t be long before you’d begin coughing up blood per the doctor, the statement shaking you to your core.

“I see antibiotics have not done much, which are always the first line of defense. Which I believe a more aggressive track should be taken.”

“And what is that?” Uvogin asked in a low voice, fringing on threatening.

“I would like to put you into a medical nen induced coma.”

“No.”

“Uvo.” You grab his wrist as a silent plea, “He’d know better than us on treatment.”

Your insistence has Uvogin backing down, as in his body physically relaxing. His muscles twitch in the arm you grasp.

“I have seen and treated 3 cases of hemoptysis or pneumonia successfully this way. And have studied cases of past colleagues too. We are in the unique situation where my nen would be the driving factor rather than what a normal hospital would use. Your body would be given complete rest, no need to fight each day to walk or eat, or even rest. It would give your white blood cells the ability to fight this intense infection. This has turned a lung infection into something chronic, this is the only route that makes sense to take.”

“How long will the coma be for?” You race to articulate your swarming thoughts. They’re all jumbled due to your lack of medical understanding and the fear seeping in. But between you and Uvo, you need to be calm so he is. Because when it came to you, any sense went out the window.

“Two weeks. But I would be able to tell from test results if you’d need longer. Then afterwards for 3 months there’d be a strict regimen of pills.”

You take a deep breath in, “And if this doesn’t work?”

The doctor gives you a solemn look, which you understand, “Then we’d want to make you comfortable.”

It was a scary thought. Going to sleep and not waking up one day. One that you’d rather prefer than a malicious death, like torture at the hands of Feitan. While you feel confidence in this doctor, in that you’d wake up from the nen coma, it’s what comes after that makes bile churn in your gut.

The doctor wants to put you into the coma pronto.

Uvogin wants to argue, you see the fire in his eyes, the desperation on his face. The silent anger vibrates in him as he wants to scoop you, his wife, up and leave. His silent pent up feelings of failing you coming to the surface.

He holds your hand as your body goes limp. The pink glow of the doctor’s nen cocooning you inside, not allowing Uvogin to touch you. He hates it.

The days go painfully slow.

An hour felt like twenty.

The first week felt like a year.

Uvogin was more combative than normal, aggressive with his words when he used them. Abnormally quiet but everyone knew to steer clear of him. Leaving your side was an absolute no-go for the large man, needing to watch every delicate breath to prove to himself you’re still breathing.

If someone like Uvogin was truly capable of true self reflection- he probably would have during this time. Sure, his mind occasionally filled him with doubt, if his life choices were some fateful cause of your doom. Much like his thoughts had when Bates had you, at least this time he had his eyes on you.

When the second week finally came to an end and the doctor confirmed it was safe for you to be woken up, that your vitals showed drastic improvement, Uvogin was elated.

How endearing it was as you whined, eyes fluttering as you struggled to wake. Limbs heavy as you reach in the air through blurry vision, attempting to claw at your face. How you mewled for him relishing in his suffocating touch, fueling his protective instincts more than ever.

You properly wake to lips against your own, stealing your breath before moving to your jaw. Through heavy eyelids you can make out the side of Uvo’s head, then threading a hand through his wild locks. You can feel his burning lips kissing, the nipping down your neck as he sucks the delicate skin between his teeth to leave marks. A fast sigh of pain leaves your lips as a jolt inside you grounds you to your surroundings.

“Uvo?” You croak, voice betraying you as it doesn’t sound like your own. Throat dry and hoarse, it hurts to speak so you don’t.

He doesn’t respond to you right away, Uvogin groping and squeezing at your skin. Swirling heat envelopes your weary limbs, sweat pooling along your hairline as your core goes flush with molten liquid. Sleep still dragged on your eyelids. You could barely move your own legs from the exhaustion and traces of medical nen pricking along you.

Your legs move, Uvogin spreading your thighs wide. The bed creaks as his weight presses on it. His body exudes searing heat. Burning you as you squirm and mewl about the heavy fog weighing down on you. Chest heavy, heart hammering so much that you hear the blood pounding in your ears as you swallow in anticipation.

