#a lot to be said about how lip completely isolates himself

[pumpkinrootbeer]

Hi gay people in my phone I'm thinking about how Lip has lines like "like my life isn't a complete fucking waste" and "I don't know how to be with myself" and "how am I supposed to make it?". And him struggling with the death of his friend, and him struggling with everything with Karen, and him getting raped by his girlfriend, and him getting sexually assaulted multiple times in the show. there being lines about how alcoholism isn't his problem it's the other stuff going on with him. The sudden, violent snippets we see of Lip's childhood trauma snap back up to the surface while he fails to cope with them. how he is always in the caretaking role.

just, how every time he's at his lowest, we never see his family find out about it. they don't know what Mandy did to Karen. What Mandy did to him. They don't know the insane dynamics between Lip and both his professors. Or when he got black out drunk and broke into a house. They never knew he was put in jail because they never answered his phone call. Or that time Lip was homeless and sleeping on the L. Him getting drunk and getting beat up to cope with everything. We see him barely functioning again and again and again. the show says says all of this and then goes "he needs to get out of his way 😘🫶💫" as the final parting words on his character.

[angelltheninth]

Alien Needs

Pairing: Miles Quaritch x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, mating cycle, size difference, rough sex, tail shenanigans, alien anatomy, size kink, being manhandled, dirty talk, creampie, blowjob, titfucking, fingering, breeding kink

Word count: 2.6k

Ao3

A/N: The Avatar movies really awakened everyone's inner alien fucker.

Quaritch wasn't someone to just vanish without a trace, not one to hide away when he comes across a problem, and certainly not the one to leave others to speak for him. It made no sense that you were speaking to your fellow scientists right now instead of him.

"And why exactly can't I see him? I'm his girlfriend, if there's something wrong I should be the first to know." You knew where he was, just down the hall, just a little more and you'd get to find out what's been happening.

If only this idiot moved, "I understand that ma'am. However the Colonel is going through some... unexpected side effects of having an Avatar. Nothing dangerous I assure you, it just might be best for him, and for you to leave him alone for now."

"I'm going to talk to him, thank you very much." You walked right past the man, leaving him a little flabbergasted before he tried to stop you.

"But ma'am, he's really-" His words died on his lips when you shot him a glare sharper then any knife, "The room is unmonitored as per the Colonel's request, so please signal us if you need anything." He straightened up and saluted you, his face a few shades paler then before.

You marched up Quaritch's door and pressed the button to slide them open. The sight wasn't that uncommon actually, other then the room being a complete mess, his bed more then anything else. But otherwise seeing him pace back and forth, looking deep in thought wasn't that odd.

His shoulders tensed when you stepped inside, followed by his entire body as he spun around, his face contorted in a snarl, muscles bulging as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

"Didn't they tell ya to stay out of 'ere?" He didn't sound quite like himself, more raspy, deeper, like he'd been screaming for hours. Based on the state of the room and the amount of sweat that he was covered in maybe he has.

"They did. I wanted to hear it from you. There's something wrong isn't there, with you Avatar?" You locked the door behind you, isolating the two of you from the world outside. You didn't particularly like spending a lot of time in here, it seemed so barren, too white, with the only dashes of color being from the window, the clothes and of course Quaritch himself, who was currently a very big splash of color seeing as he was only wearing loose witting combat pants.

You noticed that there was no belt and that the buttons were completely undone. Something must be really wrong if he couldn't even be bothered to get dressed right.

"It's natural apparently. For the Na'vi, so they said there's nothing ta worry about. Still I feel like if I was warned of a god damned mating cycle I might have reconsidered this whole thing." He snickered and ran his hand down his face and chin. "They never tell ya everything it seems like."

"M-Mating cycle?" You blinked slowly at him, letting his words sink in. "When did that start?"

"Bout three days go I think. Been feeling extra horny for a bout a week though. Now it's like-" He growled in frustration, "Fuckn' annoying as hell. No matter how much I yank it I just can't seem to calm down." There wasn't an ounce of shame in his words. Not to your surprise, he's been like that since you met him.

You bit you lip as you imagined him crouching down on his bed, pumping his cock in his hand without it going soft at all. Quaritch inhaled sharply, his pupils narrowing. You felt small under his gaze, you were small, half his size now, but this made you feel like you were his favorite food on display and he was gonna pounce on you any moment now.

"There anything I can do to help?"

"Help? Ya wanna help me with this? Look at me!" With no hesitation he pushed his pants down to reveal his cock. He was easily the size of your forearm, with the bulging deep blue head leaking with copious amounts of white cum. You can't even imagine what the inside of his pants looks like right now, "We're not compatible right now sweetheart."

Fuck. You could maybe, maybe take half of him. And that is a big maybe. Anything else would be dangerous. But by god did you want to see how far you could push that cock, how much of it would fit inside you, how it would fill you up.

"Why don't we give it a try? I've got more then one hole you know?" You beckoned him in a soft, sultry voice, your jacket and shirt abandoned on the floor, followed by you unzipping your skirt and clicking off your heels, coming to stand before him in your black underwear, his cock ending almost at the same height as your mouth. The perfect height.

"I am intimately aware of that fact. Ya could barely take two of my fingers last week, ya really think you can handle me now?" He towered over you, his eyes shining even in the brightly lit room. "I will break ya." He hissed with a hint of a smile. His thumb pushed into your mouth and you could taste the faint hint of his cum, it tasted different than a human's, stronger, but not overwhelming. "Ya really wanna do this? I can't guarantee I'll be able ta hold back, I can barely hold back now."

"You forget that I'm a scientist too, this could be an interesting experience, I could learn a lot." You placed both hands one behind the other on his thick cock, following the throbbing deep purple vein up and down.

"Volunteering yerself for it, yer a slut for science aren't ya?" Quaritch purred as you ran your hand up, down and around his cock, making sure to leave no spot unattended for long, "No, yer my slut now. Ya can have all the fancy diplomas ya want but the only thing yer good for is being a fuckhole for me."

Usually he only descended into dirty talk when he was beyond horny for your pussy, which must mean that he'd been like this for quite a while as he said. "I'm here to take care of you. That's my job. So I'm merely doing my duty."

"Not yet ya ain't." His hand could crush your skull if he applied enough force yet he only used enough to move your head to the big tip. You could barely get him past the head before your gag reflex hit. Lucky for you it was sensitive just like a human's so you could focus your mouth and tongue on it while making up for the rest with your hands.

Quaritch hummed in approval as you swiped his cum in your mouth with much gusto. This was an adjustment for him as well, had all these new instincts that he had no idea what to do with, how to properly manage them, especially ones like these. He was happy you were helping, even if he wasn't the greatest with words you could see it in his eyes. His nearly predatory looking eyes.

You pushed closer to him, pressing his cock between your boobs, the white spilling onto them, he was like an endless fountain of cum. He could probably paint you completely white with it. The thought was making a stain on your panties, urging you to bob your head faster, lick at the slit at the tip and make him tremble.

"Enough. Won't waste anymore seed." He growled, "Fuck. Why do I wanna... shit... gotta breed ya sweetheart. Breed ya good." He tilted and held you back by your hair, your mouth and chin stained with thick cum, "Gotta make ya ready."

He ushered you along to the bed and let you lay down after which he crawled toward you like a lion to it's prey, his toothy smirk matching.

"Show me my prize." His breath tickled your stomach as he kissed his way down stomach. He made short, almost no work of your underwear, tearing them to shreds in a blink of an eye. He smirked looking at the wetness pooling between your legs and seeping onto the sheets, mixing with the drops of his cum. "One or two?"

"One please." Two would be too much at once, you tried before when he bend you over in the med bay and it fucking hurt. Something light and fluffy tickled your pussy lips, followed by a smooth, firm press over your clit. You looked down to see Quaritch moving his tail over your cunt.

"Learned a few new tricks. Turns out this thing has plenty of uses." He leered at you smugly, circling his middle finger around your entrance. His tail lightly slapped on your clit right as he pushed his finger inside. "Way too tight. Need ta stretch ya out more first."

You nodded along, spreading your legs in response to give him an easier access to you. He hummed, wrapping his large blue hand on your hip to angle you up before he pushed his thighs under you, angling your pussy upwards.

This allowed you, and him, to have a perfect view of him fingerfucking you, the only things obscuring it for you being his tail rhythmically tapping on your clit, sensing ripples through your already quivering cunt. He pressed his finger close to your entrance, looking between it and you, asking a silent question which you answered with affirmation moments after.

Another finger entered you on the next thrust, certainly easier then before, your walls already slightly looser, making lewd squelching sounds as he pulled them in and out, your arousal smearing along your thighs and his hand. "Should I make ya come now?"

"Now. I wanna come now." You mewl twisting your fingers into the ruffled pillow.

"Do ya? After ya went against orders and decided to came in here when ya weren't supposed ta? I don't think ya earned an orgasm. Fucktoys don't get a say, they only get used." His tail trailed across your leg and wrapped around your left ankle, applying the tiniest bit of pressure. "Sadly for me, they don't exactly make fucktoys for the Na'vi. So I'll settle for your many holes instead."

"Wait... how long does your... mating season last?" You tried to think clearly, the scientist in you trying to take in as much information as possible through your current horny mindset.

"Hell if I know. I do know that, since yer already here, I want ya here with me. Let me take care of ya sweetheart. Take my fucking cock and I'll make ya feel so good." He bended his huge body over yours, looming you between the bed and himself, not in a trapping way but rather in a protective one. His hands pressed on both sides of you, his forearms bracketing your head.

You moaned at the intrusion of his broad cock at your pussy hole. As his cock came to a stop he was not even half way in, which made him growl in frustration. "I'm sorry." You cupped his face and gave him a soft kiss.

"Don't be. I can still fuck ya just fine." He gritted through clenched teeth. He was burning up, anxious and irritated but bent on fucking your brilliant brains out no matter the obstacle, very similar in him completing his missions as a soldier. "Feel that?" He pulled back and thrust back in, his cum already making it easier for you to take him. Makes you wonder just how much of it he has in him.

You clenched around him, inviting him deeper while fully knowing you couldn't take him. Yet somewhere at the back of your mind you wanted to, you wanted to be broken and taken by him.

"Take ya, break ya, breed ya. I can do it all sweetheart." Your eyes widened upon seeing him smirk, "What? Did yer words slip out? Already crazy from my cock I see. This is just the start." His sharp fangs grazed your throat, sending pleasant shivers down your spine while he propped himself up with his legs, his hands firmly grabbing your hips, "So easy for me ta put ya in any position I want. Do ya like look at my cock fucking your slutty little cunt?" You nodded without hesitation or humiliation as a thought entered your brain.

You knew that the Na'vi ponytails were sensitive, that they hooked them up during sex. It was probably why Quaritch was so deeply frustrated, he couldn't get that sweet release, that feeling. So you reached to it, wrapped it around your hand and made eye contact with him.

Quaritch looked between you and your hand, "What do ya think yer- Oh! Fuck!" He roared in surprise and ecstasy as you pulled on the ponytail, his cock twitched wildly, leaking more cum, "Holy shit yeah. Do that again." The command was strained, spoken breathlessly.

"Yes sir." You joked but it clearly had an effect on him, almost as much as you discovering his new weak spot did. You tugged and pulled him closer. "It feels good, I'll be sore tomorrow but, fuck me harder."

"Tomorrow? I ain't letting ya sleep. No, I'll spend every waking minute dumping my cum into yer womb. Just watch, I couldn't care less if it's impossible I'll get ya round with my seed. Leave ya drowning in my cum and begging for more loads." Those words, those promises made your pussy quiver around him, you whimpered and nodded along, wordlessly begging him to deliver on those.

He was nothing if not a man of his word.

With a room shaking roar he emptied his thick, creamy seed into your slobbering pussyhole, flooding your walls with it. Not enough yet, you tugged on his ponytail, hard, watching as his eyes rolled back into his skull and almost making him lose control as he hammered away into your cunt, his fingers squeezing and leaving bruises on your hips, "Take it, take it, fucking take it sweetheart."

The white cum pooled under you and gushed all over Quaritch's abs as your body snapped tight like a string, your stretched and abused hole clamping down around the tip as your orgasm rocked through you. "All of it Miles, I want all of it. Make me come more, breed me." Hearing you echo his desires back made him grin, once again making you feel small before him, under him, "That's right. I want you to make good on your promise. Even if my body can't take it."

"Oh ya can take it alright. I'll make sure of that. I'll fuck ya until dawn, ya can bet this sweet pussy on that." He pulled back, frowning as his cum leaked out, "What a fuckin' waste. Need to keep this hole plugged it seems." He flipped you over on your stomach and pulled your hips up, emboldened by your squeak of surprise as he pushed the tip back inside, "There we go. Ready for round two?"

"A-Already? But I'm still so- ah!" He pushed forward, scraping your sensitive walls, making you throw your head back in pleasure and ball your fists into the sheets in pain. "Sensitive."

"But you can take more. I know you can. I promised you all night sweetheart, and I intend on making good on that." It was bound to be a very long night ahead, one no doubt filled with mind-numbing pleasure for you both. Which was a bit of a problem as you did actually intend on making observations during this. Oh well, you'll just have to keep repeating the process until you get it right.

[stsgooo]

Haunted.

✩࿐ summary: geto had suffered enough, why should he let you go too?

warning(s): suicidal thoughts/idealizations, death, poor coping mechanisms, gn!reader, depression, isolation, description of violence, angst no comfort, curse!reader, cult leader geto things, character study vibes, not proofread (sorry). wc; 15.7k

pairing(s): geto suguru/reader, geto suguru/gojo satoru/reader (briefly), geto suguru/gojo satoru

a/n: hii, been a while since i’ve written an x reader fic so hope this abides by everyone’s standards :) as i finished this, i realized that this probably should've been multiple parts because of how long it is, but it was too far gone at that point. anyway, i hope you enjoy and if you don't i would rather not hear about it!

available to read on ao3. | divider 1

I. 2005

SUGURU WAS SURE YOU HAD A DEATH WISH.

Out of everyone, it seemed as if you had some crazy switch in you that just flipped during a battle. It was as if you got tunnel vision and your every move was erratic, death the only option. It did not matter to you whether you lived or died. Saving others was your main and only goal. That scared him to death.

You were powerful. Powerful enough where you didn’t need to go all out on every curse that even hinted at having some type of power over you or others. Yet you always found yourself in Shoko’s room, sporting one cut too many, and a bright grin as if you weren’t pushing the limit. You would wave away any and all concern with that smile.

I’m just fine, you would roll your eyes at their worry. Really, you guys, stop fussing so much.

Suguru had argued with you about it before. Both of you had been sent on a mission to some elementary school, few kids had gone missing. You found the curse, and the kids, and a fight ensued. It was nothing crazy. Not until you practically served yourself on a platter for the curse and told Suguru to run away with the kids. Of course, he didn’t leave. What kind of friend would he be if he just let you die? What kind of sorcerer would he be if he just ran away while you were torn limb by limb? He’d be a failure of a sorcerer and a failure of a friend.

It bothered him. It enraged him how easily you threw your life away for others. A hint of danger and you were willing to get yourself killed over it. The complete disregard for your life in the first year that you all knew each other irked his very soul. Your behavior was worrisome. It confused him.

The buildup to his fight with you was a lot to unpack in itself.

The car ride from the hospital the kids were at was silent. Filled with a tension that unsettled his heart and he was sure unsettled your mind. You made no attempt at small talk or passing a good job, it was just silent. He silently thanked you for it. Because he was sure if you spoke then, he would’ve blown up. He would’ve said horrible things. So he silently thanked you for your silence, your silent allowance to let him think. You even fell asleep and Suguru couldn’t help but ask himself how you could sleep so soundly after such a close brush with death.

Three days later, he could tell Satoru and Shoko noticed the tension.

He knew they noticed it the moment you two returned. Your clothes soiled, face covered in mud and blood, hands all too shaky. Maybe it was the way you walked away from his side to great them. Or it was probably the way he glared at the wavering smile on your lips as you told them everything went fine. It was most definitely that.

Shoko was weary of it. At lunch, she’d sit between him and you. Her words were light as she teased and prodded, but never dared to ask the serious questions. She kept the air free of the awkwardness or the anger brewing. Shoko was kind like that. She was optimistic.

Satoru, however, wasn’t.

Although he seemed to abide by the silent rule not to ask you questions, he was practically grilling Suguru any given moment. He asked what happened. Why was Suguru so angry? Why were you acting so standoff-ish? Had something finally happened between you? Did Suguru get rejected and was he throwing himself a pity party? There were so many things that he threw out into the open like it was silly. As if Satoru derived some entertainment from the tension.

Do you ever notice they’re ready to get themselves killed for others? Suguru had thrown out to Satoru a week after the mission.

Satoru’s eyes lost the amusement and his smile dimmed. He pushed his glasses further up his nose. Of course I have. His voice was ridiculously serious and slow, extremely distant. As if recalling something he pushed to the back of his mind often. His attention had cut back to Suguru and shook his head. Man, it’s best to leave this alone. Trust me. Sensei will say something soon enough.

Suguru couldn’t help but worry that their first year teacher’s talk wouldn’t come soon enough.

Things just didn’t make sense to him. He just didn’t understand why you would be so willing to throw yourself into death like it was a blanket on a cold night. Sure, they’re meant to save people, but it didn’t mean death. Not everything had to be final. He feared that you just didn’t know it.

All of it came to a head when all four of you were placed on a mission three weeks after.

At this point, it was apparent that you both were avoiding each other. Different topics that neither of you wanted to address made headway into your dynamic. Distanced you both from one another like it was a bubble. A shield protecting you both from uncomfortable and frankly angry conversations.

But you did it again.

Sure, this time the curse was too much. Things weren’t looking too great for them. But the moment Suguru noticed you were missing from his and Satoru’s side, he felt panicked. He knew what was coming and knew what you’d say.

You caught the curse off guard as you jumped from the top banister, your large hammer at the ready. You shouted something along the lines that they should get out of there. But Suguru nor Satoru dared to run away. He watched, in horror, as you vanished into the curse’s mouth. As he was ready to summon his small arsenal of cursed spirits, the thing was cut from the stomach. Then you got its head.

There was silence as you stood amongst the carnage. Covered in the things purple goopy blood. Then you turned to them with that smile and Suguru lost it.

“What’s wrong with you?” He yelled, his voice echoing off the walls and converging on you. You looked shocked, eyebrows raised and faltering away from the pride to the confusion. He took in a shaky breath as he felt the built up anger from the past three weeks finally come up. “Do you have to throw yourself into danger like that?”

You frowned at him, then pathetically gestured at the curse. “It’s dead, isn’t it?”

Suguru pressed his hands against his face, letting out a deeply annoyed groan. “That’s not the point! The point is you threw yourself into its mouth! Like it was nothing!” He pushed himself forward to at least close the distance a little. Despite hearing Satoru’s soft protest, he needed to look you in the eye.

Your irritation was apparent as you furrowed your brow. “It doesn’t matter! Seriously, what’s your issue lately? You’ve been a complete asshole since that mission we went on. I thought you were just feeling bad for those kids, but you’ve acted completely different towards me!” Suguru could only clench his jaw at your obliviousness. There’s no way, right? There was absolutely no way you didn’t see what you were doing to them. To him. But when you said your next words, that thought was out the window. “Okay, so I threw myself into the middle of things, but so what?”

So what? So what. So fucking what?

Suguru felt something deep within him snap. As if there was a car underwater and the glass that was keeping the passengers safe suddenly cracked. His emotions, his clear mind, were the victims of the drowning. Buried deep under your ignorance.

“So what?” He snapped, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as he regarded you with unsettled rage. “So what? Are you serious? Like, are you dumb or are you just playing with me because I seriously can’t tell right now!”

You flinched at his tone and he could hear the shift of rubble behind him. “Suguru, hey—“ Satoru tried to de-escalate the situation but he was ignored.

“Excuse me?” You uttered, glaring up at him.

“Whenever we go on missions, you’re the first one throwing yourself at the thing like it isn’t serious. As if there’s not a high possibility that you’ll die! Every single time.” Suguru had a finger against your chest now. He wasn’t even sure when he had reached out, but he could feel the curse’s blood on his fingertip. It was cold and thick. Uncomfortable. But you were covered in it like it was nothing. Everything was nothing to you. “So, I’m asking you: are you dumb or just acting like you are?”

Your eyes were narrowed as you regarded him. “I know it’s dangerous, but sometimes that’s the only option.” Was all you had to say in response.

“You shouldn’t be the first one to die every time!” Suguru was desperate for his point to get across. For you to understand that it wasn’t the matter that it was dangerous— it was the fact that you were so willing and ready to have everyone live without you.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” You frowned.

Just understand I care. That if you were to die right in front of my eyes, I’d lose it. I’ve only known you for ten months, but I can’t imagine a world where you’re dead. You’re one of my best friends— the first friend I ever made, please don’t make me live longer than you. Were all the selfish things that Suguru wanted to say. That he should’ve said.

Instead, he asked, “Do you just want to die?”

There was a very long silence that kept them all from moving.

The question was posed and he could see it in your eyes. Could hear it in the words you didn’t speak. You looked away from him, shame settled on your face. Suddenly, you looked small compared to your usual large and boisterous self. Have you always been this small? Or was this something he was just realizing now?

It settled in his mind, suddenly, that he was right. His assumptions, rash and brazen, were right.

It made him queasy, lightheaded, as he stared at you.

“Y/N…” He uttered with a pale face. He desperately wanted to reach out, to grasp your shoulder— make some type of contact. But his limbs wouldn’t move. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing or blinking. His mind just repeated the one fact he knew over and over.

You wanted to die. You didn’t care if you died out there, alone, because it was all the same to you. You were waiting for death as it was waiting for you. Like an old friend. You wanted to die.

Suguru felt the overwhelming urge to cry as it all settled. “You want to die?” He couldn’t help the whisper as he stared at you in horror.

Your cheeks were a deep crimson red, tears pooling in your eyes as you took a step back from him. “It-It’s not like that.”

Suguru slowly shook his head. “Y-Yo—“ You shouldn’t feel like that. Is what he wanted to say. But what good would that do? You knew that. You probably prayed you didn’t every day.

“I just— you guys are so important to the school and-and to me! If you guys died, they’d be scrambling and a lot of people would probably suffer. But if I died, then who would even care—?”

“I would!” Suguru couldn’t help the tears that collected in his eyes. Here he was, almost 16, crying in front of you. But he needed you to know he cared. That life wouldn’t be the same without you gracing it. He reached forward, grabbing your hands in a vice like grip. “I would care! If you died I would be miserable and I would miss you like crazy. Don’t say no one would care because, if it doesn’t matter that I care, then everyone would. You’re important to everyone. You matter.”

Your eyes were on him now, wide and unsteady as you regarded him with confusion and disbelief. “Suguru—“

“We would all care. Satoru would be so annoying without your stupid quips. Shoko would be miserable if there wasn’t anyone to get her cigarettes when she forgets. And I…I would lose it if you were dead. I would. I would lose my mind, I’d do something crazy like… like leave everything behind.” It felt wrong to say. To put such weight on you, but he needed to know the role you played. How important you are. He clenched his jaw in determination, eye contact unwavering as he squeezed your hands. “I’ll prove it to you. I swear on it. I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving it to you.”

“Better than anything I could say.” He heard Satoru utter behind them, then the tell tale yelp that came after Shoko slapped him upside the head.

You didn’t let that distract you as you fell forward into his arms. Clutching at his uniform as you let out a small cry. He held you up and listened as you dumped years worth of pain into his chest. Suguru couldn’t ever recall seeing you like this before. He never really wanted to see it again. You didn’t say anything in response to his rather embarrassing ramble to you. No, not to that.

Instead, all you said in return was, “thank you.”

II. 2006

Suguru was in love with you and Satoru.

He realized it the afternoon in Okinawa, all of you walking through the aquarium as Riko pointed out various fish that she knew too much information about. Of course, he wasn’t listening. He was much too focused on you and Satoru. The both of you had snuck away to a gift shop— proclaiming that you needed mementoes and souvenirs for your friends back home. You adorned an octopus hat while Satoru had various fish stickers pressed to his cheeks. You both more resembled children on a field trip than highly esteemed sorcerers.

Suguru loved it. He loved you both.

It was a sudden and rather scary realization.

It came over him as you placed another sticker on Satoru's face. The both of you releasing absurd laughs that had no business sounding so lovely. He could feel the small smile blossom on his own lips as Satoru argued that he'd have the "gooey stuff" all of his face later, which made you promise to help him clean it off with a rag. Then you placed a delicate kiss against his cheek. It was so nonchalant, something they should all be used to, but it was always so jarring. Satoru stared at you with wide eyes behind his glasses, then he grinned. Wide and devious.

Suguru's heart soared.

He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to grab both of you and kiss you like there was no tomorrow. To promise his heart and his life to you both. It would be easy. It would be mere second nature to him. Suguru may just be realizing how deeply he loved you and Satoru, but he was almost sure that he'd felt this way since month five of your first year.

Surely, it shouldn't be a surprise. You three had been getting bold lately. Shoko was even commenting on it. The late nights in your room, the both of them curled up at your side. The domesticity of one of you returning to your dorm and being greeted by the other two. You all had a routine. A promise to come back through the door and have another fight of arguing over what's for dinner. Or something obscure that he wouldn't put up with with anyone else.

He just wanted to tell you and Satoru that he finally feels normal in the world. With you both by his side. That when he has your skin pressed against his, he feels like he could take on the world. That Satoru makes him feel childish and free like he couldn't be when he was a kid. That his kisses were sweet and soft. He just wanted to tell you that he loved you.

But Suguru saw your eyes stray away from Satoru's and the smile faded away. "We have to give her a choice." You said suddenly.

Both Satoru and Suguru moved their attention to Riko. The girl was standing in front of a expansive tank, watching in amazement as the fish zoomed by. The girl unaware of their watchful eyes as she turned to Kuroi and asked her to enjoy the fish too.

Suguru and Satoru had acknowledged that you were probably the last person who should be on this mission almost immediately. It wasn't that you weren't well fit for it, or that you would be too detached, or not want to get involved— it was that you had warmed up to Riko immediately. The girl had become your shadow. She asked about your technique and how "two idiots" like them were able to be in your presence. She amused you and you amused her. Then she asked you what you thought about her merger and you told her you thought it was something you shouldn't get involved in.

But Suguru and Satoru saw it in your eyes. They knew what you thought the moment Yaga had said the word "erase".

