#but at the same time part of him wishes he'd died sooner

[op3n-arms]

[Something deep in his chest shatters when he hears the despair of his friend's words, his expression saddening as he draws his hands away from their shoulders with a quiet sigh.]

"Oh, my friend..."

[His voice is soft, gentle with understanding. He knows that feeling all too well. That impending fear of losing everyone they loved... He holds his arms out to them in silence, his hands gently brushing their arms to signal the offered embrace to their blind friend.]

"You've gone through so, so much more than you deserve... I'm so sorry, Tir..."

[Even if there's nothing he can do to change what's been done to the prophet, the guilt that ties his windpipe into knots is just as true as if that fact weren't. Part of him couldn't help but wish he'd been here sooner- maybe he could've helped...]

[His breath comes in short gasps as he dashes through the Underworld, looking around in panic as the voices buzz in his ears. Searching for the familiar figure of the cloaked man. He has to keep his voice from cracking when he finally spots them.] "TIRESIAS!" [He cries out his friend's name as he dashes to them, gently but firmly taking hold of their shoulders in panic as he speaks.] "Tir, please- Tell me- Tell me they're lying. Tell me the voices are lying to me- Tell me you remember who I am, Tir, please-" [His hands shake on his friends shoulders as he speaks to the man. The voices had been whispering to him for hours, though their words had only just registered - Tiresias had, apparently, drank from the Lethe. The river of the Underworld; notoriously known for wiping the memories of anyone that drinks from it.] [So, like any logical person would, he instantly panicked.]

- @op3n-arms

[ they jump at the cursing of their name, and even more so at the panicked grabbing at their shoulders ]

[ it only took seconds for them to realize the cause of their friend’s fret, to which they avoid looking in their direction, knowing the consequences of confronting what they did and what really happened ]

“I—

[ somewhere inside them something pauses. Something contradicts. Who exactly was this? Sure, someone they knew. Their grandson, perhaps? Was it Ody; no, his voice was much lower. Then it snapped and no further questioning happened although there was the sudden shock and fear that maybe the effects were simply delayed, not implausible ]

“Polities. I—they aren’t exactly . . . lying. I don’t know what they told you but I— I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have given in but it was too much and I’m not going to see them again, and I already lost Athena, it won’t be long till I lose you and Ody, too. And Caleb. And I—“

[ they choke back tears, shifting away from their friend and curling inside themself, far too many thoughts rushing inside of them ]

[phyrestartr]

Till Death Do Us Part (Miguel x Reader)

Miguel x Husband!Reader W/C: 9.5k

#NSFW, exhibitionist kink, praise kink, hurt/comfort, infidelity, toxic relationships, brief verbal abuse, mending relationships, mentions of medication, mentions of mental illness, difficult/complex feelings and emotions, things work out in the end, nobody dies, the zombies aren't that important, old men just really going through it

Note: I cried a lot writing this lol please also cry and enjoy! (I also tried my best with the Spanish and tried to reference good sources, but I apologize if it sounds whack lol I only know EN and JP o(--( )

-- Till Death Do Us Part --

"(Name), where the fuck are you?" Miguel ran his hand through his hair as he watched the news, as he stared outside at the cascade of chaos. He waited for you to pick up the phone. He'd already called so many times, but you weren't picking up. Why weren't you fucking picking up? 

"Miguel, he's probably fine," Dana cooed as her arms looped around him from behind. "You need to worry about what we're gonna do." 

Miguel shook his head and shoved Dana's arms off of him. "Our daughter–Gabriella–" 

"You mean our daughter?" Her tone was vile. So, so fucking vile.

"Shut up," Miguel barked before ripping the phone from his ear when your voicemail picked up again. He shot you another text, asking where you were before his fidgety fingers scrolled the log up and down, cruelly reminding himself of the messages he'd ignored from you just a few days ago. 

