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lalunanymph · 3 years ago

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angels like us

➴ For Yuuji, letting an angel go means accepting the fact that he has to first break her wings.

➴ pairings: aged up!yuuji x f!reader

➴ tags/warnings: heavy angst, heartbreak, f.oral receiving, blowjobs, creampies, slight breeding kink, MCD, begging, canon-typical violence, loss of virginity, mutual pining, lovers to enemies, 19 y/o yuuji, 18+, minors dni

➴ a/n: anti-hero + villain! yuuji brainrot go brr

➴ listen to: angels like you ✼ the one that got away - acoustic

Yuuji sees the destruction he has caused in his mind’s eye and feels an unnerving sense of peace.

He remembers the flames licking the streets, the broken bodies of curses and sorcerers alike and think it’s all going to plan. Or, it would be if he couldn’t stop thinking about the last image of you.

Your pretty eyes burnished with tears, those same crystal drops chasing down those cheeks that he used to kiss without any abandonment– No, stop. He cannot be thinking of you. If he did, he knew it would be all for naught.

A sharp knock on the door rouses his suspicions and he stands up straighter, straining his ears for an indication of who was on the other side. Those pathetic sorcerers he once called comrades would stop at anything to halt his advancement on the annihilation of the world, and it is with that thought that he clenches his fists, his cursed energy surrounding them.

“Yuuji?”

All at once, he feels his fight drain out of him.

How…?

The moment he opens the door, he hears your soft gasp and feels your arms wrap around him. There in your tight uniform and little skirt that barely covers your thighs, he knows that you were sent straight from the depths of his own personal hell to tempt him back into the light.

He remains powerless as he drowns in your sweet scent, redolent of a time when you were still his and he still had the possibility of living a life with you. But now… now he could never go back. After the lives he took and the hopes he destroyed, there was not a chance that anyone would let him live.

And if you were caught with him, it would be an opportunity for those cowardly higher-ups to finally get rid of you, too. Yuuji could never let that happen.

With a snarl, he pushes you off him and you stumble back, almost hitting the door.

“Yuuji–!”

“How the hell did you find me?” He towers over you, staring down into your wide eyes. You were trembling, but hid it with an impassive stare. “W-we used to walk this street before,” you wince at the reminder of a life you both once lived, “and you would always point at this home stay and say you wanted to live in a spot where you could have the city lights shining down on you. I put two and two together and came here.”

He didn’t believe you for one second. Grabbing you by the shoulders, he muffles your squeak with a hand around your neck, slamming the door shut so no one could see what he was about to do. In the back of his mind, he heard Sukuna laughing; the curse was spurred on by his vessel’s show of dominance. Itadori Yuuji was known for his gentleness and sunshine smile, but there was no light spilling forth from him when he pushes you against the wall, tightening his grip around your throat.

“Tell me the truth,” he whispers, voice dangerously low, “Did they send you?”

Your hands fly to grip his wrists and you shake your head vehemently. “N-no. I ran off after that fight in Odaiba. I c-came here immediately to find you.”

His grip slackens. That fight. Yuuji saw it in his memories; Kugisaki yelling at him to snap out of it, the final finger that he ingested, the defeated look in Fushiguro’s face when Yuuji finally crossed over to the point of no return. He bets that Megumi wished he had killed him when he had a chance all those years ago in those empty school halls.

If only Fushiguro had the strength back then to end it all, maybe they wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with. You could feel his control slipping and gently pry his hands from your neck. With trembling fingers, you touch the scar on his mouth and he flinches, unable to meet your gaze.

“Yuu.”

He squeezes his eyes shut at the sound of his nickname falling like dew drops from your plush mouth. You remind him of a raindrop, trickling down the window pane of his consciousness, just another lost bead that faded away into the sea of his self-loathing.

Your lips were gentle on his cheek as you whispered, “Come back.” The perfume he absolutely adored on you was drifting up to him in wafts and he bit down on a groan when you fan your fingers across his broad chest. “Come back home, Yuuji. There’s still a way we can fix this.”

He can’t fall back into your charms. Sukuna stood at the edge of his domain, watching this scene unfold with mild interest. Tuning out the curse, Yuuji strengthens his resolve and gives you an unwavering glare.

“Go home, Y/N.”

Your eyes ripple close and you shake your head. “Everyone believes that you’re a lost cause, Yuu, but I know you wouldn’t do this. You care so much and you want to protect people. This is not who you are.”

Your last words were delivered with the urging of a penitentiary, wide eyes beseeching and full of heartbreak that he can count the constellations of stars that are about to die in between the black holes of hope. Yuuji closes his eyes and prays that he has the strength to do this.

Remember your binding vow. Sukuna urges. Hurt her.

And he does, just not in the way that the curse expects. His lips crash down to yours in a fit of desperation and you bloom underneath him, gasping and parting your lips so he can dip his tongue out to taste the sweet nectar of your kisses. Heart thrumming like a hummingbird, he loses himself in the wildflowers of your soft skin and plucks you from the dirt with shaky hands as the wall meets your back. Yuuji’s mouth makes its way down that neck he had dreamed of kissing since he was a boy of 18 when he first saw you returning from an arduous mission.

Time stood still to allow him to rip the buttons of your uniform, hearing the flimsy fabric tearing like his heart as your collarbones peek out to greet him like a long lost friend. Latching his mouth to your neck, he paints you with his marks, viciously imagining the mortification on Fushiguro and Gojou-sensei’s countenance when they find out that YN – the ever pretty and meek Y/N – played into the traitorous vessel’s games.

“Ngh– Yuuji,” you cry out, tensing your thighs around his waist as he moves to lap at your skin between your heaving breasts. Trembling fingers card through his hair, tugging at the rosy roots.

I want to taste her. Yuuji feels a flicker of annoyance at Sukuna’s voice and tunes him out, but the curse was not one for backing down. Brat, give me–

No, Yuuji replies firmly as he nips the plush flesh spilling from the lace cups of your bra that could barely hold on to your supple tits. She’s all mine. Feeling your heartbeat under his lips, Yuuji kisses a path back to your neck, leaving another purple mark under your ear.

The sweet whimpers and moans that slip past your lips tell him just how eager you are, and though the both of you never took it further than heated making out sessions, Yuuji finds that he wants to go all the way this time. He molds his palm around the twitching heat between your legs, rubbing his middle finger down the seam of your crotch, feeling the slick pooling around the diaphanous excuse of your panties as your eagerness coats his fingers.

“So filthy,” he murmurs, hot breath fanning across your cheek. “You really want this, huh?”

“Y-Yuu, p-please,” you mewl, unable to contain the ecstasy dripping down your thighs. “N-need you to touch me.”

He slips two fingers into you, barely winded when he cradles you to his chest with one arm, the chill of the concrete wall seeping into your clothes. “M’touching you, baby.”

Kisses as soft as the first spring day flit across his jaw and cheek. Like the purely driven snow that was full of innocence, you didn’t sense the pervading frostiness from his touch or how his light brown eyes, usually filled with tender affection, were devoid of any sentiments. The familiar weight and curve of your outline in his arms made it all too real and he breathed in your scent, lost in the sweetness of it.

You tug him close to you, your body a respite for him when you unfurl your arms and take him deeper, molding him to your chest. He tongues the turgid buds that slip from the confinements of your bra, swirls the rough appendage and worries them with his teeth. Short breaths caress the shell of his ear and he feels you squirming, begging for more.

He obliges you and hitches you higher, arms like steel bands and he drinks in more of your kisses, his feet moving of their own accord towards the threadbare bed. Your huff of indignation when he set you down onto the mattress would’ve made him laugh if it wasn’t for the yearning coruscating in your gaze.