You wanted to save her.

"I knew you'd say that." Satoru snorted, leaning back against the tank they stood before. His eyes rolled upwards to look at the dolphin swim pass across from them. "You're always meddling."

You glared at him. "I don't meddle!"

"You do." Satoru said fondly. "What did I say, Suguru? They'd meet the girl and meddle, right?"

You snapped your eyes to Suguru who shyly stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging. "You did say that." I did not. Suguru used kinder words— like you cared about Riko and you'd probably not want to see her throw away her barely lived life for Tengen-sama.

You pouted, picking at the railing next to Satoru. "Am I that predictable?"

"Only because we know you so well." Satoru teased with a small smile. Then his eyes cut back to Riko who was gradually making her way further down the area. As much as Satoru would deny it, Suguru could tell that he'd come to grow fond of the girl as well. "What do you propose we do, exactly?"

Now Suguru was looking back to you. He could see the shock in your eyes as they snapped up to Satoru— as if you couldn't believe he was playing into whatever ideas you were tossing around. There was a spark of hope in your eyes and Suguru had to look away to prevent the smile that wanted to spread across his face. Instead, he'd let his heart do that weird skip it usually did whenever you and Satoru were particularly adorable.

"All I want is for her to have a choice," Your voice was compassionate as you started. The look in your eyes distant as you turned your attention towards the small tank in front of you three. The portioned tank that had different beta fishes separated. Together they're deadly. Apart, they find peace. Riko had explained. "The way she's talked about everything... the merger with Tengen-sama— that's what she was born for. She's proud of it. But given the choice, she wanted to spend her last day with her friends. She wanted to go to school and hang out with them because she knew she'd never see them again. Instead of really wanting to do this, she's just doing it because she feels like she has to. Where's the freedom in that?"

Suguru smiled softly at you. "So we give her a choice." He agreed with a small nod, finding satisfaction with the brightness in your eyes.

"We'll have to fight Tengen, you know that?" Satoru kept his eyes steady on Riko as he questioned the two of you. Both of you blink, obviously not having considered that detail. "They'll put up a fight— probably other sorcerers too. Freeing Riko might mean we leave Jujutsu High."

Suguru let his mind wander. Would he really mind if the three of you left? Not really. If the three of you have to fight Tengen-sama, then he'd gladly fight them by your side. If you both wanted, he'd destroy the world. Then gladly live his final moments with you both at his side. That was a fact that he knew to be true in his soul.

"I'll gladly do so." You answered without hesitation. Of course you would, you self sacrificial fool. A bitter part of Suguru said. There was no question that you'd put your life on the line for Riko. "If her choice is to live life, then I'll fight Tengen."

"And you'll win?" Satoru asked.

You raised an eyebrow. "We're the strongest, aren't we? Us three?"

Something about your words made Suguru 100% sure that he wouldn't allow you both to walk alone in the world. Together, there wasn't anything you three couldn't take on.

Satoru finally turned from Riko to stare at you with a self assured smirk.

Oh, Suguru thought with a stutter in his heart. He'd already made up his mind before you did.

"Well, well! I thought you were above all that we're the strongest crap!" Satoru teased, throwing his arm around your shoulders as you rolled your eyes. "Don't be so entitled, Satoru. You're making Haibara and Nanami feel less than, Satoru. You sound ignorant, Satoru. Look who's high and mighty now!"

"Oh, stop!" You pushed his arm away, but your smile was fond. You turned back to the beta fish. "Sure, it's a little entitled, but right now, I'm being nice."

"Thank you, thank you, my beloved royalty." Satoru dramatically bowed before you. You uttered something about him being dramatic, which went ignored. The white haired sorcerer reached over and slapped Suguru's arm, peeking at him fondly from behind his glasses. "Suguru, bow for your deity!"

Suguru was about to decline, until you spoke up. "You're ridiculous, you know that? Don't do that." Suddenly, he felt inclined to follow suit.

Both of them were now bowed behind you, uttering their dramatic praises as you blushed, attempting to ignore them as people walked pass and stared. Suguru peeked up at you as you watched the beta fish swim around. In that moment, he prayed that nothing changed.

Things weren't right.

Things weren't right but you were so calm.

Silently, Suguru could only shoot a thankful glance in your direction as the elevator creaked under the strain of four people. He could tell you were worried but your expression was determined to stay pieced together. Satoru was above ground, fighting against that man— Suguru couldn't think about it. It was too much in the mess of things.

The elevator came to a screeching halt and there was no hesitation on your part to push the doors open. You seemed quicker, your movements a little stilted as you exited the elevator and, instead of looking at the three behind you, you kept your gaze on the various entrances. He could tell you were irritated. He could tell you were worried. Or nervous.

No, you were scared.

His attention turned towards Riko and Kuroi who were exchanging a heartfelt, tearful goodbye. They clutched onto each other— Kuroi told her to be brave and Riko promised she would. Then they separated and Suguru promised that he'd come back once everything was done to escort Kuroi to safety.

The trek to the Star Corridor was long and quite.

There wasn't much Suguru could say to comfort you because there wasn't much he could reassure himself with. His worries for Satoru were overbearing in his mind and he couldn't try and fool himself into trying to bear the weight of your anxiety as well. Both of you knew this, so you didn't dare try to comfort one another.

There's nothing wrong. Everything's going to be okay. We're the strongest. Satoru will join us once this is over. Were the things Suguru soothed himself with.

"Is this...?" Riko uttered as they finally broke through to the outskirts of where Tengen homes themself.

"Yes," Suguru confirmed as he came to a stop beside the younger girl. "We're just outside of where Master Tengen resides. This is the country's base for primary barriers. The main hall of the tombs of the Star Corridor."

"Basically, it's their home." You said flatly, coming to Riko's other side, your eyes moving over the vast area. It was quiet, dark, and looked isolated. Nothing that brought any welcomeness for the eternity to come.

Suguru tried not to let his gaze linger on the woeful look painting your face now. He cleared his throat and pointed. "Go down the stairs and pass the gate. Then head toward the base of that huge tree. It's protected by a different barrier than the one around Jujutsu High. Only those invited may enter. You'll be protected by Master Tengen until the merger."

Riko's expression turned sorrowful as she followed the path Suguru paved with her eyes. This was the end. Her fun and the little life she lived was at its finish. She clenched her hands at her sides and made a move to continue forward, without them.

"Or we can turn back and go home to Kuroi."

Riko's eyes snapped to you. Your eyes were compassionate and a small smile graced your features that was more reassuring than any words that could be spoken. She looked a little pale, but the glow of hope suddenly appeared.

"What?" The girl uttered.

You turned to her fully, keep your expression soft. "When our taecher assigned us this mission, he used the word 'erase'. It's like, deep down, he knew something was wrong with this and, for a muscle guy, he doesn't usually beat around the bush." You looked like you wanted to chuckle at your own jab at Yaga, but didn't have the energy. Instead, you sighed. "I talked to Suguru and Satoru and we all came to the decision that if the kid who is the Star Plasma Vessel should refuse the merger then we call it off."

Riko's eyes widened even further and tears were on the cusp of falling as she stared at the both of you.

"We're the strongest," Suguru offered gently, offering a closed eyed smile to the girl. "No matter what you choose, we promise to protect your future."

Riko's lips quivered as her eyes bounced between you two and the vast nothingness of Tengen's home. She took in a shaky breath. "Ever since I was born, I've been told I'm special and different. Being special was normal for me. I've survived till now by staying away from danger... My parents died in a car crash. I don't remember it. I'm not say or lonely anymore." She started to fiddle with her hands as her words grew more unsteady. You moved to press against her side, hands rested against her shoulders. "That's why... with the merger, I thought I'd be okay... leaving everyone. No matter how painful it became, I believed that, some day, the sadness and loneliness would disappear."

"You just need the right person." You uttered to her, her eyes snapping up at you as tears silently streamed down her face. "You need that one person to prove that there's beautiful things out there— that there's kindness and love. I know. I understand, Riko."

The girl bursts into tears, a trail of snot ran from her nose as she shook with her cries. "I want to stay with everyone a bit longer!" Her voice seemed to echo around the two of you. "I want to go to more places and see more things with everyone! More!"

Both you and Suguru smiled softly. His hand reached out while you squeezed her shoulders. "Riko, let's go home." He beckoned her forward.

"Yeah!"

Suguru registered the shot last second, but it was too late for him to truly do anything.

He's never quite seen anything like it.

You were smiling, you looked free from your worries for one second.

Then you were falling. Your face slack and eyes blank. You fell against the ground with a deafening thud. Blood pooled around your head, chunks of your brain scattered across the ground. Your eyes.

They're so blank.

Suguru barely registered Riko's scream. His eyes couldn't leave you even as the girl screamed and screamed, hands clutching at her head as she stared at your body beside her.

You were just speaking a moment ago. You were smiling. How could this happen?

Your eyes are so blank.

"Y-Y/N...." Suguru uttered, eyes wide and face pale.

He felt sick. He didn't feel right. This wasn't right. Why were you on the ground? Why were you bleeding? Why can't he move? Why can't he breathe? Are you going to get up? Please get up.

Riko continued to scream. She just wouldn't stop. Her once hopeful eyes were now reduced to horror and terror as she smeared the blood covering the side of her face. None of it hers.

It's yours.

Your eyes are blank.

What are you doing? Get up. Get up. Smile. Just breathe. Get up. Please, I'll do anything. I'll listen to you ramble about those books you love so much. I'll buy you those disgusting snacks you crave. I'll do anything for you.

Please don't die.

Your eyes are blank.

"Oh," groaned a voice that rattled Suguru's soul. "I missed."

Suguru slowly turned his head to stare at the man. The one that had stabbed Satoru through the chest and had talked to him like an old friend. The one that was now standing, clutching a gun in his hand, pouting as if he was amused by his miscalculation.

As if your death was something he hadn't accounted for.

"How..." Suguru's voice doesn't feel like his own. It feels like he's out of body. As if something else is controlling him. He felt something warm on his cheek, but he couldn't reach for it. His limbs felt heavy, his hands cold. What was happening? Why did everything feel so muddled? "How'd you get here?"

Still, Riko screamed.

Still, your eyes were blank.

The man frowned. "How...?" Suddenly, he chuckled and pressed the side of the gun to his temple. "I see. I killed Gojo Satoru."

Suguru was swarmed with an unfamiliar feeling of rage. You and Satoru had once praised him for his ability to remain calm and level headed when things seemed to crumbled around all of you. He was the voice of reason— your moral compass. The map that lightened your way.

Suddenly, he felt like he was reduced to nothing but rage and this empty feeling in his chest.

Your eyes are blank.

Gojo Satoru is dead.

"I see..." Suguru growled, his eyes unmoved from the man across from him. "Then die!"

III. 2007

Suguru didn't feel right.

Although, he hadn't felt right for 11 months. 47 weeks, and five days. 8,016 hours. 480,960 minutes. 28,857,600 seconds.

He hadn't been right since the moment you dropped dead.

Your eyes were blank.

He wasn't enough to fight against Fushiguro Toji. The man had ruthlessly downed him then killed Riko. It was like it was nothing. He came, he killed, then he left.

Suguru had laid amongst the rubble of Toji's doing and stared into your blank eyes. He still wasn't sure how long it was. He couldn't move and he could barely breathe as the blood from his chest trickled to the stone and concrete under him. Your eyes stared lifelessly into his own. Endlessly. A never-ending staring contest that he pleaded to end.

The entire time he laid on the floor of Tengen's barrier. His mind only repeated one thing.

Please get up. Please be alive. Please get up. Please get up.

Your brains had scattered across the floor and your eyes were unmoving but he spent so much time just pleading with you to snap out of it. He thought he was enough. He apologized for not being enough.

Please get up. I promised to prove it to you.

There was a point he passed out. He could remember thinking, thankfully, that he was going to die. And he swore he heard your gurgled call for him.

Then, he woke up.

Shoko had looked distraught. He could still remember the way she eyed him wearily through red rimmed eyes. Cautious as she told him that you were dead. As she told him Satoru was gone.

Gone. But not dead.

Suguru had, very briefly, rejoiced in Satoru's survival.

Shoko said she cleaned your blood off his cheek.

Suguru hated her for a while after that.

He didn't stay at the infirmary for long. Despite Shoko telling him that Yaga wanted to see him and that he shouldn't move around yet, he dragged himself away. He dragged himself to the cult. He dragged himself along the side walk with his mind flashing with images of your blank eyes.

Was that all death was? Nothingness? Did it comfort you? Did it welcome you? Was it everything you imagined?

His mind wouldn't rest.

He could remember as he entered the building. As he heard the resounding and endless applause. He mindlessly entered and was meant with a never-ending crowd, parting as they just clapped, and clapped, and clapped. It rumbled through his ears, bouncing around his brain.

Your eyes were blank.

When the crowd parted, he remembered the clench of his heart as Satoru, bloodied and blank, appeared. He carried Riko's body in his arms. Lifelessly moving forward. His eyes stared right through Suguru.

"You're late," Satoru had teased blankly. His voice distant and flat. It missed its usual punch. "No.... I guess your're early."

Suguru remembered the confusion that washed over him as he stared at the one he loved. "Satoru... is that you...?"

What happened to you?

"It looks like you saw Shoko." Satoru had sounded like he wasn't entirely aware of his surroundings. Or he didn't care. "Is Y/N there right now?"

Suguru didn't have the heart then. He could remember silently apologizing to you, but he hadn't thought Satoru could handle the news of your death amongst this room.

"Shoko fixed me up fine." His eyes had moved to Riko's limp hand and he felt sick. Her screams were still in his mind. He almost threw up. "I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who messed up. Don't worry about it." Satoru had easily deflected.

Suguru couldn't handle the clapping. They just didn't stop. They clapped, and clapped, and clapped.

Your eyes were blank.

"Suguru," Satoru's voice had stopped him in his tracks. His voice was so detached and so odd. Suguru couldn't handle much change then. He couldn't handle hearing Satoru so different. Not then. "Do you want to kill them all?"

Suguru could remember the shock that shook his body. Could remember the bitterness that immediately followed. The realization that he would love nothing more than to unleash the worst on these people and sum their deaths up as their lives— useless.

"Suguru," He had sworn he heard your voice, distorted and all too sweet. His back stiffened and his eyes widened. "Do you hate them, Suguru?"

He did. He hated them. He wanted them all to burn. He wanted them to suffer. Suguru would've loved nothing more than to have heard all of them plead for their lives. To have the same terror that Riko had when she realized her life was coming to an end. To have that same blank look in their eyes as you had.

Your eyes were blank.

"It's pointless." Suguru had shot down emotionless. He still wasn't sure if he was answering that tiny voice in his head or Satoru, maybe it was both. Who really cared?

"Pointless, huh?" Satoru walked past Suguru and started to make his way outside. "Does there need to be a reason?"

"Of course, it's important." Suguru had easily answered. "Especially as Jujutsu Sorcerers."

11 months. 47 weeks, and five days. 8,016 hours. 480,960 minutes. 28,857,600 seconds later, he believed that was all bullshit.

It surprised him how much and how little could change in a year.

The way everyone seemingly returned to normal and he was left in the past.

Suguru felt like his life was now segregated into two sections: Before the Star Plasma Vessel assignment and after the Star Plasma Vessel assignment. Before and after you.

He realized, quickly and bitterly, that the after you was worse than the before.

Before he knew of your existence, he was happy to be alone. He embraced the fact that kids at school thought him odd, unapproachable. That they would whisper about his habits behind his back. He was happy to know that no one wanted to be around him. It meant they didn't see what he saw. He didn't know anything else.

But the after you was considerably worse.

You had given him that breath of fresh air. That love that he had unknowingly reached out for his entire life. The way you and Satoru had touched him, he didn't even know his heart ached for that type of love. He didn't know he was depraved until you showed him.

He hated it. For a moment, he hated you.

In the first weeks after your death, he felt angry. He was bitter. Even as Satoru rubbed his back in bed. Even as he told Suguru it wasn't his fault. Even as everyone told him that you would hate to see him like that. He felt a hatred. A regret.

For months, he hated you.

He'd ignore topics centered around you. He ignored the day that Shoko and Satoru cleaned out your dorm for a new first year. He was stagnant and blank at the funeral your family held. When everyone walked up to recall memories about you, he didn't. He just listened and he thought that none of them truly captured you. They said you were kind, that you were funny, that you went our of your way to help whoever needed it.

If it was Suguru up there, he would've said you were selfish. That you always put your life on the line when it wasn't needed. That you were arrogant. That you could really make him worry.

But he loved you.

That's what he hated most. Isn't that the worst?

He hated that he loved the way he missed your hugs, your reassurances. He hated that he missed worrying about you. That he wouldn't ever see you again. That he wouldn't join you on a mission and be forced to listen to Yaga or fellow students worry about your sanity. He missed that sometimes you would play into Satoru's words, like saying the three of you were strongest together.

"Hey," Satoru called from across the training yard. Suguru barely looked up. "Have you lost some weight? Are you okay?"

Satoru became "The Strongest". His abilities were starting to blossom and it allowed him to work by himself. The higher-ups sent them alone. And Suguru hadn't felt more confined in his life.

"I'm just a little tired from the summer heat." Suguru easily explained it away, his hands buried deep within his pockets. "It's not a problem."

"Maybe you had too much somen noodles?" Satoru asked, niavely.

"No," Suguru wanted to snap at him. "It's the fact I can't eat without feeling sick. I can't taste anything except the fucking vomit of the curses. I hate it. I hate it. I'm always sick. I'm so hungry. But I can't eat."

Instead, he sighed. "Maybe."

The curse population was springing up like maggots. Everywhere and all consuming. The summer had been busy and Suguru truly was tired. In his heart, he started to blame the mess of last year for the increase of curses. It was easier to blame that than nothing. It was better to put a face to his suffering rather than blame himself.

The repetitiveness of his life was becoming crushing.

An endless cycle of exorcism and consumption.

Exorcise. Consume.

You had once asked him what curses tasted like. Under a beautiful tree and a beautiful night sky. You stared at him from your place on the ground. "Suguru, what does it taste like?"

"It's a taste nobody knows." He had explained. "Like ingesting a rag used to wipe up vomit."

Exorcise. Consume.

"Oh," You had uttered, a heavy frown on your lips as you pondered on it. "I'm sorry."

Exorcise. Consume.

He didn't need your pity then. But it had been nice. It felt nice for someone to pretend they understand the disgust, the bitter tang. He pretended that it helped.

"Thanks."

Then, you asked, "Would it help if you had mints?"

No. "Yes."

That first Christmas you all spent together, you got him mints. And, despite it doing nothing, he still popped one in his mouth every time. False hope that something could push down the disgust he had for his technique, for what he was considered special for. What lengths he went to save people.

For what?

Every since that day, the day you and Riko died, it's been running through Suguru's head. That everything he saw, Toji, your blood, your brains, the never-ending applause of the cult members— it was a hideous evil known to everyone. What he saw wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Still, knowing that, he protects them as a Jujutsu sorcerer.

"We can't lose our way." You had reassured one day when the curse you and him were fighting was particularly ruthless. It had killed so many people that the both of you hadn't been the same for weeks. "Don't lose your way. We just have to follow through with our duty as sorcerers."

The thunderous applause took over that of his heart.

"Monkeys." Suguru uttered in the shower. The first time he whispered it. His eyes unmoving from the wall as the water trickled down, down, and down.

Your eyes were blank.

"Do you hate them, Suguru?"

His hand clenched above him. "Fucking monkeys."

He snapped the water off and robotically dried himself off.

Suguru felt like he was merely living through the motions. That he was being guided other peoples words and the wind itself. He was merely a leaf being blown away. There wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Nothing he could do to ground himself and force himself to take the wheel. To be in control. He could only watch on.

He found himself hunched over on the bench near the vending machines. He barely acknowledged the rain that poured outside. It was one of those days. Those days where the weather matched his mood and made it considerably worse. Maybe he could get away with hiding inside his dorm. Being curled on the bed and not appearing until the rain was well gone— when Satoru couldn't ask him if he's ate.

He closed his eyes in defeat. How could loneliness possibly feel worse now than it did then? He'd been alone for years before. Why was it worse now?

"Hi! Mister Geto!"

Suguru's eyes snapped open and dragged upwards. "Haibara..."

You liked Haibara. You said so on his first day. When he enthusiastically introduced himself to everyone— gave his blood type and his family history. You had laughed for twenty minuets. You said that Haibara was like a breath of fresh air. He had no idea what he was getting into and he was happy. Suguru said you were looking into it too much. You didn't agree. Then you invited both him and Nanami to join you all on a trip to Shinjuku.

You liked Haibara. He was sweet.

You liked Haibara. So did Suguru.

"Hope all is well!" Haibara continued, seemingly ignorant to the war raging on in Suguru's mind.

You liked Haibara. You trained him. He was sweet.

So did Suguru. "What can I get you to drink?" Suguru asked, pulling some change from his pockets.

"I couldn't possibly—" Haibara's eyes glanced at the vending machine then his eyes brightened. "I'll take a coke!"

Suguru couldn't help the little laugh that broke through his lips. Amusement in his eyes for the first time in a while as he gently dropped the change into the junior's cupped palm. Haibara pratically skipped over to the vending machine, dropping the coins in, and retrieved his coke.

Fully expecting him to carry on with a thanks, Suguru was a little surprised that he sat down beside him and smiled big.

"My mission tomorrow is pretty far away." The boy started, wiggling with excitement.

Suguru smiled softly. "That so? I'll be expecting a souvenir then."

"You got it! Something sweet or savory?"

"Satoru will probably have some too, so maybe something sweet."

This was the normal. It felt refreshing for everything to be so normal. A silent agreement amongst the second and third years to get everyone who asked a souvenir from their respective mission areas. It made for interesting foods or items. Silly things that he could place on his shelf or for him to take a bite and Satoru to steal the rest. Usually complaining about how no one ever gets him anything. Just like Okinawa when you picked that hat—

Your eyes were empty.

Suguru's smile faded away.

"Haibara..." He spoke, not entirely aware if his junior was speaking before he was. But Haibara's eyes moved to him with curiosity. He bowed his head once again. "Are you okay with being a Jujutsu sorcerer? Doesn't it bother you?"

Immediately, the junior took the question seriously. His chin rested between his finger and thumb, eyes narrowed in thought. "Hm... good question..." He uttered, a vague pout on his lips. "I'm not really the type to think too hard about things..."

"I don't think we should underestimate Haibara or Nanami." You had defended the two new boys against Satoru's beratement one day. Your eyes cut to where they were practicing against Yaga's cursed dolls. "We all started somewhere. I'm sure they'll surprise us one day."

"Giving my all toward something I know I can help with is a great feeling!" Haibara finally answered, snapping his fingers and looking at Suguru head on.

Suguru couldn't help the way his eyes widened. For whatever reason, his answered shocked him. It was a pure answer. Further proof that Suguru was different from everyone else. Proved that he was slowly losing a part of himself. Haibara hadn't been graced with the same tragedy he had. He didn't know the cruelty of people and was still hopeful.

"I see..." Suguru uttered, looking away once again.

"You're right." Spoke another voice that neither of them know. Both of the boys looked over to the woman that stood a few feet from them. She was tall, long blonde hair and she wore a smile on her face. "Are you Geto? What kind of girls are you into?"

Your eyes were blank.

He only stared in return.

"I like girls with healthy appetites!" Haibara answered happily.

Suguru frowned. "Haibara."

"It's fine!" He turned to Surguru with a bright light in his eyes. "She's not a bad person. I'm a pretty good judge of character!"

Suguru felt something in his chest shift.

"Do you hate them, Suguru?"

"You say that while sitting next to me?" He uttered, sparing the junior a sidelong glance.

"Of course!" Haibara didn't hesitate.

The woman laughed, resting a hand on her hip. "He was being sarcastic, kid!"

No, I'm not. Suguru almost felt compelled to say. But he didn't have the energy. There wasn't any point in arguing with this stranger either. She didn't know him and he didn't know her. Something he would happily continue to stay true.

Embarrassed, Haibara excused himself with the woman quickly taking his spot. In an instant, Suguru drew back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Is he your junior? Such an honest and cute kid."

Suguru couldn't help the distasteful glare he sent from the side. "As a jujutsu, he shouldn't be so trusting." He said bitterly.

The woman looked a little discouraged by his little jab, but continued on. "And you, Geto? Are you going to answer my question?"

"Answer mine first— who are you?"

The woman raised her chin, a small smirk on her lips. "Special grade sorcerer Yuki Tsukumo. Ring a bell?"

"You're the...?"

Yes. Yes, it did. Suguru thought bitterly.

He could distinctly recall you rambling on about Tsukumo. On how you wished you could be like her. Someone highly recognized and didn't care what the higher-ups said— just lived her life. To Suguru, it sounded like Tsukumo was kind of a failure. But to you, it was as if she was a symbol of something amazing. Proof that something that was suddenly attainable to you.

Suguru had been convinced you just had a crush on her.

"Nice! The what?"

Suguru clenched his jaw at her interruption of his thoughts. "The no-good special grade who doesn't take on any missions and just bums around overseas." He informed her flatly.

The woman's smile slipped away and she pouted heavily. "I hate Jujutsu High!" She fell back, her elbows rested on the back of the bench. She sulking. "Just kidding. But I'm not lying when I say we don't see eye-to-eye. What they do here is treat symptoms. What I want is to get at the root cause."

Suguru couldn't help perking up with interest. "The root cause?" He asked slowly.

"I don't want to exorcise curses after they appear. I want a world where curses don't even exist."

He stared at her in shock. A world without curses? He felt like he could almost rejoice. His heart gave a little skip and he almost felt like things were normal.

"How about a little lesson? Tell me, what are curses anyway?"

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Curses are created when cursed energy leaks from humans. It then gathers like sediment and takes form." He answered easily. It was something taught in their first year, something everyone knows.

"Excellent," Tsukumo encouraged, nodding. "If that's the case, there are two ways to create a world where curses no longer exist: one, eradicate cursed energy from all humanity. Two, teach humans how to control their cursed energy. The first one's not a bad idea. There was a model case for it after all."

"A model case?"

"Someone you're familiar with: Zen'in Toji."

Almost instantly, Suguru felt an anger rush over him. Toji. That was someone else that he tried to avoid thinking about. Usually, it only led to thoughts darker than when he thought about you. He thought about the various things he would've done to Fushiguro if given the chance. The slow and torturous death he would've given to him if he had the chance. He doubted it would eat away the hatred in his heart, but Suguru would take anything to have him suffer as you did. As he did.