November 18th 7:04am babe come home 7:04am please 12:19pm we can talk about it  12:20pm we'll figure it out 12:46pm gabi misses you 9:34pm call me tomorrow

November 19th 7:35am you still ignoring me? 7:40am gabi wants to call you 7:41am you gonna answer if it's her? 8:05am i'll tell her you're busy with work 9:50pm i miss you

November 21st  9:56pm call me

November 23rd 12:01am i shot someone  12:01am i had to 12:01am but i can't stop thinking about it  12:32am i need you  1:12am please 2:07am miguel

November 30th 7:16am miggs shit's crazy outside 7:17am lock the doors, don't let anyone inside 7:17am maybe stock up on food first idk this might take a while  7:18am but DON'T help anyone who's bit or injured 7:19am they evacuated gabi's school but i don't fucking know where they're going 7:19am i'm gonna find her, i promise 7:20am i love you. stay safe.

December 2nd  3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel rubbed his eyes. He sped past his own wall of text starting from that day, December 3rd, and sent another plea, another wish that you'd respond back sooner than a week from now.

"Oh my God, just give it up–" 

"Dana, shut the fuck up, just shut up." 

He called you again. 

And this time, you answered. 

Miguel's heart jumped. "(Name)?" 

"Babe?" You sounded like you were panting, like you were straining against something. "Are–are you okay? Where are you?" A string of coughs punched out of your lungs in rough staccato, pinching Miguel's nerves with every ghastly beat. He was scared. He was so fucking scared. 

"I--I'm," Miguel stammered, still unable to have that conversation, still too much of a coward in the end. "Does it matter?" 

"Just keep the doors locked," you continued. "Keep 'em locked, and…and I dunno if you're in a tower or a house or fucking whatever, but don't leave until things get quiet." You picked yourself up from the ground, Miguel could tell by the scratch of gravel echoing wherever you were. "Don't get bit. Don't help anyone who is bit. Put yourselves first." 

"But, I–you–do you have Gabi?" Panic gripped his throat as jets flew overhead, high above the city. The engines roared a gruesome apology, a sound Ouranos himself must have made when his own children slew him, so filled with godly enmity. 

Then, molten death rained on the city. Miguel stared at roaring explosions dotting the cityscape, watching pillars of flame feed into the world's chaos. His hands trembled when the same carnage screeched through your phone. 

"I'll find her. I-I promise, Miguel, I'll find her and--and I'll–shit."  

There was gunfire. Gunfire encased in wild snarling. It devoured the crack of plastic hitting concrete, the noises you gasped out, the–

Silence.

Miguel hated his mind. He hated how it remembered that one moment so clearly, like it'd happened just a minute before the present. Sometimes, when he felt like torturing himself more, he wondered what your face looked like in those last moments. He wondered where your life flickered out. He wondered when he'd see you stumbling through the streets and have to put a bullet in your head. 

But he'd force good memories to the surface when he found the light growing too dim; that confession and first kiss, starry nights spent lazing on the hood of your jeep, the look on your face when you finally held little Gabriella for the first time–it all chased away the darkness. It all made him feel whole again, it let him see clearly again. But with clarity came the difficulty of accepting what he'd lost.

He found a way to do it. He found a way to talk about you, too. It was hard not to–your old colleagues, other officers of the lost world, were an integral part of the Alchemax colony. Jeff Morales and George Stacy, amongst a few others, had known you, and by proxy they knew Miguel.

"He was a good guy," Jeff had mentioned when the moment felt right. "Bragged about having the best-looking and smartest partner around. Now, I ain't gonna say he was right, but he wasn't wrong." That brought warmth to Miguel's chest, but guilt smothered it too quickly. 

"Never stopped talking about your daughter either." George smiled when he recalled it, but it was something small and morose. "Gabriella, right? Yeah, he said she was a smart cookie. Kind of a brat, apparently, but hey, with that guy as her father? Hah! I'm not surprised." 

Miguel liked having them around. He liked the happy memories they brought to your name.

But on bad days, vulnerable days, Miguel wanted to break their necks and watch them turn so he could kill them again in their undeath; they still had their children, their families. How could they bring up what he'd lost while they still had everything? 