Your fingers loop around his belt, pulling him towards you and like a star succumbing to the inescapable drag of gravity, he allows himself to be destroyed by the hot press of your mouth on the outline of his twitching length. Slow fingers trail the zipper of his pants down and your eyes meet above the line of his taut abdomen. A peek of a pink tongue, the glimmer of saliva on the inner rim of your mouth and Yuuji swears you’re killing him when your lips wrap around the head of his cock. The way you're sucking him, eyes downcast and lashes brushing your cheekbones makes his cock and heart swell.

There’s a beat of hesitation as your plush lips stretch around his length and he finds himself hitting the back of your throat. He groans, low and gravelly and threads his fingers through your hair, letting you work your mouth on him. Strings of saliva dribble down your chin and he loves how you hollow your cheeks before you take him back in, the sensation causing his knees to shake and throat to go dry. You release him with a soft pop and Yuuji keeps his half-mast gaze on you, breathing heavily when you kiss his swollen tip.

“Will you come back home now?” you whisper, blinking up at him through lachrymose eyes.

He doesn’t answer, preferring to lean down and cage you with his bigger body. His lips find their resting place between the juncture of your shoulder and neck and he bites down softly, enough to make you squirm. Yuuji wants to repay you, and when his fingertips graze your bare thighs, you part them, letting him bunch up your skirt around your waist and pull your thigh high socks down.

“You wore this into battle?” he grunts, rolling the taut band down and slipping off the mesh fabric from your legs.

“N-no,” you squeak when calloused fingers find your wet heat. “I c-changed afterwards.” There was a beat of silence where he absorbs your words and your eyes widen when you hear a loud tearing sound.

In one swift motion, your panties disintegrate from your body, leaving you shivering and bare.

You throw your head back when he gathers the wetness that collects at the entrance of your pussy and slicks it between your folds. His tongue dances around your nipples, latching onto them with unmatched zeal and he continues his ministrations on your heated flesh.

Yuuji dips his head down, following the line of your body as he skims his mouth over the divots of your torso. He rubs his cheek into your inner thigh before he grazes his mouth against the blooming warm flesh of your cunt. Gently, he lifts the hood of your clit with his thumb and takes the swollen nub into his mouth, branding the sensitive flesh with the stiff tip of his tongue as if to say Yuuji was here and she belongs to me.

You taste like a slice of Heaven and Yuuji is the repentant sinner worshipping at your altar. For one split second, you had the vessel to the King of Curses wishing he could take you as his forever if it meant he could keep his face between your thighs every day.

He feels Sukuna purring at your taste and jealousy fuels him to pry your thighs further apart and bury his tongue into your clenching pussy. Your squeals and sighs bounce off the decrepit walls and he almost gives in and tells you that he’ll come back, the taste of your sweet cunt messing with his resolve.

“H-hah, Yuu! S-so good– mm, l-love your mouth,” you whimper.

Hating that you were still coherent, Yuuji slips two thick fingers into your cunt and feels your walls flutter. You gasp and he delights at how his name sounds in your breathy, desperate tone. Gathering your wetness with his tongue and mingling it with his spit in the back of his throat, Yuuji pulls back, dark eyes hypnotically on yours as the glob of viscosity trickles past his lips and dribbles between your folds.

The scar across his mouth twitches at the sight of how your hips jolt, a low moan slipping past your teeth at the filthy show. He bends down and gathers that globule to spread it through your slit with his tongue, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Y-Yuu, s’too much,” you squeak, thighs seizing around his shoulders as you try to move away from his mouth.

“Too much?” he growls, finally ripping your blouse and bra from your body, pushing your skirt up all the way to your waist to expose your throbbing cunt. “Baby, I’m just getting started.”

He palms his hard cock, eyes lock on yours as he pulls you close, letting you settle onto the seat of his lap. You jostle and cry out when Yuuji lifts your hips and sinks you down onto his cock, letting gravity do the rest of the work as he fills you to the hilt. Both of your ecstatic moans clash in hot breaths and you feel the wet imprints of his kisses down your neck, going over the marks he left like he was tracing over his favorite mistakes.

The frail atmosphere was riddled with tender kisses and his soft whispers of praise.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, bruised knuckles stark on the plush flesh of your ass. You swirl your hips and he stutters out his next words, “S-so fuckin’ tight.”

“Y-Yuu, m-more,” you stumble over your words when he lays you down on the bed, slow thrusts increasing in speed until your back arches, hands buried in his hair. Every glide of his cock feels like a rush of pleasure unfurling down your spine and curling your toes. He gets a glimpse of heaven when he leans close to kiss you and you don’t refuse him, drowning in the slice of affection he has chosen to give you.

When he kisses you like this, like you are the only thing that matters in this cruel world, you can almost believe that he’s still in there.

“Yuuji, please,” you whimper.

“Please, what?” he breathes, “Please let you cum?”

You nod and bury your face in the crook of his neck, the strong masculine scent of him imprinting onto your skin. You love the way he always smells like laundry detergent and faint musk, the almost-boyish scent reminding you that he was real and that he was still salvageable. He was as human as they came and he needed to be reminded of the human experiences he would cast aside if he fully embraced Sukuna.

Thinking that you would be the one to finally get him to see the truth, you pry your face from his neck and shoot him a desperate glance, one that has him gritting his teeth at the stunning sight.

“C-Come back to me,” you whisper, “I can’t live without you, Yuu. You’re my person. You’re my best friend. You’re my Yuuji,” you were begging now, surging your hips to meet his fast strokes. “I n-need you.”

His thrusts falter and you notice the glimmer of tears in his lash line. Trying not to get carried away, you take his palm and place it on your lower stomach so that he would be reminded that you were his from the very first day.

“Remember our plans for the future?” Your frantic urges brought back the faint memories of the promises he made to you. Unbidden, he catches sight of the promise ring that went unnoticed by him in the dim lighting. The simple band on your left finger was given to you the day you both decided to make it official.

I promise to give you my life and love.

What do you think about babies? He can still feel the heat of the sun and the ones on his cheeks when you innocently shoot him that question on a day off in the city, your eyes trailing to a young man who was gently touching his wife’s swollen bump.

I hate big marriages and I want to elope, he remembers your impish smirk, ‘Cause I want that day to be just for us, Yuu.

His heart breaks and he senses Sukuna pushing through the veil of their souls to stop this lapse of weakness from happening but he holds firm. Not yet, he warns the curse.

He folds and kisses you deeply, tasting your tears. The walls he set up in preparation for his departure tremble from the onslaught of your eager affection, reminding him with stark conviction what he would be giving up if he said yes to Sukuna.

But, it was too late. You were too late.

“I can’t,” he whispers, not missing the crestfallen look in your eye. “I’ve already made a vow.”

Your sobs are smothered when he flips you onto your belly, pressing you flat to the bed and surging into you to distract the both of you from the pain. You cry out, not from the sudden slam of his hips, but from the realization that this was all for naught.

His lips brush the back of your neck, leaving firm kisses down your shoulders as your body trembles in this flatiron position he has placed you in. He tries to ignore how you’re silently crying as he twists you around and wraps your legs around his shoulders.

“Thank you,” Yuuji whispers faintly, “You never gave up on me.”

Your sniffles mingle with the moans of pleasure and your heart tears cleanly in two even as your release rises to a crescendo. The tension and heartache breaks and you sob out his name, creaming all over his cock as he twitches deep in you, about to pull out when you lock your thighs around his waist.

“Want you to cum in me,” you whisper and he ignores how hard his heartbeat picks up at your words.

What do you think about babies?

“N-no, Y/N,” he stutters and his strokes falter. “I-I can’t–”

You reassure him with a soft kiss on his intumescent mouth. “I want it, Yuu.”

How can he deny you? When you stare up at him with those doe-eyes, he finds he is powerless to not give you what you want.