"There have been several cases where heavenly restriction has reduced a person's cursed energy to normal levels. But to eradicate one's cursed energy completely... I've searched all over the world, and he's the only one who's ever done it. But that's not the only thing that's interesting about him. Despite not having cursed energy, Zen'in Toji was able to sense curses using his five sense. By eliminating all cursed energy, his body became sharpened to the point where he developed a resistance to curses."

A part of Suguru really wanted to tell Tsukumo that he didn't care. That monster died and he was glad to hear it. Even if he was the only way to get rid of curses, he was overjoyed that the man was dead now.

"Don't feel bad about losing him." Suguru scoffed, face blank. "I wanted to research him but he blew me off. It's too bad he died."

You smiled at Riko. You held her shoulders. You were going to take her home.

Your eyes were blank.

I killed Gojo Satoru.

"Cases of heavenly restriction are few and far between. So my focus is on two." Tsukumo seemed completely unaware of Suguru's mind raging on while she spoke. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Did you know, jujutsu sorcerers don't give birth to curses?"

That snapped Suguru out of his thoughts. He slowly dragged his eyes to stare at the side of the woman's head as she carried on.

"Of course, that's excluding cases where sorcerers become curses after death—" Do you hate them, Suguru? "—The amount of cursed energy that leaks from sorcerers, compared to from non-sorcerers, is extremely low. There is a difference in how much we consume and use cursed energy because of our profession. But the real reason lies in how it flows through us. For sorcerers, it flows heavily within us. If we're talking general terms— if every single human became a jujutsu sorcerer, no curse would ever be born again."

Suguru's world as he knew it, paused.

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

Those people. Humans. Non-sorcerers. They created the world that killed you. They created a world where he was alone.

Do you hate them, Suguru?

"Then why not just kill every non-sorcerer?" He asked softly, not daring to lift his head or eyes from between his feet.

There was a silence between the two of them that made him tense up. He said something wrong. But why didn't it feel wrong? Why didn't the suggestion disgust him or make him sweat? Why did it feel like an idea that was meant to be said?

"Geto," Tsukumo finally spoke, voice slow and calculated. "That is an option."

What?

"In fact, that might be the easiest route!"

Suguru slowly lifted his eyes from the floor and stared at the woman next to him with wide eyes. Now, he felt it. He felt the sweat on his brow. It's an option. "What?" He uttered, tilting his head to try and meet her eye as she stared into the distance. "Um..."

"Weed out non-sorcerers and make them adapt to a jujutsu sorcerer based society. In other words, forced evolution. Kinda like how birds grew wings. Using dear and danger as a catalyst."

It's an option. Suguru couldn't shake his stare. He was holding his breath and just staring at her.

"But," There it is. "I aint' that crazy."

She looked amused, but she didn't know him. She didn't know his feelings and the fact that he hated—

"Do you hate non-sorcerers, Geto?" She asked it sincerely.

Do you hate them, Suguru?

His eyes went back the floor, ashamed. "I don't know." He started with a whisper. "I used to think jujutsu sorcerers existed to protect non-sorcerers. But recently, I've been doubting whether non-sorcerers are worth fighting for. The preciousness of the weak. The ugliness of the weak. I can no longer tell the difference. The part of me that looks down on non-sorcerers.... the part of me that tries to resist that feeling...."

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

"If being a jujutsu sorcerer is like running a marathon, then the finish line is too unclear." Suguru placed a hand against his forehead, hairs tangled between his fingers. "I don't know what I really feel."

"It's understandable, you know?" Suguru glanced at her with a frown as she eyed him contemplatively. "You watched your friend die, right? It's never easy. Messes you up. I'm sure I don't have to tell you."

You don't.

"Death and mourning something can really conjuring some nasty things in your mind. Like killing non-sorcerers— you want to take that anger out on someone. The anger for your friend's life being taken away." She explained it like it was so easy, as if she knew his next steps when he did not. "But looking down on non-sorcerers... resisting that feeling... those are just possibilities you've thought of. Whatever your true feeling is, you still have to decide."

The conversation didn't lead to anywhere else and Suguru was feeling himself grow more tired the more he stayed away from his dorm. He was about to excuse himself when Tsukumo asked for him to follow her out. She didn't say much on the way out and Suguru was grateful for it.

The woman got on her bike and waved at him. "I'll see ya! I was hoping to say hi to Gojo as well. Bad timing, I guess." She slid her goggles on. "As fellow special grade sorcerers, let's all three of us get along, okay?"

Suguru gave her his best smile, which wasn't much. "I'll send you regards to Gojo."

Tsukumo smiled, starting up her bike. She was about to ride off when she looked back at him. "One last thing. Don't worry about what happened with the Star Plasma Vessel. Whether there was another vessel or another vessel was born— whatever happened, Tengen is stabilized."

He didn't think it possible, but his hatred grew. Tengen is stabilized.

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

Tengen is stabilized.

Suguru bowed his head as she drove off. "I figured."

What the fuck had you died for, anyway?

Haibara was dead and he'd seen the body. The entire time Suguru thought of you.

As Nanami attempted to hold back tears, as he explained that they were caught off guard by a special grade, Suguru saw you in Haibara's place.

Both of you victims of a system created to protect people who weren't grateful. Who didn't even know you exist. People who had spared both of you not a single glance despite being so caring, so selfless. Who were they to put this unbearable burden on everyone's shoulders then act like you were different?

Haibara was sweet. You liked him. So did Suguru.

Haibara was dead. So were you. Suguru felt hatred build in him.

As he stared at Haibara's bloodied face, he had thought one thing: who would suffer for this death?

Gojo completed the mission. Gojo exorcised the curse. Gojo. Gojo. Gojo. Gojo.

Gojo.

Why should Gojo be the one wrecking havoc? When it was Suguru that was filled with rage? When he was the one that wanted nothing more than to harm the ones that caused this all?

Do you hate them, Suguru?

"What is this?" Suguru asked slowly, staring at the sight before him.

Two girls seemingly coward away from him. Their faces bloodied and bruised. The cage that contained them offered no comfort. Just the cold hard ground and the darkness. They shook under his gaze and he couldn't find it in himself to look away. He couldn't turn around and question the people behind him. He did not know what he'd do if he looked them in the eyes as they explained themselves.

"What do you mean? These two are responsible for the incident, right?" Asked one man.

Suguru clenched his jaw. "No, they are not."

"These two possess strange powers and often attack the villagers."

This was of your own creation.

"I already dealt with the cause for the incident."

"My grandchild nearly died because of these two!" Protested the elderly woman as if she realized that Suguru wasn't going to believe these two were responsible.

The blonde child leaned forward. "That was because they—"

"Shut up you monsters!"

"Your parents were the same! I knew we should've killed you when you were born!"

As the two adults berated the children, Suguru came to a decision. His heart was no longer torn in two. As he stared at the girl's, his resolution was made.

He lifted his finger and a shadowed curse sprouted. "It-It'll be okay..." The girls stared at him with wide eyes, almost relieved. If he were a different man. If he in a different mindset then, he would've cried over the relief that washed over them. "Do...Don't worry... it'll be o-okay."

He ignored how familiar the voice was, how familiar the words were. He'd grown used to finding something that wasn't there in the curses he had collected. The fact that the ones he barely manifested were the ones that sounded like you the most.

Suguru turned around to the villagers and smiled. One that he hadn't managed to conjure up in some time.

"Let's step outside for a moment, shall we?"

The two followed him out and Suguru wasn't sure what words he said, what movement he made, but he could see the horror in their eyes. As he manifested his beloved curses, the one people like them had created, he felt an anger bubble up. Emotions that he had desperately pushed aside in an attempt to continue his life were now running their way to the forefront of his mind.

The grief of losing you. The anger of the complete disregard of you life by the society as a whole. The fact that there was nothing left of you now. Nothing—

"Suguru, do you hate them?"

His body stiffened. His wide eyes dragged from the horrified, begging people before him, to over his shoulder. The shadow that loomed over him now.

He'd read about this before. It was some obscure book he found while researching previous curse manipulators. It talked about various things that he used to prove to Yaga that he was learning something. One section had piqued his interest, but it was never information that he'd use in random day-to-day. Vengeful spirits. Usually, this only happened after sorcerers die without jujutsu being used against them. Their very soul and spirit is corrupted and transformed into something horrible. Something darker than who they truly were in life.

As Suguru stared at the spirit before him now, he knew what he had inadvertently done to you. The way your large body curled around him, wisps of what should be hair floating above you, your body clad in an open and flowing kimono. What caught his eyes the most, were your own eyes. Despite being almost invisible, he was relived. They were not blank. Instead, they looked like they burned with the rage he had held back for years.

It was as if you were the extension of his very soul.

"It should be noted that if you find yourself attached to a vengeful spirit: You must establish a clear master/servant bond. As the spirit is attached to your own soul, they musn't be allowed to overcome you. If exorcism is not an option, then create a clear set of rules. Summon them only when necessary. Vengeful spirits are not to be taken lightly."

"Suguru, do you hate them?" Your eyes did not leave his.

This time, he didn't hesitate nor lie. "Yes."

He heard them whimper in fear.

You moved unnaturally, but he didn't care. "Do you want them to die, Suguru?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yes."

Your hand rested on his shoulder and he didnt even care if your talon like nails dug into his flesh. He watched, awestruck, as you turned your feral gaze onto the cowering villagers. "Can I hurt them for you, Suguru?"

Despite your state, despite what it meant for him, he couldn't help but feel the warmth blossom through his chest. He basked in the feeling of your brushed against his shoulder.

"Yes."

An unnatural smile creeped over your face and your shot forward, now clutching your katana.

All Suguru could think was: you're back.

"Suguru....what have you done?"

Geto adjusted his gojogesa with a emotionless mask over his face. The bags that had adorned his eyes for the past year were mostly gone. He was finally able to eat. His mind wasn't constantly ringing with that thunderous applause or the thud of your body. Instead, he was free. There was silence.

Except whenever you spoke.

"Where did you get that energy? Suguru, answer me!"

He had seen Gojo a week ago. He had said his goodbyes, vaguely masked as threat. Geto knew what they were now. Enemies by default. He knew it couldn't be long before the higher-ups found out about the village— known exactly what he'd become that night. He was a curse user.

God, was that a great feeling.

Geto was giddy that night. He couldn't help the giddiness he felt with his freedom. The happiness he felt as he held Nanako and Mimiko in his arms, trekking through the woods to the main street where he dragged them to his parent's house. That whole situation had been something in itself. Their anger, their confusion, the heartbreak for not understanding their son anymore.

Geto had simply taken what he needed for the twins, then left you to take care of his parents.

"You feel it, don't you, Gojo? You see them."

There was an assortment of things that Geto found himself doing after he defected. He suddenly found himself in the place of taking care of two twin girls that clung to his clothes and followed his every word like he was the Buddha guiding them towards enlightenment. There big eyes screamed the thank you's that he did not need or would accept. Still, he could tell that they were trying to prove that they were useful to him. Whatever that meant coming from a pair of 6 year olds.

The second thing he'd started was taking over the Star Plasma Religious Group. Although he heard they had disbanded a year prior, it appeared that they were just absorbed by another money hungry fool scamming them for every last cent they had. Not that he was about to go bad mouthing other people's methods for something he was about to do himself. It was surprisingly easy to take over a religious group when you had a vengeful spirit hanging off of you. The men, although easy to get on his side, he still killed. There was no point to their existence now. Not when he had his own plans outside from worshipping the likes of Tengen.

The last thing he was taking care of was you.

"....What did you do?"

"Nothing. I did nothing. They're was always with me."

Geto's adventure back into the books covering vengeful spirits was actually welcomed this time around. As a younger student, he hadn't really cared to think about what would happen to him if he happened to die in a terribly normal way. But now it was something he regarded with the utmost fascination. The different descriptions of vengeful spirits made him ponder exactly what you were.

Violent and seeking revenge. Sad and lost. Unaware they're dead and seeking guidance. Plague that spreads death, leeching off certain hosts. Clingy, they seek approval from the attached for their actions. These spirits had a connection with the host in their life and feel something unfinished in their death.

He could remember the look in Gojo's eyes as his eyes strained to look over Geto's shoulder. The fear and the realization that washed over him. The anger in his eyes as he seemed to grieve over not only Suguru, but you as well. The waver in his voice as he asked Geto what he had done. It almost made Geto feel bad.

Almost.

Gojo had his life laid out for himself. The higher-ups knew what they could do with him. He was practically bred and born for his role amongst everything. He'd live and die the jujutsu society. Something that always unsettled Suguru, but something Geto accepted. He came second. Last compared to jujutsu.

At least he had you. It was you and him first. Then Gojo. He could make this work again. He wouldn't let anything happen to you again.

Geto shifted his attention elsewhere as he flattened his robes.

God, he really did look the part now, didn't he? Except, maybe, the hair. But he wasn't doing anything about it.

"This place is still a religious group to the public, are you okay with that?" Asked one of the nameless faces that Geto would encounter in his life.

He over looked the stage before him with a flat expression. "As long as I can collect curses and money, that's all right." He reassured.

The man frowned, looking at Geto with some vague confusion. "Are you really going out there like that?"

He let a grin spread across his lips. "Why not? Bluffing and looking the part is important."

"Master Geto..."

He spared the twins a soft glance, a reassuring smile gracing his features. He reached down and ruffled their hair gently. "Be sure to watch closely." He whispered to them, watching with a warmth in his heart as they smiled and giggled at one another. "Have they gathered?"

"Directors, representatives. The chairman. And a lot more money waiting."

Geto grinned, taking the microphone from the man, and making his way out onto the stage.

The last time he'd been in the building they were giving a thunderous applause for Riko's death and, by extension, yours. He had been waiting a year to see them all again. To look them in the eyes and find a proper way to make them suffer. To make them feel the same fear or suffering that you and Riko had in your last moments.

"Can everyone hear me? Thank you for waiting, I'll keep this short." He announced as he came to a stop before them all. Nameless faces, judgmental side eyes, questionable whispers to one another. They did not remember Suguru. But he would make sure they remembered Geto. "As of this moment, this group is mine. We'll have a new name as well. You all will obey me."

Instantly, there was a scattered rise of opposition in the crowd.

Geto's grin faltered as he listened to the various questions of exactly who was he made their way to him. He could hear the anger and the confusion. His frustration heightened.

"Well, isn't that a shame." He dragged a hand over his face, eyes grazing the crowd before he grinned one more. He tried to look as inviting as he could, waving a hand at one man in particular. "Mister Sonoda! Could you please come up to the stage? Yes, that's right, you!"

As the older man stood from his seat and hobbled his way up, Geto narrowed his eyes. Despite his smile, his eyes couldn't hide the contempt and the hatred he had for the man before him. He could see that he noticed in the way he faltered on the steps. But pushed through and stood by Geto's eyes.

He made eye contact with Sonoda, then— "Y/N."

He found it easy to summon you. To watch you tear away at the man who had so brazenly ordered Riko's death. To listen to the garbled expressions of hatred you exclaimed as you tore his enemies limb-by-limb. It felt like it was some form a justice. To finally see the horror in their eyes, the blankness of it all. Bittersweet for him to watch.

However, he couldn't stand there and watch you in awe forever. He had people to take under his control.

Geto turned his attention back to the crowd. Satisfaction grew in his chest as he saw the horror and shock fall over their faces. Easily, Geto threw the microphone away.

"Now then, let's try this again." He scowled at the crowd, feeling you loom over his shoulder once again. He used his thumb to brush away some of the blood. "Obey me, monkeys."

III. 2015

"Are you mad at me, Suguru?"

Things had been going smoothly for Geto in the past eight years.

The cult, because that's what he considered it, was running finely. Those who owed money, gave it to him, or else. Those who followed, followed with loyalty, or else. Those who served no purpose, were dealt with. He had created a normal amongst the congregation. A standard that he himself had wanted to watch them scramble to keep. A constant state of panic or devotion for them that fed into his, honestly, growing ego.

Things like his family kept him rather humble.

The girls had grown accustomed to their lives with Geto. They seemed to thrive and love under his care. All of them had grown to a routine that they cherished with one another. They even seemed accustomed to you. The fear and confusion of others wasn't found in their eyes or hearts. Geto never properly explained what happened after death if certain things didn't take place, but they understood anyone. They knew you were important to him— by extension making you important to them.

The other members of the family— Laure, Miguel, Manami, Toshihisa— had a vague understanding of exactly what a vengeful spirit entailed. Although, they weren't jumping at the opportunity to really talk about it. Laure had attempted once, but the conversation died out quickly due to the look on Geto's face. The man was quick to drop the topic once he saw the expression painting the leader's face. Allegedly, he looked ready to kill.

Earlier that day, though, Miguel was braver. And Geto was in a far clearer mood.

"How did it happen?" The man's deep voice asked gently from where he sat across from Geto. Once the confusion set in of his sudden question, he raised an eyebrow at the apparent shadow rested behind his chair. "How did they get cursed?"

Geto himself had thought about it for years. He wondered what point you had been damned blessed to be attached to his soul even after death. It took him a long time. In the mix of things, death and decay, the sharp turn of his ideals— he had barely any time to really think about what made you this spirit clinging onto his life.

Some books said that it could be the connection shared by the host and spirit before death. Others said that hosts had the ability to curse the spirit themselves. That their desperation and their inability to let go was the true reason that sorcerers would live on as something horrible. Something completely opposite as to who they were in life.

He had pushed the thoughts away before they could ever really come to fruition. The possibility that he had been the one to create you into this. The thought alone was enough to twist his stomach. So instead he ignored it. He lived in blissful ignorance.

"Just happens sometimes after death." Geto answered flatly, turning his attention back to his book. He knew there was curiosity amongst his family to know things about you. Afterall, you were considered a part of the family, but there was simply no room to have conversation with you. You either grew hostile or confused and sought Geto out for answers. "Sorcerers whenever they're killed by a non-curse way or something another.

"Hm," Miguel's hum had remained unconvinced as his eyes trailed back to you. As your fingers hovered over the corner of the seat, but you didn't peek out. "There was a couple in my village back home. They were considered the ideal relationship at the time— I was a kid and thought so too. They were kind people. I always enjoyed getting special treatment from the wife, she was like a mother. She was one of the only other people I ever met in my home country that could see curses. Everything was good. But then her husband went and died from sickness. There was something different from the moment she died. She went a little crazy and one day she went and got real angry. Then— boom, there's her husband. But he was different. He was like yours."

Geto hadn't really known what to make of that rather non-sensical story at the time. He had just stared at Miguel before nodding slowly in return. "That's tragic." He wasn't interested in the possibilities.

"Nanako told me it was hard on you when they died." Miguel carried on as if he hadn't very visibly paused for Geto to speak his heart out. "Said that you said it was the reason you're the way you are now."

There was moments where Geto felt frustration with the twins. Their willingness to be so open with the family. Their ability to talk about their emotions so easily. The fact that they couldn't keep a secret for their lives.

The conversation about you had come up when the house was particularly restless and they were morbidly curious. They asked what you were like alive. What he was like as a kid. What the both of you were like in high school. How did you die.

He had looked off distantly and recalled the details— although he left out the gorey, unlikeable parts. He left in the parts where he was sad, that he had a hard time. He explained it in a way that kids like them could understand and use later to make sure they didn't end up the same way. Isolated and full of hatred.

Then, he made the mistake of mentioning Gojo. Their questions fell on deaf ears as he wished them goodnight and tried to drown out the memories of his youth.

"Don't get on her case about it. She's was just curious what certain things meant." Miguel must've taken his silence as anger because he stared at Geto with pleasantly narrowed eyes. "Have you ever considered exactly what happened to them?"

The question wasn't hostile or had any nefarious undertones.

He might as well had threatened Geto though.

Your eyes were blank.

"Please get up."

Geto had quickly excused himself, claiming that he needed to head to bed. He didn't miss the disappointment in Miguel's eyes or the fact that he had tensed up as you drew closer. He didn't want to think about it. What had taken place before, during, and after your death. He didn't need the questions—

"Please get up."

Tonight he couldn't escape it.

Eight years worth of questions and mystery filled his mind. The things he didn't dare address or ponder upon.

Sitting against his headboard, staring blankly into the darkness, he knew exactly how things ended up like this.

Him, a pathetic boy, staring into your lifeless eyes— he had begged for you to be alive. He had laid there with tears in his eyes, a pain in his chest, and a wavering plead breaking from his lips. Before he had fallen unconscious, he reached out his hand.

He reached out his hand.

Your eyes were blank.

Geto knew that he had cursed you. That his pleads and desperately attempt at touching you one last time had somehow damned you. He didn't need to know how it worked. He just knew that it was his fault.

The disgust in Gojo's eyes, the heartbreak, the shock. It was all things Geto deserved. For he had robbed you of the eternal rest you deserved.

The tears collected in his eyes and, for the first time in eight years, he felt a heavy bought of regret press against his chest.

He's known you longer dead than you were alive. Two years of his life had ruled onto the next eight. He had let his grief blind him. He was desperate to not let you go. To keep up some illusion in his head that he would be able to keep you there. To not let you fade away.

Selfish. He'd never been selfish before your death.

"Suguru?"

Your voice, distorted and garbled, was not something that he wanted to hear in that moment. Whatever reason, you were beside the bed now, head rested against your arms. He barely spared you a glance as the tears spilled over.

Selfish. Here you were now. Some weird sense in you to come out and comfort him. He had done this to you. An eternity to comfort him.

Selfish.

"Suguru, are you angry?" You sounded concerned, an odd sound that it didn't seem to fit you now.

Geto clenched his jaw, flexing his fingers. "Only at myself." He uttered.

You inched forward on the bed, a heavy frown spread across your face. "Why are you angry at yourself?"

He finally dragged his eyes to you, lids heavy and face almost as lifeless as your own. "I cursed you." He said it quietly but it felt extremely loud in his empty room. He looked for any realization in your eyes, any type of anger directed at him, but there was nothing. You just stared in return. You should be enraged. "I cursed you. Don't you understand what that means?"

Still, you didn't look angry.

"You saved me—"

"No, no, I didn't." Geto interrupted, closing his eyes in mild irritation. "I didn't... save you. I cursed you. I-I cursed you to stay by my side as I kill. As I kill in your name, you should be angry, Y/N."

“But… they’ve hurt you.” You say it with such confusion and sincerity that it makes him sick.

It’s then that he realizes what this all meant.

If you were alive now, you would look at him with all the rage in the world. You would damn him. You would be disgusted. If you were alive you would probably try to get him to see it all differently. You would tell him that staying with Gojo would’ve been better than this isolation, than this constant feeling in his chest. You would’ve known better than him.

It was then that he realized that he still blamed you for a lot. He wasn’t sure if things would be the same if just Riko died. Or maybe if you all had lived. Would he still be drawn to the same fate only later? Sometimes he was hopeful that he would be the same. Other times he wished he didn’t. All of it led to one thing: his anger for you.

There were some nights he would stay up and think about what you would do in his position. You would forgive them, try to use death as a chance to grow. You were much kinder than him. Or maybe you would be driven insane. None of you had quite tasted death until that mission. You probably would’ve handled things much differently than him if you had seen where Haibara ended up.

Bitterly, Geto thought, you probably would’ve given up.

Your sadness was always prone to taking you down. To whisper those forbidden and nasty things to you until you just wanted to bleed. You admitted to him and Gojo once that you didn’t even think you would make it to high school once. It scared them both, but you always got back up.

Yeah, you wouldn’t handle the sadness.

With a clenched jaw, Geto reached out and held your face. “I made you into this. You only kill and feel that way because that’s how I feel. Doesn’t that make you angry? Don’t you hate me?” He so desperately wanted you to see it from his point of view. He wanted the logic of it all to hit your brain and for you to finally finish what Toji and Gojo couldn’t— properly kill him.

However, just as you were in life, you would never take his life.

“I don’t care about those things.” You uttered in that distorted voice, those eyes of yours filled with emotions that he couldn’t hand pick. “Have I done something to upset you, Suguru?”

"No." Geto answered without hesitation. He pinched his eyes closed and took a deep breath. "I just want you to understand what this is."

He could feel your nail ghost over his thigh. "I understand."

Geto didn't believe you did, but he didn't have the energy to fight you. Not anymore. A part of him would always long to have a good long argument with you. But now it felt different. It felt as if it were all fabricated.

You were too agreeable now.

Please don't die. Please don't leave me.

But he supposed this was his punishment now. For being so desperate.

He rested his hand on top of your head. "Thanks for listening, I guess."

He can deal with the guilt later.

IV. 2017

Geto Suguru knew this would happen.

At least, a part of him was aware that death with a very high likely once he looked Gojo Satoru in the eye and declared war. Maybe even before that as he overlooked the mess of blood and limbs Rika had left behind at the elementary.

Either way, Geto Suguru knew this would happen.

"Hey," You had spoke one day as the three of them lounge in the courtyard. You had your uniform jacket open and your hair loose from the headband you wore to keep it out of your face. A good memory if it weren't for your next question. "Is it good to live a dishonorable life and have a honorable death, or a honorable life with a dishonorable death?"

"Huh? Why would you ask that now?" Satoru had pouted.

You had shrugged. "I mean, Yaga-sensei says that to be a sorcerer we'll have to live with our regrets, but he never talks about honor."

Satoru, in true fashion, rolled his eyes at you before taking a large bite out of his sandwich. "Because it's a bunch of self righteous mumbo-jumbo." He had said through a mouth full.

"Whatever." Your eyes dragged to Suguru. Your face had blossomed into a soft smile. "What do you think, Suguru?"

Suguru had frowned, biting on his lower lip as he thought. "I think what we all consider honorable varies. At the end of the day, you'll have to look back on your life yourself and decide whether you lived it worth wild." As you and Satoru stared at him with raised eyebrows, he shyly shrugged. "Don't worry about how honorable or dishonorable you'll be to others— just live a life that'll make you happy."

While you stared at him with someone akin to awe, Satoru stared blankly at him before bowing. "Truly inspirational, Suguru-sama, please invoke more of your wisdom on us!"

You had defended Suguru fervently as Satoru crowed against your assault. Then, he had been unwavering in his beliefs.

Now, Geto Suguru, stumbling down the ally with a missing arm, knew that all was bullshit.

There was nothing honorable or dishonorable about death. It was all a matter how people viewed you at the time. No one would be truly satisfied with their death because there would be a long list of things they wished they had done or hadn't done in their life.