Today was one of those days, too, one where your memory hurt just a little more than usual. Maybe it came with the snow whirling in the blue-drenched outdoors, or the sudden darkness the world lost itself in. But he knew the frostbite decaying his heart came from the eternal proof of your lost existence:

December 2nd  3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Why did you apologize? Miguel sighed, and carded a hand through his hair as he paced Alchemax's halls. Enough of that, Miguel. You need to focus. Focus. 

And once he stepped foot in the control room, the routine morning check commenced: doors remained sealed with no record of tampering, security cameras still functioned, the solar panels still collected more than enough light to keep things rolling. Good. Perfect. 

"Hey, hey, how's it lookin'?" Peter asked, a cup of coffee in one hand and his little girl tucked in the other arm. It would've been a wholesome sight, if Peter hadn't ruined it with a too-loud slurp from his mug. Ugh. 

"Fine," Miguel grumbled. "Everything's in the green. Nothing to worry about." He ran a hand over his face with a sigh. "Just have to clear the snow off the solar panels later today." 

"Oooh, snow! It is that time of the year, huh? December already! Who woulda thought. Time goes by pretty quick when you're not worried about getting eaten all the time." Peter looked at his little May and cooed. "Isn't that right, Mayday?" 

Miguel rolled his eyes fondly and shook his head. "If you're that excited about snow, I'll put you on shovelling duty, Parker." 

"Oh, wow, I'm suddenly deaf and can't hear you." Peter shuffled away in his stupid slippers and stupid bathrobe. "Oh, right, right, MJ made bread! Can you believe it? I feel like I haven't had a bread-carb in forever! We really gotta do another supply run or we're eating canned beans all winter long. Y'know what? I'll put it on the 'to-do' list!" 

Miguel threw a glare at Peter over his shoulder. He was annoying, but he wasn't wrong. They did need more food, more supplies, more ways to sustain themselves. Scavenging the dregs of supermarkets and convenience stores wasn't cutting it anymore; there were too many mouths to feed, and shitty, packaged foods wouldn't suffice much longer.

Miguel braced his hands on the centre console after pulling up a satellite map of the surrounding area. The lab they called home laid nestled away from prying eyes of citizens, making it a safer place to start to rebuild the semblance of a normal life. Though, at the same time, it made it more difficult to get in and out of the city in good time. They had to pick their destination on the map, calculate the time it'd take to get there, and then execute the plan with little to no hiccups. It was hard. It was a pain in the ass. But it had to be done.

Miguel took his time scanning through the map, trying to spot any buildings they hadn't already marked off as empty and not worth the trip. These days, they had to get creative, they had to think of places that'd have food where people wouldn't expect, where the average scavenger wouldn't think to look and–

"Shit," Miguel breathed before rushing to move the map. "How could I forget?"

He spotted a small building on the map, one they'd never ventured to, one they never thought to go to. A chain link fence surrounded the perimeter, giving about five metres worth of breathing room around the building. Clusters of huge garden pots dotted the area randomly, along with whatever outdoor trees and shrubs that'd survived all these years on their own.

Miguel covered his mouth as he smiled.

"You might've just saved us, viejo." 

Because you were a country boy. A farmer's son. 

You convinced (begged) him to pull over, to go to the new garden store that'd appeared not too long ago. Miguel, far too smitten with you, couldn't find the heart to say 'no' to the excitement buzzing in your voice. 

The store was filled with beautiful plants, ranging from common houseplants, to tropical rarities that Miguel never knew existed. All sorts of bushy plants, tall single-leafers, and vining beauties lined the displays and bathed in the gentle, constant mist raining down on them. It really felt like a tropical jungle landed in New York. 

You'd sauntered over to the seed section while Miguel wandered through all the store had to offer before finding you again. You had several sachets in your hands and scanned the shelves for anything else that piqued your interest; they were all vegetable seeds, stuff like corn and green beans, tomatoes and onions, but the occasional herb showed itself as well. 

To Miguel, raising vegetables seemed like a cute hobby. But to you, raising crops meant revisiting your childhood. 

