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simjakesgirl · 18 days ago

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suck my blood synopsis: you finally realize a big secret your new friend jake sim was hiding from you... warnings: suggestive content: minimal blood description, implied stalking, vampire themes, insomnia/nightmares. jake sucks readers blood. weird pedo flirts for like three seconds. loosely inspired by twilight! wc: 4.3k author's note: hiii this is my first story on here so i hope it's good heh. i love twilight and enha alr has a vampire theme to why not mesh the two duhhhhh. lmk if you guys enjoy!!! <3

you woke up in a cold sweat once again, hands clutching your quilted bedding before coming up to your head and rubbing your temples. everything felt so out of place. your white tank top felt embedded to your skin the way it wrapped around you, your hair felt heavy and matted from the tossing and turning you were doing, and your head just seemed to ache to no end. you redirected your focus to the glowing alarm clock resting on your nightstand and sighed, incredibly frustrated at the events of the night so far. it'd only been about three hours since you were last stirred out of your sleep. you swung your head back around, plopping against your mushy pillow before dragging your quilt right over your entire body.

it felt like you barely slept anymore. everyday was just the same repetitive cycle that you couldn't shake yourself out of. you woke up, brushed your teeth, washed your face, changed your clothes, made your way to school, made your way back home, did some chores, had dinner, and then ended up right there in your bed again to await your horrid dreams. the worst part was it felt like eyes were on you at all times. not a lot, just a singular pair of piercing eyes watching you no matter where you went.

eventually the morning came for you again, sunlight peeking through your thin window curtains and illuminating your room as if you lived in a big lightbulb. you groaned, trying to cover your eyes in any way possible before just succumbing to the day. turning your body over lazily, you checked the time.

7:00am

there was no time for you to even sleep in, you acknowledged as you pushed yourself out of your warm bed into the chill air, making your way to your bathroom. you stared at yourself in the medicine cabinet mirror hung above your sink and gasped, the lack of sleep was beginning to show in your face. your skin was pale and dry, under-eye bags so sunken in you felt like your eyes could fall back into your head, and your expression just looked sad and lifeless no matter how lively you attempted to be. unable to stare at yourself any longer, you decided to just get ready and hid how you felt under concealer and blush. at least in the end you looked somewhat put together and presentable. you put on a white knit sweater with a pair of loose baggy jeans and your old black converse before putting your hair in a half up half down do with a mini claw clip.

your parents had already left for work wouldn't be back until the late afternoon so it was your job to cook and at least keep the place a bit tidy. as you made your way down the staircase leading to the main floor of your house, you took note of all the areas in dire need of some cleaning after school and exhaled heavily. it would be a long afternoon you accepted as you grabbed your school bag, keys, and phone before rushing out the door.

in no way were you popular at school. you had some friends of course, but not enough to say you had a "big friend group" or anything like that. half of your friends were also just friends and not extremely close to you whatsoever and that didn't really bother you, but lately you felt compelled to be friends with this boy you'd never seen before at school. jake sim.

you had no idea why, but from the first time you locked eyes with him in the cafeteria, a sudden curiosity sprouted. maybe it was the way his dark colored eyes almost seemed black, or the way his dark hair fell perfectly. maybe it was the way his skin was so pale and delicate or the way he sat so off to the corner, uninterested and unbothered with everyone else's chatter. someone told you that he was always like that, cold and apathetic despite anyone's effort to be his friend. still, after that moment you'd just been seeing more and more of him. it was like when you google something and all of a sudden all your social media apps are showing that exact thing. he just seemed to be everywhere you were without fail. eventually, that led the two of you to talk to each other which people thought was impossible.

jake was sort of secretive, he seemed to always be calculating just when to stop giving details about whatever he spoke about. it confused you and even bugged you a bit, but you knew some people didn't enjoy speaking about their lives so you never bothered to ask him any further questions. other than that, he was sarcastic, considerate, overly attentive, and exceedingly interested about you.

"y/n," you heard someone call as you stuffed your things in your locker.

you pushed the door a bit, jake's face coming into view as you did so. he wore a plain look on his face with a tiny glint in his eyes as he braced himself against your neighboring locker.

"is something wrong?" you questioned, trying to read his face.

"no, but i was just wondering if you had plans later?"

the way he looked at you so intently made you feel like he could see into your soul or as if he could hear all the thoughts going through your head. you broke eye contact with him, thinking about the places you just talked about cleaning and wondered if they could go one more day in their filth.

"uh... no. i don't have any plans," you replied, looking at him once again.

"good. i thought maybe you could accompany me somewhere," he smiled. his teeth were an almost blinding, perfect pearly white.

you blinked a bit before shutting your locker, smirking a bit at him.

“jake, you can’t just say somewhere..” you pointed out, clutching your books tightly as you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

he bit the inside of his cheek to hold back what you assumed was a smile and folded his arms, the shirt he wore hugging his arms attractively.

“what? you don’t like surprises, y/n?” he teased, quirking a brow and letting a full smile creep onto his lips.

“i do,” you argued “but you’re always so secretive. at least tell me this.”

he stared at you intently for a few seconds, his smile dropping slowly into a relaxed expression.

“does that scare you?” he solicited, examining your face with squinted, dark eyes.

you were taken aback by the sudden seriousness in his tone and looked away for a second. he quickly moved his head, trying to meet your eyes again as you clutched your books tighter than before. for some reason the air began to feel heavy, jake felt impossibly close to you, and you just became especially nervous. the sudden mood change wasn’t an abnormal thing for him to do. he always seemed to shift between his emotions every once in a while as he spoke to you, but the way he asked you that question made you wonder if you were supposed to be afraid of him.

“hey,” he placed a hand against your shoulder, the pure chill bringing you out of your head, “come with me to town?”

you nodded your head, weakly smiling at him while he spent a few more seconds just staring at you. his expression seemed to be hiding something else underneath but just when you thought he would explain, he hesitantly turned around and began walking to his class. you felt vastly confused as you stared at him. it just felt so off when you spoke to him, he always looked like there was so much to say but then when you got to talking, he would suppress it all. part of you felt that it was unfair he knew so much about you and you so little about him. he heard about your home-life, favorite films/books, favorite foods, your hobbies, and so much more but you only knew that he was apparently adopted and that he has a few siblings in their twenties. it wasn't enough to build a friendship with and if that was where things were going, you were going to need to know more.

you slid out of your seat at the chime of the last bell. your psychology class was as boring as ever and sometimes you felt that it was the thing making you develop a mental disorder. as you gathered your things, you felt a small tap against your shoulder and instantly met the eyes of your teacher.

"y/n, i was wondering if you could make me about 80 copies of this sheet?" she requested with a pleading look in her eyes.

you took a brief look around, noticing that you were the only one left in the room and internally cursed yourself for taking your time. still, you nodded your head, taking the sheet from her and forcing a, hopefully, believable smile. she acted as if a weight was lifted off her chest as she made her way back to her seat and you out of the room. as you made your way to your locker, you noticed jake making his way out of the building, unbeknownst to your presence. you realized he never specified any time frame to you, but you assumed the trip was a later afternoon thing. he could definitely wait a bit for you to leave school you pronounced as you grabbed your bag and approached the busted old printer. it looked like it could've been purchased around the same time the school was built, but luckily it had a paper with clear directions on how to make copies pasted on its side. you inserted the paper your teacher gave you and repeatedly tapped the plus button until it got to the number 80 before pressing the enter key.

while you waited, you felt the eerie feeling of being watched again and rapidly turned around to meet nothing. you quickly shoved your things in your bag before slinging it on one shoulder and crossing your arms securely, growing impatient as the slow printer spat out one paper every 30 seconds or so. after what felt like forever, the papers were at last done printing. you swiftly grabbed the stack and hurried toward your teachers room, but as you turned the corner you were met with the eyes of one of the kids in your class. you gasped a bit and jolted back at the sudden contact, almost dropping the stack. you tried to get around him, but he blocked you every time with a playful grin plastered on his face.

"woah why are you in such a hurry?" he questioned smugly.

"just get out of my way," you dryly replied while attempting to get past him again.

"don't be like that, come on, you and i could go to my place. maybe i can help with your stress." he hovered, stretching his arm out to touch you.

you took a step back, bumping into something and, in an effort to keep your composure, dropping the whole stack of papers. you lifted your head to see jake behind you somehow, a strange, only slight hint of maroon in his eyes that you never saw before.

"are you that pathetic?" he berated, his eyebrows closely knit together and jaw clenched tightly.

the boy scoffed and raised his hands up, slowly turning around before mumbling something to himself as he walked away. you quickly knelt down, gathering the papers as quickly as you could just to get out of that situation.

"wait let me help," jake offered before kneeling down opposite to you, his voice was calmer but still held hints of anger.

as you tried to pick up as much paper as possible, you felt the painful pinch of a paper-cut and instantly yelped which caught jake's attention.

"what-" he didn't even look up at you before instantly cutting himself off.

you looked up to him, caught off guard by the way he seemed stiff. every muscle in his body looked to be entirely clenched. his veins popped right out of his pale skin, dark hair falling as a makeshift curtain and shaking just slightly to present to you that he was trembling. your eyes trailed down to his hand and you noticed he was completely crushing a copy of paper and suppressing any erratic movement. one of his hands came to his mouth to cover it like he smelled something utterly repulsive. you couldn't help but feel a bit self conscious as if you made him behave this way, but you were the only one around.

"jake?" you softly called, noticing how his eyelids shut tightly at the sound of your voice. "jake, what's wrong with you?"

he slowly dragged his head up to look at you and dropped his hand, your body jerking back when you met his gaze. he stared at you with bloody red eyes before catching a glimpse of your finger, now gushing a little from the lack of attention you showed it. immediately, he looked back down breathing heavily and shutting his eyes again. you were stuck frozen, unable to describe what you just saw exactly.

"y/n-," he spoke through gritted teeth. "please go home. i'll give these papers to your teacher just please go home."

your breathing picked up as he spoke, the strain in his voice was so raw and unexplainable it developed a pit in your stomach. compelled by his words, you picked yourself up without taking your eyes off of his figure and instantly ran away, looking back periodically to see if he was following. he wasn't. once you got out of the building, you jumped in your car and drove away with too many questions in your mind to count. worst of all, amidst all the questions the only conclusion was that jake was not a human and that scared you more than anything. it made you think about all the times you felt watched and all your nightmares of a figure coming for you. it could all be linked to him, he could be the producer of all your issues. the more you thought about it, the crazier it drove you and the harder you squeezed your steering wheel as some sort of brace. you felt as if your fingers were going to break off and only then did you remember about your cut, jake went haywire at the cut. your heart sank as you realized the possibilities and you felt like you were genuinely going insane. you turned on your radio, turning the volume up as loud as you could to just forget about it and pretend it never happened. it wasn't real. it couldn't be real.

once you got to your house, you closed yourself off in your room, sticking your headphones in and listening to whatever came up first in your playlist. you attempted to sing along to the lyrics in an effort to get your mind out of whatever state it was in, but nothing was helping. every lyric was somehow correlated to your current situation in your head and you didn't know how to make it stop. you didn't even feel like doing any housework in fear that you'd somehow end up chopping of your finger and cooking it in a soup or something. you sighed after a bit of time, ripping your earbuds out of your ears and opting to sit at the edge of your bed and stare out the window. the sky was already dark, but for some reason it felt like your day just began.

suddenly, a pair of bright white headlights shined through your window. you stood up, pushing your window curtains out of the way to get a proper view of the outside. a shiny black car was pulled into your driveway with just as black, probably not even legal, tints. you watched intently as the driver side door opened and jake climbed out, looking fresh as a daisy as if nothing happened earlier. you could even say he looked quenched. you gulped as you looked at him, conflicted about whether you should wait for him to knock on the door or just go greet him or just fake fall asleep and pretend he didn't exist. before you could even decide on an option, you found yourself moving down the staircase onto the main floor of your house and opening the door before he could even knock. you sucked a deep breath in as he stared at you, noticing how he seemed to loosen up once he saw your bandaged finger. you took note on how his eyes were suddenly the same dark color they always were and tried to remain calm to the entity in front of you. whoever he may be.

"i haven't been honest with you." he finally spoke, extending a hand to you.

you slowly looked from his hand to him before extending your own hand and taking his. whatever happened from here would be your fault as much as his.

"i'm willing to learn about whatever you're willing to tell me," you began, inhaling deeply before continuing, "so tell me it all, please."

he seemed shocked at your eagerness, but closed his eyes in agreement and acceptance before leading you to his car. he sat you down first before getting in the driver's side. you sat tensely against the seat and in a failed effort to hold back, turned to jake once he was situated.

"what are you?" you interrogated, squinting your eyes to try and find some sort of alien type of abnormality in him.

but there was nothing, he was perfect. he had perfect skin, hair, eyes, lips, teeth, body. everything about him was that of a human and a flawless one at that.

"what do you think i am?" he rebutted, beginning to drive away from your house.

you thought he was many things. a demon or possibly the devil, a werewolf, a vampire. something mythical. you stuck your hand out to touch his without warning, a chill creeping through your body is you did so. he was ice cold, the living dead.

"..a vampire." you subconsciously whispered under your breath.

he turned to look at your expression as you stared at nothing, feeling completely confused about everything all at once.

"are you scared?" he checked, gripping the wheel tightly with one hand as he rested the other against his leg.

"no," you admitted. "but earlier...would you have killed me if i didn't leave?"

he seemed taken aback by the question as he turned to you with widened eyes.

"i don't know. truthfully y/n you are different," he explained. "there's a whole different skill set that vampires have acquired, but with you it's like all of that goes away. i can't hear your thoughts and i can't manipulate your mind. when i'm with you, it's like i'm human, but today when you cut yourself, my senses craved blood like never before. my body almost went numb with desire to a point where i knew i couldn't hold back. usually when we're hungry, we just eat, but i feel such a strong sense to protect you, i can't even understand it."

you listened attentively, bewildered by how you could have such an impact on someone, let alone someone who wasn't even human. the way he spoke about his urge to protect was so foreign to you. no one ever presented that they needed you so much before. it was strange, but it peaked your curiosity.

"how'd you even get to me back at the printers," you probed. "i swore i saw you leaving."

he noticeably tensed up a bit at the memory of that moment, red pigment gradually building up in his eyes once again before he blinked it back. he inhaled deeply before beginning, a gesture that didn't really do good in helping to calm your senses.