As Yaga had said, they would all die with regrets.

His plans to obtain Rika had been rooted from a place of pure selfishness. His need to find alternative needs that didn't include using you in the most indescribable and unforgiveable way. He knew, deep down, that if he had used you the way that he planed to use Rika's powers— he would never forgive himself.

He hadn't even wanted to use you against Okkotsu Yuta. But that kid was something else. Most definitely a protege of Gojo Satoru. He could recall the caught off guard look on Okkotsu's face once you appeared. The confusion and the shock that overtook him as you wrapped yourself around Geto Suguru. He had uttered something that made the man falter.

"You're like me?"

There were so many things something that could mean.

You're like me: you're cursed with a love by your side, permanently protecting you against things that you didn't think were dangerous.

You're like me: someone had died so close to you that couldn't quite detach themselves from your soul.

You're like me: you cursed another because you couldn't accept that death was final?

Yes, Geto Suguru bitterly thought as his drive to kill Okkotsu grew. I did.

Now, Geto Suguru couldn't even feel you brewing with his soul. He didn't even think there'd be a difference if you ever left him. But there was this odd sense of loneliness deep within him that made him sick (definitely had nothing to do with the intense blood loss). His stomach churned as his mind silently cried out for you.

Was this true death? Nothing left to hold onto, just the memories and emptiness?

You're like me: you can't live without them.

Geto Suguru fell against the wall of the alley with a bitter scoff. Of course he couldn't. No matter how much he tried to convince himself, he spent the last 10 years attach his very life and soul around you. Tried to act like a big boy whenever he was asked what he would do if he was freed from this curse.

He didn't even get to say goodbye.

Your eyes were blank.

"You finally made it," Geto Suguru snorted as he shifted his eyes over to the looming figure feet from him. "Satoru."

There was something so jarring seeing him now.

Compared to when he arrived a month prior, Gojo Satoru lacked those bandages around his eyes. Those blinding and once comforting pair of sky blues were staring into his very soul blankly. Did he realize that he wasn't coming to say goodbye to you? To free you from a monster like Geto Suguru? That he had actually used you in a last ditch effort to obtain Rika?

He was sure he was aware now.

"You'll be the one to take me down, huh?" He kept a hold on his shoulder as he dragged his eyes away from Gojo Satoru to avoid the unbearable guilt that overcame him. Years of regret and what if's overtaking his mind. "How's my family?"

As long as Nanako and Mimiko were safe, he could die without regret.

"They all got away. Kyoto was your doing too, wasn't it?" Gojo Satoru's voice was as telling as it was 10 years ago. As saddened and angered as the day he had walked away from it all.

"Yeah, unlike you, I'm a kind person. You sent those two here knowing I'd defeat them.... just so you could trigger Okkotsu's growth." He had been thinking about it since the moment Okkotsu's eyes had darkened. The unbearable grief that took over the boy as he eyed his unmoving and bloody friends.

Your eyes were blank.

"It's called trust. People with beliefs like yours wouldn't kill a young sorcerer without reason."

Geto Suguru laughed. "Trust, huh?" He couldn't help the amusement flow through him. After all these years... "I didn't realize you still felt any connection with me."

His counterpart responded with a scoff. "Suguru." It was said with the weight of a thousand lonely days— as if Satoru had thought the same. As if nothing had changed. The man clenched his jaw, ducking his eyes from view as he spoke once again: "Any last words?"

Geto Suguru drew in a heavy breath, things were really getting hazy now— almost feather light. "No matter what, I'll always hate those monkeys." His words were said with the disdain and hatred of the past ten years. Then he thought about where he was 10 years ago. The grief and the isolation that overtook him. He grew quiet. "But it's not like I hate everyone at Jujutsu High. It's just that in this world... I couldn't wear a heartfelt smile."

Satoru stood there in silence. Seeming to take in the words carefully.

"Anything else?" He uttered.

Suguru frowned, ducking his head. There was one thing he had been thinking about for the past two years that grappled him in the most unnerving ways. "Do you think they'll forgive me?" His question was soft and barely there— he was barely there himself anyway.

Satoru scoffed, except it sounded more fond than before. "They were always too forgiving of us. If you're worried about your purgatory being apologizing to them for eternity, then you're fine— it'd be too easy anyway." He joked softly, except his blank expression didn't quite add to the comfort or joke of it all.

I'd spend the rest of time apologizing. Suguru fought the urge to say.

"I figured."

"Suguru," Satoru took attentive steps forward, crouching down to his level. Their eyes met and there was something almost tangiable in that gaze of his. "I love you. I forgive you."

Suguru couldn't help the shock that flushed over his body. As the pain seemed to leave him completely, he used the last bits of his strength to show Satoru a true smile. The only one he could really conjure.

"You could at least curse me at the end."

As Satoru stared at him, as Yuta Okkotsu celebrated with his friends the victory and their safety, and as Suguru took his last breaths, his eyes trailed over Satoru's shoulder.

You stared back with a kind smile. Looking more alive than you had in the past ten years, you wore the clothes you had the day you died, your normal boring uniform. Suguru hated to admit he missed seeing those terrible uniforms.

"Suguru."

[rainylana]

“I’m not always bad.” Part two!

Eddie Munson x female reader

warnings: readers dad has cancer, enemies to lovers, (bullies reader in part one), language, mentions of religion and prayer, depression and anxiety. a lot of angst and fluff.

note: let me know if you want a third part!

Eddie backed off. Whatever class you shared, passing by each other in the hallway or the cafeteria, he backed off. He didn’t bother you, didn’t even look at you. Well, that wasn’t true. He looked, but only when you weren’t aware of it. It had been two weeks since you had broke down in front of him, and as each day passed, he could see you start to slip, start to deteriorate right in front of him. Everyone else was seeing it too.

You weren’t doing as much makeup like you normally did. Instead of putting on a full face, you applied some mascara. Instead of dressing up, you preferred sweats and a hoodie, your hair put up and away so you didn’t have to deal with it.

You weren’t bringing your lunch anymore, surviving off the snacks your friends would make you eat. You didn’t answer questions in class. You weren’t you, anymore. In just two weeks, you’d completely changed, and Eddie, most of all, didn’t like it.

He should talk to you. That’s what he should do, instead of staring at you all day. Over that time, he began to realize his feelings for you were not just hatred.

The day came when he decided he would say something. Say what, he didn’t know, but he needed to speak with you, needed to know that you were…okay, given the circumstances.

•

“And I don’t know if you can hear me, or…even care about what’s happening to my family, but please, God, please, I can’t watch him die. Mama can’t watch him die. Please make him better, I beg of you.” Your hands were folded above your knees, tears on your face and mascara smudged down your cheeks. You were at lovers lake, an isolated side of the park that was overgrown and lonely, much like yourself these days.

There was a singular picnic table, an old, rundown cabin that was falling apart. You’d only been through this area a few times, but the isolation made you feel welcome and at peace, hoping maybe that God could hear your prayers just a little louder here.

“Amen.” You sniffled, wiping your tears and sitting there emotionlessly. You stared at your hands in front of you, too scared to move, too scared to go home. You found yourself always scared, always anxious and alert. Your father was diagnosed with stage four liver cancer and was only given six months to live at best. You didn’t think you could go back to life before you’d been called down to the kitchen for a family meeting.

“Hey.”

You jumped, alert and alarmed at the voice that emerged through the wooded trail. You placed a hand over your heart, calming when you realized who it was.

“Eddie?” You asked, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry,” He held up a hand. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your…” He trailed off. “I walk here a lot.”

That wasn’t true. Eddie didn’t like to walk, or any form of exercise, for that matter. He’d followed you, listened to your entire prayer and cry for help, only to come out when your finished crying. It was hot out today, but that didn’t change his normal attire. Black jeans, ripped at the knees. White t-shirt with a little grease. His hair was extra shaggy due to the humidity. He had a bead of sweat forming above his lip.

“That’s okay.” You said meekly, looking back down at your fingers.

He stood their awkwardly, scratching the back of his sweaty neck. “Look, I can go-”

“No, no.�� You waved a hand. “I should go. This isn’t my-”

“Don’t go!” He interrupted you, taking a step and stopping you from getting up off the picnic table. “I uh- sit.” He said to you, doing so himself, sitting across from you.

You weren’t aware just how much of a mess you looked, having forgotten about the tears and makeup mess on your face. He stared at you for a moment, watching you watch the lake. You were blushing—or, were you just red faced from crying?

Eddie gulped, not knowing what to say. A simple how are you would suffice, but he couldn’t seem to get it out.

“Do you need something?” Your eyes panned over to him, sunken and shallow. “I don’t have the homework done if that’s what you’re wanting.”

He hadn’t asked for it in weeks.

“How are you doing?” He bounced his knee, clasping his fingers together in front of him. “With…you know.”

You stared at him, and for a moment, you gave him that same look you did two weeks ago. Bewilderment, shock. But only for a moment, because you simply did not have the energy to put on a show, or care. Eddie noticed.

“I don’t know how to answer that.” You said honestly. “I guess I’m fine.”

“It doesn’t seem that way.” He was looking at you through thick lashes, analyzing your every move, like you were his prey. “Nobody knows yet, do they?”

You tried not to cry. You didn’t want to again, especially not in front of him. You’d already made a fool of yourself once.

“Just family.” You whispered.

You weren’t stupid. You knew Eddie felt bad for you. You’d cracked away at his hard shell and found some emotion inside of him. You just wished it wasn’t at your expense, and you didn’t need his pity.

“Do you need anything?” He found himself asking, quickly looking down to his own hands that he fiddled with, decorated in rings and cat scratches.

This was exactly what you didn’t need. You didn’t want a spotlight on you. You didn’t want him looking at you like you were going to break any second. You didn’t need Eddie Munson as your friend.

“No.” You shook your head. “But I do need to go.” He watched you stand up, and by your shaky hands, he knew you were still very upset. Had he upset you? Should he not have reached out to you.

“Y/n, wait!” He followed after you on the trail.

“What?” You whirled around. “God, Eddie, what is it?” Your eyes were round and wide, alarmed and scared.

He looked taken back, shooing a fly away from his face. “I just- I…I’m really sorry about your dad. I can see that it’s bothering you.” What a dumb thing to say! Of course it’s bothering her!

Don’t take it out on him. He didn’t do this. He didn’t cause it. He’s looking out for you. Him, of all people.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You gave him a smile mixed with a frown. “But I’m fine, I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

You left and he didn’t follow, and when he no longer could see you, he swore he heard the sound of someone sobbing.

•

Three days later and you still hadn’t told your friends. You knew you had to soon. They were concerned. Your teachers knew now, your mom had told the principal, after he had called your parents about your grades. You didn’t get in trouble, they all understood.

You were going in and out of listening to Chrissy talk about prom, your eyes filled with what felt like water and air. You felt like you were drowning. Your eyes burned and felt clouded, your vision was blurry. Your throat burned and you seemed to gasp for air, but you couldn’t. You sat there and listened, drowning inside.

But when you felt something sharp, piercing and full of concern fall upon your face, you looked over and found the hellfire table, their master, staring at you. Eddie was staring at you. You locked eyes with him briefly before turning back to Chrissy.

Two more days passed and everyone knew. You didn’t know how it got out, but you knew it would have sooner or later. You just wished it was later. Everyone was staring at you in class, including Eddie, and by lunch time, the cafeteria went completely silent when you entered. You could take the I’m sorry’s and the I’m here for you’s. You couldn’t take being watched, couldn’t take being talked about and whispered about behind someone else’s back.

You had turned quickly on your heal, flashing an angry emotion across your face that Eddie hadn’t seen in quite some time. You slammed open the doors and walked down the hall with a quick speed. Each step you took, your breathing got heavier and heavier, your head felt lighter and lighter.

You were gulping, choking on your sobs as you rounded the corner and ran down the stairwell.

I’ve gotta get out of here. I’ve got to get out of here.

When you tripped and fell flat on your face, that seemed to be the final straw. You screamed, cursing at the universe, god, whoever, as you stood back up.

“Y/n!” Eddie came running up behind you, panting just as quickly as you were. He widened his eyes at your state. “Hey, hey,” He rushed to you, and you couldn’t help it. You melted into his arms. You let him hold you.

Your limbs gripped his shirt tightly, pulling like he was a rope, and sobbed into his shoulder. You didn’t know why, but in that moment, there wasn’t anyone else you needed more than him.

•

“Thanks for the ride.” You said hoarsely.

It was only one o’clock, but Eddie offered to drive you home. You let him, not able to imagine going back to class after the scene you had made.

“Don’t mention it.” He out the van in park, arm stretched out to the wheel. “You gonna be alright?”

You nodded, tugging at your hoodie, “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You said quietly, excluded of emotion.

“Listen, about what happened at school,” He started, turning in his seat. “Everyone’s just surprised, that’s all. It’s like gossip to them. They’ll forget about it eventually.” He searched your eyes, hoping to make you feel better. “Are you hearing me?”

“Yeah.” You sighed. “I’m just…I don’t know. I might take a break for a few days. Maybe they’ll have dropped it by then.”

He didn’t want to go a day without seeing you. He was becoming more and more concerned, more and more attached, curious. You were becoming the very thing that kept him awake at night. He didn’t know why, but god, were you absolutely beautiful.

“Bye, Eddie,” You reached over and squeezed his knee. “Thanks for everything.”

He watched you walk inside, only seeing a small portion of your home on the inside. He hoped you would dream sweet things that night.

[ovaryacted]

POOLSIDE || Dieter Bravo

PAIRING: Dieter Bravo x lifeguard! afab reader || WC: 1.8k

SYNOPSIS: You take a job as a private lifeguard for a Hollywood actor. Turns out, you got much more than what you bargained for.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Smutty. Drug usage - weed via a joint. Lots of banter and cursing. Ambiguous age gap [Dieter is canon age, Reader is 21+]. Allusions to sex (pussy eating). Dieter may be ooc due to unfamiliarity. He is still: horny, unhinged, and loves drugs. Ending leaves much to the imagination. I don't know how Hollywood agents or lifeguarding work, just have fun with it, it's supposed to be funny.

A/N: Hey there, surprise! This is for the Summer Lovin' Challenge hosted by @pedgito! I got "by the water" for Dieter Bravo with the prompt: you can’t keep distracting me while I work, and this is what I came up with. I will admit, I am fairly unfamiliar with Dieter as a whole, though I had to read a bunch of other fics to get a sense of who he is, so this was a challenge. But I hope this is enjoyable to those who like him cause I had a little fun going out of my comfort zone. This is my first time writing for this character and I am rusty, please be nice. Dividers are by @saradika-graphics. Anyway, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

When you signed up for a lifeguard gig from a Hollywood agent, you expected to watch over some celebrities’ kids by their large private pool, racking up hundreds for babysitting spoiled brats and lounging by the best-filtered chlorine available. Yet what you got was the complete opposite. Instead of watching over little kids, you were burdened to monitor an overgrown child in the body of a man.

Dieter Bravo. You’ve heard of him, some veteran actor you never really paid much attention to. The name sounded distantly familiar, remembering him at some award shows like the Oscars and recalling his name popping up in some of the selections. At the end of the day, you didn’t give much of a fuck who he was, but when you could take a job with a stipend large enough it would give you that guaranteed comma in your bank account, you didn’t object.

When you reached his private home in Santa Monica, it was quaint and modern enough not to bore you. You arrived around 11 am before the sun reached the highest point in the sky, setting up your gear and peeling away your baggy t-shirt and denim shorts to reveal the red cheeky one-piece you wore underneath. It’s better to play the part, right? At least, that’s what the agent mentioned.

Unsurprisingly, Dieter was about to step into the pool when you entered his private yard, isolated from the rest of the neighborhood and with a generous view over the hills. He tilted his head to the side as he looked at you, eyebrows lifting at the sight of a new person in his space, in a bathing suit, no less.

“You must be the lifeguard my agent hired.” It was a matter-of-fact statement, yet you didn’t fail to miss how his warm brown eyes landed on your chest before meeting your gaze again. “I don’t need a babysitter, you know.”

“Apparently, you do. Look, I’m doing this for the pay. You stay on your good behavior, and I’ll be out of your hair. Simple as that.” A straightforward agreement, you think, he’s a grown-ass man. Surely, he can listen to the bare minimum of instructions.

“Deal,” Dieter said, leaving you to your own devices. You watched as he materialized a joint from his pocket and planted it between his plush lips, sparking his lighter to inhale a drag. He exhaled through his nose, pungent smoke filling the distance between you two and making you scrunch your nostrils. You eyed him silently, holding your hand out and shaking your head when he gestured the joint in your direction for a pull.

That’s why he needed a lifeguard. Getting high off of god knows what in the pool must have been his favorite pastime before he did something stupid or endangered himself. Figures.

Propping yourself on one of the lounge chairs lined by the side of the pool, you got comfortable, tinted shades sitting on the bridge of your nose. You could lean back for some time and catch a nice tan for the first two hours, giving you something to do. You don’t think the man in question will bother you too much or do something as stupid as to drown on your watch, but you’ll do your best to ensure that doesn’t happen.

To your amazement, Dieter was quiet, humming to himself and enjoying his high as he swam about and floated in the pool. When he wasn’t looking, you’d take a couple of glances just to be sure he hadn’t sunk to the bottom. Those were also the moments when you’d get a good look at him, sneaking peeks of his face and body over the blue water.

In a way, he was handsome, with a rugged charm that brought a level of interest you didn’t initially notice. He had a head of curly brown hair and a patchy beard adorned his jaw. His soft abdomen had a trail of light hair lining from his belly button to his groin. Selfishly, you took in the way his light blue shorts hugged his hips, thick thighs shifting to keep his body upright.

Leaning back into the chair as if you hadn’t been picking apart his appearance for the past 3 minutes, you pretended like somehow this strange man wasn’t sneaking into the recesses of your mind and the depths of your gut.

It helped he was cute—just a little bit.

After lunch and munching on some catered sandwiches, you moved from lounging in the chair to sitting along the edge of the pool, dipping your feet in the water. All things considered, you thought Dieter’s house was nice, probably better than his apartment in New York, but you’d kill to have either.

Setting your sunglasses on the top of your head, you could practically feel this man watching you from the other end of the pool, taking in your movements with unfocused eyes. You ignored him, thinking it was just a coincidence or an outcome of his high. But as the faux obliviousness of his stares continued, his dramatic sighs and tricks in the water came after, squinting in his direction to gauge what he was up to.

He began to swim towards you until his hand gripped the tiled edge, running the other through his wet hair to pull it back. You caught his stare, dilated pupils hazed with a silent question.

“Can I help you, Dieter?” Speaking to him directly now, this was probably the first thing you’ve said to him since your heady warning earlier in the day.

“I’m bored.”

“Not my problem.” You shrugged again, the man groaning like a toddler on the precipice of throwing a tantrum.

“C’mon. There has to be something else we can do while you sit all pretty and shit.” Dieter said out loud, making you raise an eyebrow at the catch of certain words. It must be the weed. Ignore him.

“You can always pay and leave me alone to do anything else.” You replied, your attention drawn to one of his hands gently touching your ankle as your foot pushed against his wrist.

“You’re telling me you’re not bored too?”

“Oh yeah, bored out of my fucking mind. But you can’t keep distracting me while I work.”

“This isn’t work. It’s a babysitting job, a bad one at that.” His fingers ran over the top of your foot absentmindedly, and you had half a mind to kick his hand away. You relented, thinking it’d be worth your time if you played your cards right. 

“Have you seen yourself, Dieter? You need surveillance 25/8. I’ve been counting down the minutes to see when I will find you face down still as shit in the pool.”

You half expected him to curse you out or even be upset with what you said. Instead, he laughed, hearty and loud, bringing a wide grin across his face and giving you a perfect view of his smile. You couldn’t help but chuckle along with him out of ridiculousness.

“If you want to keep me occupied and alive, I have an idea of what we can do.” Dieter’s tone turned suggestive, something you didn’t miss. His strong arms wrapped around both of your legs and you welcomed the contact, wanting to know what he could mean, for research purposes of course.

“What do you have in mind?” You grew curious, almost taking back the words that tumbled from your mouth before his eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Well…we are alone. Nobody’s out here but us.” His thumb teasingly caressed the side of your thigh, doing nothing to quell the warmth bubbling in your core with every stroke against your skin. Suggesting to fuck a client? That wasn’t in the job description, nor was there an NDA.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Am I laughing?” Dieter was closer now, maybe too close, his chin resting on the top of your legs as he looked up at you. He reminded you of a puppy dog waiting for his treat, except you were dealing with a complete horndog with no sense of self outside of LSD and bad actor accents.

“Consider it a bonus for taking such good care of me.”

“What am I? A prostitute?” Your eyes rolled in defiance, brushing off what you think was his terrible flirting if that’s what you would call it.

“For the fucking record, I pay all of my sex workers generously. But no, this is just me showing my appreciation.” Dieter’s lips came down to kiss the newly tanned skin of your knee, prompting you to release the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“You barely know me.”

“Hasn’t stopped me before. I’m sure you can say the same for yourself.” He couldn’t wipe the smirk from his face, and you don’t think you’d want him to.

“It’ll be much more fun than just watching me for the rest of the day. Don’t even gotta see my dick, I just want to taste you for a while.” He placed another kiss higher on your thigh as his fingers pressed into your calves under the water. “What do you say?”

In silence, you mentally listed the many reasons why this was a bad idea. What would it look like if you fucked Dieter Bravo the first day you were supposed to look after him? A sex addict and drug fiend who somehow still had an acting career despite a change in reputation. Red Flag was written all over his forehead in bright, bold letters.

Yet, those warnings didn’t push you away farther than you needed to be. You were already here, so you might as well leave with something. Besides, it was only 2 in the afternoon, you had some time to spare.

Dieter watched in hunger as your legs parted in front of him, supporting yourself on your arms and you smiled as you did. He was so close he could practically smell you, the stretchy material of your bathing suit hiding the treat he sought after the moment you stepped into his yard. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the taste of your pussy in the back of his mouth, coating his tongue with your slick to quench his thirst on this hot summer day.

He tried so hard to conceal the moan that slipped between his lips, suppressed by his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“You better make this worth it, or you’ll find yourself a new lifeguard.” Dieter laughed, thick fingers wrapping around your thighs and hands on your hips. He gave your body a soft tug, bringing you to the pool’s edge and closer to where he could have his mouth on you.

“Promise baby, you’ll be coming back every day this whole summer.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[fineghkst]

How Azriel acts around his mate

i’m thinking of turning this into a series so let me know if you guys would be interested (you can also choose which character i should do next)

warnings: suggestive

At the moment he finds out

Azriel couldn’t hide the surprised look on his face. It was the first time in a while the spymaster got speechless. Az is most likely to create a ragged excuse and leave as soon as possible (yes, he’s definitely panicking), going to some isolated place to understand that he finally found his mate.

How he acts?

Azriel definitely doesn’t know how to act around his mate once the bond snaps. He probably will act very awkward at the beginning, not knowing if he should tell his mate about it (considering they didn’t felt the bond yet) or wait until they realize.

Therefore, Azriel will need some time to digest that he finally has a mate. Az feels really insecure, thinking he’s not good enough for them and believing they won’t accept the bond. Even so, Azriel really tries to be the best he can to his mate, he’s always there, showing support at every situation. He’s also very kind and just wants to see his mate happy.

Will he tell anyone?

No. Az will hide it as much as he can. Azriel is a very private person and probably wants to figure out this new situation by himself. On the other hand, he knows how his brothers are a pain in the ass, so Az rather avoid to listen to the stuff they’re going to say. At least until his mate discover the bond by themself, he won’t talk about it, preventing them from ending up knowing from someone else

But once his mate accepts the bond Azriel’s behavior changes completely, he’s almost announcing to the world, constantly touching his mate in public.

When his mate feels the bond

He’s scared. Really, Azriel never felt this type of fear his whole life, to be rejected by the person who was supposed to be with him for the rest of his life. However, even if he’s terrified, Az forces himself to be honest about his feelings towards his mate.

He has never opened up that much to someone before, exposing an extremely vulnerable side.

If his mate needs some time, he will be very understandable and wait as long as necessary. Az will never pressure his mate to accept the bond or even give him an answer (please he’s the biggest gentleman out there).

When his mate accepts the bond

Az finally feels complete. His mate is his family, the person he trusts the most and is willing to do anything only to make them smile.

As i said before, Az didn’t feel enough for his mate, so he always thought they wouldn’t accept to be bonded to him forever. Honestly, he’s in a deep state of happiness, it’s like he’s finally found his home, his place in the world.

And as SJM said before, Az is a freak, so yeah, not leaving the room any time soon after that.

Things he loves to do with his mate

Pretty much everything. Azriel his happy to go anywhere or do anything if he has his mate to accompany.

It can be to comb their hair to having deep conversations at midnight. Az just loves to be with them.

Does he often feels jealous?

It depends on the situation. Azriel really trusts his mate, but if someone gets too flirty around them, he will definitely be jealous (and kinda insecure). He’s not likely to make a scene but will have a frown on his face for the rest of the night.

Favorite body part

He’s addicted to every single part of his mate, showing true devotion to their body everyday. He loves to kiss their soft lips, neck and inner thighs (he just can’t keep his hands away).

PDA

Even though Azriel is a very reserved person, he’s constantly touching his mate in public, always having a hand on their waist, holding their hand or kissing them. He usually doesn’t go too foward, but it depends on the situation, if he spends a lot of time away on a mission, will definitely be more clingy.

In short, I don’t see him caring much if someone his looking, but he prefers when they have more privacy.

How often he says “I love you?”

Everyday. He just wants his mate to be sure of his feelings. Az not only say it with words, but always demonstrate with his actions.

Protectiveness

Azriel is really overprotective. He’s terrified on losing his mate so they will always have his shadows with them, almost turning into a part of them.

Random bonus

Before every snowball fight Azriel always spends the whole year planning a new strategy to beat his brothers asses. He will share EVERY SINGLE DETAIL to his mate and even accept suggestions to improve it.

Once he wins, Az will celebrate a lot with his mate (if you get what I mean…)

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Jeremy and the minorities he loves to represent and apparently was born to

This post by @freedelusionshere cracked open a pattern that was right there in front of me for a while now and I hadn't really been paying attention to:

Jeremy Allen White's career choices

I won't go over every single role he ever played but overall his taste is quite distinctive and particular, he's into the marginalized, the anti-heroes, and the minorities.