The feeling of your nightgown hiking makes you gasp. Your panties peeled off your form felt like jabs of knives down your numbly tingling skin.

Uvogin’s thick cockhead prods at your folds, “Fuckin’ hell your soaked. Thinkin’ of me in your dreams?” He chuckled cruelly.

You whimper as a moistness between your legs fill you with shame, his words only prodding it further.

Mind lit in static fire, blue and orange with smoke paralyzing your brain as your hips jerk to meet his involuntarily. Body blistering from head to toe, confusing lust settled in you as you feel a pained stretch through your smoky mind.

“Fuck you’re tight.” Uvogin grunted as he sank his cock further.

He’s splitting you apart. You cry out, a ghastly moan as your walls spasm around the large length forcing its way in. Dazed and overwhelmed. Impossibly full before you could properly register you were even alive. That you’d been in a coma for two weeks. That now, your poor cunt was shoved full of cock and your stomach expanded as Uvogin grunted with each vicious inch he pushed further in. Fingers seized at his biceps nails drawing blood, toes curled as your legs trembled with feathery pleasure whilst all you felt was unnatural.

You’re being pushed and pulled every which way, caught in a dangerous undercurrent that shows no reprieve to let you swim upwards. Extraordinary pleasure blossoms within you, petal by petal unfolding and its bright colors glimmering in ecstasy. Ecstasy that choked you up to where you couldn’t breathe as tears brimmed at your eyes, desperately trying to gain senses.

Uvogin began to fuck into you slow, uncaring for the lack of prep, primarily driven by his insatiable want for you. Driven by the fear over your health and his lack of control. That shoving his cock into you to feel your poor gummy walls squeeze the life out of him, settled his churning emotions. That the incessant burn of anxiety in his chest was being snuffed out, and all because the electric pleasure of being one with you brought him.

“Uvo!” You cry so sweetly for him, all hoarse and face filled with confusion. He was your lifeline in the storm. A storm he brought upon you. One that lifted you and dropped you as his cock hit your most sensitive spots, nestling up against your cervix only to pull out and thrust in again.

Your lust filled whimpers only grow as Uvogin manhandled your thighs further apart, resting them on his biceps as he towered over you. His thick muscles corded with each push to the hilt of his hips flush to yours. Smacking of skin filled the dry air, your pain still twisting with rapture as his name repeats off your tongue.

He leans to capture your lips, an inhuman-like groan from the back of his throat tickles your ears. It was one of desperation, higher pitched and letting you see him with shields down. His gigantic body practically trembles upon you as he picks the pace up, pistoning his hard cock over and over, and over. Mind blurring. Squirt dripples from your abused hole as you reach your high through a giant wave of pleasure.

“Missed you.” Is all he moans. Again. And again.

Your arms move around his neck, legs attempting to wrap around his expansive waist. You can’t imagine him being any further, needing him closer, even closer than the part of him inside you. Because as you blink furiously, registering in your post orgasm haze, about the medical nen coma. That you don’t know the state of your health or the day of the month it is, instead all you can feel is your husband’s cock burying deeper into your guts like he’d never get to again. Overstimulated and too full, Uvogin roared as he came feeling your perfect velvet walls so tight, his vision whiting out. The way the bulge in your lower tummy inflated, the way he re-hardened in seconds to empty you to slam back in. A silent scream all that escapes you.

Fucking through each other’s highs there was nothing you could have ever wanted more than him like this. Maybe you would have wanted him to wake you properly to meet with the doctor to know whether or not you’d live or die. But you’d take this heated moment as you lose your mind as he fucks your sensitive nerves and toys with your clit, murmuring loving yet intense proclamations into your ears.

Blissed-out face. Uvogin’s eyes burning into yours. Sweat falling from your foreheads. Cries of love. Heavy breaths. Electricity swarms you two, bodies lit in flames of passion and his possession over your body, mind and soul. As he comes again, letting your tiny cunt greedily take his warm seed, your chest sores and a pathetic smile tugs at your lips. You’re babbling incoherent words. Letting him grope you and kiss, and nip and play with your most sensitive areas even as you cried for a reprieve. His come leaked from your folds, an intense river of the warm seed trickling down to the bed, leaving you oh so empty from it and the aftermath of losing his cock. You cried for him to go back inside, that you needed to feel close to him to be one with him. Your hips bucked and jerked as tears fell, pitiful pouts before he laughed.