"my feelings to protect you are extraordinarily strong, possibly right next to my urges to feed. sometimes to harness them.." he paused for a moment as if he was too afraid to continue, "i watch you."

you were stunned by the sudden confirmation.

"do you watch me all the time?" you wondered, thinking back to the moments you felt like you were going insane.

"basically, i guess." he established, "i've watched you go to school, study, cook. i've also watched you sleep but only to remind myself what it looks like. vampires don't sleep."

you felt as if you were falling deeper and deeper into a pit of understanding. what once was so blurry had become so clear in an instant, but you couldn't make yourself feel mad at him. you only felt an unusual sense of adoration and wether it was due to his honesty or vulnerability was unclear. you'd been waiting for this moment to finally understand jake and now that it was here, it was like you were meeting an entirely different person.

"jake, how long have you been alive?" you blurted, examining a face that looked not one day over 18.

"a long time." he responded, sending chills down your spine. "yet nothing like this has ever happened in that time. not until now."

you shifted in your seat, unsure how to feel about the whole ordeal. on one hand you felt special. someone who has lived through several lifetimes has never met anyone like you before. on the other hand you felt disoriented at the thought as to why you were all of a sudden apart of this whirlwind, you questioned whether it should be considered a blessing at all.

you recognized your rapid heartbeat at once, an incredibly stupid idea coming into your head. if you weren't so lost in the conversation you would've quickly snapped yourself out of whatever deranged headspace you tapped into. unfortunately, it was a little too late for that.

"if you were to drink my blood, what would happen?"

jake's breath got caught in his throat from your question and he locked eyes with you, an expression on his face looking like he wanted to ask if you went crazy. once he realized how serious you truly were, he looked back onto the road, biting his bottom lip.

"i probably wouldn't crave it so strongly anymore," he admitted lowly. "don't get any ideas."

it was too late for that. your arm instinctively went to the sleeve of your sweater, rolling it up.

"how can we be friends if you have a craving for my blood? anytime i get hurt i'll have to flee like a damsel in distress. i don't want to live that way." you argued, lifting your arm closer to him.

he pulled away, blinking to try and hold back any involuntary reactions. your pulse drummed a dull pattern right into his ear and he could practically smell the blood wafting off of your finger from under the flimsy bandage you had on. it smelled sweet and fresh like a candy rather than the bitter blood he'd been drinking before. your blood felt like a twizzler compared to normal black licorice.

"y/n, if i do this there's a chance i won't be able to stop." he confessed, breathing heavily.

you thought about it for a moment, letting your arm drop a bit before dragging it back up again.

"i know you'll be able to stop, but whatever happens would happen with time anyways, right?" you reassured, trying to hide your nervousness from him. "i don't want to stay away from you, jake."

he took a deep breath in before pulling to the corner of the dark road, not a single other car in sight. jake turned to you with a clenched jaw and you watched as he slowly relaxed. his eyes gently shifted from the dark brown to red, veins in his under-eyes going dark as his canines became increasingly sharp. it was quite scary to see the transformation but you remained calm as you watched, nearly fascinated by it all.

"are you sure you want me to do this?" he asked one last time, a tiny glint of humanity still left in his eyes.

"..yes." you answered, voice just above a whisper.

you watched the last flicker in his eyes fade away as he sunk his teeth into your arm. the harsh bite caused you to yelp in pain before you watched him devour your blood as if it was the best meal money could buy. you could practically feel it leaving your body as he fed on you, your arm looking just a bit paler than before. the pain became more intense as time went on and your face began to scrunch uncomfortably at the pressure in your arm. you attempted to pull yourself away, but he was far stronger than you and way too into the moment.

"jake-" you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut.

as soon as he heard your voice he pulled off, pushing your arm away from him and allowing his features to return to normalcy. you stared at your arm in shock first, ultimately feeling the rush of blood pumping back into your veins and turning to jake. his facial expression almost asked you if you were okay to which you nodded, exhaling heavily. time seemed to stand still in that very moment as the both of you stared at one another, your eyes carrying a conversation. though there's only so much eyes can say to each other, one thing was made crystal clear:

everything was about to change.

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nanamikentoseyebags · 2 years ago

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I know i'm home

for everyone the scars on his body showed that for all his immense power, he was still human. for him they were an agonizing reminder that he would never let it happen again.

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

content: just his little inner satoru finally finds peace, warmth and home, hurt/comfort, fluff

a/n: i've been thinking a whole lot about little satoru lately, here's the result of my reflections lol, hope you enjoy <3

The quiet, velvety night slowly descended to the earth, spreading out an endless blanket of dark sky, sprinkled with a myriad of shimmering stars, inviting the full pale moon to slumber upon it until daybreak. A light summer breeze penetrated into your shared bedroom through the slightly open window, filling every corner of it with a pleasant freshness while gently, as if by the hand of a lover, brushing the loose strands away from your face. The barely audible murmur of the leaves, intertwined with the lulling buzzing of night insects and the occasional trill of birds, produced melodies that any composer would have envied. You stood there barefoot, in his oversized T-shirt that reached your knees, leaning your arms on the windowsill and curiously observing the nature, engulfed in a captivity of a tranquil slumber. It was miraculous how, in this hectic and violent world, there were still such peaceful nights, reserved for the two of you.

You pulled away from the window, gently adjusting the thin floral curtain he'd hung so eagerly, almost on the verge of falling, a few days ago. Listening to the tinkling sound of running water, you tiptoed toward the bathroom, the door of which was slightly ajar. The moments of simple domestic intimacy were so rare yet so precious that his five-minute absence felt like hours of unbearable torture, while the desire to peek through that little gap and catch a glimpse of the dearest silhouette grew with each passing second. You reached the door gingerly, and, squinting slightly in hopes that you wouldn't make a loud noise, you pulled it toward you, widening the viewing angle and quietly peeking in.

Your face met the pleasant warm humidity. The lamps glimmered brightly, illuminating the white tiled walls, little pearl-like droplets still dripping down as if chasing one another in an unspoken game. Satoru was standing with his back turned to you, exposing his broad shoulders and strong back with his birthmarks scattered all across it as if he was a canvas and they were the drops of paint, placed there by the hand of a great master. His snow-white hair, sparkling in the light, shimmered in an array of colors, creating a subtle glow all around him. The misted surface of the mirror revealed the imprints of his large palm, which had rid of the unwanted shroud a few minutes ago, giving him a glimpse of his reflection. His left hand rested on the edge of the basin while the other firmly gripped the razor, moving expertly across his porcelain, now covered in a layer of shaving foam, skin.

Satoru remained concentrated, turning his head deftly and delicately wielding his razor blade. His celestial blue eyes were fixed on his own reflection, while his thoughts were elsewhere. Surrounded by an unusual silence, punctuated only by the gentle whisper of flowing water, he still heard far more than any human ear could. For Satoru, the quietest night, so silent and soundless to everyone, turned into a cacophony of noisy daytime sounds.

He diligently tried to keep the annoying thoughts and noises away from him, striving to mentally return to the pleasant moments of complete tranquility with you. He put all the unnecessary shaving items into the cabinet and bent down, rinsing off the rest of the foam and sending it down the drain along with his dark thoughts. Then he straightened, taking a quick glance at his face reflected in the smooth surface of the mirror and reached for the towel, as his gaze, surprisingly even for him, lingered a little longer on the scar, hidden behind the damp snowy strands that fell on his forehead, and then slowly moved to his neck, eyes flickering worryingly under the blinding light of the bright lamps. He cautiously, as if he were afraid of himself, brought his hand to his neck, tracing the damaged skin with his fingertips and swallowing heavily. He reluctantly lowered his gaze to his chest, staring with revulsion at the vertical scar that so distinctly marked his pale skin.

He shook his head a few times, as if driving away the ghosts of his past, and nestled his head into the soft cloth of the terry towel, gently removing the residue of water from his face. Finally, he lifted his head and flinched slightly, meeting your gaze in the reflection.

"Spying on me?" he immediately turned around, in a moment replacing his startled grimace with his usual wide grin.

"Me? Never," you smiled sheepishly, not expecting to be caught red-handed, and opened the door wider, taking a couple of timid steps in his direction.

"I thought you were already in bed, you little liar," Satoru smirked boyishly, holding out his arms and inviting you into his warm embrace.

"I couldn't sleep without you, so I thought I'd see what you were doing here without me," you teased, wrapping your arms around his strong body and gently stroking his back.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, nothing to make you feel neglected," he joked, sounding as confident as possible, but his eyes brimmed with all the colors of unrestrained sadness.

You slapped his back playfully, bursting into hearty laughter and burying your nose into his naked chest. His strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you even tighter against him as his lips left a light kiss on your head. Your palm slowly caressed his silky skin, tracing intricate patterns with your fingertips, feeling the hundreds of goosebumps running all over his body. You smiled, your index finger now drawing a small heart just where his heart was beating beneath it. Satoru shook his head, laughing softly and rolling his eyes, "You're so cheesy," but you could still feel his slender, long fingers leaving little hearts on every millimeter of your skin for several minutes now. You smiled blissfully, allowing yourself to melt into his tender embrace, forgetting time and plans, feeling only the comfort of his warmth enveloping you from head to toe and his heart beating right under your cheek.

You gently touched his deep scar, like a scorched mark resting on his flawless, soft-white skin. Satoru's breath hitched as he shuddered at the sudden sensation.

"Does it hurt?" a soft whisper, coming from your lips and fanning his chest with your hot breath, reached his ears.

"Of course not, silly, it has long since healed," he looked at you perplexedly, his eyebrows drawn into a thin line.

"No, does it hurt?" you stressed the last word, lifting your head and gazing into his wide-open hypnotic orbits, hoping that he would understand what you implied in that question.

His lips quivered, and his eyes flickered frantically over your face, trying to figure out if he should voice what had been languishing inside for so long. Small but obvious wrinkles appeared on his forehead, giving his face an even more baffled expression.

"Yeah...' he forcefully uttered the answer that was stuck in his throat, 'sometimes I feel his knife going through me all over again…,' his hand slowly covered yours, stroking your knuckles.

"Right...," you whispered, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing his hand lightly, in hopes of showing that you could understand him.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm a kid again and I relive all this stuff over and over again, isn't that silly?" he chuckled sadly, hiding his eyes, in which you could notice snippets of the suffering he had seen throughout his life. It seemed as if, as he uttered these words, he indeed turned into a little boy, only the mischievous smile that everyone around him was so used to seeing had now faded, and his eyes no longer burned with such a vibrant light.

"It's not stupid at all," you lovingly brushed his hair away from his forehead, gently stroking his cheekbone, "I wish I was there to protect you from everything," you admitted sincerely.

"You know I would have done anything to prevent that," Satoru gently took your hand, leaving an appreciative kiss on your palm.

You nodded, knowing it was useless to argue with him, just hugged him a little tighter, while gently caressing his tense back muscles. You knew how hard he was trying not to reveal his true emotions to you, to keep cool, but it was his hands that were nervously rubbing the fabric of yours, or rather his T-shirt, and the ragged breathing that caused his chest heave so anxiously that made it all abundantly clear.

"I often wonder what that little boy I once used to be would have said to me after knowing how much pain and death those eyes had seen, what he would have thought when he saw that with every step I took there were bloody footprints on the ground, stretching endlessly behind me, how he would have felt when he noticed those scars, evidence that I had let it happen to him" he continued after a pause, burying his nose in your hair.

"He would have been proud of you," you uttered quietly, "after finding out what you had learned and what else those magic eyes could do, he would have admired seeing what your body, now adorned with a pair of battle marks, was capable of, he would have thanked you when he realized how many people you had saved. And he thanks you now for the way you protect him, because he still lives in you."

Satoru fell silent, holding his breath, heeding every single word that he felt was healing his wounds, kissing all the pain away. He closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes, and exhaled softly.

You caressed his side reassuringly, leaving a kiss on his shoulder, "I just know little Satoru feels safe now."

"Yeah, with you, little Satoru feels at home.”

***

The silent, dark night was replaced by a bright morning, filled with the peals of the birds, causing the sleeping moon to give way to the brilliant sun, illuminating the soft features of Satoru, who had fell asleep on your chest, with its gentle golden rays. The warm blanket he had so carefully wrapped you in before you went to sleep almost slid to the floor, his arm lazily wrapped around your waist while your legs were entwined, preventing you from moving. You smiled earnestly, fingertips stroking his soft skin and once again covering his body with little hearts, while your lips were leaving little kisses here and there. Your heart was full, realizing with its every beat that your whole world was encased in this one person. You lay there quietly, staring at his slightly fluttering white lashes and hoping that in one of the parallel universes you had somehow met sooner, and both little Satoru and little you knew no worries, faithfully carrying your love through life, holding tightly to each other with your intertwined pinkies.

thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! <3

art and dividers are not mine <3

tags: @shamelessperfectionhideout @afortoru @keiskyutie @vagabond-umlaut @4sat0ruu @softsatoru @mitsuyeaah @playgrl0 @moonsinfonia @a-nuisance-called-sam @gojoshooter

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #satoru gojou #jjk satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x gn!reader #gojo x yn #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo satoru fluff #satoru angst #i needed this after the mess gege caused today #so this is extremely self-indulgent

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arachine · 2 years ago

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. . . tender wounds & soft kisses (won't you stay?) ; i. midoriya

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis :: trouble comes knocking on your doorstep seeking salvation. the question is, do you answer it?

── ˚₊✩‧₊ general tags :: pro!hero au, angst, fluff

── ˚₊✩‧₊ content warnings :: fem!reader, mentions of blood + death but nothing explicit, reader patches his wounds, intense feelings, making out, 3k words

── ˚₊✩‧₊ notes :: part one of two (?) of a future mini series :3 next part will include filth pinky promise !

it doesn’t matter how many times he shows up at your door like this—battered and bruised, that is. you’ll never get used to it. you want to turn him away, to tell him he’d have better luck going to a hospital—but—it’s half past midnight, and it’s cold, and it’s raining, and…he doesn’t know where else to go.

he knows you’re tired. can see it in the way you lean your head against the door frame, and the way you blink up at him with indifference, as if your eyes are telling him “come in now or i’ll leave you out in the cold”.

with an appreciative smile, he enters through the door and brushes past you. takes his heavy, muddy boots off, one by one, and leaves them to sit in the foyer where they contrast starkly against your pristine-perfect ones.

it’s a sight that’s starting to become all too familiar to you. sometimes it looks like there’s another person living here, like there’s someone to share the space with, but you know his presence is only ephemeral. you’d wish it weren’t, though. especially since he already knew the floor plan of your apartment like the back of his hand.

even in the pitch-black dark, his steps are confident. calculated. familiar. he dredges down the corridor with impressive precision, and yields absolutely no qualms of bumping into your many awkwardly placed pieces of furniture. doesn’t even trip over the new coffee table you recently purchased. because instead of him doing the bumping and tripping, you do.

izuku comes to a sudden standstill in the middle of the living room, and you walk right into his back, knocking him forward a bit from the force.