He's not afraid of having to dive deep into his dark side to play addicts, disabled, depressed, suicidal, and traumatized human beings who struggle with mental health issues and don't always win their battles or are elegant about it.

His most famous roles are Lip Gallagher and Carmy Berzatto

Both addicts, the product of a traumatic upbringing with abusive parents and absent parental figures, with older siblings who played roles in his characters' lives that they shouldn't have due to the dysfunctional family dynamic they lived in.

He also played Kerry Von Erich, who lost his battle with addiction and a part of his leg as well and whose whole family was part of the problem, no matter how much they loved him. Kerry Von Erich was a fatal victim of his toxic environment and upbringing.

More about Carmy and Kerry's parallels here:

In Cornflower (short-film) Jeremy played the big half-brother of this little girl whose mother killed herself and he was in charge of "protecting" his baby sister from the news and sending her away

He's the Boss, the chef, the champ, the protector in his own fucked up way, but not really because he plays the shadow aspects of all those characters, otherwise, he's just not interested.

Jeremy once said (for GQ magazine) that if he played the romantic lead in a rom-com it would also have to be very sad.

And now, when he steps into The Boss' shoes leather jacket he doesn't play the idol, the icon, but one of his darkest moments.

Deliver me from nowhere

The movie tells The Boss' story during a time of his life that he described himself as dark and challenging, filled with isolation and loneliness.

I read Warren Zanes' novel a few months ago when I found out that JAW had been cast as the lead and LOVED IT. He also wrote Tom Petty's bio, which I haven't read yet (but definitely will because I love Petty) and served as VP of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, back when I still gave a fuck about it.

Zanes' Deliver Me from Nowhere captures that feeling completely. No wonder JAW felt compelled to play that part.

Nebraska, Springsteen's album (1982) was his 6th studio album and followed the widely successful and critically acclaimed album: The River and it was off-beat compared to its predecessors because it contained darker and more solemn lyrics but most importantly because The Boss lived up to his nickname and fought his Record label at the time (Columbia Records) refusing to tour to promote it. As a result the album only reached number 3 in both USA and the UK.

Bruce was going through a lot and having a hard time coping with fame and struggling to balance his personal life with his career, re-defining what the concept of "success" meant for him.

The book goes over that struggle and inner turmoil, it says it got to the point where the album was recorded by a Springsteen who literally couldn't get outta bed to do it. It was recorded in his bedroom.

The author says:

"Nebraska is the recording that matters the most in Bruce Springsteen's career. But not because of the hits it contains or it's renowned or because of its generation of young people played it on repeat while they searched for themselves in bedroom mirrors. It needs a different measure. Springsteen made the record when he was the object of tremendous expectations. (...) They were waiting for Born in the USA and that's not what they got, the truth was that Springsteen was a little lost."

Again, no wonder JAW got cast for this role.

I wish nothing but the best for him and I expect nothing but the best from his performance. I'm sure that it must be terrifying for him having to sing for the first time but the way I see it only 2 outcomes can come outta that: either he rocks or he's dubbed by The Boss himself who rocks even harder, so I'm cool.

This is the beast JAW has to tame (And make it relatable, moving, and hopefully award-winning):

The album's reverb-laden vocals and mood combined with dark lyrical content have been described by music critic William Ruhlmann as "one of the most challenging albums ever released by a major star on a major record label"

Source: Wikipedia.

I'm positive he can do it and I'll be there, watching and crying as he does.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[1dcommunityficrecs]

Pet Fic Rec!

I know we all love when we get pictures of the boys with animals -- dogs, cats, koalas, chimpanzees, fish... the list goes on and on. So here we have 9 fics focusing around relationships not with each other but also with their animal companions. We have fics under 5k and fics over 100k, cats and dogs and cows, pets and familiars and shapeshifters -- something for everyone!

Please give a read, and remember your domestic fanficus authorus benefits from lots of treats such as kudos, comments, and reblogs, for enrichment in their environment.

Lost Cat, Found Love by wemadethishome (4589, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Louis hates cats but finds himself dedicated to finding his neighbour's cat when it goes missing.

Reccer says: It was just so cute and sweet.

doG...and his friend by uhoh-but-yeah-alright/yeah_alright (3000, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

In this fic, Harry and Louis *are* the pets! Harry is a pet dog who can transform into a human man occasionally for his lonely owner to have some companionship. One evening while in human form he meets a man in his apartment that he's intrigued by. Based on that SNL sketch from when Harry hosted.

Reccer says: It's definitely a crack fic and so funny but it's really sweet too!

please forgive me if my lips quake by disgruntledkittenface (1622, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Harry's pet cat acts as her wing woman.

Reccer says: The most adorable meet cute!

Wanted: Dog Walker by Yesisaworld/louandhazaf (6000, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Louis needs a dog walker. Harry answers the ad.

Reccer says: Funny and sweet and adorable and comforting!

The One Where Harry Really Doesn't Have Ten Cats by LoadedGunn (10214, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry is a pet-sitter for the rich and famous, and he's utterly convinced that Louis leaving out porn and sex toys is just him joking around instead of trying to flirt with him.

Reccer says: I'm a sucker for cats and so having three adorable furballs in one story is amazing. Great sense of humor, Harry is so oblivious I want to scream but also laugh until it hurts

Sure Feels Good To Love Someone by LiveLaughLoveLarry (4000, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Louis and Harry always said they would get a dog when they got married. Sometimes, the universe tells you when it's time.

Reccer says: Louis and Harry are so sweet and solid and sure in their love for each other (and for their pets). It's sappy in all the best ways and it makes me tear up how happy they are.

Wild and Unruly by 100percentsassy & gloria_andrews (123655, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Louis is a city lawyer determined to convince cowboy Harry to sell part of his land for an oil well. Jolene is the pet of this fic - she's a cow.

Reccer says: Wide open spaces, fences to mend, Saturday evenings, cows and horses... what more is there to say? The way Harry and Louis' relationship unfolds and develops throughout this fic is truly captivating. Harry's love for the cows is so endearing and emotional. It's one of my favorite things about this fic.

Tired Tired Sea by Mediawhore (113303, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Reccer says: I assume that everyone who reads these recs lists has read TTS. I hope they have. For me, this fic is everything. Clifford the dog is the pet of this story. And maybe everything would have been different if he hadn't helped heal Harry from that story...

A Complainy Popstar by snsk (2491, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry wants a baby. He settles for a pet rat. Louis sort of hates the pet rat very much a lot.

Reccer says: This fic made me laugh, and I really loved their characterizations. Their banter was such a fun element to the fic.

[kasienda]

Celebrity Status - Ch 12: Something Important to Tell You

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Read on Ao3

This chapter was written for @ladrienjune Day 28: Sharing Secrets. I'm super excited to bring this story to a close for all of you! I had a lot of fun with it and I hope you do as well!

Chapter 12: Something Important to Tell You

Once out of hearing range, Adrien was tempted to find the nearest alleyway, transform, and storm Marinette's balcony. But Ladybug might not forgive Chat for figuring out her identity. It was safer to do this as Adrien.

He would have gotten to the bakery faster if they had eaten at school, but it ended up not mattering because Marinette wasn’t home. 

He ended up back on the streets, wandering aimlessly. 

He texted Marinette, but she didn’t respond. 

A few minutes later, Ladybug was seen swinging overhead. And he grinned. Time for a new plan. 

He found an alleyway and transformed. He didn’t go directly to her. It was still safer to do this as Adrien. 

He found the most isolated rooftop that he could find - one without sight lines. 

He shot off a message to Ladybug. 

CN: 

Please meet me here as soon as possible. It’s important. 

Then, he let go of his transformation and just waited. 

It didn’t take long. She was there in less than five minutes. And it was wild how clearly she was Marinette under the mask. 

He found himself smiling fondly at her. 

She did not share his expression. Her expression twisted into panic.

“That damn cat! We can’t do this!” she insisted, raising her arm to cast out her yo-yo. 

“No, wait!” He leapt up from the roof to block her departure. “I didn’t mean to trick you. I have to tell you something. It is important, and has nothing to do with us.”

Well, sort’ve. 

Her stance softened. “Adrien,” she whined. “We can’t risk this.” 

“No one can see us up here. Chat Noir made sure of it.” 

Her scowl deepened, but she didn’t leave. 

He bit his lower lip. 

“Well?” she prompted. “What is it?” 

“I'm sorry! I’m just nervous. I think you’re going to be pissed.” 

She softened completely and came to him, her hand reaching out for his, which he took instantly. “If it helps,” she said with a shy smile, “it’s literally impossible for me to stay mad at you.” 

He barked a laugh. He doubted that would hold once she knew he was Chat Noir. 

“I love you,” he said. 

Her forehead scrunched together. “You said this wasn’t about us.” 

“And it’s not. Not really. I just–” He rubbed the back of his head nervously.

She frowned in concern, stepping closer and squeezing the hand she already held. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “I’m fine. Better than fine, really.” He squeezed her hand back, and looked up into her crystal blue eyes, still swirling in concern. “I know who you are.” 

Her eyes widened and she froze, but said nothing.

"Marinette," he added.

She jerked away from him, her arms pinwheeling backwards. He leapt forward, to catch her. Suddenly, he was laughing. 

"Oh my god. Did I break you?"

She clutched onto his arms to steady herself, and then looked right at him. "How?" she asked.

“So… Alya kinda crashed my lunch with Nino.” 

Her face paled. "Ayla knows ?!"

"No!" he was quick to reassure. "At least, I don't think so. She wouldn't be so mad at you if she knew."

And then Ladybug deflated completely, and burst into tears. His arms were around her in a second.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, holding her tightly. "I know it sucks."

"I didn’t want to run out on her. She’s so important to me. But there’s the whole city to think about, and Chat had just been thrown into a building, so it’s not like I had a lot of time—”

"Shhh…” he soothed, rubbing her back. “I know. I know."

She dissolved into tears again, and then they dropped down to the roof with him continuing to hold her. She let her suit dissolve in a flash of pink light. His fingers were interlaced through hers. He was touching her bare skin! 

He knew who Ladybug was and she was the precious friend who had a crush on him!

"That's how you figured it out? Because Alya was mad that I bailed on her all the time?"

"Not just that. It was that you were fighting in general. You told me as Ladybug that things were dicey with your best friend, but I hadn’t realized you and Alya were fighting until today.” 

He still felt guilty about that. 

“She was angry that Marinette didn’t go to her award dinner where Ladybug presented her award, but it made no sense that you wouldn’t have gone given the way you were talking about it the day before. Then, you disappeared in the middle of your apology lunch during an akuma.” And she had a crush on him, but Adrien didn’t know Ladybug had a crush on him. Chat did. “It just fit. And then once my mind went there, it was obvious and I felt like an idiot."

"Can I ask you something?" her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Anything.”

"Why did you never get mad at me for ditching you? I've even managed to irritate Nino before he just decided that's who I was."

His hand flew to the back of his neck. "I... well, uh..."

"It wasn't that you felt guilty was it? For all the times your father pulled you away?"

There it was - a ready made explanation held out to him on a silver platter. He didn't want it though.

"The truth is Buginette, I wasn't even in a position to notice. When Alya lost it because you were flakey I was so confused."

Her brows furrowed. "But what about—”

He put a finger to her lips. "Let me finish."

She nodded.

"Every time you darted away with some lame excuse, I didn't notice because I was too busy trying to come up with my own explanation."  

Her eyebrows furrowed. “An explanation for what?” 

"Think about it. Why would I need to bail on my friends at the same time as you?"

She looked puzzled, and then she turned to him in shock.

"Chaton?"

He grinned. "Hi?"

“Oh my god!” She bolted to her feet and paced back and forth. She looked entirely like Ladybug to him in that moment for all that she wore Marientte’s clothes. 

"Are you mad?" he asked. 

"Yes!" she screeched, throwing a glare in his direction. "Chat Noir was trying to convince me to keep dating Adrien! You self serving jerk,” but her tone held absolutely no bite. “And no," she fell back to the rooftop, immediately cuddling into his side. "I mean, I get it. If I had learned Adrien liked Marinette while I was Ladybug, I probably would have been far less normal about it than you were. And I was the one who insisted on secret identities."

Her phone went off, and she pulled it out of her pocket and her eyes widened in panic all over again. 

“It’s Alya.”

… 

Adrien pushed the phone towards her urgently. “Answer it! I’m not here.” 

Marinette swallowed, her heart was pounding in her chest as she slid her thumb across the screen to answer the call.

“Alya?” 

Alya was sobbing.

“Alya! What’s wrong?”

“I’m awful. You’re right not to trust me with your secrets.” 

Marinette’s eyebrows scrunched together. “What are you talking about?” 

“I was angry with you and Adrien said something about how you never flaked on him. And I was angry. I may have let it slip that you have a crush on him.” 

Her gaze shot to Adrien. 

“You tom cat!” she mouthed at him. 

He grinned cheekily at her. That’s totally how he figured her out. 

“I’m so sorry, Marinette,” Alya cried. “I had no right to share that even though I was angry.”

“Alya! It’s okay!! I actually have to thank you! Because he just confessed to me, and I asked him out!” 

Adrien’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. 

“No way! Really?! What did he say?” 

“Well… umm… I’m kinda still waiting for an answer,” she said, staring right at him as his lips stretched into a smile. 

“Oh my god! He’s there, isn’t he?! I’ve been trying to get you to confess since forever and you finally do and I’m interrupting! I’m sorry! I’ll just go—”

“No! Don’t go!” Marinette begged. “Adrien can wait! Are we… are we okay?” 

There was a long pause, and Marinette held her breath. 

“I want us to be. And right now, I’m mad enough at myself that I think I could say we are, but if this keeps happening… I don’t know.” 

Marinette squeezed her eyes closed. “I think you’re right to be mad,” she said. “At me, not at yourself. That’s totally fine. I promise!” 

Adrien squeezed her hand in encouragement and she flashed him a smile. “I feel awful for how much I’ve hurt you. I feel absolutely terrible, but I can’t fix it, I can’t explain, and I can’t… I can’t promise it will stop happening.”

Her eyes welled with tears. 

“I actually appreciate your being that honest. Can I ask for one thing?”

“Of course!”  

“Can you just not lie? Just tell me you can’t explain. We can come up with a code word or something.” 

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“Then, I think we’re good. We’ll figure out that part later. Now, go finish your conversation with Adrien!! And then call me later with all the deets!” Alya literally squealed. 

“Okay! Sounds good! I love you!”

“Love you, too! Before I go, can I talk to Adrien for a second?”

“Umm… you’re not gonna give him a shovel talk are you?”

“No no no. Nothing like that!” 

She handed over the phone.

…

“She wants to talk to you.”

Adrien took the phone with more than a little trepidation, knowing he had pissed off Alya himself less than an hour ago. And Alya was someone he knew he didn’t want to piss off. 

“Hello?” he answered. 

“You know her secret, don’t you? Something I said at lunch, helped you put some pieces together.” 

He tensed. Marinette noticed. “She promised no shovel talk!” 

He shook his head, and held up a finger. 

“Umm… what secret?” 

Alya laughed. “Yeah, that’s fair. Can you just do me one favor?”

“Depends on the favor,” he said. 

“Do a better job protecting her secrets than I did?” She asked softly. 

He smiled. “Yeah, I’ll try. Thanks Alya.” 

“Okay, now scat! Don’t leave my girl hanging!” 

He laughed. “Thanks, Alya.” 

The call ended and he held out the phone to Marinette. But she didn’t take it. Instead she just smiled at him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were smiling. 

“You going to answer my question?” 

He grinned, feeling playful. “I don’t know. I distinctly remember you telling Chat Noir that you had feelings for someone else, and Adrien that we couldn’t be in a relationship.” 

“This is payback for all the times I’ve rejected you, isn’t it?”

He pulled her into his arms, and leaned in for a kiss, but he stopped two centimeters from her lips. “I think I could be persuaded.” 

She closed the distance between them. And kissing Marinette was exactly like kissing Ladybug, except better because he could feel the warmth of her hand, and the beating of her heart against his chest. 

Because he didn’t have to be worry about Adrien and Marinette being caught in quite the same way.

“I would absolutely love to go out with you,” he said. “I love you so much, m’lady.”

It felt so good to finally be able to call her that as himself. 

Her cheeks bloomed with pink and she kissed him again. “I love you, too. Can we take a selfie of us kissing?” she asked, grinning. 

“You’re not tired of the picture we already have of us kissing?”

“Honestly, I kinda love that picture,” she admitted. “I might not have chosen to share it with the rest of the world, and I definitely would have preferred they didn’t all feel like they were allowed to ask invasive questions or interpret it however—”

He was never going to stop smiling. He interrupted her with another kiss. He wasn’t actually trying to interrupt or stop her from talking. She was just so pretty, and she had just asked him out, and he was still definitely over the moon. And so he kissed her. 

He took the picture she wanted for her a beat later, but the kiss kept going so he took more. 

When she finally pulled away gasping for air, he held out his phone so she could choose her favorite. 

“This picture can be just for us if you want,” he offered as she swiped through the pictures, picking out her favorites. 

She winced. “And maybe for Alya?” She asked, smiling guiltily. 

“You already sent it to Alya?!” 

He got three texts in rapid succession. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll ask next time.”

He laughed, and pulled her in again. “Is it weird that I’m happy you want to share it instead of keep it a secret?”

She smiled softly, her fingers brushing locks of his hair out of his face.

“No, not weird at all. I’m sorry we had to be a secret before. If I was brave enough to confess as Marinette instead of being creepy with you as Ladybug—”

“Your visits were never creepy!” he objected. “I loved your visits!”

“—maybe we could have had this without the scandal and maybe without the reveal.” 

His heart sank into his gut. “Do you regret that we know now?” 

She shook her head, grinning. “No, probably not. I just— I want you to be safe.” 

“I am Chat Noir,” he reminded her. “I can protect myself.” 

“That almost makes it worse, but yeah, I do feel better.” She grinned, her front teeth were biting down on her lower lip. “I’m super excited that we don’t have to risk being out as Ladybug and Adrien. We can just be Ladybug and Chat. No one will suspect a thing.”

Not a thing! Until they got kissing on camera again, but Adrien wasn’t about to bring that up. 

… 

They lasted a week. A whole seven days without being caught with lips locked. And that was a miracle with how much they had been meeting up to do exactly that. 

But it felt different. 

When reporters came out of the woodwork asking for details, Chat Noir was right there, holding her hand. This time, she denied nothing, and instead she dipped him into a kiss for all the world to see. 

“What softened you towards the cat?” Alya asked her in an interview that Marinette was only too excited to grant her. 

Ladybug giggled. “Honestly? It was how supportive he was when everyone was hounding me over my dalliance with Adrien Agreste. He was so respectful of my boundaries and he defended my right to make decisions in my own life when I knew he had feelings for me.

“That told me he cared more about my happiness than his own and that he would always respect my boundaries. He has already died for me. How could I not fall in love with that?” 

Chat Noir pulled the mic towards himself. 

“Thank you, Adrien Agreste. You truly did me a solid!” 

“Oh my god! Stop!” Ladybug squawked.

The interview dissolved into incoherent  giggles and silliness after that. Alya didn’t cut any of the footage. It was her most popular post to date. 

…

At the end of the day, nothing had changed for Marinette. And yet, everything was different.

Adrien sought out Marinette at school. She didn’t stumble over her words. He actually kissed her and they didn’t have to hide any of it away. 

His knowing her identity didn’t make her flake out on Alya less often, or suddenly stop driving her parents to madness with too many truancies. Ladybug’s fans were still mostly sweet if exhausting. Others were still beyond aggravating.

The difference was Marinette had three people – well, beings might be a better word – that knew her on both sides of the mask.

Tikki was a great listener and gave great advice just as she always had.

Plagg was more fun. He would give into her more frustrated rants or violent fantasies. He would occasionally play mostly harmless pranks on people who were giving her a hard time, which, while childish especially in Tikki’s eyes, always made her feel better.

And Adrien... Adrien understood. He understood the pressure of living up to an impossible ideal, the stress of living a double life, and how being a celebrity could push into your private life. He could listen, he could back up her stories. When they both disappeared they could pretend they were together.

Although it wasn’t really pretending. They were together. Just not hiding or making out in some broom closet like everyone thought.

And with the support and with time, she got better at covering, at telling selective truths instead of outright lies.

Of making it up to her friends in general, and Alya in particular. Of pulling off miracles in her attendance record. Though that may have involved hiring a guy Adrien knew to do some hacking. She earned the best marks ever with access to a study partner who would pull all nighters on rooftops with her though, so she figured it didn’t matter.

Hawkmoth was still at large, but Ladybug was confident that with her partner’s aid, they would hold him at bay for as long as they needed to until they could uncover his identity and recover his stolen miraculous.

Life as a hero and as a celebrity just didn’t feel quite as overwhelming as it had before. 

In fact, Marinette was loving it.

[ransprang]

Tenoch Huerta x fem!reader Narcos (American) AU - N/SFW

You had just been assigned a case to investigate the Narcos in Mexico with your best friend. You both together meant trouble, with a forsaken sense of humour. You two understood each others feelings so when you both were assigned the case together, it was a lot of excitement mixed with the worst ideas of fun a human could come up with.

That’s how, the best romance of your life began. As your plane touched down in Mexico your heart skipped a beat as if it knew what the future held. After a welcoming nights fun the next day you were ready to enter the bureau with your bestie. You two marched forward, and an oak coloured man wearing a dark red shirt tucked in with black pants greeted the two of you “ welcome y/n and b/n…my name is Tenoch and I will be your partner on this case”

You both shook hands with him and got to work. First thing you realised was that the department was a mess and the second thing was that your parents were racists. Now while battling both these sides you saw the worst of your thinking come out. You wanted to be isolated to clean up the department, work hard and get the case on it’s feet, but at the same time you had another goal. To rebel against your parents and show them that they are wrong and to be with a Mexican just to be against them. The strained relationship with your parents brought out the fighter in you, perhaps also the slut.

A few days later the team along with you 3 decided to go to a bar, where you decided to tell b/n about your situation over drinks and suddenly you saw an unexpected reaction. They were angry at you, you were scared for the first time. “How can you constantly over complicate your life haven’t you had enough?” They screamed at the top of their lungs outside the bar. From inside, the team and Tenoch spectated discussing what the 2 people could be fighting about. B/n stormed off into the distance as you walked in with a embarrassed smile as everyone stared “well I’m sure I needed a few more drinks before dealing with that” you cracked on making light of the situation.

Tenoch decided to walk you home that night as he asked all concerned “what was that about? Couldn’t be about the Narcos”, you looked at him “well I’m going to be completely honest…”

In a blink of an eye -

You two were laying naked next to one another on the bed, he said in a hoarse voice “well that crosses one of your goals out” you turned your head towards him “yeah I guess it does…”. He got up while discussing the case casually and wore his clothes. You felt happy that you did this but at the same time a sinking feeling in your heart persisted. “Alright y/n see you at 8am tomorrow!” He said while walking to the door, “8am?!! You’re leaving at 2 am! That’s not fair” you spitted back. As he closed the door behind him to go start his bike he nonchalantly waved you goodbye with a sly smile.

You had feelings for your partner at work, Tenoch Huerta. This was unironically caused by your parents. The next day at work you faced your best friend again, they weren’t angry anymore and apologised for their behaviour last night. You felt relieved but now you had gotten yourself into another mess. Without realising you pursed your lips as they said “you do not over complicate things, sorry for saying that”, they shot you an eyebrow and asked now what… “I slept with…t…enoch” -“YOU WHAT?!” They screamed, making everyone in their cabins look at you both including Tenoch himself. You two were garnering a reputation to yourselves.

Over the next few weeks you and Tenoch casually kept hooking up and acting like nothing happened the next day, as your bestie shot you dirty looks at work. Till one day he went out with his friends on a fine Friday evening. You went home and all you could think about how he had sex with you and now could be doing the very same with someone else. It was a lurching feeling in your stomach, as you laid in your bed for hours at the verge of tears. Why were you feeling so strongly, why were you even hurting? This was all a ploy to be rebellious against your parents.

As the clock struck 12am, a few moments later you heard a man scream your name from the street outside. You went to the window and saw Tenoch drunk, fumbling by his bike calling out to you. You quickly ran down and got him up the stairs to your apartment. “Y/n I love….y..ou” he slurred out as he leaned in for a kiss. You leaned back without realising and then suddenly pushed him away “you’re drunk Tenoch go to bed.” You threw him on your bed and put the covers on him.

The next day he had some explaining to do, but you didn’t mind any of it, In fact you couldn’t stop smiling. He could tell, this was your way of saying I love you back. You both spent the weekend together, simply in each others company. On Monday your bestie could instantly tell something was up, but they knew it was for the better this time.

Your cocaina,

Admin Sav

[tea-is-at-8-pm]

ABOUT THE EGO OF AZIRAPHALE, THE VISION IN BLACK AND WHITE. (The superiority of heaven)

Let's clear some things up for my heart's sake.

We had a kiss. A remarkably uncomfortable and sad one because he is not fully reciprocated, and it must be said that Michael Sheen has a very marked acting ability in the minutiae of an expression. Let me explain: in his roles, he places a conscious emphasis on movements, especially on the face, they are fluid and congruent in a way that looks very thoughtful. The Aziraphale character seemed to have this potential from the first season. Now, in the second there was an overflow. The way Aziraphale immediately looks at the door and the window right after the kiss is heartbreaking. If we think about how Crowley genuinely thought Zira was "very pure of heart", there's a lot to it that Aziraphale's face doesn't just reflect confusion. He's not an angel used to this apparently. Crowley spoke to him clearly for the first time, in more than 6000 years in which we know he was completely infatuated with him, Of course the sudden approach must have been a shock, Aziraphale responded to the act of speaking with a, probably more than difficult "I need you", taking into account his pride. That pride that is there when not only does he not want to continue talking to Crowley and he is resigned and strong when saying "there is nothing left to say", but when he puts his hardest face when saying "I forgive you", when he touches his lips and makes his face more firm to receive Metatron, or even since he got mad at Crowley for not helping him with Gabriel from the first chapter. That proud Aziraphale that we already know and who is manipulative to some extent, unaware of the problems he has as an angel and which he faces only when he thinks he has done wrong. That pride arises from the same insecurity of being insufficient for heaven. Being on Earth, and with Crowley, it was obvious that he would have to be even more insufficient. I think Crowley understands that. And I think he also understands himself in this way and not just the corruption and toxicity of heaven when he assures him that he understands everything better than Zira does.