He sucks and licks along your cunt, slurping your juices and his own seed. Playing with your sensitive and enlarged clit as tingles shoot along your core, twisting so good in your belly. Sweet salvation as you sigh in joy and blurry vision from the pleasure his mouth gave you, collapsing further into the pillows and opening your legs further to welcome him. Fingers threading into his hair to keep his head in the very spot you needed.

A whimper bubbles from you as he kisses up your aching slit, before leisurely dragging along your sensitive bud that feels just right. Furiously working you to another climax as he suckled your clit, a finger stroking inwards of your thigh. He pads along your sopping entrance and you shudder, watching as two fingers sink into your cunt. Two of his large fingers, which one alone bigger than most cocks. Stretching you out so good as he pumped and curled to your liking, stimulating all the spots that he knew made you go dumb. Uvogin thinks he wants to watch you lose yourself to him but he knows this is a fine line he’s on already, taking advantage of you in such a vulnerable state. But he can’t help himself! You’re just so cute and he’d been so scared the last two weeks. He needed to have his cock deep in your little pussy, the one he’d been so good not to fuck whilst you were in your coma. He wonders if you’d let him fill you again as he jerked his hips against the mattress as his cock began to harden again.

You’re grinding against him, he smirks before latching back onto your clit and listens to every vibrato of each moan. Of each cry and beg as your slick rushes from your tight cunt, ecstasy blossoming inside you once more as he coaxes orgasm after orgasm from you, him allowing your roadmap of pleasure to lead back to the thick tip of his cock prodding at your slit once more. You smile, so stupidly with a wet face and flushed skin, hardened nipples and asking for him to fill you up again.

And he does.

Until you're leaking of him. Barely conscious and not able to even moan in pleasure. Until you're trembling and neither your arms or legs can support you anymore. Till he’s shooting blanks and still nudging himself back into you even as you drift off.

Uvogin ruts into your barely there form, pulling you to the edge of the bed so he can have a better view. His come dried and caked onto your skin. Hair a mess. Face swelled red and dried with streaked tears. He grunts as his feet garner support from the ground so he can pound back into you without worrying about the mattress holding him. He doesn’t care that you aren’t crying his name or begging for more. All he sees and cares about how you still squirt little streaks of juices from your hole and across his abdomen. How your body is so obsessed with his touch that he can still make you orgasm even as you lull in and out of sleep. Your clit is so engorged, pink and sensitive but he can’t stop playing with it, rolling it between his calloused fingers as you squirm. Or sucking on it so harshly you passed out earlier, only awoken by him tapping your cheek, pulling the back of your head up so you could watch his cock morph your insides to him as you barely understood what was going on before spasming and blanking out again. Staring into your blank eyes, mouth open in an O-shape, he tells you how much he loves you, and that everything is going to be okay. And of course you believe him, he’s your husband after all, the only man you’d let use you like a fuckdoll in your sickly state to the point your tummy inflated from his thick spurts of come.

Tomorrow, you tell yourself, you’ll come back to the reality of your situation. Tomorrow. For now you’ll bask in your husband as an escape.

It’s the next day, your legs and core are so sore, when you meet with the doctor. It felt like the pink blush was permanently painted along your cheeks as he checked over your vitals. Uvogin watched you smug, one hand tracing circles along the low of your back. The memories of yesterday are prevalent in the air, the thought of it makes you go flush. Uvogin knows the effects he has on you even in such a serious moment that you almost want to smack him for it.

This was it. The moment of truth.

You're fluttering with anxious nerves, stomach churning and you’re eyeing the garbage can for the chance you puke. Thundering in your ears as your heart hammers and blood rushes. It’s like your surroundings were null as you carefully watch the doctor’s every move, listen to his every breath and word to analyze what they mean. Looking for any sign in his body language that you’re fucked, that it failed and you’re officially out of options.

But it doesn’t come. He smiled warmly between you and Uvogin.

“As I expected, my nen coma was a success.”