“what’s wrong?” you question, trying not to let yourself sound too concerned, but it comes out more tender than anything. he breathes out a quick nothing, and continues the trek to your bathroom, wincing through gritted teeth while clutching his side.

if he’s in pain, he won’t say it. which is another reason why you’ve come to resent his spontaneous fix-me-up visits. impatiently, you side step by him and rush to the bathroom. turn on the light and stand at the door frame with your arms crossed over your chest, like you were practically urging him to quicken his pace so he could be out of here faster.

but he takes his time. because despite the sharp-ache in his ribs, and the sting above his brow, he gets to see you. izuku midoriya gets to be touched by you. to be cleaned by you. patched up by you. sinewy muscles and bruised flesh, all taken care of by—you.

so, yeah. he takes his sweet time getting to the bathroom—even if he’s five steps from getting there. he’ll make it ten. anything to make this last longer.

“come on, i’m tired,” you say, turning on your heels to open the cabinet. “i’d like to get back into my comfy bed as soon as possible.”

when you take a look inside the cabinet, you frown at the shortage of supplies you’re met with. which, honestly, shouldn’t even really surprise you—considering he was the one responsible for its barren state.

regardless, you pluck what you can of what’s left, then set them down on the counter in the order of which you’ll use them: clean rag, soap, ointment, steri-strips, and gauze (in case there’s a bigger wound somewhere under his tattered clothes).

from your peripheral, you can see his silhouette appear from out of the darkness, and you watch intently through the mirror as his now fully-illuminated body trudges behind you. god, he looks worse than he did standing under the light of your front porch.

well, that’s what you think. prior, a good portion of his face had been enshrouded by night, so you couldn’t really make out anything worth noting—even if you wanted to, at least.

but now you bear witness to the hues of red that dance across his face; both from the inflamed capillaries underneath his skin, and the blood ribboning down the gash above his brow.

“you know the drill.” your gaze is pointed, and you eye him through the mirror while dousing the rag under the warm running water.

he comes to a halt in front of the toilet, grimacing once, then clutches his side protectively before bending down to sit. you note that too.

“so…” a beat. “you gonna need help taking that off? or—“

“i’ve got it,” the green haired boy quips, moving to retract his arm from his side.

you throw your hands up in defeat, and reposition yourself to lean against the sink’s ledge. your eyes trace every movement, and you watch amusedly as he pathetically struggles to remove his gloves, but eventually achieves.

next, he attempts to tackle his zipper. a grimace. then, he attempts it again, only to withdraw in pain.

“let me do it,” impatience on the tip of your tongue. you lunge forward to unzip the damn thing yourself because you can’t bear to watch any longer, small hand swatting his much larger one away.

dropping to your knees, you sit between his legs and zip it down until the entirety of his torso is revealed. a solemn frown settles on your lips, and it takes everything in you to not shed a tear.

gathering your wits, you continue undressing him, gently pulling each arm from its consecutive sleeve, before moving to unclasp the mask tugged down his neck.

“i hate when you do that,” your voice speaks up, replacing the unpleasant silence. there’s evident irritation laced in it, and he can’t help but to wince from the way it pulls his heart strings.

“when i do what?” you take a brief moment before answering him. busy yourself with the loose thread hanging on the side of his leg pant, tug on it until you snap it off. “when you pretend you’re not in pain.”

izuku sighs through his nose, something long and heavy. “i’m sorry,” he attempts at an apology, though he knows he’d have better luck convincing someone else who wasn’t accustomed to seeing him like this.

“no you’re not, otherwise you’d stop waking me up in the middle of the night to tend to your wounds.” there it is. that venomous tongue of yours, the one that doesn’t hold back in telling him what he needs to hear. he can’t even counter it—so he takes it. leans back into the cool porcelain of the tank, and watches as you walk away to the sink, only to return with a stool and rag in tow.

for a minute, you mull over which area of skin to tackle first, until you decide on prioritizing his torso. you take the damp rag and run it along the perimeter of his wound where there’s a culmination of dried blood and fresh red. his abs flex in response to the sensation, a sharp intake of breath.

“sorry,” you mutter without looking at him, eyes focused and hands working diligently between swipes.

“nope, ‘m fine.”

“liar.”

“yeah,” he breathes.

“how’d you get this one, huh? oh, wait, let me guess. off doing god knows what, at god knows where, chasing after some guy you’re not even authorized to be chasing.”

you rise up from your seat to dispose of the rag, grabbing the remaining items on the counter. “did i get any of that right?”

izuku laughs, a small admittance. “i don’t think i’m at liberty to say.”

scoffing, you plop back down in front of him, and carefully, begin cleaning the inside of the wound with a damp piece of gauze. every now and then, you check his face to gauge for any pain, but his relaxed expression is unfaltering. because he’s looking down at you with so much warmth it’s scalding.

his gaze feels like a thousand little pricks, makes you shiver from the intensity, and you silently pray he doesn’t catch it. though, it’s really wishful thinking on your part. he noticed most things, was just in his nature.

“what are you looking at?” all bite. his eyes shift from your face to the tiled floor. suddenly, the grout was starting too look interesting, in fact, when’s the last time you touched it u—

“n-nothing,” he stutters, warmth spreading across his face to the tips of his ears.

“so weird…” your eyes flit up once, before refocusing on covering the wound in clean, dry gauze.

in juxtaposition to your jagged edged words, you’re so gentle. delicate in everything you do, but especially so, when you’re handling him. it’s something that he’s come to find massively endearing, and he hates that the only time he’s a recipient of your attentiveness, is when he shows up at your door all bloodied and bruised.

“shit, uh, can you hold this in place for a second? gonna get some tape.”

izuku nods in compliance. follows with trained eyes as your frame disappears into the dark. then, the sound of a flicker follows suit shortly after, and the light—from what he presumes to be your room—illuminates the rest of the hallway.

in the distance, he can hear the soft thud of feet padding back and forth between rooms, and can just about isolate the cacophonous sound of drawers opening and closing, along with muttered obscenities.

the impending sound of footsteps announces your return, and you take your seat between his legs, this time with a roll of tape in tow.

“and,” you drawl, “done. now let me look at that nasty gash on your face.”

he scoots closer to the edge to give you a better look, and the pair of your knees knock together. neither of you acknowledge it, nor do you make an effort to move. the proximity has him reeling, but you seemingly remain indifferent.

reaching up, you take hold of his chin and maneuver him intermittently as you prod and poke at the open flesh. suddenly, a feeling of sadness washes over you upon the realization that one day he might not even make it to your doorstep. that maybe this will be the last time you hold his beautiful face in your hands. that this will be the last time those kind, green eyes look up at you. the reality of the situation is that every day may very well be his last.

when you stop your ministrations, he knows something’s up. “what is it? what’s wrong?” the intonation in his voice rising, displaying the sincerity of his concern. a calloused hand finds solace on the side of your cheek, and you careen into its warmth.

“i don’t…i don’t know how many times i can keep seeing you like this,” you admit, voice straining at the effort it takes to quell your tears.

izuku brings a second hand up to your face, cradles it in his calloused palms. swipes his thumbs soothingly over the apples of your cheeks and shushes you before a sob can erupt from your throat.

“nonono, don’t get yourself all upset over me.”

“how can i not ‘zu?!”

“‘cause ‘m not worth it,” he spits, and it almost scares you how much he believes in the veracity of his statement.

“‘not worth it’…” you repeat, “if you weren’t worth it, i wouldn’t let you keep coming back into my house. i wouldn’t patch you up…wouldn’t let you keep making me feel like this.”

“i’m sor—“

“don’t you fucking dare say sorry,” you get up abruptly, releasing yourself from his grasp. “god, you make me—you make me fucking crazy! can’t you see?” your hands go to reach the ledge of the sink, and you rock back and forth on anxious heels.

forgetting the ache in his side, the pro-hero rises to his feet. he lets his weakened legs drag him to where you stand. your head is down, and your arms are out-stretched to support your weight. he can’t see your face, but he hears the beginnings of a sob.

thoughts race through his mind a mile a minute. what should i do? he thinks. how can he console you? should he touch you? hold you? but what if you don’t want to be touched? he racks his brain for an answer, to no avail.

for a while, he just stands there—because in the short distance he traveled, he didn’t really think of a plan. just acted on impulse. but then he sees a big cartoonish teardrop land on the counter and he loses it.

unthinking, the greenette takes you into his hold. slots himself behind you like a puzzle piece and wraps you up, one arm across your chest, and the other over your middle. the sudden contact surprises you, but you make no contests. instead, you find yourself relaxing into his grip, and he takes that as a silent confirmation to squeeze you further into his embrace.

“don’t cry,” izuku whispers into the interstice of your neck, “can’t bear it. don’t like it.” you raise your head to lay against his chest, and wrap your fingers around his forearm. his body radiates a warmth that you find wildly comforting. it’s intoxicating, almost. and now that you’ve had a taste of it, you’re not quite sure you’d be able to let go.

but while the feeling is nice, it’s also equal parts scary and debilitating. because you weren’t a couple. you weren’t temporary lovers. you weren’t…anything, and yet—you fit like one. and that was scary. terrifying.

it scared you how much space this person took up in your life; how little he gave in return, and how much of your heart belonged to him. and the worst part of it all? how scared he was to trust you with a scintilla of his. of all the years you’ve known izuku midoriya, this is the coldest you’ve known him to be.

“alright, i’m better now. you can let go,” you speak, though the words that escape your lips directly conflict with what you really feel.

don’t let go. don’t let go. hold me a little longer, please.

reluctantly, the bigger man releases you from his firm grasp. he holds your gaze through the mirror, waits for you to start the conversation—which your eyes seem to have already started, because he swears that right now, they’re singing a song of sorrow.

“be honest with me, please. don’t you think i deserve that much?”

suddenly, the pain in his ribs throbs. his forehead falls to rest on your shoulder. he’s stalling. biding his time so that he can come up with an answer.

“of course you do, you deserve the truth and so much more. but…”

“but,” you repeat plainly, because of course there’s a but.

“—but there’s things that i just can’t tell you. and i know it sucks, and i know it sounds like a bunch of bullshit, but if something were to ever happen to you because of the information you knew, i literally wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” the words flow from his lips hurriedly, like if he doesn’t get it all out now, they’ll detonate inside of him.

“you gotta just give me this, please, baby.”

baby.

babybabybaby. he called you…baby. your eyes widen like saucers at the pet name, and then it dawns on him that he let it slip through a fit of passion.

“baby? uh, pft, i meant…” he tries to recant the part in his spiel that he let slip out, nervously scratching the back of his freckled neck.

“i hate you.” a lie. but it sounds right to say, even though there’s no real weight behind it. still, how dare he? how dare he make you go years thinking your feelings were unrequited? how dare he fucking steal your heart again with one little word, two syllables, and four letters?

izuku smirks. if you had uttered these words to him when he was still young and unsure of himself, he’d believe you. but he doesn’t—because he knows you. knows that your venomous tongue lacks potency. and he knows that your heart is reserved for him, always has been—even if his negligence almost cost him you.

“you don’t,” he says matter-of-factly, viridian irises soft, staring back at you.

“i do.” unceremoniously, two large hands grab your waist. they turn you around with uncharacteristic speed, pin you against the sink and leave you with no exit. a gasp bubbles in your throat.

“okay, then say it to my face, “ izuku leans forward, strong arms encasing you between his chest and the sink he holds. his neck tilts downward so that he’s looking into your eyes, and god, he’s so big. so imposing, takes up too much space. too much.

“tell me you hate me, and i’ll stop doing…this. i’ll get out of your hair for good.”

any and all semblance of composure you had up until that point, dissipates into thin air right then and there. your eyes squint into slits because he fucking proved you right. you were too much of a coward to say it, but on the off-chance that you did, he’d see right through you. one thing you hate more than being proven wrong, is feeling like you have no control over things.

things like izuku. he made your head all foggy with just a glance, and your stomach knotted up with an utter of your name. but this? god, you couldn’t handle this. the proximity, the intimacy of your rather compromising position, the intensity of his gaze, or the way his breath kissed the curve of your jaw. he was everywhere, all the time. omnipotent.

“you’re right,” you admit with a huff, acquiescing to his boyish-grin. your admission has him lurching forward, inching closer, and closer to the pair of roseate lips pouting up at him so prettily (that they might as well be an open invitation for him to kiss you).

“i’m right.”

you find yourself initiating a game of cat and mouse. every time he moves in, you move out. it’s so silly. makes you feel like a love-sick school girl waiting by the lockers to give her crush a handwritten note. but you’re relishing in it; and so is he, admittedly more so than you.

with every passing second, you become less and less aware of your surroundings. all you know is that your lips are moving in tandem, hovering over the other, open-mouthed and panting. you want him. you want to taste him, to bite him, to give him another wound that will turn into a pretty pearl-grey scar amongst the rest.

your desire for him is carnal, but you play this little game like time is infinite. and you suppose, time can be anything you want it to be when you’re encased between his body.

just as he’s about to close the gap, you whisper a plea into his ear. “promise me,” your voice is breathy, wanting, but still firm. his lips dip down to your neck, and he places a hot, open-mouthed kiss into the divot of your clavicle. trails upwards as he pops up to answer you.

“i’ll promise you a hundred things, i’ll - i’ll promise you whatever you want.”

“promise me you’ll start being careful,” you say breathless, “that i won’t see your name as a headline on the news.”

“i promise,” he delves back into your neck, repeating it like a mantra along the vein of your jugular until he kisses his way up to your lips. there’s a brief pause initiated by you when your hand pushes back his chest.

a look of confusion overtakes his features, and you’re looking at him with nervous eyes. are we really about to do this? they say. are we really about to cross that threshold? like you haven’t already done that and more within the span of ten minutes. but you need the reassurance, to be told that everything after this will be okay.

yes, his say. it’s fine. you can trust me.

you felt again the rush of helplessness, the push and pull of the current; until, finally, you let it sink you. he kisses you gently, delicately, then with a swift gradation of intensity that has you whimpering into his mouth.