Hot ropes spill into your fluttering heat, filling you to the brim. You exhale a shaky moan that mirrors his muffled cry as his hips twitch. You keep your thighs around him and he presses his forehead to yours. The minutes tick by before you release him, both figuratively and literally as a shadow eclipses over his expression.

Like a light that was switched off, Yuuji had closed himself, pushing you away and eyeing you with open disdain. Shaken by the sudden distortion of his expression, you straighten, weariness written on your face.

“Yuu–”

“Get out,” he says and doesn’t give you a chance to reply when he swiftly dresses himself.

He fights back the tears threatening to clog his throat when he feels your arms around his waist.

“I’m not giving up on you,” your whisper was ardently determined, “I know you’re still in there somewhere, Yuu.”

Knowing that he has no other choice, Yuuji breaks your hold on him and allows Sukuna’s bitter antipathy to coat his tone when he says, “Do you think you mean anything to me?”

He turns around and backs you into the wall, fixing his deadened gaze onto your terrified ones.

“You mean nothing to me, Y/N. If I see you again, I’ll break your fucking neck,” he growls, “You disgust the shit out of me. You’re weak, pathetic and a little slut for giving yourself up to me like this.” He lets his rambling take a hold of him, every poisonous lie that spills from his lips hurting him as much as it hurts you.

“You’ve always been weak, even when we were colleagues. I can’t believe they let someone like you on the team… you don’t deserve the title of a sorcerer. You’re nothing, Y/N. I only protected you and spoke to you out of pity. Did you think I could ever love you?”

His words crash into you with the pain of a thousand needles, each one bursting the tiny bubble of hope you carried that Yuuji was still somewhere in there. You gasp and fumble for your clothes, trying to cover your naked body and heart.

“Y-Yuu–”

“I lied,” he reveals. “You were a naive girl and I took advantage of that. I never meant any of my promises,” he pries your hand into his and plucks the band from your finger. You cry out and struggle to pull the ring and his affections back, tears dribbling down your face.

“I never loved you.” Wrong.

“I would rather stab myself than spend the rest of my life with you.” False.

“You… mean absolutely nothing to me.” The lie was physically burning his throat.

Like your heart, he destroys the ring and tosses it onto the floor.

The both of you were breathing hard and he sees the resolve in your gaze finally break as tears stream down your face.

You bend down to retrieve the twisted ring, clenching the misshapen metal in your fist as you fix your skirt and pick your thigh highs from the floor. You dress methodically, your expression devoid of any emotion. The last few seconds of you in his life were filled with inexplicable pain as he watches you straighten your uniform jacket and walk out the door.

The moment he hears you leave, Yuuji crumples onto the floor, releasing loud sobs that don’t cover Sukuna’s manic laughter.

Good, good, the curse gloats. A very impressive show, brat.

He tries to tune him out, but it was futile.

Once upon a time, when the world was still fresh and he harbored no jaded ill-will, he could pretend that you were the end to his beginning; that somewhere between the bleeding red lines of this new life he was thrust into that he could find a reprieve in the crook of your neck and smile.

But, the true reality of his fate was not kind and in an ideal world, love would be enough. As much as he wants to hold onto to the childish dreams that love conquers, the foolish notion folds on itself when he remembers your devastated expression.

All he can taste in the back of his throat in between his salty tears are the broken hopes he leaves in between the crevices of your heart, the man you sorely wanted him to be fading from the final illusion of your shattered misconceptions.

Yuuji the lover, Yuuji the husband... and everything else in between that he so desperately wanted to be for you finally dissolves into the acidic pool of his final choice.

Fushiguro’s bleeding eye twitches at the sight of his ex-best friend.

Smoke drifts from the destroyed cars, the debris from the ruins of a convenient store standing between him and Itadori. There was not a faint trace of recognition in Yuuji’s gaze as he advances closer to the Shikigami expert.

Megumi snaps his hands into a familiar formation and before he can utter the calls for the shadows, he sees a figure running towards Itadori. But, Yuuji was firmly focused on destroying the sorcerer before him that he didn’t hear her cry, calling forward his Malevolent Shrine to meet Megumi’s domain halfway, not knowing the mistake he was about to commit.

A body finds itself caught in the middle.

“NO!”

Megumi tries to frantically dismiss the shadows, but it’s too late.

The two domains find its first victim and the blast ricochets across the street with enough force to bring another building down. Fushiguro finds himself on the ground, sputtering out the dust from his lungs and mouth, protected by Totality who shields his body from the brunt of the explosion.

As the silence fractures around him, he hears wailing sobs.

The dust settles and he blinks at the sight before him.

Your limp body is in Yuuji’s hold, his cursed energy flowing through him as he tries to heal you and reverse the damage of his attack. While your body was still intact, Yuuji had lost half of his face and Megumi deduces that Itadori had caught you before the fatal detonation blew you into pieces.

“Itadori.”

Yuuji glances up at him and shakes his head, tears dripping down his face. It hurts Megumi to see his ex-best friend like this, and he shakily lifts his hands up to finally exorcise him, but is stopped by Yuuji’s outstretched palm, the bleeding hand a white flag between the two men.

“L-Let me heal her, t-then we can resume,” he hiccups, dropping his palm to press it onto your cheek. “I-I made a vow together with him to not physically hurt her.”

Fushiguro finds himself in a pickle; his instincts as a sorcerer were telling him that he should take this chance and end things before they could escalate, but his tender bleeding heart was hurting for the broken expression on Itadori’s face.

Reluctantly, he drops his hands and watches as Yuuji heals you, the color returning to your cheeks.

Before he can stop himself, Megumi blurts out, “Why’d you save her?”

With Yuuji’s attention on him, he quickly reiterates. “She was a mess when she came back to Odaiba. I noticed that the ring she wore was missing. What happened?”

Yuuji’s tight jaw and pallid expression gave everything away. Megumi bows his head and mutters, “Figures. You had to break her heart.”

Rather than rising to Fushiguro’s bait, Yuuji sighs. “Do you remember when we were boys, Fushiguro?” He spares his ex-best friend a paper thin smile. “In those school halls when you supposed to exorcise me?”

Megumi remembers that day well and with shame, sometimes he wishes he went through with it. While the conflict of his soul was hidden from Yuuji, there was no doubt exactly what the Shikigami expert was thinking about when his gaze hardens.

“I wish I was strong enough back then,” he mutters.

To his surprise, Yuuji agrees and stands, cradling you close to his chest. He gently places you in Megumi’s arms, who is taken aback by the utter regret on Itadori’s countenance. Your head settles in the crook of the dark-haired man’s neck.

“I wished you were strong enough, too.”

Megumi stares at your pale and broken form, the last question he has weighing heavily on his tongue.

“What’re you gonna do now, Yuuji?”

Itadori spares his friend one last glance, the unmistakable softening in his gaze when it lands on you thickening the tension that was close to a breaking point.

“I–” Yuuji stumbles towards the direction of the city center where he knows the world’s most powerful sorcerer will be waiting for him. “–am ending this.”

Irrational fear claws in Megumi’s chest, his pupils becoming pinpricks as he goes over what Yuuji has just said. “Wait! What do you mean by that?”

Rather than answering, Yuuji shoots him a smile, one that was a shadow of the sunshine grin he used to sport when the world was still fair and just. The scar across his face crinkles as he lifts a brow in a teasing façade.

“Everything, Fushiguro,” he turns his back on his former best friend and the broken body of his lover; closing the chapter of his old life. “I’m ending everything.”

In a softer voice, he gestures to you. “Take care of her, Fushiguro. Now that I’m gone, you and Kugisaki are the only ones she has left.”

Megumi spares you one glance, his heartbeat thudding unevenly and he wants to tell Yuuji to come back, to end this madness and return to them. What Yuuji had entrusted him to do was far more precious than he could fulfil for he knew the depth of your affection for the pink-haired man; this last promise would kill you when you came to your senses.