Crowley understanding Zira's insecurities shows a side to him that Angel himself lacks and that we understood a little better when, in this season, we saw Aziraphale being insensitive with the less fortunate people, as if he did not understand the capabilities of their choices for their privileges. Crowley gets it very quickly. They have been on Earth for the same time and both have lived with humans a lot, but even so, Zira does not see these things. His ego prevents him, his ability to think about the whole paradigm is very distorted and isolated. Crowley helps him, understand it, so Crowley also distinguishes problems that Zira doesn't, like in 1941, like with the demons outside the bookstore...

Now, I must emphasize very much that Aziraphale is not, because he has a very high ego, a "bad angel", in fact we know that his will is the best, and because of that delicate or weak construction of his mental structures with respect to other people's experiences, even Crowley's own, Zira doesn't realize anything. He doesn't know why he is unhappy in satisfying heaven, he doesn't know what's wrong with enjoying certain things, he doesn't even understand how he looks through Crowley's eyes, and when he realized that he fell in love with him, in 1941, it was not because he understood that Crowley wanted him safe, nor because he realized that he cared enough to give him the miracle of books. It is because of a full individual response to feeling authentically understood. Understood in the tastes that it took so long to learn to tolerate in himself for the freedom of the earth, some without guilt, such as literature. We don't have to judge Zira for this. A large number of people find it difficult to understand the world through the eyes of others, due to a lack of the skills that give extroversion, the chance of upbringing or pure personality. And out of pride, for not understanding that heaven may not be perfect because it is cemented down to the bones that are the representation of good and light, even when they are blatantly corrupt, he he does not have a clear perception of the movements of a heaven that still seems to want war. Metatron himself wanted the war to happen, his authority seems to reveal that he is not even in direct contact with God... Aziraphale is that angel who still believes in magic and who, knowing that heaven must be perfect, fueled by the recognition they ultimately give him, he believes that he should and has the responsibility to fix everything. He cannot understand his place and will cling to what he believes that by strong customs and perceptions or prejudices of heaven and hell, is the right thing.

Crowley thinks that Aziraphale is pure, understanding that he believes him to be innocent. Crowley understands that the angel's pride does not come from evil, he would not attribute it to the eyes of a lover not to realize it, Crowley knows about his pride, his insecurities, all of that, and knows that the origin of this is not bad, that it comes from some good heavenly intention to be useful and good.

That's why it hurts so much that, from that place that is good for Aziraphale, perfection, he can't love Crowley.

Aziraphale continues to aim upwards in his goals and Crowley simply understands that his ultimate goal is to defend and be emissaries and representatives of humanity, always being together. Of course, Crowley knows that he loves Zira, for much longer than he probably wants to admit. This would help to understand what Viktor Frankl would call "the ultimate end", love. It is easy for him to fall in love with someone for whom he also has a congenital admiration, which perhaps is not the case because Crowley despises heaven in its simplest meaning, and he denies God's will as unknown, fickle, and apparently full of favoritism. On the other hand, Zira won't love Crowley until he understands the "shade of gray", that exist in heaven, hell or God himself. Until Zira accepts that his total structure and idiosyncrasy is based on an unfair image of heaven, and understands hell as an unfortunate but almost random place, and in which good angels fell for asking questions, in which angels capable of loving and doing good reside, not as Crowley's Aziraphale presumes, but as acts that do not inherently belong to Angels and therefore, nothing to do with heaven, he will be able to love Crowley as he (and I add this because I want him to be happy) deserves it.

So Zira's expressions can be understood as a sad pain of somehow loving a demon that doesn't want to be saved, and for that reason, may be unworthy. Still we know Zira adore him, but it is not enough. Crowley understands that it is not enough because perhaps he had not realized how deeply Aziraphale still believes in good and bad without making distinctions. They showed us how difficult it is for Zira to accept the lesser evil in Chapter 3.

Imagine that even after 6000 years someone who knows you well, whom you love, continues to believe that, because of your origin, you are unworthy, and your only redeeming qualities come from heaven, that tried to kill him before! Of course Crowley is heartbroken! Of course Aziraphale is afraid and certainly of course Zira needs to understand all this all alone. It also pains me to believe that Zira doesn't understand why Crowley rejected him, and continues to reject heaven. He doesn't understand and he doesn't want to understand, and if Crowley had told him how he felt when Gabriel told him, thinking he was Aziraphale, to shut his stupid mouth and die already, maybe he would have understood... But of course, Crowley doesn't talk about this. It's one of the issues they couldn't address now that they were "getting serious." I bet it hurts Crowley just to mention it.

I understand Aziraphale more than I want to. Because he is a very naive idealist. And he doesn't want to miss the opportunity to just do good. He unfortunately dragged us the moral superiority of him by trying.

So... to hell everything, to heaven or wherever else .

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Fed - a Magnus Archives fanfic

So. This was just what it was, now. Hardly the first time in my life I’d faced challenges, gray morality, and a strange situation in which I wasn’t precisely trapped, but all my other options were worse than the one I was considering.

It was heavy. Too heavy.

“Take a moment,” said Spider Martin. “Looks like you need it.”

I eyed him. “Reading my thoughts?”

“No, your face. It’s quite expressive. Whatever you’re thinking about, it’s clearly a lot?”

I hated his blue eyes.

That wasn’t his fault. Something about him just made me remember how I had watched him die.

(Then is your Martin really your Martin?)

Yes. Shut up. I couldn’t… That was not a box we were opening this afternoon.

Spoilers for the whole show. This is post-MAG 200.

Part four of the Magnus Monsterverse AU.

AO3

--------

The fog took me, and as if I’d spent a thousand years there instead of my own metamorphosis, I immediately succumbed.

It wasn’t even conscious: just a completion, a sense of self and no other, an aching, longing magnificence that hurt like pure joy, flooding through me. I think I cried out. I might have come. I definitely wept.

This place… oh. Oh. I ate it up. It ate it up. We ate it up, together. There was such strange joy in me. It was such a wondrously terrible new thing. It drank it in, and I drank it in, and I may have cried out again, because this time, he answered.

“I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m here.” And Martin pulled me in, shocking in his there-ness, his solidity, his presence, the very miracle of his existence.

He was the only thing that was real, and We loved it that way.

I clung to him and cried. I could not get close enough. I never could, not ever; it would never be enough, and I embraced that, painted my body, rolled my eyes back in my head to bask in its glorious void.

He breathed deeply, slowly, and his heart beat strong. “It was you,” he said. “While I was in the waves, it was you, missing you, thinking of you, grieving you… that’s what did it. That’s what powered everything.”

And suddenly, I saw.

Saw him in strange, wild waves, surfacing to stare at a gray sky that matched his eyes.

Saw that he rarely surfaced. He spent most of his time under, in the broad, booming silence, the current pulling him along, far from everyone and everything. The isolation under pressure; the magnificence of loneliness in a world with other living things—

He rejoiced in his pain, felt he deserved it—but it didn’t last.

“They died,” he whispered, and tears kissed his cheeks, so I kissed them off.

He felt them dying; felt the people—so far away their absence made him ache—winking out like lights.

Martin breathed in the water (and I did with him) and mourned and lost.

And when it happened, and all were gone, his god fed on him.

Because of me.

“It was you,” he whispered. “Missing you was… it became everything. I missed you so much that I…”

He lost himself.

I could look up at him, now, and saw him like burning mist, saw his perfect eyes with limbal rings I could tumble into and drown.

“When they found me…” He swallowed. “When Tim leaned through the door of fire that Maneula somehow got him to make and found me, I didn’t know his name. I knew his face, but it just made me cry.”

I understood that. I knew I’d cry when I met him, too. I was sure he still hadn’t forgiven me.

“When they came, I fought them. I thought that if they took me away from here, I’d lose missing you. That’s bonkers, isn’t it?”

“No,” I said.

He touched my lips. His eyes were wide. “What?”

“No,” I repeated.

He looked stunned. “You’re in my silence. You can’t speak.”

Oh. I felt what he meant; he had this weird, Lonely power, this silence he could enforce, but, I—ah. “Yes, I can.” I knew how to talk.

Martin still stared. He looked spooked. “We… we should go back.”

I’d scared him. That would not do, so I kissed him instead.

He made a sound and responded, clutching me, his blazing eyes sliding shut. Color washed his cheeks, and as it did, we became real.

The fog vanished as if eaten by summer sun. We stood together in our apartment block, in the central courtyard, under blue spring sky, in sight of all the windows.

We both breathed hard, shudders trembling through us like aftershocks.

“What did you do?” he whispered.

“I kissed you,” I said, still dazed. “Was I not supposed to?”

“You… you became the Lonely,” said Martin. “You were the Lonely. You… I don’t understand.”

Eh?

What?

Eh?

“I what?”

“Hey, kiddos,” said Mike, coming out from the same building I lived in. “We’re heading out to get a bite. Want to come?”

We had no time for this. We had to deal with what just happened. We—

Oh. Behind him came a rogue’s gallery.

That was Michael Shelley. Right behind him came Helen Richardson, scowling.

There was Arthur Nolan—an angry, angry man, made worse because there were two of him in a row. They had not bothered to be anything but identical.

Sarah Baldwin came out beside Jane Prentiss, both of them chattering away about something called Brother Love I’d never heard of.

(The Eye dropped three seasons’ worth of this bizarre forbidden-love-among-the-cloisters “reality” show into my head. Thanks. You shouldn’t have.)

(Drama! It happily tremored at me.)

I stared at the lot of them, frozen. So many of them had tried to kill me, or been part of my torment. My actions had led to their deaths, as well—and some of them, I’d never even seen in the light of day.

I made a small noise. I don’t know what it was. Some panicked thing.

“I've got you,” said Martin. “It's okay. They’re not going to hurt you.”

I couldn’t believe that.

They greeted Martin with smiles, though no touches, no personal space invasions (and I could appreciate that). Me, however… no one seemed to know what to do with. They eyed me. Jane stared. Michael tilted his head. Helen rolled her eyes.

“We going, or what?” snapped Nolan One with all the grace of a bulldozer. “I’m fuckin’ hungry,” said Nolan Two.

“I think we should initiate our new friend and make him join,” said Mike Crew.

Sarah Baldwin laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. “He looks like a scared rabbit.”

“He’s fine,” said Martin.

Was this happening? This was happening. “You’re going?” I said to Martin.

He looked grim. “We should.”

He was trying not to be lonely. Trying so hard.

I would never get in the way of that. “I’ll go, sure,” I said, staring at Jane (whose skin boasted numerous scars, even more than my own, but no sign of worms just yet). “I, uh. I’m Jon. Hi.” So graceful. My face burned.

Jane grinned, stretching her scars. "Hi."

Helen laughed. As she did, her face shifted; she was still Helen, still herself, but she’d changed, like distortion through glass. “Hi, Jon. I’m Helen.”

Michael tilted his head further. Too far. Smiling in an utterly banal manner. "Archivist."

“I… yes. It’s weird to see you both at the same time.”

They just looked at me.

(It was thrilled. If I could have shrunk small enough to hide in Martin’s pocket, I would have, and It loved my misery.)

“Oh, I like this one,” said Michael. “You’re much less human than before.”

“Ah. Well,” I said. “That’s true, I suppose.”

“Still a prick,” said Helen.

“Hey,” I protested.

“From what I recall,” said Martin, “you were the one so obsessed with him that you wanted to keep him in your corridors until everybody else he ever knew died so you could have him all to yourself.”

And everyone turned to stare at her.

Helen’s dark cheeks blushed darker. “Well. Desperate times, and all that.”

Michael cracked up.

Crew followed, and Sarah, and soon everyone was laughing, even the Nolans—and it wasn’t a bad laugh, it really was not, but I felt no better.

“We’ve all come a long way,” said Jane.

“Archivist,” said Michael. “Come to us. Join us. Let us see your skill.”

“My what?”

“We’re, uh. We… can you guys go ahead? We’ll meet you at the curb.”

“Ooh,” said Nolan One, low. “Somebody hasn’t been told about the birds and the bees yet.”

“Be nice,” said Sarah, and swatted his arm.

Nolan Two bared his teeth at her.

“Sure,” said Crew, and gestured to them all. They all walked on, continuing their conversations or lack thereof.

Michael winked at me over his shoulder, then loudly said to Helen, “So what did that feel like, all trapped inside you?”

“Kill me now,” I muttered, covering my face.

Martin kissed my forehead. He’d lost just a shade of the color he’d had, but seemed to be holding steady. “So. Here’s how this works. We go and meet at a pre-set point in the city. Then we, uh. He gives us a list of people.”

I looked up slowly. “To what end?”

He just looked back.

“To what? To… to feed on?”

“It’s that, or we feed the Fears through ourselves—and something about us, about what we were at the ends of our worlds means that if we let them feed on us, we supercharge them. We could end it here all over again. So we don’t do that. Instead, we… Annabelle calls it ‘hummingbirds.’”

Flitting from person to person, sipping the nectar of fear. “So it’s all even less stable than Leitner said. This is horrible.”

“It’s not that bad. The people we see don’t even realize it’s happening, usually—we keep it light. Besides, we don’t do it to nice people.”

My look was dry.

“I mean it, Jon. People who hurt animals. That sort of thing.”

“A lot of those in London, are there?”

“You’d be surprised. There’s less fear in this world in general; it’s less spread out, so it’s potent. We only need a little.”

“This is insane. You know that, right? You must see it. This is lunacy.”

“It’s surviving. Which is a choice.”

Oh, how I hated that, but I understood. I knew. I got it. We could all do the world a favor and die, but none of us truly wanted to. Or at least… knew we should not want that. How did one judge the worth of a life? The risk of that life doing wrong? At what point could I or anyone say, you’re too dangerous to live because of what you might do?

“You’re right,” I whispered.

“It's going to be okay. I promise. Come on and join us today.” His smile was small, but real. “Keeps you from going crazy.”

And I knew that was true for him.

And I knew it was true for them.

And I knew it was not true for me.

Something weird was happening here. Or I was delusional.

Or maybe It was lying to me, wanting me so hungry I would make a mistake.

(I knew, though: It could not lie.)

“I’ll join you,” I said, softly. “But I swear, if I see actual innocent people being… being…”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I trust the people we’re working with.”

“Web.” I clenched my jaw. (Were my teeth made of eyes, too? Calcified, maybe?)

“I don’t expect you to be there right away,” he said, and kissed my forehead again. “I don’t expect you to adjust to all this quickly. But I hope you can at least trust me.”

I stared. “That is a hell of a thing to leverage, Martin.”

“It’s that important. I wouldn’t just say that, you know.”

I did know. “You’re really serious about this.”

“I need you so much.” It was a whisper. “I’ll do anything I have to do in order to keep you from… burning out, or getting devoured by your stupid Eye, or falling afoul of the hunters.”

“Hunters?” I said.

“Later.”

We were growing quite a pile of things to talk about later. “All right. All right. I’ll come with you. Show me, Martin. I trust you.”

So help me, he regained some of his color as we walked out of the courtyard to join the others, who’d waited by the curb.

#

I had never been good with groups of people.

The theater group in which I met Georgie (and through her, gained at least some social skills) had helped a little.

The Magnus Institute Library employees, of whom I was merely one of many, also helped—I could tag along without pressure, camouflaged by their gregariousness.

The Archives… that group was considerably less comfortable because I felt like it was all on me.

It wasn’t. I know that now, but my promotion went straight to my head, and not in a confident way. I’d felt immediately underqualified and out of place, and wondered daily why the hell I’d accepted the position.

I knew now. I could not have refused. I didn’t know that, then. I’m not sure that understanding would have helped, either.

Still, the social aspect of things had only meant stress. To this day, I did not recall going to Martin’s birthday party and rambling about emulsions while eating rum and raisin ice cream. The Eye did not give me that memory back. I knew it happened only because Tim and Martin and Sasha had never stopped teasing me over it. Very funny, really.

(Tim. Sasha. Oh, gods…)

(Right, Archive, focus, you’re all right, they’re here now—)

(Jon. Dear lord. Focus, Jon.)

So I was obviously in a good head space for something like this.

“So you’re really Jon,” said Jane Prentiss, and something that wasn’t a tongue moved in her mouth as she spoke.

I choked a little. “Y… yeah. Hi.”

“Huh. I killed you in my world,” she said.

“I’m hearing that a lot today,” I muttered.

She smiled, and dear gods, her teeth were squirming. “I’m glad they found you. I wanted to apologize.”

“To… wh… why?”

“Well, it wasn’t really you I was mad at. It was your Eye.”

“Oh.”

Her grin made it more awkward, not less; she stepped closer. “You smell delicious, by the way.”

“Martin,” I said in a tiny, pitiful voice.

“Jane, come on, be nice,” said Martin, pulling me closer.

She laughed and backed away.

“Did everybody here kill me?” I whispered.

“Not all of them, but, uh. Possibly most?”

Fuck.

We walked past the park and into the city. It was clean; the vehicles genuinely were all electric. I saw no one who seemed down on their luck, either, which was bizarre.

What kind of idealized place was this? And what, exactly, was the hidden underside?

They were all talking, and because I have terrible timing, I decided this was the moment to whisper to Martin, “What did you mean by, ‘don’t you try to take my choices and blame yourself for them?’”

He stiffened. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“All right. I can wait.”

“Liar.”

I laughed. “I am not lying.”

“You can’t wait to find out,” he teased.

Gods, I wanted to kiss him. “I may have learned a little patience in a thousand years.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he challenged.

I grinned, but before I could respond, he spoke.

No. Another him spoke.

“Right,” said his voice, but it wasn’t him, and I turned slowly to find the other Martin waiting for us all on the corner.

The moment I saw him in the light of day, I knew: this Martin was Web.

Completely Web, all the way through; his smile was perfect, and his stance, and the way he shifted his weight and barely met other people’s eyes and laughed easily.

It was completely fake, and I could see it, and I felt like my skin was going to crawl right off my bones. Or whatever I had under there. Eye-bones.

He seemed to know, and he stopped to stare at me. For one moment, when I met his eyes, they were dead. Flat. Dull. There in place to hide the spiders behind them, utterly without anything resembling emotion or true life.

Then he was just Martin (so similar to my Martin, or… no. What Martin had been before everything), and smiling at everybody. “I’ve got all kinds of assignments for you today,” he said, handing out Post-It notes.

“Sure, but did you account for our latest acquisition?” said Nolan One.

Sarah Baldwin barked a laugh, and Jane elbowed her.

“I did!” said Spider Martin happily. “Jon? It’s okay if I call you Jon, right? You’re starting out with me today.” He approached me.

Don’t reach for the Eye, I told myself. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

On my bright green Post-It was Martin’s flowing script with two addresses and the instructions, 1:30pm Martin B.; 3:00pm Mike C. “What?” I said.

“Why?” said my Martin.

“Because we’ve all got split shifts, and it seems like a good idea to help Jon get along with everybody?” said Spider Martin. “His second will be with Mike.”

“Not fair,” said my Martin, but without anguish.

Spider Martin shrugged. “It’s the best one for this afternoon. Trust me on this.”

Everyone seemed to accept this with ease. Great. They were all drinking the arachnidian Kool-Aid.

“Can I get him next time?” said Michael.

Spider Martin beamed. “Yes! Jane after that.”

“Yipee!” said Michael.

“What is happening right now?” I said.

“I think you’re popular?” said my Martin.

I did not feel popular.

“Shall we?” said Spider Martin.

“I don’t even know what we’re doing. I don’t understand. I don’t—”

My Martin cupped my cheek, turned me to him, and kissed me. Lingering. Slow. A delicate tasting of lips and tongue, a gentle whisper of love and attention, a promise. “You’ll be fine,” he murmured.

“I don’t have a box for any of this,��� I murmured back. “And I think my label maker is broken.”

Martin laughed. “Your label maker of doom?”

“Something like that.”

He nuzzled me. “See you in a little bit.”

And he pulled away, paired up with Sarah Baldwin. (Stranger—and if she did anything to him, I would…)

(Would what? Would what? I didn’t know. Something terrible. Something…)

“I don’t bite,” said Spider Martin.

I looked at him.

Martin’s smile. Martin’s face. Martin’s body. No—Martin’s skin. I could feel he was crawling on the inside.

I turned away. Whatever happened to him was done. He wasn’t mine, never had been. I still wanted to react. Violently. As if to his murder.

“I’m not dead, you know,” he said.

“Yes, you are,” I whispered.

“No more than Annabelle. I know—or I’m pretty sure, anyway—that you’ll struggle with this, but I chose this path. I did. I’m happy with it, too.”

“You ended your world.”

“Pot, kettle?”

I swallowed. “Knowing I did wrong hardly exonerates you.”

“We didn’t really get to know you in my world,” said Spider Martin. “You caught up with Darren and took the book back right at Mister Spider’s front door.”

Darren. That’s what the bully’s name was. “Did I?”

“Yeah. You died pretty quickly. Your mind snapped before they could get much fear out of you, so there wasn’t a point to dragging it out.”

I turned to stare at him.

“There you are!” he said cheerily. “Your eyes were brown originally, weren’t they?”

“They were. And yours should be green.”

He beamed. “Naw.”

“Naw?”

“Blue tends to be trusted more easily. It’s racially offensive, and largely due to media influence, but there you go.”

I stared harder.

“Would you rather me pretend to be something I’m not?” he asked, putting genuine curiosity into it.

“No,” I said quietly. “I… it’s a nightmare. This. Is all.”

“Because you think it’s losing someone.”

“It is.”

“No. The Stranger—that’s losing someone. A weird ingestion and rebirth like the Distortion—that’s losing someone. This?” He gestures at himself. “This isn’t losing someone any more than you were lost.”

I wasn’t sure I hadn't been lost.

He smiled so easily. “Come on. Let me show you how this works. You’ll think better when fed,” he said, as harmless and bright as a children’s mascot.

I was already fed. Somehow. But I didn’t want to try to get into it. “Lead the way, I suppose.” Everyone else had already paired off and left. “Do you always assign partners?”

“And areas, yes. We wouldn’t want to cause harm, and the buddy system helps prevent that.”

I snorted.

“It’s true! Your Beholding might lack the ability to consider consequences, but surely you don’t think we do.”

“What, the Web has a stance against overfishing?”

“Yes! Exactly so. We didn’t even mean to end the world when we did. We’re significantly more careful now to avoid it ever happening again.”

“How did it happen, then?”

(The Eye offered to show me. I refused.)

“Get to know me a little bit better, and I’ll tell you.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to get to know him better, but I also didn’t feel like I had a choice.

In silence, he led me north, past old buildings I sort of knew, past silent cars I’d never imagined, past lovely boutiques and pubs with a distinct lack of loud music or voices coming from them.

I’d never seen a London like this. I had no idea how to feel about it.

Neither did It, and the drive to know why this was so grew in me with anticipatory joy like a child looking forward to their birthday.

I couldn’t blame It. This was absolutely unexpected. The differences in history must have been significant.

“How did your world end, anyway?” said Spider Martin. “You hardly have to tell me, of course, but I rather thought you’d prefer we hear your understanding over Manuela’s.”

I really needed to meet this woman. “And how the hell would she even know anything?”

“Same way she found you.” We turned a corner, and finally there was sound—a busker, just beginning to tune his violin. “She calculates things. Honestly, if she weren’t so firmly entrenched in the Eye, she'd have made a lovely sister.”

I stopped walking. “She’s Eye?”

“That she is. It was her desire to see more and know every world that had her prepared and able to escape when the time came.”

I couldn’t imagine Manuela Dominguez as Eye. “Then she didn’t build a Dark Sun. She didn’t hole up at Ny-Ålesund. She didn’t try to summon Mister Pitch.”

“Not her. Some of her alternates, yes, but they’re secondaries. She’s Prime.”

“Prime?”

“The first one of her kind rescued. In her case, the actual rescuer, too.” Martin produced paper money from his pocket.

It wasn’t a design I’d ever seen. “May I?”

“Of course.” He handed it over.

It was a ten-pound banknote. Julius Caesar glowered on the front of it, stern and uncompromising. The bill itself was cornflower blue; intricate guilloche in a gradient from orange to purple subtly deepened the design, and it bore such phrases as The Bank of Holy England and Toward the Greatest Empire.

Damn. I really needed to get hold of some history books.

(The Eye offered to show me how this banknote existed. How it had been designed. What the phrases meant. Why a long-dead Roman emperor decorated the front. No, I told It, firm and tamping down my need. Let me find out on my own.)

This delighted It. The joy of discovery through me was apparently worth the wait.

“What did money look like where you came from?” said Spider Martin.

“Do you actually care?” I drawled.

“Inasmuch as I’m trying to establish a decent working relationship with you, yes, I absolutely do.”

“Then surely you know telling me things is more valuable than asking.”

“What do you think I've been doing?” said Spider Martin. “We are here to pay that man over there to play ‘The Outlandish Knight,’ which he associates with a past girlfriend, with whom he associates the feeling of being trapped and controlled, and playing it makes him afraid he’ll never get free. Thus, shall I be fed. And you, my dear Archivist, merely need to watch him—because he’ll feel very, very watched, and thus shall you be fed.”

I frowned. “And he deserves this, does he?”

“In revenge against that girlfriend, he poisoned her cat.”

“He what?” Well, now I was furious.

Which (calm down, Jon) was probably on purpose. It was calculated.

“He did,” said Spider Martin. “What happened to him wasn’t nice, but he isn’t very nice, either.”

“Did the cat… die?”

“No, fortunately, though it did go blind.”

I clenched my jaw. Anger against this random man tempted. (Easy, Jon. Easy.) “If you’re lying to me, we’re going to have a problem.”

Spider Martin looked at me. “Jon, I’m not stupid enough to lie to you. You could just see it. If I lie, it’ll undo any attempts to build trust between us. All right?”

That… made sense. “All right. Why do you want to work with me, then?”

“Because we all need to work together. All of us. We’re unique in all the world, and we have a challenging existence. We need each other to keep each other balanced and prevent the world from ending again.”

Damn, but it was all logical. “Why did you call me Archivist a moment ago?”

“Because that’s what you are—and I suspected it would be easier to think of eating a bit of this man’s fear with that reminder.”

This honesty was refreshing. Maybe a little too refreshing. It was all calculated, every bit of it.

But then, it was calculated because it would be effective, and I couldn’t fault him for trying to be effective. Web was just… so disturbing about it, which was the entire point. “Will this mark him?”