“hate you,” a kiss, “for making me,” another, “wait so - mmf - long,” you try to speak between clashes of teeth and tongue, smoothing your arms up his exposed chest before encircling them around his neck.

“i know, baby, i’m terrible,” he breaks away to suckle your neck, “i’m the worst.”

“the worst,” you agree. suddenly, you start to understand why people say kissing is like melting, because every part of your body he touches, has you dissolving rapidly into sea-foam. you’re so hot and bothered, you don’t even know what to do with your hands.

they were around his neck at some point, but now they’re roaming freely. over his chest, his biceps, down his back, in his hair—on his face. maybe you’ve traveled too far, because the sound it elicits from him is teetering the border between pain and pleasure.

“sorry, did i do that?” you gesture to his brow, which he shields protectively.

“just a scratch, i can take it,” he reassures, attempting to resume his assault on your collar bone. you grab hold of his chin, redirecting him to look at you.

“just a scratch, huh? well, you’re lucky you got away with just a ‘scratch’.”

#:: — LEXI WRITES !#exposure tags >>>#bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya smut #deku x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x reader smut #mha x reader #mha x reader smut

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ghostchems · 1 year ago

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This would fuck me up so much soooo

5. looking at the mirror but the reflection isn't. looking. at. you.

With Terzo and you know I like it spicy 😊😊

a man after midnight - terzo x f!reader

a/n: so many warnings. this is super smut. 18+, mdni. this absolutely ran away from me!!! i feel like i have lost my mind but i hope you all enjoy :) 2.4k words. ao3 link.

You got back from work later than you’d liked, past midnight and far past your usual bedtime. There’s still chocolate syrup stuck to your arm as you hop into the shower, to clean that off and whatever else has stuck to you. The water is warm, falling over your delicate skin, cleansing you of the smell of ice cream and chocolate, and all the feeling contributed to work. It’s your time now, even though you will most likely just fall asleep after your shower.

Your apartment is covered in shadows and darkness, with the light in your bathroom dim and flickering and just one other desk lamp illuminated in your bedroom. The moon is hidden and the sky is starless tonight, an omen to those who notice… but you haven’t. Your brain is preoccupied with how much sleep you’ll be able to get before having to return to work.

The shower is a quick one, not wanting to take more time away from sleep, and you step out onto the cold tile floor while wrapping your towel around you. Your mind slips for a moment, thinking about nothing in particular as you brush your teeth. When your gaze falls to the mirror, you notice your eyes don’t meet your own. Mirror you has toothpaste foaming from her mouth and is staring at the door to the bathroom.

You quickly spit out the toothpaste and look back up at the mirror but she hasn’t changed. Unease starts to crawl up your spine, shivering in your towel. The room becomes cold, the vapor from the shower dissipating and the condensation on the mirror starts to turn to frost. You open the medicine cabinet and slam it shut only to find the same image. This time her eyes flicker to stare into yours, then raises her finger to point toward the door.

There is nowhere to go but out; you drop your towel and rush toward the door, nearly slipping multiple times. You reach the door and the lights go out, leaving you in complete darkness. Your fingers curl around the frame of the door and you peek through it. There’s nothing you can see. You slowly slip through the door, taking anxious baby steps forward. You’re telling yourself that your exhaustion is playing tricks on you, that all you need is to get into bed and shut your eyes and whatever is going on will sort itself out.

The second you’re through the door the room comes roaring to life with black candles lining the walls glowing with green flames. You cover yourself with your arms and hands, trying to press your thighs together so you’re not exposed once your eyes fall to the bed and you realize there is a man here. He eyes you up and down, his white eye glowing green as his lips twitch into a grin. His fingers raise dramatically and he snaps them. In a blink of an eye your body is suddenly expertly wrapped up in a lush towel along with your damp hair.

“Don’t look so surprised, carissima. You summoned me.” He stretches out on your bed, propping his head up his hand as he waggles his brows. “A man after midnight, no?” He uses his spare hand to feather through his raven hair with some strands falling into his face. His face paint cuts through the green light, highlighting the white parts of his face and making his piercing eyes stand out against his black eye paint.

“The… the Abba song?” Your high-pitched voice cuts through the air, your face twisting in confusion. A wave of warmth washes over you, the most comfortable warmth you’ve ever felt, and you take a step toward him, your feet having a mind of their own.

“You have a need and I’m here to fill it.” He clicks his tongue and smiles, your eyes falling to his fangs. “Come, carissima.” He pats the empty side of the bed and you immediately feel a rush of arousal explode through you, your cheeks growing hot and your breath catching in your throat. You can’t stop yourself from doing what he asks as if he is controlling you or maybe he is just impossible to resist. Still, you are apprehensive while you sit down, clutching your towel and maintaining some distance between you — which he quickly closes in on. You swear a second ago he was wearing a black button down shirt but now he’s shirtless and you take in the fine, dark hair that covers his chest.

“Work, work, work, sleep, sleep, sleep. You need some excitement in your life, bella.” He growls huskily as he brings one of his hands to your face to cup your cheek. The ache between your thighs only grows while his thumb strokes your cheek gently. You should be smacking him away from you but you find yourself disarmed by him. It’s only now that you’re so close to him that you can see the sharp horns poking out from his forehead.

“What are you?” You sound flirty and it shocks you. It’s like he’s in your mind controlling your feelings and how you react to him. He slides his finger from his cheek to your lips, ghosting it lightly across the soft skin. You feel your heart pound in your ears and you press your thighs tightly together.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He slips his finger into your mouth and presses down on your tongue, eliciting a deep, unintentional moan from you. “Call me Terzo, carissima. And please, no more questions, eh? We are wasting valuable time.” Terzo purrs and leans in, his lips brushing against your cheek. His kisses are soft and open, carefully making his way down your cheek as they grow more feverish.

You don’t stop him. His free hand rests on your shoulder and slides down to toy with the top of your towel as he reaches your neck, his teeth and tongue nipping and sucking along the tender flesh. Everything melts away from you, all thought and all concerns, just as he carefully tugs at your towel, slipping his hand down the front of it. His hand and mouth are impossibly hot, warming your skin and sending heat straight to your core. Terzo focuses on your collarbone, humming as he mouths along it, trailing wet kisses. He reaches up and grabs at the towel on your head, freeing you damp hair.

“Mostriciattola, you are so beautiful.” He murmurs as he lifts his head up, mismatched eyes gazing into yours. You’re speechless, your lips parted but nothing leaving them as you wet them with your tongue. Terzo groans and presses his chin against yours, both of your mouths open before he descends on it. His tongue sweeps inside your mouth, tasting you and meeting your own tongue, taking his sweet time in skimming over every inch of you. You can feel your breath being taken away by him, your mind growing hazy and the ache between your thighs growing more intense.

“I know how to please you. I’ve seen your darkest desires, belleza.” He purrs and forcefully pushes you onto your back. Your towel falls from you, his smooth hands cupping your breasts. He rolls them between his fingers and then pinches both of them at the same time, the jolt of pain and pleasure making you whimper. “You need some attention, si?” Terzo grins, showing off his teeth before he dips down, his hot breath skimming your breast. You squirm beneath him as you whine, watching him through half-lidded eyes. He chuckled quietly before flitting his tongue across your pebbled nipple. “Don’t youuuuu?” Terzo teases, tilting his head to peer up at you with a wicked grin.

“I do.” You whine as your body trembles. “I do, oh god, I do.” He growls in response before sealing his lips around your nipple, laving his tongue across the pebbled flesh. Your hand falls to his sleek hair, your eyes fluttering shut as hushed moans spill from your lips. Terzo pulls off of your nipple slowly then moves to the other, giving it the same attention. You feel yourself dripping between your legs and the coiling tension in your abdomen only grows. He starts to move lower, his lips and tongue teasing down your stomach, his teeth scraping against your hip bones hard enough to make you squeak. Terzo then settles himself between your legs, deep, rumbling breaths pushing past his lips as half lidded eyes flicker up to your face and then down to your sex.

He leans down and kisses at the inside of your thighs, his sharp nails stroking at your legs. It’s slow and sensual, his fingertips heating up your skin and his lips gently massaging. He gives a shuddered breath as his mouth hovers over your sex, unable to hold back a groan once his tongue meets your slick folds. Terzo wraps his arms around your legs and buries his face between them, his nose pressed firm against your clit and his mouth devouring you. Your fingers knot in his hair, your hips rolling in time with his tongue against you. The taste of you on his tongue makes him moan, the vibrations of the sound reverberating through you as he continues his slow pace of working against your folds.

His mouth is intoxicating. Never have you felt this insane from getting eaten out. Terzo’s movements grow more sloppy, his tongue fluttering along you before focusing on your clit. He seals his lips around it, sucking and gliding his tongue across it. Your hips jerk and you cry out, your abdomen tensing with each lick. His fingers push against your entrance, teasing and applying just the right amount of pressure to make you squirm. He pushes them in to his knuckles, giving a pleased grunt at how easily they slipped inside. Terzo curls them again and again against that spot deep inside you, sucking on your clit in perfect rhythm as screams rip from your throat, your hips stuttering and jerking from the sudden overstimulation.

The pleasure is too much for you. Your body shakes and shudders, your nails digging into his scalp as you start to feel yourself become overtaken. A choked sob leaves your lips and you cum around his fingers, your eyes rolling back as your head hits the soft bed. He doesn’t stop though, his fingers still working you over and over again. Terzo pulls his mouth off of your swollen clit and rests his chin on your hip, wild eyes staring up at you as he continues curling his perfect fingers inside.

“One more for me, belleza.” He sounds so nonchalant, so unworried, while your senses are on fire. You can’t bring yourself to speak, only sounds of desperation and thrill leaving your lips. Your hips writhe and twitch, and you let go of his hair only to grab onto the sheets as your gut tightens and your vision blurs. The tension snaps and you cum again. You can hardly feel your legs and your head feels light, your vision coming back only to see him smirking above you. You roll your eyes at him but are still unable to speak, instead catching your breath as you start to relax against the bed.

“Oh, I’m not done yet, mostriciattola.” He hisses and undoes his slacks, his perfect cock falling out of them. Before you can respond, his one hand curls around your throat, nails digging into your neck as he squeezes. You give a surprised yelp and then a scream once he slams his cock inside you. Terzo’s hips piston into you, his teeth bared as he snarls low in his throat. His eyes look like they’re glowing and the nails pressing into your neck feel impossibly sharp, threatening to break the skin. One of your hands clutches his wrist while the other grasps his forearm. You’re only able to gasp and give deep moans, his cock massaging your inner walls relentlessly.

You feel like you’re dead on arrival, unable to even stand a chance against his monstrous cock. Your abs tense and you struggle to breath against his grip on your throat. His perfect hair is messy and he looks positively devilish as he squeezes your throat even tighter. You gasp for air, the combination of the lack of oxygen and the way his cock mercilessly fucks into you sending you over the edge. There are tears in your eyes as you cum and the orgasm is delicious. He quickly lets go of your throat and lowers himself on top of you, his hands curling behind your shoulders as he drives himself home. His hips snapping, his eyes boring into yours as he growls, so extremely focused on chasing his own release. You grab onto him and meet his hips with each thrust, and he can’t help but give a surprised groan, his lips hovering just over yours.

“Oh, sathanas.” Terzo hisses and buries his face in your neck, ragged breaths and low moans filling your ear. His thrusts slow to a stop and he stays there on top of you for what feels like a long while. You don’t know what else to do so you rest your hands on his back, hesitating for just a moment before you start to rub at it. He stiffens and then melts into the touch, closing his eyes while he catches his breath.

Suddenly, the green flames go out, the candles disappear and the lighting returns back to normal. In a blink of an eye he’s dressed in his silk black dress shirt and slacks, and you’re in a matching royal purple pajama set.

“You’re leaving?”

“Ah, si. I’ve completed my assignment, carissima.” He smiles cheekily.

“You could stay.” This creature had just been inside you but you still sound shy and a blush creeps up your cheeks.

“You’re serious?”

“Well, yeah.” You are surprised by how unsure he looks as if no one has ever asked him to stay the night. Maybe it wasn’t part of his typical summoning but surely one person had to have asked, right? You cross your legs on the bed and start to mess with some of the covers. “You don’t have to… but you could stay.”

Terzo eyes wander up and down your figure then focuses in on your face, his brows knit together. Something is going on behind his eyes, like he is thinking and overthinking about something. He ends up giving a deep sigh, as if he’s given up, and dives into the bed next to you, his arms immediately finding you and pulling you in close.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you have a little bit of a crush on me, mostriciattola.”

#papa emeritus iii #terzo #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus x reader #terzo request #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfics #ghost fanfiction

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bathroom4lessuk · 1 month ago

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Bathroom4less - Destination for Elegant Non-Illuminated Mirror Cabinets

Enhance your bathroom's charm with Bathroom4less' Non-Illuminated Mirror Cabinets. These beautifully crafted cabinets are designed to provide ample storage while adding a touch of sophistication to your bathroom. Built with premium materials, they ensure durability and a sleek, timeless look. Perfect for organizing your essentials and keeping your bathroom clutter-free.

#Bathroom4less #Non Illuminated Mirror Cabinets #Bathroom Mirror Cabinet #bathroom illuminated mirror cabinet #illuminated mirror cabinets

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darkmxgician · 4 months ago

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Promises Break- Part 4

pairing: fem!reader x noah. tags: drinking, trauma/PTSD, smut, drugs

word count: 1.9k

story song: nowhere to go

taglist: @sorrowsofsilence @angelsdevils @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @montgomery-929496

18+ below the cut

~ Reader ~

I wake up to the headache that was threatening to burst my skull. I dreamt of my brothers friend Noah, that he showed up to the club I was at. That he brought me home and took my virginity, that he relished in the sight of my blood and fucked me like a feral beast. That I enjoyed it. What the fuck is wrong with me? My grip on reality is slipping more and more each day. I try to stand, needing to use the bathroom, my bladder ready to burst. My legs fail me, and the soreness between them makes me gasp. Was it real? It can’t be. I stood up again, stumbling towards my bathroom. I pause as I walk past the mirror, I slept naked, which is odd for me. I have make up all over my face, my eyes puffy, like I’d been crying. What happened last night? But it was the marks on my throat and breasts that make me pause, I raise my hand to my throat, hissing when my fingers scrape at the angry red marks. Did I do that to myself? I turn away, I can’t stand the sight of myself. When I use the toilet I look down and notice the same red marks littered across my thighs, like bite marks, and bruises on my hips. Lack of certainty threatening to undo my sanity completely I go on autopilot, scrubbing my make up off, dressing in boxers and a large t-shirt, each movement eliciting some new pain throughout my body. I make my way to the kitchen, putting the kettle on, filling a mug with sugar and finding a box of tea bags. I know I have no food in so head outside for to smoke, needing something to take the edge off.