But when he turns his face to the light, Yuuji isn’t there anymore.

Bright flashes of purple fade into his mind and the world goes still. When Yuuji opens his eyes once more, he sees disapproving cerulean blues bearing down on him and a sudden memory pricks his mind. He sees the hospital morgue in his memories and the question shot at him with grim curiosity.

Have you made your choice?

Laughing, he ignores the thin bubble of blood that trickles from his mouth.

He has made his choice, and in it, he sacrifices all he used to fight for; a full life spent with you, a better world where humans could live, a brighter future for his friends… all of it goes up in flames because he found out the truth.

The truth that Sukuna helped him reach.

“I had high hopes for you, Yuuji-kun.”

Getting onto his knees, he begs for Gojou to finish what he started. His ex-sensei frowns when he regards his protege, wondering what had driven him to this inescapble corner. “Do you have any last words?”

He fixes Gojou with an unwavering stare. “I do.”

His former instructor, the one who was tasked with ending his life, stares down at him dispassionately, uncharacteristically serious as the blindfold presses to his skin with a film of dirt and perspiration. The fact that the great Gojou Satoru had broken out into a sweat when he faced off with Sukuna’s vessel sends a tinge of smug pride into his caved-in chest.

“I… found out the truth. The truth of the Jujutsu world and everything around it. We’re not the heroes. Far from it,” Yuuji says hoarsely and closes his eyes, preparing for the final blow. Breathing in shakily, he exhales, “Trust no one.”

Gojou gets on one knee in front of Yuuji and he nods, understanding the sacrifice behind Yuuji’s last warning.

“Any last requests?”

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“In my old dorm room – under a loose floorboard. There’s the ring that I bought together with Y/N,” he swallows the bitterness of his next words. “Can you pass it to her so she can keep it? A-and tell her that I’m sorry. I didn’t mean my last words to her.” He hangs his head, ready to surrender his soul. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

Gojou doesn’t point out the tears glistening in his terrified brown eyes.

He’s just a child.

The strongest sorcerer nods once more and summons forth the finishing blow to this bloody strife.

He’s just a child.

When the world erupts in purple, he embraces it, expecting to see his life flash before his eyes. But all he remembers is the bare slope of your shoulder peeking through your tank top as a warm summer sun refracts off your skin and dancing eyes.

Your laugh sounds like the chime of bells and you tug on his hand, ignoring his stuttering breath and hot cheeks as you pull him into a tiny jewelry shop in the heart of the city, prying him away from Kugisaki and Megumi. Nobara smirks and Fushiguro merely lifts a brow in cool disinterest at both of your antics before staring at his phone screen once again.

Away from his friends and in the cool shade of the shop, you place a soft kiss on his cheek. “I was thinking that we should get matching rings.”

To see you taking the lead and initiating couple-y activities when he was the one who usually did it makes his heart melt. Yuuji nods, biting down on his wide grin, and wraps his arm around you while you both peruse the selection of rings. He insists on paying when you both settle on simple silver bands that fit around your left ring fingers, joint mementos of your reciprocated devotion.

Like a piece of paper held to a flame, the image of your smile disintegrates and he feels the embers slipping from his fingers.

Maybe in another life, you both would meet again. Maybe in another life, he would keep his promise and be by your side until the day he breathes his last. Maybe in another life, he would be welcomed back home by the pattering of tiny feet and the curve of your swollen belly against his embrace.

In that life, there will be no more mistakes, no more hard choices and no more tears.

And maybe in that life, he would finally have the privilege to feel your name caress his tongue for all of eternity.

You would be his and he would be yours forever.

Just not in this life.

#yuuji x reader #yuuji x y/n #yuuji x you #itadori yuuji x reader #jjk itadori #jjk yuuji #itadori yuuji #yuuji angst #anti-hero #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #megumifushiguro #gojou satoru #jjk megumi #jjk gojou #one shot: angels like us #🍵 writes

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epicstuckyficrecs · 4 years ago

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Weekly Recap | February 8-21 2021

You get two weeks worth of fics this time because I got too busy last weekend and didn't have time to do my weekly recap :)

Complete

Evanstan Week 2021 by luninosity/ @luninosity (Evanstan | 10K | Mature): All my Evanstan Week little fics!

1. dodger 2. kisses 3. on set 4. first times (a first kiss, at least) 5. in space (alternate universe) 6. fluff 7. holiday

💙 Remote Access by Kalee60/ @kalee60 (Modern AU, Roommates | 57K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes was in trouble. More trouble than he ever thought he could get into as a grown adult. And it was caused by two singular factors that should never have become entwined.One, his god-like housemate Steve Rogers, who was unfairly handsome and the perfect specimen of man in not only looks but personality - and completely out of Bucky’s league.Two, Bucky’s obsession with a new toy he’d purchased to fill his lonely nights (and other areas).But when Steve buys a new TV, suddenly these two seemingly separate parts of Bucky’s life crash together in a spectacular and obsessive way.Bucky soon finds himself not as in control as he thought - and that’s when things start to get interesting…

💙 Black and Blue by darter_blue/ @darter-blue, the1918/ @the1918 (Modern AU, Spies & Secret agents | 7K | Explicit): CIA Agent Bucky Barnes and Captain Steve Rogers, Army 207th, Military Intelligence, are two American spies working for two different intelligence agencies. They've developed somewhat of complicated relationship while chasing down the same leads.

Until One Day, We Won't Be by the1918/ @the1918 (Evanstan RPF | 8K | Explicit): Six times Chris and Sebastian were alone. [+ one time they were not.]

💙 How to Bang Your Weapon (in This World and the Next) by Brokenwords, elkane/ @elkane, Hark_bananas/ @harkbananas, kocuria-visuals (kocuria)/ @kocuria, Nospheratt/ @nospheratt, profoundalpacakitten/ @profoundalpacakitten, ScrambledScript, sublimepigeon/ @sublimepigeon, ursa (Canon Divergent, WS!Steve, WS\Bucky, Multiverse | 50K | Explicit): Hydra knows how to get the Asset to do their bidding. When they want a new Captain, a new Steven Grant Rogers from another universe to help grow Hydra’s collection of supersoldiers, of course they send the Asset. But little do they know that in any universe, a Bucky will always find a Steve, and a Steve will always protect a Bucky.

💙 What lies they told us by darter_blue/ @darter-blue (Mobster AU | 42K | Explicit): Steve Rogers might still see his ma every Sunday, but he isn’t the dutiful son. He gave up that life a long time ago. Bucky Barnes may be following in his fathers footsteps, but he wants to set a path to something more than where they’ll take him. Steve and Bucky’s lives have always intersected. There is something between them that exists, real and palpable. But they are opposite sides of a coin. Opposing families in a war for money and power. Blood and pain. And fate may bring them together, again and again, pulling them closer. But it always finds a way to rip them apart. What they need is a way to fight fate. To fight their families. To reach each other. To keep each other.

the prosecution rests by dirtybinary/ @dirtybinary (Post-WS | 3K | Teen): The Asset has to admit, ending a mission with Captain America crying into his lap is pretty unexpected. Even for him, and he is trained to anticipate all contingencies.

💙 The Seed and the Root by the1918/ @the1918 (Shrunkyclunks, Post-EG | 32K | Explicit): His hands and mouth are gentle on the outside, but on the inside, Steve is burning up. He’s got everything he’s ever wanted on the bed and land beneath him, and now it’s so much at once that he’s afraid he’ll combust into white, nuclear light. (Part 3 of 💙 Song of the Rolling Earth)

Burning For You by musette22/ @musette22 (Evanstan RPF, Non-Famous Sebastian | 3K | Teen): Sebastian gets a little carried away when raving about the Mountain Lodge candle to a friend. It leads to an unexpected, fragrant encounter.