"You wanna get some?" Miguel asked. He looped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as he read all the different seed names on display. 

"Yeah. I mean…maybe. Dunno if a vegetable garden'll go with the house." You laughed softly, a little self-deprecatingly, before you reached to put the packets back. "I just–I don't know." 

"I think it'll work." A smile warmed Miguel's face as pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. "We can make a greenhouse. A big one. In the backyard." He kissed your neck next. "You can show me the farmboy fantasy." 

You laughed, turned in his arms, and kissed him. "Done."

Miguel crept up to the garden centre with Hobie and Gwen in tow. Travelling anywhere from the safe confines of Alchemax was something of a nightmare, but Miguel was used to it–despite being the man who knew how to run the building, he too often volunteered to head out on supply runs himself. He needed the space to think, to feel the darkness they’d found themselves in, and to feel the light of the sun on his skin to remind himself it wasn’t over. Because it was far from over. 

The garden centre was surrounded by chain link fences encircling the entirety of the building, the very same ones Miguel had seen from the satellite’s view. Honestly, he found himself surprised to see just how good the place looked–the windows were mostly intact, the fences hadn’t been torn through, the doors were still sealed, and a row of crippled undead and frozen re-deads dotted the perimeter, but none were inside. It didn’t seem like any had ever been inside, actually.

“That’s…kinda weird, right?” Gwen murmured as she adjusted her toque. “This place feels like…like it never went under, or something.” 

“Damn near stuck in the past, I’d say,” Hobie agreed. He looked to Miguel. “Fishy’s an understatement, yeah? Might be some not-so-dead-yets in there.” 

Miguel took a deep breath as he thought. “It’s a plant store. Not the highest priority for scavengers like us.” He headed forward, grip tight on his hunting knife. “Try not to shoot. Not unless there’s a runner.” 

“Better not be any runners,” Gwen grumbled. “It’s December. Hopefully they’re all freezing to double-death right now.” 

Hobie scoffed a smile. “If not, we just give ‘em an early Christmas present, hey?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure they’d love their brains blown out.” 

“Eh. I would.” 

Miguel rolled his eyes as the youngins bickered softly behind him. There was no point stopping them–trying to dad them out in the wilds of New York just gave Miguel a bigger headache, and too often ended in a louder match of bickering and scolding, which then often resulted in the undead stumbling their way. It was always a mess. Maybe he should stop bringing the dynamic duo with him. 

But you’d known them. You were fond of them, too, always letting them off the hook with a slap on the wrist when they were caught vandalizing buildings or stealing from stores when they were teenagers. You laughed when you told Miguel stories about them, about how Hobie’d call you “officer tall, sunny and handsome” to get on your good side (which worked), and how Gwen would try to bribe you with car-washings and babysitting to get you to not tell her dad what happened. You knew they were good kids, just bored and too smart for their own good. Miguel knew that, too; the two of you were thick as thieves back in the day, total petty-crime masterminds. Maybe Hobie and Gwen were your dark apprentices, in a way. 

Miguel smiled faintly. He missed the days where you both broke into abandoned buildings, haunted houses and everything else inbetween to fool around and fuck. It’d always be filmed, much to Miguel’s embarrassment, but watching the videos back always made him feel…wanted. Appreciated. Like a rare piece of art. 

You’d always cheese it up and make it sound like some sort of bad porno or found-footage film, like you didn't just break into Chuck E. Cheese to fuck in front of the creepy animatronics. Breaking the law got you excited, as ironic as that was for a future cop. Miguel thought you were a freak. Miguel was kind of a freak too, though. 

“Fucking God,” Miguel moaned, somehow louder than the squeak of the table hosting your feverish coupling. His hips bucked and rolled against yours in a desperate attempt to keep up with your brutal, delicious pace, and his thighs dug into your sides with his hands clutching to your shoulders for dear life. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you mumbled into his ear. Miguel’s body gave a sharp, involuntary jolt, kickstarting the sudden crescendo of his well-earned euphoria. He let his voice be heard as he arched off that shitty table and up against your solid frame, his hips still rutting and moving in sync with your own. You groaned too, letting yourself be just as loud in the midst of him tightening around your heavy, thick cock pummeling into him. 