~ Noah ~

I couldn’t sleep, the adrenaline running through my body, having only sated the beast inside ever so slightly. She’s awoken something inside me, and it will destroy everything until it has her in its claws. I took the time while she was sleeping to roam through her home. The room next to hers seemed to be some sort of library, a sofa by the window, three sets of floor to ceiling shelves, housing books and hundreds of vinyl records. I make a mental note to look through her collection of music later. The large windows look out onto a patio, where a small pool is illuminated by lights dotted around in plant pots. The living room housed a large sofa, a TV with games consoles lined up and a cabinet that seems to act as a scoreboard, writing adorning its surface. Two more bedrooms, a laundry room and kitchen make up the rest of the house. I take my time, familiarising myself with her surroundings. My alarm starts blaring and I groan, 7am. I check on y/n, still asleep, she looks at peace, a stark contrast to the make up smeared across her cheeks and the bite marks I left on her throat. The sight of her like that almost had me crossing the room to take her all over again. I fist my hands at my sides and head out, I need to get some clothes and supplies from home, and a store. Her brother has been for a week and there’s no evidence that she’s eaten much since then. After last night, I’ve decided that she is mine, mine to fuck and please, but she needs someone to take care of her. How did this get so complicated so fast? All she had to do was stay home like the good girl she usually is.

I let myself back in using the key, I need to get a copy for myself, when her brother returns he’ll take this one back. I spot her instantly through the large windows, sat with a drink, smoking a cigarette. She looks lost in her own thoughts, not noticing me as I walk into the kitchen, dumping the bag of groceries on the counter. I open the door and stalk towards her. I expected her to jump, to react, but she lifts her eyes to me slowly, and laughs. What the fuck is wrong with this girl? She closes her eyes, that’s when I realise it’s a joint between her fingers, not a cigarette. I take it from her and stub it out, the last thing she needs is drugs. She looks at me again, tilting her head and assessing me. I stare back, leaning down and resting my hands on the arms of her chair. She reaches up and touches my face, just like she did last night after I fucked her. “Are you real?” she laughs again, the sound grating on me, “of course not, but I’ll give my imagination points for thinking you’d ever want to be with me”. She thinks she made it up? She’s more fucked up than I thought, maybe I pushed her too far last night, maybe I broke her completely. I grab her face, forcing her to meet my stare, “if you don’t think what I did to you last night is real, little one, maybe you need a reminder?” I crush my lips to hers, needing her to feel me. I’ve never formed normal attachments, never had a real girlfriend. But for some unknown reason, I need y/n to know that I want her, I crave her, that she’s mine. She’s the masochist I’ve always dreamed of, granted a more fucked up version, but nobody truly sane would ever want to be with me anyway. She’s barely there, she tastes like weed and something else I can’t place, I grab her, everywhere, squeezing and pinching, trying to get a rise out of her. She jerks when I roll her nipple between my fingers, bingo. I bite her lip, enough to let me taste her blood and she struggles to get away. Like I would ever let that happen.

~ Reader ~

When I first met Noah I was excited to get to know him. My brother lives with his bandmate Nicholas, who I adore. I started listening to bad omens straight after meeting him, and they quickly became one of my favourite bands. Noah’s vocals and the lyrics made me believe he was someone I could come to love as much as his bandmate. A few months after meeting Nicky I went to their apartment to hang out with them. When I walked in my eyes were instantly drawn to Noah, his good looks enough to pull me in. I was hopeful that we would at least become good friends, I mean Nicky wouldn’t be friends with an asshole right? Wrong. He was rude from the very beginning, he looks at me like he can see under my skin, right to my very core. It set me on edge, that paired with his unfriendly demeanour and lack of empathy and feeling, I just couldn’t get past his shell. I decided it wasn’t worth it. I stopped trying, resigned to feel awkward and raw in his prescience. I tried to act like he wasn’t there. Another impossible task. So I avoided him at all costs, unless we were meeting in a group setting, where he would be distracted with others and content to ignore me.

I’m not sure how I got caught in his web. I woke up this morning thinking I’d imagined the whole thing. I’d definitely had dreams about him in the beginning. Those quickly fizzled away along with any hope of him being a nice guy. And now he’s on me, his hands everywhere, squeezing and grabbing in a show of ownership. His mouth on mine, biting me, making me bleed like he enjoys the taste of my blood. The more I struggle, the harder he kisses me, pinning me against the chair. He’s invaded every sense. I can almost taste his cologne, he’s all over my skin, the sound of our moans and violent clashing of mouths fills the quiet morning. He’s like a rabid animal, I can’t decide if it’s because he actually wants me, or just believes me to be his. He’s had a weird hold over me since the day we met, his all knowing looks and infuriating smirk. But I find it hard to believe that someone with antisocial tendencies like Noah would ever want to be with me, for one he’s 6 years older than me, and clearly much more experienced when it comes to sex. I can’t relax and let this happen until I understand his motive, is he just messing with me? The thoughts come too fast, and lack of oxygen from the kiss makes my head spin. He pulls back and remains in my personal space, eyes assessing me like they always do, it’s like he can sense my unease. “Why?” I question, my voice breathless in a way that makes his eyes go dark. “Why what?” he fires back, his hot breath all over my skin. “Why did you come to the club last night? why bring me home? why sleep with me?.. And why did you come back?”, the words spill out of me, and I’m useless to try and stop them. If he thinks he knows me so well then he should be expecting my interrogation. “You’re not as put together as everyone thinks, as soon as I realised there’s something lurking under your skin, I wanted to peel it back and see for myself”, his low tone does nothing to ease my anxiety. “So this is just a game to you? some way to see how fucked up I am?”, tears start to fall, I can’t help it. He seemed to care last night, he was looking at me with worry in his eyes, and now it’s all falling apart. “Don’t cry little one, believe me when I say this anything but a game to me. You are mine”, he all but growls the last word, pulling me up into his arms and carrying me inside. “So what, I’m supposed to believe that you want to be my boyfriend? take me out on dates and hold hands?” I almost laugh at the mental image. He gently puts me on one of the stools in the kitchen and begins to unpack a bag of food. Did he go shopping? “If you feel like putting a label on it, I can be your boyfriend”. I mull over his words, how can we go from hating each other to a relationship in less than 24 hours? Do I even want to be with him? As if sensing my internal debate he stalks up to me, fisting my hair and forcing me to look up at him. “If you’re trying to think of a way out of this y/n, you’re out of luck. I’ve seen all of you, and I’m not letting you go”. His hold on my hair tightens, as if proving his point. It stings so much tears to well up, my head goes completely empty, and I start to feel panic rising. He senses it, like he seems to do with all my emotions, and lets go, hooking his hand under my chin and kissing me gently. It was different than the savage kiss outside, this one is reassuring. He brings his other hand up to cup my face and continues his exploration of my mouth, almost making me purr with his sweet caress. When he pulls away his eyes meet mine and they’re swimming with raw emotion. I’m so fucked.

#bad omens #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #dark romance #my writing #promises break

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holdmytesseract · 2 years ago

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So, there's this song that I've been listening to non-stop.

Kind of an oldie...with Robbie Williams. LoL.

I imagine a scenario in my head of Reader and Loki who were once in a relationship and had a falling out (because of whatever reason - maybe of his insecurities). But he sees that the Reader is fine after the break up (she isn't really, she just acts like it) and it bothers him that they moved on so quickly.

But he tries to get her back because he really does love her 😍. I thought this would be so cute.

Resurrected Love

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: What once had been undying love between you and Loki, had seemingly turned into dust. After the breakup, the god just isn't himself anymore; barely coping with losing the love of his life. Unlike you. You seem to be just fine; having moved on quickly. Or was it just an illusion? Nevertheless, Loki decides to try to get you back. Will he be successful?

Warnings: sadness and heartbreak, thirst? angst, swear words? suggestive smut, fighting/shouting, fluuuff - tell me if I forgot something!

Word Count: 4,5k

a/n: Ahhh first of all, I'd like to apologise... Sorry @mochie85 that this took me SO long... 🥺 Thank you again for making me the incredible Baby Fever mood board! 🥰 I hope you like this little present I got in return! ☺️💝

Tagging: (In the comments!)

Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist

The blaring sound of the alarm clock ripped the sleeping god out of his peaceful slumber. Groaning, Loki moved his hands from underneath his pillow and instead buried his head underneath said pillow. Bare, muscular arms pressed down on the soft, fluffy cushion; trying to drown out the noise. In vain.

A deep, husky grumble left his sore throat, before he reached out blindly to shut off the alarm. Tossing and turning in the bed, he came to lay on his back; big palms running over his face and rubbing his tired eyes. A few rays of sunshine peeked through the emerald green silk curtains; illuminating his small, cosy bedroom. Loki sighed and stretched; causing the light duvet to expose his bare torso. His gaze was directed towards the ceiling; idle and aimless. The god could still feel the tiredness and exhaustion in his bones. Not his physical, though. His mental exhaustion. It just wasn't the same since you were gone. Since you packed your bags and walked out of his apartment. Out of his life. He could sleep for hours and yet he didn't find rest. His bed was so small, but without you he was afraid to get lost in it.

Not even five minutes later, his alarm clock told him again to stand up - and he had no other choice but to give in. Shutting it off, he sat up in bed and rolled out of the comfortable confines. Sighing, he pulled the curtains to let the first rays of sunshine into his bedroom, before he slumped to the bathroom. Dressed in nothing but black briefs, Loki came to stand in front of the mirror of his cabinet, hanging above the sink. He couldn't help but to look at himself. Look at the picture of misery he had become. Dark rings were underneath his eyes. His hair was tousled and resembled more a bird's nest, than a glorious, untamed mane of a god. Fingertips grazed his cheeks and chin; feeling the black, scratchy stubble which had grown so wildly. He had let himself go since you were gone - and he knew it. But it had been pointless. Sure, eye circles, messed up hair and a wild beard was nothing a bit of seidr couldn't fix, but... It couldn't fix his broken heart, so what was the point in using it?

Nevertheless, the god was forced to regain his 'good looks'. There was a very important meeting today. A meeting he couldn't skip like the last ones. Thor would bite his head off, if he wasn't going to appear. After all, this meeting was about his future... With another deep sigh, Loki went to work. He took a shower first; cleaning his ethereal body and godly locks. After that, he shaved; getting rid of his beard. Once his skin was as smooth as it could get and clean shaven, he got dressed; slipped in one of his finest suits. Loki absolutely wasn't in the mood to leave his apartment - but he had to. And so, the god closed the door behind himself, already regretting it.

Absent-minded Loki walked through the white, plain hallways of the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters; on his way to meeting room number 204. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, and so it came how it had to come. The god ran into somebody. His hard, strong chest collided with a way smaller, softer body. "Norns," Loki cursed under his breath, "Apologies. I don't know what-" but stopped dead in his sentence, when he registered who he ran into. "Y/N..." Your name fell from his lips so easily, and yet it felt like he was committing a crime.

You were standing in front of him, like frozen to the ground. It was the first time he was seeing you since the breakup almost a month ago. Sure, he hadn't left his apartment in that time, but he had heard from his brother that you had been away a few weeks on vacation - and it seemed like it did you really good. Of course couldn't the god help himself but to ran his eyes over your body. You wore your familiar shield uniform. The one he had ripped off your body countless times. Your Y/H/C hair was loose; framed your face beautifully. Unlike Loki's face, yours looked well-rested and refreshed. No bags or dark circles underneath your eyes. All in all, you looked recovered and yes, happy. Not in the slightest hurt or broken - like him. His eyes travelled upwards. Loki knew he was on a self-destructive path, but what was he supposed to do? His heart was screaming at him; yelling from the top of his lungs to give into it. Oh how much he loved you. Still. And then it happened. His deep blue eyes collided with your Y/E/C ones - and suddenly he felt like drowning; the world burning to ashes right in front of him. It brought back everything. All the memories. Good ones and bad ones. And all the pain.

"Lokiii!" You yelped, as he wrapped both his strong arms around your thighs and lifted you off the chair; hindering you from decorating the Christmas tree with another bauble. "Let me down!" Smiling, the god shook his head and tightened his grip a bit - only to let you know that he had you. To show you that he would let nothing happen to you. "Not until you finally speak your mind, darling." "W-What do you meeeeean?" You shrieked up, as Loki carried you away from the safety of the chair. "Tell me, if we can finally call ourselves a couple." You blinked down at the handsome god, who threw you that smouldering look which turned your knees into jelly. "I-I, uh..." He smiled again, winking. "Come on, darling." You couldn't help but giggle; shaking your head. "Lokes... We didn't even have our first kiss!" "Oh, that can be changed in a heartbeat," he purred and let you down quickly. Before you could even catch up to what was going on, his perfectly shaped lips danced with yours.

"L-Loki, p-please, I-" You moaned helplessly; writhing on the sheets beneath him. "Shhh, my goddess," he shushed you immediately; interrupting you. "Don't speak. Just feel," Loki panted; nipping at the inside of your thighs, before hypnotising blue eyes meet yours; pupils blown wide with lust. The god wore a smouldering, yet dangerous smile. A predator looking at his prey. You were completely at his mercy - and you loved every second of it.

Your hand found its way into your lover's hair; finger winding through those long raven curls. You gently tugged; nudging him on to finally do something. "Please..." You whispered; breathless. The hairs on the back of your neck raised up, when Loki gave you another smouldering smile, before he lowered his head. Your breath hitched; a chill ran down your spine at the anticipation. You knew what was to come - but you'd be never prepared for it.

"Darling, please." Loki's voice was unstable, pleading; on the verge of breaking - filled with pain and regret. Tears shimmered in his eyes. Tears of despair. Not hope. He felt like the ground fell out from underneath his feet. He was losing his grip; felt like falling into an abyss of darkness - blindly.