At The Bottom Of Everything by Anonymous (Evanstan RPF | 12K | Teen): Six years. That’s what they’re celebrating. Six years, of them. Of this. That's what Chris is happy about. Until the phone rings. Until he turns on the news.

💙 Slip Of The Tongue by this_wayward_life (Shrunkyslunks, Soulmate AU | 6K | Explicit): Mr Perfect Ass is even prettier from the front. His braid is loose enough that strands of hair have fallen to frame his face, and an oversized scarf is pulled up to just below his pouty, red mouth. He's big, with wide shoulders and thick arms and thighs that are straining at his jeans, and he's staring at Steve with a blush on his face and the prettiest eyes Steve has ever seen."Oh, god," Steve blurts out. "Please sit on my face."

(series) Kinktober 2020 by this_wayward_life (31 works | 80K | Explicit)

The Best Handjob Of Bucky Barnes's Damn Life (Handjob)

Soft (Eating Out)

The Benefits of A Sugar Baby (Thigh Riding)

Black and Blue (Choking/Spanking)

Black Mesh, Red Leather (Daddy Kink)

Thank God For Company-Sanctioned Teambuilding Workshops (Blindfolded)

The Only Thing School Football Is Good For (Blowjob)

Your Body, On Crumpled Sheets (Voyeurism)

Feeling Just Peachy (Accidental Stimulation)

Blood-slick (Knife Kink)

Bury Me (Restraints)

Summer Nights (Fingering)

Beautiful Shackles (Public Sex)

You Are My First, And You'll Be My Last (Sixty-Nine)

Cover My Body (Size Difference)

All Plugged Up (Toys)

the tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks (Begging)

Sugar Cookies (In the kitchen)

Seeing Double (Threesome)

I'll crawl home to him (Edging)

Your Voice In My Ear (Phone sex)

Hold Me Close, Keep the Monsters at Bay (In the shower/tub)

Keep Me Warm (First Time)

He never asked me once about the wrong I did (BDSM/rough sex)

Unexpected (Caught masturbating)

Overcome (Overstimulation)

In the Crowd (Orgy)

Praise Your Baby (Praise kink)

Grab on my waist and put that body on me (Dirty talk)

Rediscovery (Mutual Masturbation)

Think I Found Myself a Cheerleader (Dressed up)

WIP

💙 Underneath the Shattered Sky by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Planet Hulk AU, Post-Endgame | 14/? | 55K | Mature): “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.” Steve sounded choked. “I’m sorry. It was out of line.” “It’s really okay.” “No, it’s not. You’re not him. You’re your own person, with your own history, your own thoughts and feelings. Your own life here. I can’t expect you to be him. It’s not fair. To either of you.” “Maybe not,” Bucky huffed back. “But in this universe, my Steve’s an asshole who left me. And in your universe, your Bucky was taken from you, so I don’t really know what’s fair anymore.”

💙 and the river flows beneath your skin by Deisderium/ @deisderium (Boarding School AU, Soulmates | 3/? | 20K | Mature): In which Steve and Bucky are forced to room together their senior year at boarding school, and accidentally soul bond to each other even though they kind of hate each other. All they have to do to get out of it is not kiss each other for a year so the accidental bond will fade. How hard could it be?

💙 The Root and the Stalk by the1918/ @the1918 (Shrunkyclunks, Post-EG | 3/6 | 18K | Explicit): “My mom, she’s not perfect, but she always had this one saying. You can’t look right into the sunset, because the light will burn your eyes. So you have to face east, right?” Bucky tucks his forehead against Steve’s chest, staring down the gap between them, eyes on their feet. “And when you do, you can look at the ground, and you can see your own shadow.” Bucky raises his head after a contemplative silence and gazes up at Steve. Those stormy gray eyes are filled with luminance, iridescence, splintered rays of shining light. “Or—Mom would say—you can look in front of you.” His lashes kiss his cheeks in butterfly pulses every time he blinks. “And ‘God’s light at your back will show you everything.’” (Part 4 of 💙 Song of the Rolling Earth)

💙 Revenance by by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel, SinpaiCasanova (Bladerunnerblue) (The Old Guard AU/The Song of Achilles AU | 20/? | 62K | Mature | Warning: Violence, MCD): And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Or, the one where Steve and Bucky are immortal and used to be known as Achilles and Patroclus.

💙 my soul and my youth (it’s all for you to use) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (Post-Endgame (non-compliant) | 1/2 | 7K | Explicit): He waits until Bucky’s got a happy mouthful of eggs and toast. “I want to fuck you when you’re asleep.” Steve smiles his sweetest smile, and Bucky’s eyes narrow further, until they’re luminous blue slits. He swallows. Steve helplessly tracks the bob of his throat and drags his eyes back up to Bucky’s. “Steven Grant,” Bucky says, tone somewhere between amusement and admonishment. “Way to spring that on a guy.”

Re-read

I [Heart] You by writeonclara (Canon, magic curse | 1K | General): “Steve’s been hit with a curse,” Natasha said. She said it calmly, so Bucky didn’t immediately go flying out of the apartment to tear apart the Tower in search of Steve. Then again, Natasha would probably be calm if New York City spontaneously burst into flames. He lowered the coffee pot and squinted at her. “Of course he has,” he said. He felt, abruptly, exhausted. “What is it?” “The witch kept ranting about sexual repression and archaic moral principles,” she continued blithely.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec #weekly recap

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legendrarry · 4 years ago

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Thank you so much for the tag @erebeus-roxy!

Slow burn or love at first sight (give me the slowest burn there is mate!)// fake dating or secret dating(always FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT!) // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers(do I even need to explain this one??) //oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence(BOTH) // hurt comfort or amnesia(amnesia fics kill me so..) // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut or fluff(smut AND fluff please) // canon compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death (mcd is sad but I still read them) // one shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic ("we can go anywhere?" "anywhere" yes I'm talking about ROA 😭)// arranged marriage or accidental marriage // time travel or isolated together (aideomai has chsnced my life)// neighbours or roommates // sci-fi au or magic au ("Yer a Wizard, 'arry!)// body swap or gender bend // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane

I have a fever and honestly, It even hurts looking at the screen so please, anyone who wants to do this give it a go. Do tag me so I can read all your answers I beg you!

Clean one:

Slow burn or love at first sight // fake dating or secret dating // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers //oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence // hurt comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut or fluff // canon compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic // arranged marriage or accidental marriage // time travel or isolated together // neighbours or roommates // sci-fi au or magic au // body swap or gender bend // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane

#personal #non hp

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snuffink · 6 months ago

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Reading through people's mcd rewrites there's been one a few that have combined into an idea in my head. (Or someone else had this idea, it cemented itself in my head but I've read so many that I can't remember it anymore, that's also possible.) I've tagged some people down below who's ideas I've kind of combined here! (Please tell me if you'd like me to not tag you, I'll fix it!)

So bare with me while I explain this tragic little idea.

Imagine if every single roleplay was simply a different version of them. Like we step back from Jesson simply using the characters people are already familiar with and instead say that they genuinely are the exact same people, reborn into a new reality.

What if, it all started with the Divine Warriors. What if they were their first, original forms, and they fucked up so badly during their lifetime that the universe or some power higher than the warriors themselves, decided to punish them. It's already canon that the warriors are reborn over and over again and are connected, but what if different realities existed and in every single one, these people existed, and in every single one they were doomed to suffer.

I've seen some people make connections from the different versions of the characters, something to do with their personas, stories, etc. I thoroughly enjoy the idea that though fundamentally different when set into a completely new environment and reality, there's something that always stays the same. Something connecting every version to the first and to each other. Something that still makes the person them.

Back to the point, it would be devastating if every single version, no matter how different or no matter what reality, was always doomed to the same downfall. Cursed with the predestined outcome with no way of ever changing it, chosen for them because of the mistakes of a version of them that is oh so distant, lost to time and space, and they will never be the wiser.