As he expected? Had he seemed so certain two weeks ago? You didn’t think so, but apparently he believed off of past patients that you’d recover?

He continues, “Your body was able to replenish itself not having to strain itself the last two weeks. You’re out of the danger zones to where traditional medicine will be able to bring you back to around 90% of your strength. While it’ll never be completely perfect, permanent damage has been done, you’ll no longer be in chronic pain day in or day out, or worrying about coughing up blood. You can go up stairs without stopping and go for walks without needing someone’s assistance. You’ll have energy, an appetite, no longer with permanent symptoms of pneumonia, and excitement towards the future once more.”

You immediately look to Uvogin, who for once looks pleasantly surprised. His eyes glitter as he meets your gaze, and he smiles. It’s genuine, not forced like everything had been at one point to keep your spirits high. Immediately, you fling your arms around him, tears prick at your lash line. Hugging him as tight as you can knowing you couldn’t hurt him, while his boisterous laugh is like music to your ears.

The doctor sends Uvogin out of the room to fetch food, saying he’ll go over your medications now.

For a second you stutter, your whole body short circuiting as you don’t want Uvo to leave. But his encouraging nod your way before he closes the door helps you relax.

You quickly discover why the doctor wanted time alone with you.

“It’s fairly simple, these two bottles of faint coral-pink pills are for the next two months. They’re high dosages which is why they’re rather large pills, do your best to get them down. Take them with food as well.”

The doctor grabs two other bottles, your stomach drops as you feel a change in the air.

“Now, I’ll keep it simple. I can’t tell if you’re happy, what kind of doctor would I be if I helped you recover just to keep you with a dangerous band of criminals?” He laments, “The pale yellow pills are for the final month, they’ll cement the work of my nen and the pink pills. You should not regress for the rest of your life, they’re strong and will kill off any remaining infections or diseases. You’ll be lethargic so I recommend taking them at night.”

“What about the blue ones?” You ask, stomach feeling like it was in the pits of hell the way it violently churned within you.

“They’ll undo mine and the pill’s work and will allow you to pass peacefully. Take them for a final way out.”

“You- How could…”

“I’ll write down directions, yellow pills if you feel like the pink ones worked. Blue is needed if more aggressive medications are needed after the two months. At your discretion, who would argue?”

For a split second you wonder if this was a test. But you just smile at him, “I really appreciate your help. It’ll be nice to breathe normally again.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

It took all your strength to not focus too intently on the blue pills as the doctor explained to Uvogin what they meant. He was completely bought in by the ‘deceiving’ explanations, no inkling present that one of the bottles could kill you.

You don’t want to think about it, not too much. You want to think about having autonomy once more. To breathe without hacking, to walk without needing help, to eat without getting sick.

Month one- you take the bottle of pink pills. Each day, you aren’t sure if you’re truly feeling better or if it’s a placebo. A week of getting out of bed without tears or an aching body, is when you realize recovery was possible. You begin to enjoy full meals with Uvo, seeing the delight on his face when you bake for the first time in over a year. You two laugh at the mess, how half the pastries were burnt but it’s progress as you salvage the edible parts to feed the other. Your deep, nasty cough still surfaced each day. Less and less mucus each time. You’d sleep through the nights, once again becoming the one to wake up first like a waiting puppy for its owner, how expectantly you stared down at him nudging him to wake. How for the first time you were able to initiate sex with no worries of getting sick or him hurting you, as you took his swollen lengthy cock into your mouth. Him standing over you as he lets you explore him with your tongue. He’s so heavy and you giggle, warm and needy as you suck and kiss, lick along his thick veins to the point he can’t handle your teasing. You cry as he fucks your face but they’re good tears, and he watches as you swallow and then open your mouth to show him. Uvogin never leaves your side but for once you feel joy towards it, not frustration.