“No. We’re getting a taste, caring for ourselves, but not doing enough harm to mark anyone. Most of them don’t even remember it happened after; they just shrug it off.”

I exhaled shakily.

So. This was just what it was, now. Hardly the first time in my life I’d faced challenges, gray morality, and a strange situation in which I wasn’t precisely trapped, but all my other options were worse than the one I was considering.

It was heavy. Too heavy.

“Take a moment,” said Spider Martin. “Looks like you need it.”

I eyed him. “Reading my thoughts?”

“No, your face. It’s quite expressive. Whatever you’re thinking about, it’s clearly a lot?”

I hated his blue eyes.

That wasn’t his fault. Something about him just made me remember how I had watched him die.

(Then is your Martin really your Martin?)

Yes. Shut up. I couldn’t… That was not a box we were opening this afternoon. No.

Maybe not ever.

“If you’re really not ready, it’s okay,” said Spider Martin. “Last thing I want to do is upset you.”

“Sure. Because I’m so dangerous compared to the lot of you.”

“You are, actually.” Spider Martin shrugged.

I rolled my eyes. “No, I’m really not. I can hardly damage anyone the way I could at the end of my world, and I was nothing but a punching bag before that.”

He tilted his head. “Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s not what we—oh, pardon.” He took out his phone.

“Not what you what?”

Spider Martin’s eyes went wide. “Shit,” he said. “Keep up!” And he turned and ran.

Spider Martin could move. That was not at all how my Martin ran, not at all his body language or motion or mobility, and the smooth, loping speed of it was freakishly comforting compared to the mask of the one I loved.

I ran after him.

#

Fun fact: being made of eyes and/or light beams made me better at running than I would have guessed.

I mean. I wasn’t good at it. But I also didn’t run out of breath, or stumble, both of which would have been the case before.

I kept up with Spider Martin, who I swear was running with the use of six extra invisible legs, and that was no small thing.

“What is it?” I called at his back.

“Get ready for a fight!” he said.

“A fight? A fight with wh-”

I saw.

Hunters, Martin had said.

Nolan Two on the ground with smoke pouring out of his chest instead of blood.

Nolan One behind a car flipped onto its side, unable to stick his head around it at all because of—

What was—

What WAS that, that was—

I couldn’t understand what I saw. Purple, green, wisps of things like tentacles, not solid, and yet they were, punching holes into that car, not just reaching around it but building Nolan’s fear, and—

We turned the corner at the same time as Mike Crew and Helen Richardson, and everyone acted at once.

Coordinated? No. They’d just done this before.

Helen distorted into a tall and mutated and terrible thing and dropped straight into the sidewalk—and at the same time, a yellow door opened beneath Nolan Two, and he fell out of sight.

(I couldn’t see the attacker. I needed to see it.)

Mike bared his teeth—a horrifying look, actual anger, which he had not shown with me the day he threw me into the sky—and gestured.

Lightning struck.

Struck… what?

(I couldn’t see it! I needed to see it!)

Mike couldn’t see it, either; he struck where those tendrils were coming from, the central invisible knot of them, but evidently did not hit it, because now, it threw tendril-attacks at him. He moved, guessing as much (he could not see them, I knew he could not), staying out of the way of whatever it was punching holes where he’d been.

Spider Martin picked up another car and threw it.

That one connected; the car hit something, but was not enough to stop it, and more tendrils shot out toward Mike and Spider Martin.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. My eyes burned, my head throbbed—I couldn’t see it, I had to see it, I needed to see—

Michael grabbed me and pulled me into a yellow door in a wall just as one of those purple-green tendrils slammed into the sidewalk where I’d been, cracking it, penetrating below the concrete.

The Corridors. So familiar. I knew this well.

“No!” I cried, throwing myself at the door.

“Easy, Archivist,” said Michael, right up behind me, long hands draping over my shoulders to pull me back. “You aren’t ready to deal with them.”

“No! I need to see it! I need to see it!”

“Archivist,” Michael thrummed at me. “You’ll make your Martin cry.”

Martin?

Martin.

I stopped, gripping the door handle. “I… I need to… see it?”

“You will be hurt. Maybe killed. That would be terrible.”

He did not sound like it would be terrible.

I shook. “I couldn’t see it. Michael. Please. I have to see it. I have to try.”

He sighed. “Silly Archivist. As you wish.” He reached past me, all around me, and opened the door.

We were on a nearby roof, and I could look down and see.

I looked.

Looked.

(Use me, It beckoned.)

And I did.

My vision opened as it had not since I arrived here, and I saw.

Connected it was all connected

Powers like the Fears but different

All through this world every living thing everyone was marked or

Not marked something like marked already connected

Connected it was all

The thing

There

A person but not

It was three persons in one

Three of them together standing there strange dark bodysuit a gas mask

No hands

No hands only those tendrils sprouting from their arms, tendrils which now seemed so solid

Each of them moving independently (three person in there, three minds to work them) trying actively to kill us all

To kill the Nolans the Mike the Helen the

I saw, and as I did, I broke the attacker apart.

I didn't even mean to. I just saw it for what it truly was, and made reality real.

One second, it was invisible, impossible to harm, its tendrils unseen by the others. The next it stood there, a person in a weird suit—and it shuddered, and then it was three. They exploded apart, splitting the uniform and popping the gas mask like a hatched egg in rapid-time.

And now, the others could see them. Could see three naked people on the sidewalk, gasping, shuddering, heads down, vomiting.

Nolan, Mike, and Helen surged in without hesitation, all at once.

I looked away, swaying, gasping.

Michael kept me from falling off the roof. He looked amazed. “What did you do?”

Fed.

I was so fed.

I felt rich with it, blissful, drugged. Absolutely relaxed and warm and tingling to the edges of every inch of my form.

Sirens. Coming.

“Time to go!” said Michael, pulling me back through his yellow door.

The Corridors did their thing, and I felt it, and floated in it, and spun and flew and was.

Michael cried out.

So did I. We became colors and swirling paint, flowing out of the drain against gravity in beauty and madness and bliss. And then—

#

I woke up.

I was back in my little bed in my gray apartment. My hair was wet; I smelled of soap. My heart pounded. (Benign essential blepharospasm, perhaps?)

Martin was next to me, asleep. I stared at my boring popcorn ceiling.

Had that… happened?

Next to me, on the nightstand, was a bright green Post-It note with handwriting I didn’t know. It said, Jon. We need to talk.—JL

Leitner.

Sure. Sure, we could talk. Fuck if I knew about what, though because I had no idea what had occurred.

It was four twenty-two in the morning. Martin slept. Leitner could wait.

I watched Martin, trying to understand (had I slept? If so, it was the first time in a thousand years), trying to parse what I’d seen and what I’d done.

The Eye did not help me because It could not. It didn’t know, either, and that frightened me more than anything else I’d seen.

------

NOTES

He's like a shammy; he's like a towel; he's like a sponge! A regular towel doesn't work wet, but Jon works wet or dry. Holds 12 times his weight in trauma!

[grayintogreen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Hello, hello. Since there won't be an update for a bit, I COME BEARING GIFTS. A little snippet from the unfortunately massive Chapter Seventeen, featuring the Tether Twins.

“I don’t like him,” Molly snapped as he stalked side by side with Lucien through the Firmaments. The perpetual night meant always being in Catha’s glow no matter what the time and it should have made every trip out bliss for him, but Essek’s shadow seemed to hang over everything, leaving him constantly vigilant, like the Shadowhand fully intended to pick them all off to isolate them from Caleb, whom he seemed to have the most interest in.

“Careful,” Lucien said, biting into a sweet plum he’d managed to talk a fruit vendor into giving up for less than it was worth for how rare it was. Molly hadn’t even gotten irritated about it. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

He was poking him in the ribs. He had to be. But when Molly looked over at Lucien, juice on the corner of his lips that he licked off with an unforked tongue, he wasn’t teasing. “I don’t want you to be me. I’m me. You’re… The cast off bits I didn’t want.”

“Why Lucien, that’s as close as you’ve come to reconciling me as a person out loud.” The anger didn’t stop Molly’s sarcasm from coming out like melodrama. He clasped his heart. “I’m gonna get the vapors.”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “There you are. Now stop pouting just because your sweetheart is having his intellect tickled by a pretty wizard.”

“I’m not jealous.” He wasn’t. He didn’t get jealous. He and Caleb didn’t have that kind of possessive relationship because neither would thrive in it. Molly would run as fast as he could if Caleb tried to make a cage of his arms around him, even after Molly swore up and down that he’d given himself over to him when they shared blood during the ritual. The fact that he knew Caleb would never take advantage of him was why he could do it.

Conversely, Molly knew that Caleb had methods of dealing with problems that might lead him to… well, whatever he was doing with Essek. If it led him to Essek’s bed, that would be fine if Essek weren’t a fucking wizard, whom they had notoriously bad luck with, or one of the most powerful figures in the Bright Queen’s court and Yeza’s jailer, and he was both.

He knew why Caleb was doing it. He knew he could trust Caleb. He didn’t know anything about Essek and no way of learning more since the bastard kept refusing to meet anywhere but at the Quavein Estate when the rest of the Nein were out save for Molly. It was an obvious ploy, but Caleb was certain his was better, and all that left Molly with was an impotent fury that he could do nothing but wait and watch and hope.

“You know, there’s a simple solution.” Lucien paused to finish off his plum. “Think of what I could do with a body like his.”

Molly almost choked. “I thought you wanted to keep this one.”

“Yellow’s not my color,” Lucien shrugged, throwing his own words back at him. “Might be nice to be the one with all the power at my fingertips again.”

The worst part was Molly was deeply considering it, which meant it was a bad idea. Lucien could do a lot of damage with that kind of power and that was with Molly trusting him not to go completely evil on them. Calling him the cast off bits of his soul he didn’t want might as well have been a flat admittance that he didn’t want him anymore and therefore had no reason to turn on the Nein unless his dignity was worth avenging. It also meant that he was rejecting all the good he could have had in him, which was sort of a step backwards. “We would have to kidnap a political figurehead who knows Dynasty secrets. What d’you think happens in that scenario?”

Lucien sighed in mock-whimsy. “I set everyone on fire and it’s wonderful.”

“I think you dream so much it fucks up how you see reality.” Molly shook his head. “You have to keep your feet on the ground sometimes.”

“That’s a laugh. Advice on staying on the ground for the whimsical, untethered circus clown.” Lucien’s cackle alarmed a couple of small drow children playing ball on the cobblestones and they darted away lest the scary yellow tiefling eat their hearts the same way he ate that plum.

“There’s a difference between knowing what’s real is shite and making it better and dreaming it away, Lucien. When you wake up, it’s still shite. D’you ever think that was what your problem was the whole time?”

“We’re not talking about me. We always talk about me and what my problems are.” He scoffed, bitterly. “You think you don’t have any worth talking about and I know that’s a lie. Maybe you’re not jealous, but you want to break that wizard’s neck because he’s fucking up your plans and holding you all hostage. You like having control over things just as much as I do.”

“Not just as much.”

Lucien made a noncommittal hmph noise and licked the clinging plum juice from his fingers where they stained the yellow skin purple. He drew them back a bit, studying the hue, his tail swishing a bit in clear agitation. This body wasn’t right either and every now and then it seemed to hit him- a glance in a mirror, the horns not responding right, the tail having the wrong shape.

Stain from a juicy plum on his fingers turning the topaz flesh to lavender.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and changed the subject, lest they both banter analysis of each others’ mental states back and forth like a shuttlecock. The worst part of the tether wasn’t the risk of bleedover or influence or unwanted shared memories but the mortification of having every single bit of emotional turmoil being right there for perusal through the tether to be thrown out as a smokescreen to avoid difficult conversations. “I’ve done some research into this consecution business.”

Molly whipped his head towards him, so shocked that he forgot he still had plenty to be annoyed by. “Why?”

“Well for starters, everyone forgets I haven’t been here for all of your little adventures.” Molly wanted to say, flat out, that of course everyone remembered that Lucien wasn’t there and those times were better, but found he couldn’t for a reason he didn’t want to examine. He was fine with badgering Lucien, but somehow actively hurting his feelings was where his line hit now. He deserved to be pestered, not bullied. “And if I want an explanation that isn’t inane, I have to find it myself.”

“For starters,” Molly repeated, just in case Lucien had designs on keeping the other reasons secret.

Lucien went silent for a moment, his stained fingers flexing like he wished he had something to do with them. “If DeRogna was doing studies on this Luxon Beacon, then maybe she used that knowledge to botch the ritual.”

Molly stopped walking abruptly. “Lucien, why would you want to know that?”

Lucien stopped too and eyed him. He could see it in his head, a series of thoughts that weren’t performative the way his words always were. Unschooled, unpracticed, and left to roam, they were explosions of sharp indignation and little pinpricks of fear and revulsion. Without that little insight into his motivations, Molly wouldn’t have believed him when he said, very seriously, “I want to know what was done to me, so it won’t happen again.”

What could Molly say to that? He was well within his rights to want to know. Even if he wanted to recreate it to inflict it upon someone else, he would have still had a right to figure it out for his own peace of mind. The Nein weren’t his masters. He was free to do what he wanted so long as it didn’t hurt anyone in the group or put them in danger and every time Molly believed that Lucien might be thinking of putting them in danger, he felt that sharp explosion behind his eyes of Lucien’s indignation, like he was trying to stab him with it.

He can’t change if we don’t let him.

Molly just shook his head and sighed in defeat. Some days it was easier to remember Lucien wasn’t the monster he’d made of him in his head, just someone disillusioned enough to cause harm while trying to do good and jaded enough to believe good alone would never be efficient enough to fix a broken age. He was still that person, hiding behind an armored shell of necessary evils and slowly peeling back the layers and every single time Molly or anyone else saw an opportunity he might latch onto to pull himself out of his bad situation and braced themselves for it, he slipped further and further from grace. Eventually, he might not even think about it happening at all and just stay there, rather than begrudgingly pull himself back.

“No one’s gonna let it happen to you again, Lucien,” Molly blurted out before he could stop himself from getting too schmaltzy with his intent. “Nothing like that is gonna happen to you or anyone else. If you want to understand it, fine. But we’re not going to let anyone hurt you like that again, so you don’t have to worry about it..”

The filigreed cleaver-end of Lucien’s tail flicked back and forth. There was shock behind his eyes before he closed it all off and started walking again. “I’ve heard that before.”

And just like that, Molly’s irritation was back, as if it had never left. A cloud passed over Catha as if to reflect it. He yelled after him, “You make it really difficult to do right by you, you arsehole.”

[with-love-from-hell]

5 Sides of Human

{Part Twenty-Nine}

Genre: Mixed WC: ~4.4k CW: heavy tension/angst and anxiety, argument/Belphie being an ass, flashbacks, trauma, death mention, swearing, Storm has a stutter but I am not depicting it with written word consistently, prolly lots of typos lol, spoilers for season 1&2, I'm skipping over/changing some things I didn't like in the main story so it will be a bit different from canon! Series Masterlist

©️ artwork commissioned by @vivi8bit©️

"Belph, don't walk away from me!" Fern snapped, stopping the door to the attic with their foot. "Why are you acting so weird!?"

The youngest brother had immediately taken off after the royals decided to leave, trying to isolate himself in the attic. After being confronted with more intrusive flashbacks to the day he had killed Storm, and the stress of the situation with Lucifer, All he wanted to do was to curl up in a ball and sleep for the next 2 months. Fern obviously didn't feel great either, but they knew they needed his support to keep them from spiraling. He snapped at Fern to leave him alone as he shuffled away from their hold, only making their anxiety about what had just transpired worsen.

While they could tell something wasn't right, Fern had no idea why Belphie was acting so cold and distant. None of the other exchange students knew what Belphegor had done to Storm during the first round of the exchange program, and the brothers preferred to keep it that way. "The incident" was never truly resolved, only buried in the recesses of their brains. Often, it came through in the form of nightmares- something that primarily affected Belphegor, Beelzebub, Mammon, and Lucifer- though they wouldn't talk about it.

"I told you to fuck off, Fern." Belphie growled angrily, rolling his eyes. He continued to hold the door in place, not liking the idea of having Fern so intimately close to him during the horrible flashbacks.

"I want to talk about what just happened." Fern shifted their jaw, not used to airing their emotions like they felt the need to now. "I'm kind of...freaking out? ...and it would be nice to have some support, you know?"

Belphie pushed back against the door, trying to swallow down his sympathy for their concern about both Storm and Lucifer. "I told you- I want to be alone."

"Well I don't!" Fern retorted loudly, finally squeezing in through the small gap in the door. Belphegor sighed, ignoring their plea for comfort by walking away. "I...I need you right now, Belphie!"

"Go bother someone else." Belphie collapsed into the bed of pillows, throwing one over his face.

Fern stopped above where he lay, feeling a twinge of hurt for how he was acting toward them. "Why can't I at least just cuddle with you or something? I really..." They paused, feeling tears well behind their eyes. "I need you right now...and you're acting like a complete dick!"

"I'm busy." Belphie muttered, trying to shut out the horrific images that were passing in front of his eyes.

"Please, Belphie!" Fern pleaded, trying to stop themselves from crying. "I...I'm scared! What if Storm-"

"News flash, Fern, but Storm has made it through worse. She'll be fine, and Lucifer will too. You're overreacting, and it's starting to get on my nerves. Now go away!" He snarled as a flash of the life leaving Storm's eyes flew past his vision. He winced, pulling the pillow tighter over his head.

There was a moment of silence between them as Fern's lip began to tremble. Finally seeing there was no winning in this situation, they turned to leave. Before leaving the room, they paused, digging into their pocket to fish out a rock that Belphie had given them the other day. He had said it reminded him of them, and the adorable way he mused about the mossy green color matching their hair made their heart flip with delight. Now though, looking at it only made a huge pit form in their gut. They squeezed their eyes shut, turning and chucking the rock at where he lay amongst the blankets before stomping out of the room.

Belphie felt the rock collide with the back of his head. He cursed, rubbing soothing circles to ease the ache in the spot where it had hit him. He jerked his body up, ready to unload on Fern for throwing something at him. He paused when he saw the rock, recognizing it as the one he had gifted to them. He frowned, feeling guilt well in his stomach for how he had acted toward them, but still couldn't find the strength to apologize and tell them why he was acting so distant. Instead, he merely rolled over, finally allowing himself to cry quietly into one of the oddly shaped pillows. Between the flashbacks of Storm's death, the shit going on with Lucifer and the chaos of Storm's power, and not being able to be there for his partner, the guilt was about to eat him alive. He squeezed the pillow tighter, closing his eyes as tightly as he could as he tried to even his breaths.

He couldn't tell if it hurt him worse or helped that the pillow smelled just like Fern.

Fern threw themselves on their bed, not bothering to close the door as they sobbed loudly into their pillow. As much as they wanted to scream at Belphie for how he was acting, and to go find Storm to vent their emotions, they decided both would be a disastrous idea. Not only did Fern not have the energy or confidence in their tone to scold Belphegor, but the last thing they wanted to do was burden Storm with their emotions after what she had to go through today. They heaved, trying to catch the rapid breath that came between sobs. Their heart ached, not knowing what this turn of character would mean for their relationship with the youngest brother. It mixed with the fear of losing someone they'd gotten so close to in a matter of weeks, creating a tangled web of grief that occupied their entire stomach. They cried hard for what felt like an hour, the tears seemingly never-ending.

"Fern..?" Beel poked his head into the room, having heard their pained wailing from the hall as he had passed by. Initially, he was going to find Storm to talk with her about what had happened after calming himself down, but after hearing Fern's woe, he felt anxious about how everyone else was fairing. "Are...you okay..?"

Fern tried to hold their breath, now wanting to just be left completely alone. Unfortunately for them, their attempt at closing off their sobs only resulted in a high pitched squeak, followed by more intense sobbing.

Beel's eyes widened, forgoing his own anxiety to come to Fern's side. He pulled them into a hug, allowing them to cry messily into his shoulder. Squeezing them tightly, he tried his best to sooth the ache of their emotions. After about 10 minutes, when their crying slowed, he decided to try to get them to talk.

"Is it about Storm?" Beel asked sadly, squeezing them tighter when they nodded in confirmation. He paused for a moment, trying to collect himself. He was terrified too, but he knew he needed to be strong for them right now. After all, this is the first time Beel had ever seen them cry like this. "I know you're scared. I am too, and I'm sure Storm is even more scared. But...we'll figure a way out of this. We always do, no matter how bad things get."

Fern clutched his back tightly, feeling more tears well up behind their eyes. "But what if this time's different? I mean, I get that she's powerful n' all...but the way Diavolo was talking made this seem much bigger than just a broken record and some stupid curse."

"Yeah...I know..." Beel sighed, "I'm not really sure how things will turn out...but we just have to believe it'll be fine. Worrying too much will only make everything worse, right?"

Fern shrugged, finally pulling away from the hug and rubbing their mucus from their nose with the back of their hand. "I guess so...I just don't really know what to do, you know? I feel so...like, helpless..."

Beel nodded, giving them a weak smile. "I feel the same way. But we'll get through this...I know it."

Beel gathered them back into a quick hug, before pulling out some candy from his pocket. He pushed his hands toward them, urging them to take some from him. Fern laughed, deciding maybe it would be good to get some food in their system that wasn't Solomon's cooking.

"Thanks, Beel." Fern smiled at him warmly, grateful that at least one of the twins had the emotional bandwidth to comfort them. After thinking back to what had happened with Belphie though, their smile faded. They debated whether or not to bring it up, tossing around Beelzebub's response to talking about Belphegor behind his back. Finally, they decided to ask about it. "Hey...Beel?"

"Mmm?" Beel grunted, mouth completely filled with candy.

"What's...what's up with Belph? He's acting like...really weird, and he's sort of being an asshole..." They bit their cheek, feeling the shift in Beel's energy. He began to look nervous, refusing to make eye contact with them.

"Uh..." Beel swallowed the mouth full of candy, feeling it fall like a rock into his stomach. He knew that Belphie was always anxious and would isolate when anyone would bring up something having to do with Storm's well-being, or whenever she got hurt, but he didn't know how much Fern knew about what had happened between them. "H-how do you mean?"

"He..." Fern paused, remembering that neither of them hadn't told anyone- not even Beel- about their secret relationship. Sure, the others knew they were close, and that they definitely had a thing for eachother, but the fact that they had decided to be intimate partners was only known between the two of them. Fern wasn't sure if this situation would be somehow telling of the true nature of their relationship- or at least, what it had been. They sighed, brushing their hair out of their face after realizing they had been quiet for far too long. "He was just acting like a jerk a little bit ago. When I tried to ask him what was wrong he just got all pissy and told me to fuck off."

Beel frowned. "Really? He said that to you?"

Fern shrugged, chewing on the inside of their cheek.

Beel rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, trying to decide how much to share. He knew how much guilt Belphegor still felt about what had happened, and had witnessed his nightmares several times now about the incident. Deciding that this was a conversation for another time, he decided to give some sort of vague answer.

"Well...I know him and Storm have kind of a...Complicated relationship, I guess. And...he has a really hard time talking about his feelings, so I'm sure he's just scared too and doesn't know how to deal with it, so-"

"But why would he act like such a dick to me?!" Fern snapped, but quickly sucked back in the hurt. They didn't want to take their pain out on Beel. After all, he was trying to help. "I get he's a bag of bricks when it comes to emotions sometimes, but...I thought we were close enough to where he wouldn't act that way with me."

"I'm not sure what to say..." Beel sighed, pressing one of his large hands to their shoulder. "I guess he just needs some time and space to work through it himself? I know that you haven't done anything wrong, though. He just gets this way sometimes..."

Fern swallowed hard, but something about Beel's responses didn't feel quite reassuring. "Yeah...maybe you're right..."

"I just feel like we should do...something..." Asmo sighed, dropping his face into his hands. It had been nearly two hours since the royals left, and he still felt a deep pit in his stomach about the entire conversation. "Like, Lucifer always does so much for us- we should try to help him get his memory back...I'm just not sure how."

Heart plopped down on Asmo's bed next to him, curling their arm around his shoulders. "I'm not sure either, but I know we could think of something!"

"We could have him sit in a room with Mammon until he annoys him to the point where he'd remember him." Sarah snickered, flopping back onto the floor and observing her nails.

"Now's not the time for jokes, Sarah." Heart shook his head in disappointment.

"Besides, I think that would just cause him to leave." Asmo sighed. "At least, that's what I'd do if I were in his position and someone forced me into a room with that buffoon."

Sarah pouted, but shrugged after a moment. "What about doing stuff with him that he liked?"

"Well...maybe..." Asmo sighed again. "But honestly the only things I can think of that he really liked to do was going to operas, listening to music, drinking, and working. None of that would really jog someone's memory, would it?"

"I guess not..." Sarah sighs too, tapping her nails impatiently on the floor.

"Why not go through baby pictures or something with him?" Heart offered. "I'm sure that could help, right?"

Asmo perked up, a wide smile forming on his lips. "Oh, Heart! That's a brilliant idea!!"

Heart blushed, rubbing the back of his neck as Asmo kissed his cheek aggressively. The two humans watched as Asmo bolted out of his bedroom door, only to return moments later with 6 huge photo albums in his arms.

"Let's go! I bet he's awake by now!" Asmo yipped, pulling Heart and Sarah to their feet. He tugged them along the quiet house, the only noise being some clanking from the kitchen where Storm prepared lunch, and muffled talking from Storm and Fern's room. They all charged into Lucifer's room, where he sat cross-legged on his bed. He was staring at the decorations on the mantel of the fire place and absentmindedly petting Malice, who lay curled in his lap. He whipped his head around as they entered, offering a slight groan when he saw the excited looks on their faces.

"Luciferrr!" Asmo sang, excitedly dropping the books onto the bed. Malice growled harshly, only to be hushed by Lucifer's gentle pats on the side of his head. "We have something to show you!"

"And what might that be?" Lucifer sighed scooting away from Asmo as he squished into his side on the bed. Unfortunately, Sarah squished into his other side, trapping him between them.

"We hoped that maybe we could get some of your memory back by showing you pictures." Heart smiled.

Lucifer sighed once more, crossing his arms. "I believe you when you say I'm experiencing Amnesia, but I'm not certain what looking at some old photographs will do to repair what has been done."

"Oh shut up, Mr. Pessimistic." Sarah rolled her eyes, nudging Malice away with her foot and plopping an album into Lucifer's lap.