Or will they?

Will they, after countless reincarnations, start noticing? Would so many versions of the same people over and over and over and over and over again start slowly tearing the walls down? Would they slowly grow wiser, faintly starting to remember the other realities, how all of them seemed to end. Would the deja vu slowly take over their lives?

Would they take notice of others being ever changing while some seemed to never change? Garroth, Katelyn, Aphmau, they seemed to always be them, yet Levin, Lucinda, Cadenza never were quite the same...

I haven't finished rewatching MCD and I never finished When Angels Fall so this might not work but fuck it, I like the idea

This heavily relies on @aphblr-headcanons posted hc in which anon talked about each reincarnation having a curse caused by the Divine Warriors.

Along with @goat-guy-tm who talked about Irene incarnations always having the name Aphmau, like a curse.

Honourable mention of @garbagepile who had talked about Garroth's similarities between each universes

And (maybe) finally @dilucsfavorite who's post about reincarnation I had reblogged some time back and which probably sparked this whole thing

#aphblr #aphmau #begging for mcd mutuals #garroth ro'meave #mcd garroth #minecraft diaries #rambling #i went off the rails a lil #this wasn't supposed to be this deep #whoops #divine warriors

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theclaravoyant · 7 years ago

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It’s alright (it’s just the end of the world) - Elena-centric 5x18 Coda

AN ~ Working through some of my own thoughts and feelings about this whole “grey morality” thing I ended up with this fic and it turned out quite well, if I do say so myself (although I will warn you, it’s kinda angsty. no MCD I promise). Enjoy!

Elena reflects on her decision in 5x18 and what it means for herself, her loved ones and the future of the world. Elena-centric, Mackelena, Angst (but a little bit of hurt/comfort, I’m not *completely* merciless), Rated T. Mentions of Ruby, Fitz & Daisy including a brief 5x14 reference (all non graphic / non descriptive).

(If you want to know any more about the contents of my fic before reading it, feel free to shoot me a message.)

Title and quote taken from “Preaching the End of the World” by Chris Cornell.

Read on AO3 (~1600wd).

It’s alright (it’s just the end of the world)

Elena watched the tiny crucifix dangling from her mechanical fingers. It glinted like a tiny golden star in the dim light, but still she felt lost in a fog, unable to read its guiding signs. It felt wrong, holding it like this: without its shape against her skin, without the cool metal, warming at her touch.

Truth be told, though, there was not much else that Elena missed about her arms – her new ones could do most of what they had been able to, and they were stronger, faster. They made her better. Even though they still didn’t quite feel part of her yet, she’d found them easier to accept, knowing she still had the parts that mattered. What was the body, after all, if not a tool for the soul and the heart and the mind to work their purpose? Now, though, she no longer knew if she had even that.

It was not so much that she hated killing. She did, of course, but sometimes it was necessary. Sometimes, in this violent world, it could even be for the best. She had thought that was going to be the story of today, but the long – and tense – flight back to base had given her a little too much time to think over it.

She’d killed a scared young woman today. Not a little girl, not quite, but still that’s what it felt like as her memory played it back over and over. She’s a kid. Ruby had been crying out for her mother, begging for help. That was not the way of a ruthless murderer and, whether she had saved the world or not, what she’d done – that split-second decision – was only growing harder and harder to face. Harder still as, from the way Daisy had been climbing the walls of the Zephyr, and from the hushed conversations between her and May, Elena had gathered that Ruby’s story hit a little closer to home than usual. It had started Elena thinking: what if she’d just stopped another Daisy from growing up? What if she’d killed a scared young woman for no reason? Or worse – what if this was all mapped out already, every action and reaction, and Ruby’s violent death and the blood on her own hands had been set in stone long ago?

It was Fitz who’d blurted out on the way here – somehow in Daisy’s defense, though they were in the middle of a fight themselves as well – that Elena hadn’t saved the world. That she couldn’t have. That Ruby hadn’t been the Destroyer of Worlds, Daisy had. That time was an illusion, and our choices all pre-made. He’d gotten very quiet after that, and so had Daisy. So had everybody on the plane. The air had grown thick and heavy and dark with the terrible thought. Was it better to believe you’d chosen, of your own free will, to torture and traumatize a dear friend for the sake of strangers? Or was it, somehow, better to believe you’d been destined to do it, from before you’d even met?

Elena did not envy Fitz his dilemma – nor Daisy, who was in the somehow even more unfortunate position of experiencing it from the other side – and yet she found herself staring down the barrel of the very same gun. Saving the world was a messy affair, this she had always known, but now more than ever Elena found herself wishing that she could do more than just pray that’s what they were doing. Especially since she knew - she more than anyone else – that there’d be more lives on the line before the end.

She clutched the crucifix to her heart, and that helped. The feeling of her own metal fingers against her skin was new and strange but when she closed her eyes, she could seek out that old, familiar shape. This was not the original, of course – that was drifting around in space somewhere, with the body of another brave man lost to the world too soon. But Mack had gone out of his way to find one just like it, and to always make sure it came back to her, and through the love imbued in his efforts, and her own, the most important memories remained. She could recall her mother giving it to her for her quinceañera; the warm embrace of her family; the familiar feeling of her old church and the quiet welcome of a new one in the States. She could recall, though it felt something of a distant memory now, the comfort of knowing that God was watching over her, giving her the gifts to do good in the world, and the passion and the intuition to know what that was. She longed for that same passion, that intuition again… and if she could not have that, then at least the comfort, or something, to soothe this lonely, grieving ache that was, in a truer sense than most living humans had ever experienced, the weight of the world.

“Please,” she whispered, into the heavy air, squeezing the crucifix as tightly as she dared without crumpling it like al-foil. “Tell me, am I doing the right thing?”

As if in answer, there was a soft click as the door pushed open. Mack hesitated in the doorway, but stepped in and closed the door behind him.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice soft and low as if trying even now not to interrupt. “The others told me what happened. Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the question that did it, maybe something about the tone of his voice, but all of a sudden Elena felt the tears come at her in a rush. They were bitter tears – anger at not being able to defend herself against Daisy’s accusations; fear that she might after all be right; grief for the soul that was lost today. The soul she took. They were tears of frustration, of loss, and she held them back as best she could, feeling a little breathless with the effort.

“Do you think I did the right thing?” she asked.

“I don’t know if I can answer that,” Mack replied – reluctant, sympathetic. “I wasn’t there.”

There was no scolding to his voice, although there could have been. Perhaps there should have been. But it was not needed; Elena felt appropriately scolded nonetheless. She hung her head – and, seeing how lost she was, Mack offered;

“As long as you didn’t do it out of anger, or vengeance..?”

That’s the girl who took my arms.

Elena’s eyes snapped up to his face. Had they told him that part? Did it matter? That’s not why she did it, the timing was wrong, the feelings – all the feelings – She stood up from the bed, begging him to see.

“No,” she insisted, shaking her head, as much to keep that little worm of doubt from her own mind as from his. “No, I didn’t, I swear. I-”

“I believe you,” he promised her steadily, a little taken aback by the force of her desperation. He opened his arms, gentle and accepting, and Elena felt a little of that panic drain away. She pressed herself gratefully against his chest and he closed his arms, enveloping her and humming, a soothing and tuneless sound.

“Mi amor,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I can’t do more for you right now, but… for what it’s worth, I don’t think we can ever truly know if we’re doing the right thing. We don’t know the consequences of our actions, or the consequences of those, or the consequences of those… We were never meant to know. You acted on what you thought was right in the moment. That’s all anyone could have done.”