You shook your head, as you threw the last item of clothing in your suitcase. "No, Loki. No. Don't 'darling' me. Please don't make this even more difficult as it is." The god watched you helplessly; running a hand through his hair. "If it is so difficult for you, then why don't you just stay?" He sounded so sad. So... desperate. You swallowed hard; jaw clenching in order to suppress your own tears, before you turned to face your now ex-boyfriend. You looked him straight into the eyes, but with the seconds ticking by in silence, you avoided your gaze again - unable to stand the hurt, wounded look in his blue orbs. "Because I can't, Loki. I just can't. Don't you see? I cannot do this any longer." Now it was Loki who swallowed. "I-I understand that, lov- Y/N, but please... Give us another chance. Let us keep fighting for this love!" You snorted out a bitter laugh at his words; "Fighting, he says..." shaking your head. "I already fought so hard and long for this! For us! But apparently you were too blind to see." Your nerves were on edge; stressed out by the past weeks. "I tried and tried and tried to get through to you, but all you ever did was shut me out!" Loki wanted to answer something; opened his mouth to speak, but you immediately cut him off.

"Don't you dare pull the 'I don't understand you' card now! Because it isn't true! I do understand you! I always did! This was never our problem!" You were almost shouting by now; all the bottled-up emotions exploding within you. "You know what the problem is, Loki, huh?! You know what?!" His chiselled jaw flexed. You could tell that he was losing it as well. "Tell me, Y/N! Tell me!" He shouted; gesturing around wildly. "Scream it to me, if you have to!"

You took a few dangerous steps closer, before whispering: "Your damn insecurities." Loki gasped; almost stumbling backwards. This hit hard. Bore a knife straight through his heart - and yet he knew, that it was true. And the realisation of it made him even more angry. On himself. His hands clenched into fists; desperately trying to keep his cool. Unsuccessful.

An almost maniacal laugh escaped his lips. "Oh, I am the problem now?!" "Yes! Because you never managed to let your damn guard down around me! We've been together for over almost two years and you still don't trust me enough to just let me in! I know that your childhood and past was not easy and quite dramatic, but you can't just hide yourself away from the rest of the world for eternity!" You snapped; taking deep breaths and let the accusing words you just spat at Loki sink in. Loki said nothing; just stared at you. "Because if you do, it's going to eat you up inside someday..." You added in a way quieter voice; almost whispering. Then you returned to the bed, in order to zip the suitcase shut.

Behind you, Loki sunk to his knees; the harsh truth and reality finally hitting him full force. He knew. He had always known, and yet he couldn't bring himself to open up. He tried to fight his demons a million times, but he always lost the fight. He should've tried harder - better, because now... Now it was too late. He had lost you - because of his insecurities. Tears streamed down his face, as he started one last attempt to stop you from walking out of his life. "Y/N, p-please, please... I am so sorry, I am so sorry. Please... I-I can't lose you. If you leave m-me now... I-I'll drown a-and sink."

You swallowed hard; tried to fight against the desperate screams of your heart to stay. You had never seen him so... lost and vulnerable before. It tore at your heartstrings. But you had to do this now. There was no going back. "I'm sorry, Loki, but like I said... I can't. I can't keep fighting against the walls you have built up around you." With those words, you walked past him, "Goodbye, Loki." and out of his bedroom - out of his life. It broke him and his heart. He was nothing more than a wreck after that day.

Loki swallowed hard at the vivid memories, playing out in his head. He had to fight hard to not lose it completely in front of you and to not break down and cry. As for you, you seemed to be completely fine. "Loki." You said in a regal voice, giving him a nod - as if you didn't have a whole lot of history together. As if you never had told each other all of your secrets and wishes. As if you never had shared the deepest bond possible between human beings - mentally and physically. You greeted him like you were nothing more like acquaintances. It hurt Loki; bothered him, how quickly you had moved on. So, he tried to hide his emotions and not letting show how much of a wreck he was.

"What..." His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat quickly. "What brings you here?" The god asked; gesturing blindly towards the meeting room. "I, um, I was assigned to overwatch the meeting." Loki's eyes widened at your words, so you quickly added: "Believe me, I don't like it, too, but it is how it is." Don't like it too? Loki asked himself. Norns, he could've screamed from the top of his lungs how happy he was about this. Just to be able to see you without an excuse for a longer amount of time was like heaven for him. He wanted to answer something, but was interrupted by the arrival of Nick Fury, some of the Avengers and a few other S.H.I.E.L.D agents. "Loki, Y/N," the man with the eyepatch greeted you, before he opened the white, wooden door for everyone to get inside. "Let's get over with this, Laufeyson." Loki swallowed hard, then nodded obediently and stepped inside the big, barren room.

Throughout the whole process, Loki couldn't focus. His thoughts were circulating around you. It was all he could think about. He was so absent-minded; he didn't even listen to the others talking. Only the voice of Fury caused the god to snap out of his trance like state. "Well... It seems everybody has the same opinion..." The man with the black coat started, before he turned to face Loki directly, who sat at the very top of the table. "S.H.I.E.L.D and the United States of America allowing you to stay - as long as you're going to play by the rules." Loki swallowed and nodded - still not entirely present in his mind. "You improved; did a great job as an Avenger. Keep it up, Laufeyson."

Fury's words were the last ones of the meeting. Most agents scrambled to get out of the room; having other duties to tend to. Most of the Avengers clapped Loki on the shoulder or gave him a short nod of approval - and you? You were watching him from the sidelines. Seeing him again after almost a month had caused your feelings to run wild again. They were so quiet and chilled during and after your holiday, and now? Just one look was enough to set everything on fire again; storms battling within you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry - but most of all, you wanted to run. That's what you did. You fled from the meeting room; unable to be in his presence a second longer. When Loki settled his look on the chair you sat in, it was empty. Scanning the room for you wasn't fruitful as well. He sighed. You had left already, of course. Why shouldn't you? It had been nothing more than a job for you. Nevertheless, it was another small cut into Loki's already bruised and battered heart.

From that day, where once again his fate had been decided, he started to see you more often. Probably because he left his apartment more often as well now. He started to find hope again and decided to not just give up on you. Loki had made that mistake once - and he'd never let it happen again. He wasn't just giving up. Oh no... Now he was really going to fight for you, because one thing was certain... He still loved you with all his heart and he wanted you back. For good this time.

Over the next days and week, Loki repeatedly placed little cards, gifts or flowers in front of your office in the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. It was an easy task for him to sneak incognito inside the big building. Nobody knew and nobody recognised him. At first, you were quite confused and surprised...

You hurried to your office; messily rearranging the weapons belt around your waist on the way. You were late. Ten minutes already. Your alarm clock just decided to take a vacay today and not wake you up. "Morning, guys. Good morning." You hastily greeted everybody on your way. Once you reached your destination, you almost stumbled over the little bouquet of flowers, laying in front of the door. Y/F/F (Your favourite flowers) - your favourites. Frowning and a bit surprised, you picked the flowers up; admiring them. There was no card or such. Just the flowers. "Uh, Rob?" You asked your fellow agent, who was just passing by your office. His office was directly across yours. "Oh, hi, Y/N. Good morning." "Morning. Uh, do you know who left those flowers for me?" The man shrugged his shoulders. "Unfortunately, not, no. Sorry." "Okay..." Still frowning, you took the flowers in your office. Of course you didn't notice the craftsman, who worked on the water dispenser right beside your door. He watched you disappear inside the room with oceanic blue eyes, smiling.

That was only the start. Every day, you'd find different things on your door step. Your favourite chocolates and other sweets. Cards with little poems written on them and quotes out of books. And more flowers. Every day, you went to work with an even brighter smile, knowing that a small present was waiting for you.

You picked up the little box and opened it; finding a bottle of your favourite perfume inside. A chuckle sounded from across your office. "I think you have a secret admirer, Y/N," stated Rob, gesturing to the little present with a grin. Your cheeks reddened; nodding. "I, uh, think so too." You felt really flattered, but... Were you ready for something new? For another man after Loki? Could you imagine another man in your life who wasn't the handsome, mischievous god? You swallowed hard; staring down at the little vial in your hands. No. No you couldn't.

"Do you know who it is?" Asked Rob further, but you just shrugged your shoulders. "No, I... I have no idea. Most likely one of the other agents." Rob nodded, "Think so, too." but frowned. "You don't look really happy about it." Once more you shrugged your shoulders; sighing. "I am. I mean, it's really sweet and thoughtful, but..." "But?" Your colleague looked at you expectantly, but you didn't answer at first. And suddenly Rob had a guess. "Loki... You are still not over him, right?" Defeated, you nodded. "I never was and I think I'll never be. It seems like every decision I make, every path I choose to walk on... Everything leads me back to him. I can't forget him..." Rob looked at you compassionate. "Sounds to me like Loki is the love of your life..." You swallowed hard, in order to suppress the upcoming tears. "He is. I realise that now. Too late, perhaps..." "Do you still love him?" Rob questioned you further, "Y-Yes. I do." and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Then you should tell him." "I-I don't know, I... Excuse me." You fled into your office, closing the door behind yourself. All the suppressed feelings coming back at you; crashing down on you like warm summer rain. It was overwhelming. But could you do it? Could you go back to him?

Unbeknownst to you, Loki had heard everything. Dressed up as an electrician on his daily undercover mission. His heart beat violently against his ribcage; yearning and crying out for you. It broke him to see you so broken - but it also made him unbelievably happy, because he knew now, that you were struggling just as much as he was. That you had worn a mask all the time and just pretended to be perfectly fine. It was the sign for him to finally make his move and get you back. Back into his arms, where you belonged.

It was Saturday evening, when Loki put the plan he made into action. He showered; then dressed up in your favourite suit of his. It was a black one. Black shoes, black trousers and black shirt. He rolled up the sleeves and left a few buttons undone - just how you liked. He applied a bit of the cologne you enjoyed to smell on him so much; and left his untamed raven curls hang loosely over his shoulders. Loki looked at himself in the full-length mirror; eyes travelling down his body. Perfect, he thought; smiling. Grabbing the bouquet of red roses on his dining table, he left his apartment and went straight to yours. To his luck, you lived in the Avengers tower as well. Benefit of being Ms. Romanoff's best friend.

Taking a deep breath, the god knocked gently on your door. The answer he received was a frustrated sigh. "Naaat, I told you I'm not in the mood tonight to go-" You had literally ripped the door open - and were now standing open-mouthed, with a bathrobe and tousled hair in front of your ex-boyfriend. You swallowed. There he stood… Your drop-dead gorgeous ex-boyfriend. "L-Loki?" You stammered out; clearly not expecting something like that to happen. The god smiled at you. "Hello, darling. Apologies for the disturbance, but... I'd like to talk to you. May I come in?" Blinking and still in some kind of shock, you nodded. Stepping aside, you let him inside. "For you," he said, once you closed the door and turned to face him. He held the flowers to you; still smiling. "U-Um, t-thank you." You hesitatingly - almost shyly took the flowers from his hands. A chill was running down your spine, when his warm, big hands grazed yours. A touch you haven't felt in weeks - months, and immediately noticed you missed a lot.

Taking a deep breath, you placed them on the little shelf beside the door. "What, um, what do you want to talk about?" The god standing opposite you swallowed hard. You could see how nervous he was - a rare thing to happen. "About us." "U-Us?" He nodded, "Yes. Us." and stepped closer; slowly taking your hands in his. Loki waited for a moment to see if you weren't comfortable with him, touching you - but you let it happen, so he continued. "First of all, I'd like to apologise. For everything. For letting you fight so hard and long without me realising. For not opening up to you like I should have, because you are right. If I don't learn to talk to the person I trust and love most in all the nine realms, then my past and all my insecurities are going to eat me up inside. I see that now." He was gazing directly into your eyes - and you could swear you were already drowning again inside those oceanic blue orbs. "I came to the realisation those past weeks, that I am not able to live without you. Without your love. I feel like I can't breathe when you're not near me. Your absence suffocates me. I love you with all my heart and soul. You are everything I ever wanted and needed. So please... Please give us another chance. I beg of you." You just looked at him, stunned; words failing you. "

"This is what my heart tells me," he continued, squeezing your hands gently. "If yours doesn't speak the same language anymore, then please, tell me - and I'll walk out of that room." Your gaze softened. You freed one hand from his gentle grasp and lifted it up to caress his defined cheek. "Loki..." You started, shaking your head. "My heart never stopped speaking your language. Never." The god gasped at your touch and words. "Does that mean you'll give us another chance?" You smiled; nodding and stepped closer to him. So close, that you were just a few inches apart. His hand left yours; coming to rest on your waist, while your palm wandered to land on his chest. "Yes, Loki..." "Really?" He breathed; overwhelmed by your sudden closeness, and, again your words. Once more you nodded; signalling him that you meant it. "Oh, darling," Loki sighed; a few tears rolling down his cheek. He leaned down, wanted to capture your lips with his - but you stopped him; placing a finger upon his lips. "I'll give us another chance - if you promise to trust me completely and finally open up to me." His eyes met yours again; blue eyes filled with love and vulnerability. "Let me help you, my love. Let me sooth all those scars your past has left on you," you whispered and pressed a soft, slow kiss on his lips. "I promise, darling, I promise - and I'll start tonight," Loki said, placing another kiss on your lips, before he took a step back and took your hands in his bigger ones again.

"Close your eyes, please." You were confused, but did what he asked you to do; closing your eyes. Suddenly, you felt how his hands got cooler; temperature dropping. "This time, I want to go into this relationship with showing you all of me. I want you to see me." You frowned, but kept your eyes closed. "And I don't mean me, being naked. You saw that quite often already." You couldn't help but giggle at his words; blushing. Loki smiled. Something you weren't able to see at the moment. "Well... If you put it that way, I am naked in front of you now nevertheless. Showing you my true self. The way I was born." You gasped; breath hitching in your throat. Now you knew what he was talking about. "Your Jotun form? You... You want to show me your Jotun form?" He never did before. It was a huge part of his insecurities. "Yes, my love. Open your eyes." "L-Lokes, you don't have to show me your Jotun form right away! I know how difficult this is for you! I know how uncomfortable it makes you sometimes!"