Month two- you still take the pink pills and the improvement is astronomical. You giggle like a maniac as you skip about the fluttering grass outside the Troupe’s Base. Uvo watches you spin about before falling to the ground in exhaustion, he smiles as you bask in the sun. You’re breathing heavily but no coughing fits come. You’re bright red and clearly tired but you can still get up to keep going. He’s relaxing under a tree and you’re running around like your life depended on it, he thinks you’re just so damn cute. This is the month you return to more hobbies, become more talkative and want to watch more shows or finally give him back snarky remarks. Uvogin almost dies from the elation, the lightness of his chest at how life returned to you, how you were you. Not the husk of a person stolen away because of disease, you’re happy. Right?

It’s now month three- you stare between the two bottles. ‘Take the blue pills for a way out.’ The doctor's words reverberate, you’d ignored them for the first two months not wanting to worry about it. Not wanting to get in your head before making a decision.

You sit in the main room of the Troupe’s Base, Chrollo had called a last minute meeting the night before so Uvogin had to cart you out of bed, ruining a rather good dream. You’re staring at the medications on the counter, then eyes flickering to the clock. Today was the first day you needed to make your choice, the one you’d avoided for so long.

Sickness numbed your mind at times, while at others allowed you to see things for what they really were. You think. You’d been ready to die, to be released from chronic neverending pain, but now having life back changed your mind. Little things you’d always taken more granted were now things you would never want to lose again. Maybe you’d lost yourself a long time ago, maybe you were always a horrible person to love Uvogin, but as you recount all these years with him you don’t want to lose him. Or the way he loved you. The doubt you’d had towards him after Bates was finally washing away, you walled all the incessant ringing you’d have in your ears off. No more were you susceptible to the common sense you had at the start of your captivity to always hang onto the truth about him. You walled it all off, brick by brick in your head.

Maybe a part of you wants him to suffer. Wondering how he’d react when you suddenly fell sick again and passed, would he be ruined? Would he move on? You figured he’d do something dumb, find a way to get himself killed more likely. So you walled those feelings off too.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” You smile as Uvo walks out from one of the halls. You mewl into his large hand as he cups the side of your head before moving so you could lean back into him. He’s so large over you that when you lean back on the side of your chair that you only reach up to his thighs.

You crane your neck to look up, “Everything okay?”

“Yep. Nothin’ for you to worry about.” He looks at the bottles on the table, “So, what ones you thinking? Can you mix them depending on how you feel each day?”

“Uh, don’t know about that, doubt it? I’ve been trying to recount everything to make a decision. Because I mean… I can’t complain, I feel good.”

“Right.” Uvogin held a hand for you to take, then he grabbed your waist to help you up, “Up to you then, babe.”

The feeling of his thumb circling against your clothed side and the suddenness of standing makes your head spin. In a moment of striking clarity you reach to grab one of the bottles, certain in your choice.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” You grin up at him, squeezing his hand as you lace your fingers with his.

The bottle of yellow pills rattles in your hand as you two make your way to his room. The blue pills sit forgotten, almost screaming out for you to change your mind, to think things through again. That you needed to at least leave cracks in the wall you created to protect yourself, just in case. But you didn’t. You coated it in shiny protective layers of something in your mind, causing your chest to surge in feelings of love and all things gooey and over the top. Just stars left shining in your eyes as you look at him.

The month of taking the yellow pills passed, they made you lethargic like the doctor said they would, causing you to get mass amounts of sleep. But he was right, they made you feel good as new.

You sit cross legged in the townhome, leafing through pages of your book as Uvogin shuffles around in the kitchen. He’d insisted that he’d make dinner tonight, which you told him takeout would be just as satisfactory (and probably better anyways).

After multiple interventions on your part you two finally sit connected at the hip as your weekly show plays, food in hand. When Uvo finishes he tucks an arm around your waist pulling you closer, pressing a kiss to your hair. A heaviness in your chest suddenly becomes apparent, each time you swallow the food seeming dry and tasteless.

“Uvo?”

He sensed the tension in your small body immediately, but didn’t say anything as he knew you were still adjusting. While physically you could handle a lot from long walks or eating actual food, mentally you were still catching up with the changes.

“What’s up?”

“Can I tell you something?” You ask meekly. Your fingers feel sweaty, you have to set the food down on the coffee table immediately. A storm rages within you. One side telling you to spill, the other telling you to let this be a secret you die with.

“Anything.”