Elena shook her head. “But- it didn’t achieve anything. Daisy’s the Destroyer, not Ruby. If I’d known that…”

“You would have what? Killed Daisy?” Mack pulled back from her a little, to look her in the eyes. “Elena. There are hundreds of thousands of choices between now and tomorrow, let alone now and fifty years’ time. Some of those are going to be hard. Some of them are probably going to be wrong. But who’s to say which? I know I can’t. Daisy can’t. Fitz can’t. Who’s to say that Ruby wouldn’t have been the Destroyer if you hadn’t done what you did? Changing the future and saving the world might not be mutually exclusive, you know.”

“I know.” Elena sighed, an unsatisfied sigh, and Mack pulled her back into his embrace.

“I know,” he repeated, in as much of a reassuring tone as he could. For all that he wished otherwise, Mack knew there was no truly comforting way to have this conversation, because for every reason such a thing might have been the right thing to do, there was a reason for it to be wrong. He knew that Elena knew more than she was saying about the future, but if her own knowledge wasn’t helping her then sharing it probably wouldn’t either, so he didn’t ask. He had faith in Elena, even if he couldn’t explain it, and even if she couldn’t see it herself. She would soon, he was sure, and if he had to he’d just hold her until that moment. Already, she was breathing easier, and that went a long way to soothing his aching heart.

Elena, meanwhile, laid her ear against Mack’s chest. She no longer felt as lost, or as guilt-ridden, as she had done while stranded alone with her thoughts, but there was still a nagging sensation of dread that would not leave. Knowing that Ruby’s death was not the end kept her on edge, and though she longed for nothing more in this moment than to lose herself in Mack’s embrace, she couldn’t help thinking about how every one of those strong and steady heartbeats, might still be bringing him closer and closer to his last.

#elena rodriguez #mackelena #yoyomack #yoyomacknet #aosficnet #aos fic #clara's fic tag #yo yo rodriguez #aos 5x18 #aos s5 #aos spoilers

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the-claviger · 4 years ago

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09/20/2020

Okay some shit has been going down and it's been crazy.

Okay so on the 12th, Rick decided he'd follow through on investigating something that was bothering him for a long time. Namely that our good friend Haze has actually been faking her stories about having multiple dates with different people, and even about her exes and escapades.

We'd already had a few conversations about this, but nothing substantial to go on. For context, Rick first had his suspicions a few months ago when he asked Haze to show him some pics of her exes. She readily obliged, but as he scrolled through, he noticed two of them looked like Thai celebrities, and he was pretty sure because he watches Thai shows. But he didn't say anything.

After that, Haze started posting lots of pics of her on dates or trips with different people, but she always put like a sticker over their face. We asked her why and she would say like she didn't want people asking who they were, or like she didn't like showing people's faces.

I didn't mind it too much til Rick started telling me his doubts. When I started looking more closely, I realized a lot of these people were foreigners (based on skin color). I mean it was still possible, but how many foreign people could you really know, especially as a Filipino? And there were a LOT of people.

So he ended up cross-referencing a pic of a girl she was having a "date" with in McDonalds. He got really fires up cause his brother noticed that the size of the McD burger was too big for here. And yeah, lo and behold, it was a pinterest pic from 3 years ago of some European chick.

Of course I was mindblown. He and I had a lengthy discussion about it, feeling very sad, betrayed, conflicted.... We eventually told Shai, the third member of the Haze-Shai-Me coven, and she was overwhelmed. We thought maybe she had some inkling of it but she had no idea anything crazy was going on.

We've had so many theories. For one, she might just be a pathological liar from birth. Another is that this is a consequence of the PTSD that she got after the hold-up incident from back in Feb(?). Though even then, we're not sure if we can even believe that anymore. What if she's having delusions and she thinks all her dates are real and she's lied so much that she actually believes it.

One major theory though is that this is her trying to show her ex Mica that she's doing really well. Carm told me just last night that it was not in fact a mutual breakup, but that Mica broke up with Haze and that Haze begged for her to come back, to no avail. Her theory is that she got so broken over the break up that she started making up stories of dating a lot of people to get back at her. Carm and her bf have noticed to that as soon as certain people (friends of Mica's) have seen the story, Haze deletes the photos.

Ugh, it's crazy. For now we haven't said or done anything to her in question, and we have no idea how to approach the topic or what she'll do when she find out that several people already know about it.

Still, even if she did deliberately lie to us (she would even make elaborate stories like: "Remember that guy in my story? Yeah, it turns out he's actually gay, but he confessed to me that he like-liked me, and he even invited me to a threesome, but I declined of course...."), she's still someone I consider a friend, and if she needs more professional help, then we need to at least try. It's her choice if she ends up pushing us away...

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starsinursa · 7 years ago

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Long After You’re Gone

A/N: This is my fic submission for @wordstothewisereaders for her 300 follower celebration! Congrats, boo, you’re awesome! :)

The prompt for this fic was the song Gone, Gone, Gone by Philip Phillips, and I ended up writing a coda-type thing for the season 12 finale (gooo figure, like this fic was gonna be about anything else with this song prompt. ;) )

Word count: approx 2,150 Pairing: implied/ pre-Destiel Warnings: cussing, angst, canon MCD, mention of alcohol abuse, spoilers for season 12

Most of the fic is under the cut, please click ‘Read More’.

I’ll shut down the city lights, I’ll lie, cheat, I’ll beg and bribe to make you well, to make you well

Four minutes.

That’s how long Cas has been gone when Dean starts praying.

It takes him that long to surface from his shock, struggling out of it he’s fighting against a current, and do something other than kneel numbly in the dirt.

He’s still praying when Sam comes staggering out of the cabin, looking dazed and shell-shocked, and explains how the confrontation with Jack had gone south and how the nephilim had disappeared through another portal. He’s still praying when he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets, watching the flames of Castiel’s funeral pyre reflect against the surface of the lake. He’s still praying when he slides into the front seat of the Impala to begin the long drive home, running his hands over the wheel. He’s still praying when he thinks about how much work they have to do when they get back to the bunker - what with tracking down a rogue nephilim and finding a way to get Mary back - and he feels tired just thinking about it.

But he keeps praying.

There’s still not much difference between praying and begging, but fuck it, he’s begging then.

When the praying goes unanswered, he turns to threatening. He calls Chuck every name in the book, and then a few that he makes up. He reams Chuck up one end and down the other, because goddammit, Chuck owes him.

There’s no answer. He guesses he wasn’t really expecting one, if history has taught him any lessons, but it pisses him off all the same. Obviously Chuck has fucked off again to who-knows-where, and he’s turned off his prayer radio too. He’s probably reclining on a beach somewhere with his sister, catching up on gossip. Or hell, maybe she killed him as soon as they’d gotten out of sight. Not like Dean gives a fuck at the moment.

Not long after that, he gives up on praying.

I love you long after you’re gone

Nine days.

That’s how long Cas has been gone when Dean wakes up in a cold sweat from the fading remnants of a dream suddenly turned nightmare. He remembers the familiar blue of Cas’ eyes, crinkled at the corners, and it had been a good dream until they had suddenly flared wide with blinding light -

He doesn’t go back to sleep.

When enemies are at your door I’ll carry you way from more If you need help, if you need help

Seventeen days.

That’s how long Cas has been gone when Dean decides to try the angels.

It’s the logical next step. If anyone is gonna know where angels go when they die, it’ll be another angel, right? Well, that’s the idea, anyway.

Except he has no fucking clue which angel to ask. Every angel he’s ever known who held any speck of regard for humanity and might deign to help him – hell, even the ones who hated humans and would probably refuse on principle – are all dead and gone, wings seared to ash.

As much as he hates to do it, as much as it makes his skin crawl with memories and guilt, he finally sends out a generic prayer to any angels who might be listening and happen to give a fuck, just like he’d done before Ezekiel – no, Gadreel – had shown up and caused them a whole new slew of problems for a little while.