He took a deep breath; was on the verge of crying again. "I know, love, I know. And I appreciate this so, so much - but I really want to show you. If we begin again, we begin with honesty. No secrets; no hiding. Now open your eyes." "O-Okay." You were quite a bit nervous as well. You knew that this took him a lot of effort. Opening your eyes, you gasped; heart skipping a beat. His deep blue eyes were replaced by shimmering ruby ones. His alabaster coloured skin had turned into a soft blue. Unique ridges and patterns adorned every inch of his tall, strong body. "Are you afraid?" Loki's shaky voice cut through the silence then. You shook your head immediately. "No, gods, no! You're beautiful, Loki. Stunning, breathtakingly beautiful." His eyes widened; pure relief flooding his veins. "R-Really? You... You think so?" You nodded; cupping his cheeks. "Yes. And it's finally time for you to accept this side of you," you said, pulling Loki gently over to your bed.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x you #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fanfiction #loki x y/n #loki #loki laufeyson x reader

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therabbitthatpostthings · 1 year ago

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-might write this one longer one day-

The apartment was clad in a solemn silence. Only the lightning momentarily illuminated the living room. Kento’s clothes fell off him like heavy bags of cement. First the shoes he quietly stepped out of, the harness thrown onto the couch, his jacket was an unrecognizable pile of cloth at the bottom of the stairs and his shirt, soaked in blood, at the bathroom door.

Even covered in bruises and blood he was careful not to wake you. He spared himself a glance in the mirror before opening the cabinet and taking the first aid kit. This is how you found your husband, sitting the toilet with his head in his bloody hands. A mess of bandages and cotton balls littered the floor. Before he could notice your presence you rushed over to hug him. He hated himself for worrying you and even more for letting you see him like this. He could protect you from the curses out there but not himself in here, in your home. Pathetic, he thought. His hands were shaking wrapping around you gently. You were holding back sniffles, kissing and whispering silent prayers into his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said, barley above a whisper.

“It’s okay.” You voice trembled. “You’re okay.”

He is alive. Your Kento was alive. That’s all you could wish for.

#shitpost #shitposting #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen #writing fanfics at 3am #cringe-#no beta we die like men #YALL IM NOT READY FOR IT #I LOVE HIM SO MUCH #random drabbles

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incongruence-osaf · 8 months ago

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The Incongruence of Stars and Flowers - Chapter Two

2006 (present day)

Casinopolis, Station Square, Mobius

Unrelenting bombardments of bare skin slapping against leather echo through the open doors of an otherwise quiet hotel room. Scattered on a kitschy poker-themed coffee table are unfolded weekly newspapers with flashy headlines about critics’ favorite restaurant dishes, the latest building demolitions, the best Mobian-owned small businesses, and remnants of aliens found in the most shocking of places. A laptop with a gradient green geometric background lays open by the papers, its fan working hard after too many windows about gardening have been minimized on the homescreen. The stark green aura alone would look surreal in front of the living room’s closed windows if it wasn’t complemented by the vintage floor lamps set to low.

Holographic toys shaped like small fish litter the furniture and maroon kaleidoscope carpeting. The ones laying closer to the office space, the source of the commotion, twitch on the ground as if alive and gasping for air with each groundshaking impact. Just as the vibrations cease in the flooring, walls, and ceiling, a coffee maker in the teal-tinted kitchen punctually starts its scheduled brew. Shortly after, a black-furred hedgehog with disheveled red stripes on his head quills and limbs saunters out of the office space with a slight limp in one leg. A beaten boxing bag still swings in circles just out of view behind him.

Shadow the Hedgehog obtains his freshly brewed coffee and half-heartedly imbues it with manifested serenity, still riding the wrathful high of the impromptu kickboxing session. What usually functions as his afternoon-riser routine became an early evening release after the words of a particularly obsessed writer burned his eyeballs. It’s the seventh article published by the same author within the last four months extrapolating how much of Station Square has been tainted by the corpses of the Black Arms alien terrorists. Public G.U.N. reports chronicling their units’ periodic combings of each city sector aren’t enough for hungry citizens. It’s getting harder to avoid reminders…

He shuffles to the bathroom with a sweat-soaked towel draped over his shoulders. The overhead light is too bright (and always too blue) during this hour of the evening for his sensitive eyes, so he quickly switches it off and presses the buttons of a small remote. A string of LED bulbs, “fairy lights” as his friend Sonic the Hedgehog calls them, illuminate the ceiling with a dim golden pulse. He strategically rubs ungloved finger pads in wide semi-circles on his forehead and over his eyes to release some tension, gently setting down the coffee mug beside a cup holding red and blue toothbrushes. Carefully trimmed claws wipe sweat away from the corners of a third eye, its eyelids closed and somewhat camouflaged in the middle of his forehead. He blurrily paws at the shower knobs to set the water to a brisk massage.

After retrieving hygiene products from his half of the medicine cabinet, the tired hedgehog opens his primary eyes in front of its attached mirror. The faintly yellow sclera has a noticeably gentler appearance underneath the less harsh lighting. For a long moment, he studies the swathes of blood orange in his irises and the surrounding gold flecks that lure his gaze into the depths of his pupils, blinking only once. His third eye twitches concurrently while remaining closed, the movement caught by the other two and keeping their attention.

He knows very well what this unfavored body part looks like. It took shape during what could be loosely called the artificial lifeform’s childhood aboard the ARK; the memories of that closely monitored period of development are foggy at times. It’s forever stuck to him and similar to his other two in appearance. Yet he still makes a point to open it, albeit lazily, trying to act like this recurring curiosity and its object are not a big deal. Independently, the eye moves.

For a rare moment he doesn’t feel the urge to look away. Instead of its usual unpleasant jaundice, the sclera shines like ethereal ivory directly under the fairy lights. Swirling shapes seem to glow like embers in the iris that Shadow never took time to admire before. The pupil itself looks warmer now like flashes of the night sky during firework shows instead of a cold black hole. But the glimmer of this new perspective is quickly forgotten as a familiar wave of sickly static starts to prickle underneath burning skin and sweating black fur.

The likeness of Shadow’s deceased sperm donor, Black Doom, enters his mind in a cloudy image. Flowing robes the color of dried human blood and celestial jewelry sharp like scythes hang from his looming legless frame. Hovering with the warlord is the fleshy six-armed organism of his third eye, wiggling with dutiful anticipation to be his dark and watchful fragment.

Shadow slips into ruminating about the aliens’ wrinkled skin in shades of deep ash and plum. Black Doom’s red-tipped head horns reminiscent of a desperate bull stained with the gore of a matador. Doom’s Eye with its markings like bright ruby tears spilling outward from the wet and hellish eyeball. Shadow’s attention moves to the purple-ish membrane of his own eyelids. The reptilian texture feels exposed and unwashed in more ways than just the post-workout saltiness. Measured breaths in his chest hitch as if the target of a heart-drawn dagger while he surveys the red arrows encircling his third eye and the painterly edges of his body’s many red stripes. Dissonant buzzing crawls deeper into his skin and causes his breathing to become shallower. The outlines and markings are almost indistinguishable from the memory of those he tries so hard to leave behind, buried in rubble to rot.

He turns the sink faucet, splashing cold water onto his face, and roughly scrubs the remnants of kickboxing sweat and dysmorphia off his skin in the shower. After he’s done, he snatches up a plain white bandana hanging on a wall hook. When folded neatly and tied snugly around his forehead, the bandana conceals his third eye and dissipates some of the remaining discomfort. One last check in the mirror confirms that the layers of metallic silver nail polish coloring the tiny horns on his head aren't chipping yet, prompting a huff of approval. He struggles to attach snug silver hoops to the symmetrical sets of horns on his head, making sure the connecting chains drape between them in just the right way that he likes. He does like the way the jewelry accentuates the crescent shapes and angles of his red stripes when he is able to ignore the implications of these traits. They can look rather pretty. It’s also a plus to prepare a versatile look in case he needs to adjust the style of his bandana due to weather, heat, or comfort.

Shadow brings his still untouched drink to the kitchen. With a little more gusto than last time, he once again tries to channel some peace into the mug before chugging the lukewarm coffee. A pop of yellow by the sink contrasts the monochrome teal of the countertops and cabinets. Closer inspection reveals that it’s a hastily scribbled sticky note. No sign of its author is seen or heard in the suite at the moment.

“Sorry for not washing the chili bowl and stuff. Vanilla had an emergency and Amy wasn’t available. Buy you lunch tomorrow + more choc coffee beans?” - SONIC 😉

The aforementioned bowl and utensils lay in the dirty side of the sink (thankfully), and at least Sonic’s bottomless appetite made him lick ninety-nine percent of all the porcelain surfaces clean before leaving. Shadow shakes his head while doodling “12:30PM🖕” on the sticky note. He then opens the fridge to figure out a light post-workout dinner to make before work. Following the sound of the fridge door opening is the flutter of little wings descending from bedding atop the attached freezer, and following that the pitter-patter of paws walking into the kitchen. The Dark Chao drowsily floats down toward Shadow who instinctively guides its plump body into a cradle position with one arm. It leans into his still damp chest fluff while staring expectantly into the fridge. The spine tail of a tortoise shell kitty with striking orange splotches weaves between the jet black legs towering above her.

“Don’t worry little ones, I’ll feed you first. Chance, stop being a brat.” Shadow feels the Dark Chao’s ears twitch and its bat-like wings tense up as PurrChance impatiently growls, jealous that it has closer proximity to the open fridge filled with food. Though the two animal companions learned to tolerate each other and even play together since the unclaimed cat followed Shadow home, they each absorbed differing degrees of their guardian’s standoffish tendencies. Amiable body language resumes when PurrChance finally has her bowl of salmon-flavored moist food and the Dark Chao has a large fruit resembling an orange to eat on a neighboring food mats. The clock on the wall shows 8:35PM, leaving twenty minutes before his work shift. An encrypted text from a contact named Sugar appears in an app on his phone that reads, “My customer will be here in 3 mins. See you soon.”

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

Shadow’s work shirt and belongings are packed in a messenger bag. He dons a black hoodie underneath a distressed bronze leather jacket, the hood pulled over tied-up quills. A pair of dark jeans hug his lean legs and special motorcycle gloves provide extra grip for his hands. His geometric hover shoes already provide substantial protection against the elements but not so much his everyday gloves. Sonic teases him that he doesn’t need to wear all that extra stuff because he’s the “Ultra-Durable Ultimate Lifeform” model. While true, it doesn’t dissuade him from taking the bare minimum of precautions while riding amongst the road-raging drivers in Station Square. Just because his body regenerates small injuries and lacerations doesn’t mean he enjoys dealing with them. Irksome consequences can actually overpower arrogance sometimes. The calculated hedgehog has yet to see this phenomenon happen in Sonic, though.

Shadow activates Chaos Control to teleport to the fourth floor and ambles to the exit door, the hotel stairwell on the other side. His air shoes power-up on the quietest setting before crossing the threshold. Skillfully, he descends the metal staircase in side-steps while hovering an inch above each step. He approaches the corner at which the first security camera is aimed, stopping just out of its view underneath the preceding light fixture. The flash of his Chaos Control is masked by its glow and appears as a mere fluctuation in the building’s electricity on a camera feed. Shadow teleports just underneath the device. Legs in a side-split position and grippy gloves palming both sides of the wall’s corner keep him still and secure. He carefully points the lens ninety degrees upward once he hears the barely perceptible scuffling of sneakers in the stairwell.

A taupe Mobian sugar glider walks tightly against the inside railing. She holds a pair of black stiletto heels. Her brown membrane “wings” are delicately tucked into a sumptuous and well-fitting wrap dress made of shimmery magenta mesh. A layer of chunky glitter eyeshadow creates an orange ombre effect on the skin of her already darkened eyelids. The fabric of a fraying black shawl covers her unique head markings and lays long over her shoulders to contrast her special attire. She smiles gratefully at Shadow with cautious eyes and keeps on with light footing. After she passes him and enters the blind spot between the first and second cameras, Shadow discreetly moves it back to its original position. This process repeats on each consecutive floor.

The final security camera monitors the hotel’s back door from the outside. Shadow double checks his hood before teleporting to the drainpipe located directly underneath it. The rusty pipe creaks threateningly under his muscular weight. But the cacophony of raindrops spraying off the eaves provides some echoey distortion for him to proceed with moving the camera. A vehicle with dark tinted windows awaits beside the furthest dumpster with its lights dimmed. Sugar gives Shadow a final appreciative nod before rushing to the car, swapping her sneakers for the heels, then shuts the car door. Once the mysterious chauffeur has disappeared in the rain and the camera is fixed back to normal, Shadow silently climbs down the drainpipe and re-enters the door. A final Chaos Control takes him to hotel’s private parking garage that keeps his Dark Rider motorcycle secured from the public.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

Salty coastal breeze mixed with petrichor wafts through Station Square and tickles Shadow’s nose. The steady rain that had started earlier in the evening has already increased the risk of hydroplaning on every street. Not helping to reduce the hazard are scattered potholes that still need filling and considerable sections of the earth below that were displaced by the massive destruction of the Perfect Chaos flood, still uneven and slouching the asphalt years later. Tone deaf billboards printed in optimistic blues and greens advertise clean air, ocean, forest, and street initiatives on the sides of buildings. Some of the cheesy words are illegible underneath many layers of graffiti tags and throwies and decay omitting some letters and details. The overall sentiments would be nice if they weren’t so lurid in a fucked-up environment changing at a snail’s pace, a complaint Sonic has consistently vocalized.

Sociological upheavals and a doubled police presence have created a tangible tension in the Station Square air after the cumulative horrors of the Perfect Chaos flood and the Black Arms Invasion struck the very heart of the city. Even the most carefree city enjoyers, the delinquents, and the goodie-two-shoes now operate with baseline unease, not knowing when things will get better. Though it’s exasperating dealing with more foolish humans who are preoccupied with puffing out their badged chests at the expense of others, it gives Shadow more of an excuse to lay low. He needed to get away from the particular shitshow Westopolis turned into just after being the epicenter of the Invasion.

After the bulk of the disaster was resolved, G.U.N. Commander Abraham Tower granted Shadow a leave of absence when it became clear that the alien hybrid annihilating all of his blood relatives and the Black Comet wasn’t a life event he could effectively compartmentalize. The additional precaution was to distance Shadow from a traumatized Westopolis population that grew increasingly suspicious of all alien intruders. The Commander also has his personal grievances that thin the line between trauma and prejudice. Shadow will not quickly forget how Tower angrily pointed a gun and blame to the back of his own agent’s head for ruining his and others’ lives. Surprisingly, he’d beaten Shadow to the punch for once. Even after receiving a somewhat genuine-sounding apology from his superior, forced close proximity would be a begrudging challenge for the both of them.

Luckily for the residents of Station Square and visitors, lots of entertaining attractions are available in Twinkle Park’s amusement park and Casinopolis’s multi-story strip malls. It’s all a (temporary) reprieve from annoyances both small and large for many people. For Shadow, that’s applicable only when very specific stars align due to his picky tastes. The bright neon lights of both districts are on full display now to feed walking crowds’ anticipation for nightlife festivities. Am⭑bean⭑ce, the twenty-four-seven cafe for which Shadow took up a job, is located close by the most popular blocks of Casinopolis for those wanting quick energy to continue indulging their vices, or for those just needing rest from the overwhelming commotions.