“The- You remember the blue pills I could have taken instead of the yellow ones?” More screaming within you to stop. Like hands were physically trying to drag your voice back down, that this would only anger him.

“I do.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, focusing on your hands in your lap. You’re more aware of his hulking presence holding you to him than before. You’re more aware of his steady heartbeat and breaths as you wait for them to speed up, to show his anger.

“You can’t get mad.”

“Mad ‘bout what? You end up taking any?”

Your heart is hammering in your ribs, like it’d burst out ripping you and all your biggest fears into the open. It’s giving you away, you know it. The room felt like it was closing in, suffocating you until you took a deep breath in. No lies. You were given a new chance at life and you would not keep this from him. Couldn’t. It was best it came from you rather than someone else somehow down the road.

“They would have actually killed me.”

Silence.

“Uvo?”

“Yeah?”

He’s not reacting how you thought he would. He starts to fucking laugh and you’re staring at him like a deer in headlights. It makes feelings of annoyance bubble in your chest, anger as your nose flares and your pupils dilate.

“Why… Are you laughing? It’s not funny.”

“Course it’s not, babe, but I already knew.” He shrugged.

“How?”

“Shalnark. Guess he got curious what was in them after you said you wouldn’t be taking them. I said he could have ‘em to do whatever that tech freak does.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Came to me and told me they would have regressed your pneumonia and caused you to pass in your sleep eventually. So I assumed you were aware of that, the doctor probably lied to me, and you made the choice to live. Of course I had to wonder what if you didn’t know and it was all luck you didn’t take them, now I know it wasn’t.”

“That’s why you didn’t say anything?”

“Yep, figured if you didn’t know you’d have flipped shit.”

“Why are you acting so calm? You’re freaking me out.”

Uvogin forced you to look up at him. He pulled you in for a quick kiss, “Because you chose me. You had all that time to think about it so you must have known for certain you wanted to be with me.” He grinned deviously, “Course I’m a little irked but, I do deserve some shit still for kidnapping you. I’d say it all worked out though, huh?”

You playfully smacked his chest, unable to hide your grin, “You know I looked at the blue pills as a way out if the medical coma and pink pills didn’t work. That if I was back in pain, I couldn’t believe it almost, I was ready to suffer again. Not once did I want to use them because I wanted to be away from you. Sure I wondered if you deserved to suffer for the shit you do, but I love you. I wanted help from that doctor because I want more time with you, I could have said no to Chrollo three months ago. So I knew what my choice was from the start. You’re all I wanted those months with Bates, I had time to think, unravel my feelings yet you’re it for me Uvo. Guess you’ll get your karma in another way.”

“So fucking cute, wife.” His lips crushed onto yours again, his tongue shoving inside claiming you. He pulled you to straddle his lap before he pulled away to rest his forehead against yours, “You had me believing in that stupid karma shit, you know that? Glad you’re finally passed me being a mass murderer and all that.”

“Don’t say it like that!” You groan, shame prickling the back of your neck making you go warm. The wall is still strong in your mind, keeping you happy, keeping you from fully feeling that shame that should have made you go comatose. Instead it allowed you to kiss him with all your might, tugging at the shirt he wore. A kiss turned to desperate chaos as teeth gnashed and lips fought for dominance, saliva shared and dripping as lewd moans began to fill the air. Carnal touches. Salacious grunts. Swirling hot sex filled air controlled you two as clothes thrown discarded and forgotten, unneeded.

You’d made your decision. How much of it was really your own, was left up for discussion. You’d never know how much of this you really wanted, or if you’d fallen in love out of necessity for survival. Or if Uvogin really was who you were meant to be with. But all you knew as Uvogin forced his swollen cock passed your tight unprepped walls, you’d never want anything more than this man as you cried. You who practically passed out as he breached your aching cunt and to the hilt of your cervix, outlining your tummy and pushing to stretch you even more as he yelled out for you. This man who loved you furiously and would destroy the whole world for you if you asked. And that- wasn’t that the grandest declaration of one’s feelings you could receive?

Right?

authors note on an alternate ending— i view it as if reader were to die than this would head towards canon where uvogin dies by kurapika’s hand and he’s all content because he gets to see you again :))

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