Asmo began flipping through the pages, pointing out picture after picture to Lucifer, primarily focusing on himself in the process despite Heart's prodding to inform Lucifer who the others were. Though, it wasn't long before Heart realized that most of the photos consisted primarily of Asmo as the focus.

The first album was photos from just before the first exchange program, which often showed others in the background with the exception of a few group photos. One picture though, Lucifer was especially interested in.

"Oh, this person right here- she's a real treat. This is Storm. She was in the first round of our exchange program, and she's just so lovely!" Asmo beamed tapping the space next to a Storm's photo on her first day at RAD. "Don't get your hopes up though, because she's hopelessly in love with me, just like everyone in the Devildom! Haha!"

"Sueuurre, Asmo." Heart snickered, rolling their eyes. As if they didnt have that intimate conversation last month about how Storm's disinterest in him hurt his feelings.

Lucifer leaned closer, taking a better look at the photo. He recognized her as the small red-haired woman who he had first seen when he woke up in this strange place. She wasn't looking at the camera, instead glancing nervously to the ground. She wore the same uniform he had seen the butler in a few hours before, only hers was adorned with a pastel blue ribbon instead of a tie, a special pin that indicated she was an exchange student, and a knee-length pleated skirt instead of pants. Before he could really absorb her features, Asmo flipped to the next page to talk more about himself.

The third album was photos from when they had been angels, with white puffy wings, halos, and blindingly white attire. Heart watched on in awe as Asmo pointed out photo after photo of himself, now completely abandoning their attempts to get Asmo to focus on the others. Sarah had no interest anymore either, instead listening contently to Asmo's stories about life in the Celestial Realm.

"Oh! And this one is me after having my wings groomed! I would do this every week, and the other angels would trip over themselves at a chance to touch my beautiful wings!" Asmo giggled giddily. "You have to admit, I was absolutely stunning as an Angel, wasn't I?"

Lucifer sat quietly, barely paying attention but nodding politely as Asmo pointed to the page in front of him. He wasn't sure why Asmo was primarily pointing out himself; the only thing he had gotten out of the experience so far was that he was quite vain. He still didn't remember the other two human's names- or anyone else's for that matter- and they did little to remind him of who anyone was to him. He found himself curious over how it was that he had completely forgotten all 6 of his brothers, and even more so that information from so many millennia had been lost with it. What's more, he found himself even more curious about the short red-head who he had seen a few hours prior. Even out of breath and red with exhaustion from running, she was stunning, and the way she was so gentle toward him in comparison to everyone else was intriguing. He heard plenty about his brothers and the future king, but what of her? If Asmo would take 5 seconds to stop talking about himself, then maybe he could get an idea of her outside of the brief description he had given, but...

"Yeah...You were so beautiful..." Heart sighed dreamily, slowly running his fingers over the photo. "But! You're still beautiful now."

"Oh, hush darling. I know that." Asmo giggled, giving Heart's nose a gentle boop. "...But it does still feel good hearing you say it!"

"Show us more Asmo!!" Sarah squealed giddily, bouncing on the bed excitedly despite Lucifer's clear annoyance with her. "I'm so curious about this Michael guy! Do you have any photos of him?!"

Asmo flipped the page, more photos triggering his own memories back from all of those years ago. His excitement at sharing this moment with the other two humans was overwhelming, especially since they both fed into it. He was so entranced in his own ego, that he almost forgot why he dug the albums out of the library in the first place. "Ooh and this! This is me with all the other archangels! Back in the Celestial Realm, we all used to get together and do each other's nails. Ever since then, I've always been the one who does your nails, Lucifer! Remember? You always like yours done in red or black!"

Lucifer sighed, pulling his arms tighter over his chest as Sarah leaned across his lap for a better look. "...No, I don't."

Just as Asmodeus turned the page again, there was a gentle knock on the door. Moments later, Storm entered the room, balancing a large tray on her forearm. She shut the door behind her quietly, shifting the tray into both of her hands for a better grip. Malice immediately leaped off the bed to greet her, tail wagging excitedly as she made her way toward the bed.

Lucifer watched curiously, noting the dogs response to her likely meant that it was hers. The difference in this woman's demeanor in comparison to those Lucifer had met already was quite drastic, and he found himself soothed by her presence immediately, and a curious tingling in his stomach as he watched her set the tray on the end table next to the bed began making him shift uneasily.

"Oh! Hey!" Asmo beamed at her as she adjusted the food and drink on the tray. "Look! I was just showing Lucifer photos from back when we were in the Celestial Realm! Come look with us!"

"Well, so far you've mostly shown me pictures of yourself." Lucifer sighed, trying to get more room between the two individuals squishing him in place. "You know, you don't need to sit right up against me to show me these pictures."

"Aww, but it's so much more fun this way!" Sarah giggled, wrapping her arms tightly around Lucifer. Asmo and Heart giggled as Lucifer tried to shake her off of him.

He scowled, snapping his attention toward Storm as he continued trying to pry Sarah off of him. "Hey, you! Don't just stand there, do something."

"You...?" Storm blinked, her heart dropping slightly at the terse tone Lucifer was taking with her. She knew it wasn't personal, but it still hurt none the less. "I...I have a name, you know."

Lucifer looked her up and down, confused as to why he suddenly felt guilty for speaking to her in such a way. For not being able to remember much, the feeling in his stomach now told him she wasn't someone he liked to see upset. Sarah clung to him tighter, distracting his attention from lingering on the woman. He continued trying to pry her off, ignoring Storm's comment about her name.

"Oh, it's okay Storm. It's nothing against you, don't worry. Lucifer's usual 'Mr calm and rational' act is sort of gone now that he doesn't really remember who he is, so he's talking a little rougher than usual." Asmo gave her a weak smile, urging her to come look at the photos with them. "Lucifer, this is Storm! The person we were telling you about earlier! Remember?"

Lucifer finally pried Sarah off, pushing her completely off the bed with a yelp. He turned back to Storm in a huff, finding his breath catching at the nervousness behind her soft smile that extended through her deep lake-like eyes. She didn't look at him for long, instead turning her gaze down to her feet, similarly to how she had in the photo Asmo had shown him. Lucifer smirked, cocking his eyebrow at the 5th born. "...This is the one? The human who represented humanity in the first exchange program who's hopelessly in love with you, Asmo?"

"Um, what?" Storm blinked, glancing toward Asmo. Sarah cackled from her place on the floor, and Heart shook their head with a giggle. Asmo wiggled his eyebrows at her with a smile, and Lucifer glanced at her expectantly. She sighed, shaking her head with a soft chuckle. "Well, that's not quite accurate."

Lucifer's heart fluttered, the sound of her laugh seemingly striking a comforting cord within him.

"Now, now! Storm, don't say that! There's no need to be shy!" Asmo giggled, waving his hand dismissively at her. "Anyways Storm, come join us! We're trying to jog Lucifer's memory by showing him old photos."

"But all Asmo's really done is show him pictures of himself." Heart laughed, shaking his head once more. "It's like 95 percent of these albums are all photos of him."

"Alright, alright. I get it! I'll go get pictures of the others too. But I don't know where those albums are, so I might need some help finding them. Maybe they're in the attic!" Asmo stood, but quickly pulled Storm aside to talk to her quietly for a moment. "While you're here though, there's something I wanted to talk to you about..."

Storm raised her brow, glancing quickly toward Heart, who had started telling Lucifer about themself. "Sure, what is it?"

"Well, I wanted to say that even if our pact is broken because of everything that's going on, that won't change the bond we share. You'll still mean the world to me. It's just like this situation with Lucifer, right? Even though he's lost his memory, he's still my brother. And you're still basically my sibling too." Asmo pulled her into a hug. "Do you understand? I want to make sure that's clear. I love you, doll!"

Storm smiled and hugged him back, but felt a small ache in her heart at the acknowledgement that the pacts would need to be severed. "Thank you, Asmo. I love you too."

Asmo smiled, turning and pulling Heart to his feet. They skipped out of the room, presumably going to try to find photos to share with Lucifer. Sarah scrambled off the floor shortly after, leaving Lucifer and Storm alone in this bedroom.

There was a moment of silence between them as Lucifer observed her. She was timid, feeling a bit awkward at how he seemed to be sizing her up.

"Storm, was it..?" He smiled faintly as she nodded, the sheepish expression on her face amusing to him. "I have a pretty good feel for who Asmodeus is as a person at this point, since he never stops talking about himself. But I hardly got to know anyone else..."

"Yeah, well...that's Asmo for you." Storm laughed nervously, picking the skin on her arms to lessen her anxiety. Malice nudged her with his nose before jumping onto the bed next to Lucifer, resting his head in the eldest brother's lap. She blinked in surprise at how fond he seemed to be of Lucifer. She couldn't say she noticed when her dog started to grow attached to him, but she was glad he clearly tried to provide him comfort through what was probably a very confusing and frustrating time.

"I'd like you to tell me about my other brothers." Lucifer continued, patting the space next to him on the bed. "I'm the oldest, and the second oldest is...Mammon, I believe..?"

"Mhm." Storm confirmed with a nod, sitting down next to him with a significant gap between them. Lucifer took note of the distance, seeing how much more reserved she was compared to Asmo and the other two humans he'd met. Storm dug her phone out of her pocket, pulling up her gallery to show him photos of Mammon. Lucifer hummed, scrolling through the photos on her phone curiously.

"So...what's he like?"

"Oh, Mammon?" Storm paused, thinking of how to convey the second eldest brother. She smiled fondly as she thought about their relationship. "He's very sweet. Sometimes he can be a bit impulsive, but he's very genuine, caring, and has a good heart."

"A good heart..?" Lucifer shook his head. "And you're telling me he's a demon?"

Storm chucked. "Well, you'd be surprised at how good demons can be. Mammon has done so much for me...I don't think I would have survived my first year here if it wasn't for him. He can also be a lot of fun!"

Lucifer scoffed, but smiled none the less, returning his focus to the photos. Eventually, he stumbled upon a group photo with Mammon, Levi, Asmo, and Storm. He tapped the screen, zooming in on Leviathan's face.

"What about this one? Who's he now?"

"That's Levi. He's the third oldest." Storm smiled, taking her phone to find more pictures of him. "He's quite shy, and tends to do a lot of stuff by himself. He's a bit awkward, but he's also very unique, and really skilled in a lot of ways."

"Hmm..." Lucifer nodded, seeing Storm scroll past a picture of him hiding from the camera. "Sounds like it will take some time to get him to open up, then."

"I suppose." Storm confirmed. "But he's sweet to. All of your brothers are, in their own way."

"What about Satan? What's your impression of him?" Lucifer raised a brow, knowing that- based on Sarah's word- the 5th eldest seemed to have a vendetta against him, and was a bit of a hot-head.

"He's very intelligent. Like, genius level." Storm shook her head with a chuckle. "I swear, he's probably the smartest person I've ever met- he could read anything in a book once and have it memorized."

Lucifer blinked back his surprise at the overwhelmingly positive reviews Storm seemingly had of his brothers. "Is that so?"

"Mhm. He's a bit more reserved and can be kind of neurotic at times, but like I said, he is still sweet, and genuinely very caring."

"Well, what do you think of Asmodeus then? I'm curious to hear your interpretation of his vanity." Lucifer scoffed. "Especially considering he had tried to convince me that you were lovers."

Storm rolled her eyes, but let out a soft laugh. "As vain as he is, he also tends to bring out the best in others when he tries. He's very fashionable and has a lot of knowledge on like...beauty routines. He actually helped me get my hair to stop knotting as quickly after every single brush."

Lucifer chuckled. "That seems like quite the feat."

"Yeah, truly it was." Storm laughed heartily, her eyes closing as she remembered back to when her hair was a complete disaster after every single brush.

While she was distracted, Lucifer took the opportunity to inch closer. "Who does that leave then?"

"Beelzebub and Belphie, they're the youngest." Storm smiled, scrolling quickly through her phone to find pictures of them.

"Ah yes, the twins. Asmo briefly mentioned them." Lucifer nodded.

Storm pointed to a photograph of her and the twins, pointing first to the taller, orange-haired demon. "This is Beelzebub. He's got an appetite that is unmatched by anyone or anything that I've ever seen, but he's probably one of the kindest and most empathetic people I've ever met. He's really strong too!"

Lucifer chuckled. "So a meathead, then?"

"Aw, come on." Storm giggled. "I wouldn't say that...I suppose 'Himbo' is the term that I'd use."

Lucifer and Storm shared a laugh for a moment, Lucifer scooting even closer to her as they did. After they calmed down a bit, Lucifer cleared his throat, pointing to the other individual in the photo. "And I guess that leaves...Belphegor?"

Storm winced, trying to find the words to say without telling Lucifer too much about the trauma she suffered at his hand. "He's very clever, but he doesn't let it show. I think he prefers to keep people's expectations...well...low..? That way he can have the advantage."

Lucifer nodded, curiously observing the expression on her face. "Are you not very fond of him, then?"

Storm shook her head, gesturing in front of her in denial. "No! No, it's...it's not that...I guess, like...he's just a bit more distant from me, is all. He's still has a good heart, and he's dependable- that's for sure."

Lucifer nodded as the conversation drifted into silence. They sat for a moment, Storm anxiously rubbing her forearms as Lucifer rubbed Malice's tummy. He glanced at her out of the corner of his vision, observing her mannerisms. He was curious about the scratching and picking at her skin, wondering what the purpose was behind such a behavior.

Storm jolted, suddenly realizing that she had brought Lucifer something to eat. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I almost forgot- I brought you some food...and some tea...I figured you must be sort of hungry after such a long day...so..."

Lucifer hummed, watching her nervously try to make up his plate. "So...you've told me about my brothers, now what about me?"

Storm was taken aback by the question, pausing her pour. She swallowed hard before giving her answer, a nervous blush spreading across her cheeks. "Well...uh...You're probably the most reliable person I've ever known. You're very compassionate, kind, and generous to others, even if they may not always see that part of you because of the fact that you have to kind of be in charge and create order in their chaos. I think you're very well spoken, and you always give really solid advice on how to handle things. I think you pay really close attention to detail, in a way that I definitely admire. Like, you always give the perfect gifts- and pay really close attention to little things that people do and say...Oh, and you're super organized, which is nice considering so many of your brothers absolutely are not...and you're really smart, and good at magic, and cooking...and-"

Lucifer laughed, interrupting her thought. "My my, such a glowing review. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were in love with me."

Storm's face turned beet red as she whipped her gaze away, unsure of how to respond. "I...uh...I mean...I..!"

"Relax..." Lucifer laughed again, shaking his head. "I'm merely teasing."

Storm sighed in relief, but the wicked smile on Lucifer's face showed triumph in catching her in a gushing state about his positive attributes. She continued fixing his plate before offering it to him and fixing her own. She nibbled on one of the finger sandwiches, glancing at him every so often as he watched her intently. The slow sips of the bitter-sweet tea somehow added to his curiosity about her. Sure, he was only seeing what her response to teasing her about have feelings for him would be, but he'd be lying if he said that part of him wasn't wanting it to be true.

After a moment of silence and finishing their lunch, Storm set their plates aside. Lucifer let his curiosity take the reigns, and decided to ask what he had been pondering about since she walked into the room.

"In all seriousness, I would like to know the nature of our relationship." Lucifer mused, looking her up and down quickly. "What was I to you?"

Storm cleared her throat nervously, averting her eyes from him. "Well...I-I suppose that there's very few people who are dearer or more important to me than you are. I love your brothers, and the other humans here are like a family to me, but with you...I..."

She trailed off, locking eyes with him. Lucifer's irises shimmered in delight at hearing her give such meaning to their relationship, and he was curious to know more. He shifted his position on the bed, his posture showing the intense focus he had on Storm's insight into their relationship.

"And how did I feel about you?? Were you dear to me as well..?"

"Yes, I was." Storm smiled briefly, but it quickly faded as uncertainty began to fall upon her at the statement. "...or, at least I...I think I was."

Lucifer's excited expression fell slightly as the dejection spread to her eyes. They seemed as deep as wishing-wells, and he felt as if he could get lost in the endless blue pools that shimmered in the low light of his room. "What do you mean?"

Storm swallowed, looking away from him. "I guess I...I never really knew how you felt about me. You never really...told me? And sometimes it was...h-hard to tell."

"I see..." Lucifer frowned, dropping his gaze away from her for a moment. He couldn't explain why, but he felt a strong pull in his chest to be close to her. Whoever she was to him, it was certainly much more than his old self ever chose to express. He felt a twinge of grief for his old self, knowing that the woman before him was certainly something special. Had he been in denial of that fact? Or was he perhaps too distracted to realize..?

A sudden knock on his door caused both of them to jump in surprise.

"Lucifer? I'm coming in."

Beelzebub opened the door and stepped through, his own tray of food in hand. He paused when he saw how close the two were sitting, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Oh, I didn't realize Storm was here with you. I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you something to eat. A sandwich and an apple."

Beelzebub gestured forward with the tray. A glass of water, a single apple slice, and a sandwich were plated neatly on the tray. Storm smiled wearily, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Sorry Beelie, I already made him something."

"That's okay, I'll just leave it here for when he's hungry later." Beel shrugged as he set down the tray on the coffee table.

"I see the sandwich...but there's not much of an apple with it." Lucifer glanced at the tray, and then back to Beel.

Beelzebub blushed, averting his eyes. "I'm sorry...I kinda ate it on the way here...I didn't mean to, it just sort of happened."

Lucifer paused, before bursting into a fit of laughter. Storm and Beel shared a confused glance, never hearing such a roaring laugh come out of the eldest brother. Well, at least not when he was sober.

After calming down, Lucifer breathed a contented sigh. "I see...you must be Beelzebub then? Storm, your description was spot on."

"Uh...you can just call me Beel." Beelzebub smiled nervously, glancing uneasily toward Storm. "What did you tell him about me?

"That you're kind, strong, and have a healthy appetite." Storm forced a smile and shrugged, hoping Beel wouldn't take it as some sort of insult.

Beel smiled widely. "I'm glad you mentioned something besides how much I eat."

"Well, there's much more to you than that." Storm stood, grabbing Beel's hand and smoothing over his knuckles. Lucifer watched on, smiling fondly at how close the two seemed to be.

"Oh, Lucifer." Beel turned his attention toward the eldest. "I know you probably don't remember this, but...Back in the reaper's cave, you gave me a portion of your life essence. I just wanted to say that there's no way that I'll ever forget what you did for me then, and...I'll make sure we find a solution to this problem. I'll protect you."

Lucifer blinked in surprise as Beel wrapped his arms around him. Quickly, he grabbed Storm's hand and pulled her into the hug as well.

"The same goes for you, Storm. If you ever need me, I'll be there to protect you- no questions asked. So...just...don't die, you two...okay..?" Beel sniffled, trying to hold back tears. "...please..."

Lucifer glanced toward Storm before clutching Beelzebub back harder. "Don't worry, Beel. I'm not about to die."

"I'm right here too, Beel." Storm smiled, clutching the two of them tightly. "We'll fix this, and Lucifer will get his memory back. Don't worry. We're not going anywhere."

"Right..." Beel exited the hug, wiping the back of his hand across his face. "We're a family. Our bond is strong, whether we have a pact or not. We'll have each other...always."

Lucifer's heart felt full as he looked between Storm's sweet smile and Beelzebub's grateful gaze. He felt a strong connection to the two of them. He knew that if he needed to, he could rely on both of them to navigate the odd re-introduction he would need to make to the rest of his family.

[casualjacobwrites]

FFXIV Write 2023 Prompt #13 - Check

I write a lot more for my WoL Pasha because until viera were introduced, she was my main. I've since remade her as an alt while my main now is a bunny boy because reasons. (You don't give me pretty bunny boys and then act surprised when I fantasia'd the moment Endwalker went live.)

Anyway, this is another one I plan to flesh out more (and, in fact, one day I hope to write out Pasha's entire story from ARR to present). This takes place just after Ultima Thule, but there's nothing in the way of spoilers really. I'll spare you my lengthy explanation of shipping.

Word Count: 733

---

“Did you check on her?”

Thancred shot Estinien a withering look. “Of course I did, and Urianger has done everything short of dragging her to an apothecary to test her blood. Not that she'd let us.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Physically she's in top form all things considered. Some lingering bruises and soreness, but nothing unexpected.”

Estinien closed his eyes and dropped his head to rest against the wall at his back. It'd been one week since the Scions returned from Ultima Thule with the Warrior of Light. One week since she'd deigned to show her face to anyone outside of her two lovers.

“I know we should give her time,” Thancred said, his eyes staring at the doors of the Baldesion Annex. “I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. Urianger said she needs rest, but he can't hide his anxiety from me.”

“What about G'raha or the others?”

“She won't see them, not even the twins. I thought Y'shtola might get through with her customary bluntness, but she refused. She couldn't bring herself to push Pasha and said she was worried it would only make everything worse.” He rubbed his forehead. “I saw her like this once before, after Ala Mhigo, though somehow it seems worse this time around.”

At the mention of Ala Mhigo, Estinien pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew Pasha had gone to Coerthas not long after the Resistance's victory. To this day he still wasn't sure whether encountering her there was happenstance or divine intervention. Either way he remembered well the look in her eyes that day and how frighteningly familiar it was. Once someone wished for their own demise, it was impossible not to see the same desire in others. Had he not intervened that day, the Warrior of Light would have flung herself into the abyss.

In hindsight, she'd helped pull him from the brink as much as he had her. The two Azure Dragoons shared a connection that night he'd never quite been able to let completely go. Afterwards, they'd gone their separate ways, him to Garlemald and her to The First. When she returned it was obvious where her affections lay and he was honest enough with himself to know he could never provide the sort of stability she needed and deserved. He didn't begrudge Urianger or Thancred their love, but that didn't lessen the feelings he'd developed or ease his current sense of helplessness .

What did you see at the end of existence? Estinien wondered. Though none of the Scions wanted to speak of it, Pasha was all but dead when she reappeared on the Ragnarok. It was impossible for him not to draw parallels to his own experience as Nidhogg's vessel. He recalled with painful clarity the confusion and terror upon waking in the infirmary. Terror for the realization he had to find a new path in life and a new way to live without relying upon his anger and thirst for vengeance to drive him. He'd chosen to run away after a fashion. It was easier to isolate and avoid the friends who'd risked all to save him lest he hurt them by telling them he had preferred death. Knowing Pasha she'd be even less inclined than he ever was to tell the men she loved the truth.

“Let me take her away from here,” Estinien said, a plan taking root in his mind.

“What? To where?” Thancred arched an eyebrow.

“Thavnair,” the dragoon answered without bothering to elaborate. “But you and Urianger must stay behind. Let her go alone.” He raised a hand to stop Thancred's protest. “I'll keep an eye on her and I'll keep a linkpearl handy should aught go awry. At worst she'll get a bit of sun and a chance to spar against me.”

Thancred studied him a moment, his eyes narrowing in consideration. “If you truly believe it will help, then I'll get her supplies. But,” he pointed a finger at Estinien's face, “you contact me or Urianger the instant anything seems off.”

Estinien put a hand over his heart. “I promise.”

The two men hammered out a few other minor details before parting ways. Though he'd spoken with confidence and surety, there was no small amount of doubt clouding Estinien's thoughts. He could only hope the Warrior of Light would be willing to let him help.

[sansajonquil]

might talk to Dean Winchester more ;; can relate to his mark of cain && general personality.

it is quite interesting with the prejudice I was met with during my life. Yesterday, I had an antigen test where I self isolated at home upstairs in my room && was talking to myself on tumblr. I put the kettle on the floor of my room. It was pretty nice & strange to be back in the rpc, although I tentatively stepped in the water with water washing around my ankles ;; sansa talking to cesare w a visual accompaniment at westeros cafe + athelstan talking to lagertha & ragnar. Some people also followed me first :o which was nice they were interested in me / my blog && messaging/roleplaying with me. I had also gotten used to talking to myself ooc as especially differentiated from the older times of rp when I felt very choked and judged ;; noted when I said at the time to ariel that I didn’t feel like she judged me. Yet some seemed to judge quickly at the marshmallow squishy comforting / thumping Julian’s back like wechat sticker ;; tavvy’s toy && my pinned post talking about my own rules I keep edit adding to find ways to adapt happily into rpc/life in general. ( drinking water/fresh air walking ) && in perpetual building frustration, I also wrote how I didn’t stand by callout posts && how damaging they could be in pushing one to the edge to write endless goals ( this stemmed from my worry in talking to ariel again as I spoke to her a lot about my anxiety during university as it was really horrifying yet strangely fulfilling ( as noted on my wordpress in which I now breathed life in the mundaneity) & I knew from clues/hints she talked behind my back to other rp friends when I was drowning. I also talked to myself how bad it was to live out my entire life on the rpc / site & to just immerse myself into happy && it was great fun to ascend to heaven and valhalla without caring what others think.

my relationship with orion is interesting. She, with ariel saying some context of my experience in rpc & how it seemed to affect my life/thoughts, said something about study of oneself in dialectical behavioural therapy ( pulling books from the city of weep ) as she had brain fog too. this was in a october day.

my relationship with johnnie is a bit more disjointed. I watched many YouTube videos of his, and felt he was with me during my library study ;; when I felt I needed to be completely alone && walking along the road like boulevard of broken dreams && on my own mahogany ship sailing. When i watched poison, I thought his red colour lips was like beautiful red paint 🎨 ;; I think YouTube && doing art was part of my experience when writing athelstan park drabble — colour within chaos. I could also relate to past & present selves ;; when he is singing always looking for ways to improve himself && getting frustrated && throwing up blood into the desert outback from his eternal sitting in barn. I felt he was speaking to me when he talked about growing up and that everyone was worried about me and that I didn’t deserve hate. && then other direct messages he said like I was a bad person and what I did now didn’t really matter and doesn’t excuse my not trying to understand properly to the level of fogginess that I nearly died in my sleep/didn’t sleep to near dying, yet he could appreciate people who bettered themselves contrasted in confusion.

when people spam calling me, or anyone in general, I do not think they understand how unsafe individuals feel. When people spam call me yesterday, I watch unbroken by melovin ;; yet thought this was very irritating out to get me within me trying to live life from the complete mess that life gave me. I also rightfully think in secret of vengeance, which help me sleep :)

I thought it very creepy when brandon said I was a fake-ass wannabe while wearing ryuk make-up ;; yet knew it was a weird ironic short visual of black comedy — of people trying to find their own voice && visual style of presentation && the ulzzang emo MySpace days.