If it weren’t for his G.U.N. co-worker and friend Rouge the Bat pulling her affluent businesswoman strings, Shadow would’ve had a difficult time securing an extended stay at one of the casino’s connected hotels. Club Rouge has higher security and a classier atmosphere than most of the neighboring businesses. The establishment attracts business from a variety of notable figures both accessible to the public eye and those who are not, and all are well-treated regulars. Shadow was grateful that she considered his general disdain for flashy sights and sounds when she booked him a room on one of the highest floors of the hotel furthest away from the frequent chaos below. Her acquaintances are many, her allies are exclusive, and her trusted friends are few. All of whom she manages to keep tabs on. But only some, she’d say, are enjoyable to keep tabs on.

So, when Rouge went out of her way to ask Shadow to help the fellow Mobian named Sugar, who has to evade police surveillance and hostility while she stays in the same hotel for work, it was obvious that this person is of great importance. On the bright side, fulfilling this favor will show gratitude for his friend’s hospitality and would also prolong the safety of a fellow outsider laying low. On the downside, it’s an occasional inconvenience, but not an egregious one. They have not spoken once during their several meetups for routine sneaky sabotage. All he knows is that Sugar is unlikely to be her real name (which he isn't entitled to know), her specific type of sex work is illegal and excluded from the Casinopolis ordinances, and that she has been assaulted in police custody.

Shadow is stopped by a red light before the last turn, his left leg propped on the ground. The city block’s chaotic array of colors and shapes reflect sleekly off the professional black and red paint job on the Dark Rider. There are anxious pods waiting outside one of the clubs on the same side of the street, some members of which stubbornly choose to wear chunky sandals and matching metallic or bandana halter tops despite the inclement weather. Shadow shakes his head, his eyes following the trail that’s made by the people’s open umbrellas with their inconsistent heights, until he sees a quieter group of both human and Mobian women. A few men cling to their sides, all of them huddling under a large flower basket that hangs from a lamppost.

A cream fur coat and pressed trench coats covering long sparkly dresses are standout silhouettes amidst the typical crowd, captivating Shadow’s attention. He’s reminded of Sugar, with her beautiful magenta dress and shawl wrapped in a skillful way to both conceal and show whatever she wants and needs. The leather jacket hugging Shadow’s torso feels claustrophobic. He becomes more aware of his own body and how it’s disconnected. Parts that are too muscular and veiny for what a Mobian hedgehog should look like. Parts that are too thin and bony according to his other genes. He imagines all the ways delicate fabric could drape from his elbows, or encircle his waist, or cascade over his back spines.

Shadow accidentally makes eye contact with the human woman in the fur coat. A friendly but tight smile flashes at him, which he returns with a delayed nod. The traffic arrow turns green for his final turn.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

The Am⭑bean⭑ce cafe on the corner of the block has its own signature lighting in full effect as Shadow parks his Dark Rider at 8:58PM. Decorative orange seahorse, red crab, pink starfish and blue dolphin shaped LED lights softly shine from their scattered locations around the registers, countertops, big tables and window ledges. The seahorse ones are the most pleasant to look at and are Shadow’s favorite; he doesn’t quite know why. He definitely knows why he hates the pink starfish ones.

Growing healthy and tall in the corners are potted palm trees with thin green light strips carefully spiraling up their trunks, the tops of their leaves illuminated by sunny lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Chalked on the black walls are peachy-beige sketches of Emerald Coast. Framed paintings depicting the coastal culture of Station Square and abstract bubble art hang in precise rows. The sketches and paintings are displayed nicely behind the lavender glow of scallop string lights secured by thick rope. All of it is easier on the eyes than the flashy advertisements and gaudy lightbulb patterns further down the street.

Lo-fi music plays with heavy emphasis on bossa nova. It’s quiet enough for overstimulated visitors but loud enough to create an immersive atmosphere that amasses regulars and allures newcomers. Shadow acknowledges his fellow night shift co-workers working up front. Lionel the Ginger Tabby is the manager on duty ineffectively multi-tasking by counting inventory and engaging chatty customers with his brand of niceties. Nyx, a pale human woman styled with heavy dark makeup, shaved hair, and piercing white eyes, prepares drinks for a short line of customers. There are scattered pairs and loners that had already been seated when Shadow walked in, signaling a moderately busy start to the shift. After changing into his ironed black work shirt with the cafe name printed in peach on the chest, Shadow clocks in and joins the crew up front.

“The new contacts look good.” Shadow remarks, nodding upwards to Nyx standing tall beside him at the workspace wall. Standing on the provided stool makes the difference a little less jarring while he grabs stacks of supplies and refrigerated items.

“Thanks. I can’t wait to make assholes uncomfortable with these babies.” Nyx smirks while pointedly turning her head to stare into Shadow’s soul, the contacts as white as sterile hospital bedding. He returns the gesture with a cold side-eye and a steely poker face, not needing to look while he pours and mixes fruit juice contents inside a pitcher. He purposefully makes his third eye blink underneath his bandana so the slight shift in the fabric is only visible to Nyx’s line of sight. Her eyes catch the movement and widen, her face contorting into a perturbed smile.

“Fuck! Alright, you win!” She giggles, breaking composure to squirm her shoulders.

“Nyx,” Lionel mutters without looking up from his clipboard. “No swearing in front of customers, please.” The long tufts of yellow-orange fur on his jaw, cheekbones, and head are contained by thin netting that leaves an opening for his eyes, nose and mouth. He’s genteel in personality as much as the required workplace getup makes him look scrunched and uncomfortable. Far from the worst person on Shadow’s list of past and present colleagues. But nonetheless a displeasure to work with.

Nyx rolls her eyes and finishes making a coconut matcha drink. Shadow gets to work brewing a fresh pot of dark roast coffee, sneaking a tiny scoop of coffee beans into his jeans pocket for munching when Lionel isn’t looking. He peeks through the window to see that the crowd of club-goers down the street has shrunk. The group of women with their accompanying men are no longer under the lamppost. He thought he saw a glimpse of the cream fur coat, which promptly flitted out of sight near the entrance, possibly catching the moment an usher allowed her inside the club. Why did she smile at me…?

Just as Shadow finishes making a small iced latte for himself, the cafe door is roughly pulled open with a high-pitched squeak by a sweaty human man wearing an anchor patterned dress shirt. He hastily sips the last few drops of his wine can before chucking it into the trash bin by the entrance. He completely ignores the adjoined recycling bin. Damn rude. His stature, on the shorter side, teeters. He scowls behind the other customers, tousling his wavy black hair while he waits. Good thing I made my drink when I did. This could get interesting…

As the line of customers shortens, the man’s glistening forehead wrinkles deepen and he starts huffing belligerently. Shadow wordlessly waves a finger to get Nyx’s attention and juts his head. She immediately clocks the fellow human and purses her lips. It’s expected and common for tipsy and drunk customers to wait out their buzz and hydrate at the cafe. Yet there’s an unspoken rule that the severely inebriated should have a peer accompany them while occupying the premises. They won’t kick out lone drunkards right away unless they cause a ruckus. But some of them are on thin ice. Conversely, some are on ice that’s comfortably thick. Lionel, the pushover that he is, can be too placating despite acting no-nonsense.

“The fuck’s the holdup? I got’a auction to be at in ten!” The man blusters, garnering stares from the Mobians within range of his spittle.

“I can take someone else’s order over here!” Lionel shouts. He finally puts his clipboard down and takes note of the man. He starts transferring another register drawer seeing more people enter the cafe.

The faster ordering flow still doesn’t quell the fumes exiting the nuisance’s nostrils. The stench of alcohol will be unavoidable once it's his turn to order. The hedgehog's hyper-sensitive nostrils already sting from the sour change in the air even while standing at the back counter. He prepares for a headache, both physical and mental. Then the landline phone rings at the most convenient time when guess-who is next in line.

“Hey Shadow, I gotta take this, probably about shipments coming tomorrow. Can you swap for a minute? Nyx, pause new orders after yours!” Lional says while hurriedly walking to the phone. Shadow exhales a long breath out his nose while finishing the drink he had started making, not caring if Lionel hears his disdain. A grating tone cuts through the friendly hum of Nyx’s customer service voice and a flushed face peers down over the front counter, as much as the owner can.

“Hey, rat! Yeh you, ya gonna take my order or what?”

Shadow shoots the man a poker face with a tinge of glare, maintaining eye contact the whole time he washes his hands until he’s standing behind the register.

“I’m a hedgehog. What can I get you?”

“Yeah-yeah, I know what you are…” he fails to discreetly give Shadow a once-over, “and I’ll get one’a them energy juice things in a can, the mango one. S’all.”

“Okay. Your total is $3.72.” The man leans his elbows on the countertop, exposing the drenched armpit holes of his dress shirt that’s otherwise pristine. A horrible combination with the alcohol. Coins jingle out of the wallet during a clumsy attempt to find quarters. Shadow waits with cold impatience.

Those slippery and nonchalant words replay in his mind: I know what you are. The goosebumps and bristling fur spreading down his arms betray his composure. The hedgehog coolly smoothes the traitorous fur down and glances backwards. Lionel has returned from the phone and is now using the new batch of dark roast. Slanted ears pick up on the nearby conversation. Nyx leans against a cupboard with her tatted arms crossed, facing toward her co-workers as the microwave warms a sandwich.

“Y’know, I been fussin’ at my apartment since the po-pos found a fuckin’ alien gun with a arm still attached to it, all’at behind the dumpsters. Whatever they’re called, black uhh…Black Armsss, yeah.” Lionel meanders closer to the registers while stirring a pitcher and bounces off the topic.

“Hoo boy, they’re lucky they didn’t get hurt. Unidentified tech was found by Shelly's Dock last month. Weird chemicals were leaking into the ocean, and when some fisherman lifted the thing above water, one caught a whiff of whatever was coming out. The poor guy couldn’t stand right and his arms were numb for weeks. Weeks.”

“Oh f’sure! To think all’at is lying around when shit like that can happen. Cleaning it up, my ass. Could bessspyware or somethin’ that we don’t know about yet. S’all demonic lookin’ with those symbols.”

Lionel’s face cringes at what he thinks is overused swearing but still humors the ranting. Shadow's been biting his tongue the whole time and realizes that Nyx has been listening too, locking eyes with her after she delivers the heated sandwich to a waiting customer. Shadow adjusts his bandana, pulling it down so it covers even more skin around his third eye, which had started twitching since the air turned sour.

“Yes, I suppose. It can definitely be off-putting…” Lionel affirms.

The hybrid’s fur prickles more. The dreaded feeling he tried to scrub away that same evening slowly crawls over him again. He does share the public’s condemnation toward Black Doom’s genocidal plans. He shares the horror for the hive-minded brains and also sympathy for the broken bodies of his siblings reaching their breaking points to carry those plans out. He also had been at the mercy of wills and wants imposed on him in the past, not just their shared parent's. But he feels anger for the parts of the planet they did successfully destroy by their own hands; not excluding his own.

There’s a lot about his life that he didn’t ask for. Bodies that share blood in color, in veins. Frames that share an unsettling outline in the light of flames. Eyes that share such primal blaze to inspire fear. The thought of erasing such parts has lingered before, not quite passively. In dreams, the sun washes over petrified constellations in the cold gray ashes of early mornings. In daydreams such as right now, Shadow wants to sink to the bottom of the ocean with one of the anchors on the tacky shirt in front of him. The drunk man turns his attention to Shadow again, squinting his eyes at the sectioned quills for another once-over.

“Say heh, you got familiar colors, an’ I seen those markings…Don’t happen to know, um…?”

The corner of the energy drink can loudly strikes the counter and dramatically slides to a spot directly in front of the inquisitor.

“Hey dude. You're holding up the line, ” Nyx urges with a tilted head and click of her tongue, chemical-white eyes blinking a little extra wide.

“Oh. Ferrgot I had a five,” he sneers, slapping the bill onto the counter. He struggles to pinch the stray coins into his grasp. Shadow avoids putting the change in the open hand hovering too close for his liking and walks away, downing two-thirds of his own drink in one sitting. The man does the same, leaving a disgusting handprint on the glass of the exit door and the memory of cheap wine in his wake.

When the moment presents itself where Shadow and Nyx are at the same workstation again, the woman invades the hedgehog’s personal bubble just enough for communication.

“I’m sorry, that dude sucked. To think I thought his shirt was the worst thing about him when he first showed his mug here…sheesh.”

Shadow barely nods in acknowledgement, a gesture that many people wouldn’t notice. He takes advantage of the moment to let his third eye get all its pent up twitching over with. His ears had drooped into a folded position underneath the bandana ever since the drunkard first opened his trap. Lifting and loosening those muscles barely alleviates the tension in his temples.

“That must have been scary for him to find out there was a corpse piece lying right by his home. Wish he would’ve been quieter when telling the story, though.” Lionel projects toward the other two.

“He was rude and nosy for absolutely no reason.” Nyx counters, “You should have said something.”

“When was he nosy?”

“Didn’t you hear the last part? The thing he asked Shadow?”

“...I thought he was asking about other police findings?”

“You’re kidding, right? There's a word for it.”

“Nyx, drop it…” Shadow sternly whispers.

Lionel hesitates with an awkward nod and pursed lips. Nyx backs off and there’s a noticeable roughness in the way she’s handling the dishes and cups. Always one to be attentive and passionate, her gumption for picking apart bullshit can sometimes steer obtuse. It stems neither from a lack of intuition nor intellect, just a lack of personal experience. Her external dwelling on situations like these sometimes lasts longer than Shadow’s own. But what each store in the body is another matter.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

The ride home featured much less rain, clouds, and cars. What was left of the weeping raindrops were kind enough to slightly cool Shadow’s prickled skin and boiled blood. Unnatural lighting washed away almost all of the stars when the city was in full swing earlier in the evening. But most businesses closed by 3:00AM except for the few twenty-four hour ones. Constellations then had a bigger stage on which to shine alongside the moon. The full side of the lasered heavenly body was a soft spotlight that followed the tiny white bandana as it wound through glistening streets. Both the Big Dipper and Little Dipper joined in keeping watch through the hedgehog’s slightly ajar curtain as he and the animal companions drifted off to sleep at home.

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