He doesn’t mention it to Sam.

Besides, it’s a different situation entirely - there’s nobody to inhabit this time around, no vessels for an angel to dick around in. All he needs is information.

All he needs to know is, where do I start?

I love you long after you’re gone

Twenty-five days.

That’s how long Cas has been gone when Dean stumbles across a coffee mug in the kitchen that Cas had once used, long fingers wrapped around the cup as he smiled gratefully at Dean over the rim.

He smashes it against the wall.

Your hope dangling by a string I’ll share in your suffering to make you well, to make you well

Thirty-two days.

That’s how long Cas has been gone when Dean finally gives up on waiting for an angel, any angel, to show up, and decides to try demons.

In a way, if he’s being totally honest with himself (and isn’t that a rarity), he almost prefers dealing with demons over angels anyways. Demons, at least, are up-front about their shitty nature. Angels… well, most of the angels he’s met are just as bad as demons, except that they hide their ulterior motives behind an obnoxious veneer of good intentions.

Angels always tend to stab him in the back. Demons, at least, will stab you in the front.

He tries two different crossroads, pacing impatiently and getting progressively more pissed off when the hours pass by with no whiff of a demon, before he decides he’s done asking nicely and does a summoning.

The demon who appears is wearing a small, mousy-haired vessel – probably someone ironic like a kindergarten teacher – and is not impressed. The feeling is mutual.

“We’re all a little busy at the moment, Winchester,” the demon snaps. “Don’t you think there’s a reason no one showed up at your crossroads? In case you’ve forgotten, both Lucifer and Crowley fucked off in the same day, so there’s a reign of succession to figure out. It’s a cluster-fuck down there, Hell’s in an uproar.”

“I don’t give a shit about what kind of state Hell’s in,” Dean says. “All I need is information, and you’re going to tell me or things are going to get dicey. What do you know about where angels go when they die?”

The demon stares at him. He’s about to repeat the question, with a little added emphasis from the demon knife, when the demon actually starts laughing.

“Are you serious? Fuck, you’re dumber than you look. Why do you think demons would have any idea where angels go? I’ll give you a hint: it’s sure as hell not in Hell.”

He’s too tired to deal with the demon after that, anger draining out of him. He knew it had been a long shot, but still…it’d been a shot.

The insults and goading from the demon have lost their sting. It only takes a moment to dismiss it out of his sight.

I love you long after you’re gone

Sixty-four days.

That’s how long Cas has been gone when Dean catches sight of a dark-haired man wearing a trenchcoat and grabs him around the arm, whipping the man around to face him.

It’s not Cas, of course - even before he sees the man’s face, he knows it can’t be Cas - but he still feels unbearably disappointed.

He mutters an apology to the guy, who’s standing confused and a little angry in the middle of the grocery store, and heads for the exit, desperate to get away from the pitying look in Sam’s eyes.

When you fall like a statue I’m gonna be there to catch you Put you on your feet, on your feet

Seventy-five days.

That’s how long Cas has been gone when Sam finally confronts him.

It’s the middle of the night when Sam finds him in the library, flipping through a book that must weight thirty pounds.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice is rough with sleep. “Have you slept at all?“

Dean doesn’t answer, turning the page. The answer to that question is obvious anyways, considering Dean is still in his clothes from earlier that day and has a half-full cup of coffee in front of him, so Sam can figure it out for himself.

Coffee gets him through the nights, and beer gets him through the days.

“Dean…” Sam sighs, and Dean knows that sigh. That’s Sam’s we-need-to-talk sigh. “Dean, we’re supposed to be looking for Jack and a way to rescue Mom –“

“Spare me the lecture, okay, Sam?” Dean snaps, not looking up. “We spent all day together researching portals, so I know you know that I want to find Mom just as badly as you do.”

“I know you do, that’s not what I meant,” Sam back-peddles immediately. “It’s just that – we research all day, and then you’re up researching all night. You’re running on fumes. You need to rest too –“

“I’m fine, Sam. So just drop it.”

Sam’s silent for a moment, and Dean knows that silence too. That’s the silence of Sam bracing himself to say something that Dean isn’t going to like.

He hunches his shoulders and steels himself.

“Dean…Cas is dead.”

Even though he’s expecting it, the words still feel like a slap in the face.

He slams the book shut and pushes back from the table to face Sam.

“He’s not fucking dead, Sam. He’s just –“ He pauses, angrily searching for the words. ”- he’s just – gone.“

Sam rubs at his forehead. “You’re right. He’s gone. So maybe it’s time to focus on the problems we can solve. Like finding Jack, and finding Mom. Maybe it’s time to let Cas go. ”

“That’s not what I meant,” Dean snaps. “For now, Sam, he’s gone for now. And you and I know better than anybody that nobody is ever really gone-gone, there’s always a way to find them, or bring them back, or - or -” He gestures expansively at the books on the table.

“And you think that’s a good idea? You think Cas would be okay with that?”

“Really?” Dean is suddenly furious. He can’t believe Sam is thinking this shit, much less saying it out loud. “When has that ever stopped us? You’re gonna say that, after everything Cas has done for us? You’re just gonna give up on him like he doesn’t fucking matter?”

“That’s not fair, Dean.” Sam has gotten quieter, more tired. “You’re not the only one who misses him, y’know. He was my friend too. I cared about him too.”

“Bullshit,” Dean explodes, standing up so quickly that the chair topples backwards. “Bullshit. He wouldn’t even be gone if it wasn’t for you. I could have stopped him, Sam, I could have grabbed him and dragged him back through that damn portal with us. I had plenty of time to reach him and if you hadn’t stopped me –“

Dean feels like he’s looking at himself from a distance. He knows he’s not being fair, he knows he’s saying things that are designed to hurt. He can see the stricken look on Sam’s face, but he can’t stop -

Sam interrupts him. “You don’t think I’ve been blaming myself? Jesus, you don’t think I’ve thought about that every day for – for –“

“Seventy-five days,” Dean supplies harshly. “It’s been seventy-five days.”

I surrender honestly You’ve always done the same for me

Seventy-six days.

That’s how long Cas has been gone when Sam shows up with an armful of books and dumps them onto the table.

Dean glances up, and Sam gives him a small, wan smile.

“There was, uh… some more books in the library that I thought they might be useful. Didn’t look like you had found these yet.”

“…thanks,” Dean says cautiously. And then, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

There’s an awkward silence. Sam stands at the table, tapping his fingers on a book cover, shifting his weight.

Then he pulls out a chair, sits down, and flips open the nearest book.

And if your well is empty Not a thing will prevent me Tell me what you need, what do you need

One hundred and nine days.

That’s how long Cas has been gone when Dean stumbles across the cassette tape of Led Zepplin songs that he’d given to him. He finds it wedged between the seats of the Impala, a little worse for wear and bent out of shape. It won’t play.

He spends the next day making tapes, trying to think of every last song Cas might like.

For you, for you Baby, I’m not moving on I love you long after you’re gone

One-hundred and sixty-one days.

That’s how long Cas has been gone when Dean finally gets drunk enough to admit to himself some things that he’d never admitted to Cas.

It doesn’t make him feel any better.

For you, for you You would never sleep alone I love you long after you’re gone

Two hundred and thirteen days.

That’s how long Cas has been gone when Sam comes running into the kitchen looking for him. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, holding a book and flipping through it so quickly that the pages are a blur. He reaches a certain page and shoves it under Dean’s nose.

Like a drum, my heart never stops beating for you

Three-hundred and eighty-eight days.

That’s how long Cas has been gone when Dean finds him again.

And long after you’re gone, gone, gone I love you long after you’re gone, gone, gone

#haley's 300 follower challenge #destiel #castiel #fanfiction #my writing #dean winchester #angst #happy ending #don't ask me how they found cas #i don't know #i just wanted them to find cas okay

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