“God, lookit that pretty face,” you growled when you pulled back to see how fucked out he was. “You feel good, huh? ‘M I makin’ you cum hard?” Your hand slapped the side of his ass, and Miguel whimpered sharply. “You’re so good, baby, so fucking good. I’ll make you cum again, yeah? Make you cum while you–while you take everything I got.” 

You were terrible. Horrible. A monster in the sack, and apparently in front of powered-down robots. You did what you promised, and ripped another orgasm from his exhausted, over-stimulated body before reaching your own blissful undoing with a rude grin on your stupid, annoying face. 

It made for good content, though.

They reached the front gate without problem, only to find it locked with hefty chains and thick padlocks. If there were people in there, then breaking through the first line of defence wasn’t their favoured option–they didn’t like other survivors, no, and they didn’t work with them without good reason, but they weren’t in the business of sabotaging them, either. 

“Hobie,” Miguel beckoned, muffling the chains’ clanking while holding up one of the locks. 

The young man smirked and flicked his old lock picking set from his pocket. “Don’t mind if I do, coz.” 

He unlocked everything in record time. Miguel thought of you for a moment, and wondered if you’d taught the young man a few nefarious tricks since you, too, were an expert sneak. But Miguel pushed the thought aside as they all carefully, slowly, painstakingly unwrapped the linked metal from the fence, and pushed it open with just as much care to keep the noise to a minimum. It’d be a shame to ring the dinner bell in such an untouched place. 

They relocked one of the padlocks for peace of mind before wandering towards the front entrance. The doors’ windows were boarded neatly and meticulously, Miguel noticed first. He crouched down and noted something blocking the small gap between the ground and the door, but the faintest reach of light still reached through the few cracks that remained. 

“Lights’re on. Front’s boarded,” he sighed before backing up. “Might be a different way inside. Looks like there might be people in–” 

“Miguel!” Gwen whispered. He looked her way, and saw her point to a decrepit shed nestled up against the side of the building, right underneath a large window. Shoved against it laid a single, heavy pot flipped on its end, serving as a sort of stool to get up on. But the lack of snow on the newfound path gave Miguel pause.

“I’ll check it out,” Gwen said before nimbly scampering up the side of the shed. 

Miguel frowned. “Gwen–”

“Relax, I’m just gonna look.” But Miguel did not relax, especially not when she rose on her tiptoes on that shitty, rickety shed roof and peered through the window before her eyes grew wide with a soft woah. 

“Whatcha got, Gwendy?” Hobie asked, approaching the shed himself. 

“You two–” Miguel warned. He looked around cautiously, his body aching with primal instinct–they weren’t alone. There had to be someone else here. Gwen and Hobie had to realize that. They were smarter than this. They wouldn’t do anything stupid. They wouldn’t be hypnotized by whatever was in there and throw caution to the wind to get it. Right? Right. 

…Right?

Excited, Gwen smiled and glanced at the two before looking back at whatever she saw. “There’re–there’s…trees? And bushes with veggies and–and wow, you were right, Miguel.” 

“Well, I say we hop in there and snag a few to bring back, yeah?” Hobie suggested. “Reckon they grew on their own?”

“No,” Miguel scolded. “They didn’t. Come down, right now. We need more people for this.” 

“I’m juuust gonna...” Gwen reached for the window, and Miguel’s anxiety peaked.

“Gwen.” 

“Just a little–” The window groaned as it popped open. 

They froze. They died as statues for a single, long moment, rejecting the need to breathe, letting their eyes freeze solid in winter’s mercy while their ears pricked, searching like the alert deer suspecting death stalking nearby after a misstep on a brittle branch. 

One minute passed. 

Then two minutes. 

Three minutes.

But the birds kept chirping, the world kept spinning, and Ares didn’t come to collect their battle-worn souls.

Gwen looked at her group with a nervous smile, a guilty thing that said, “oops?” 

Miguel was furious. But now was not the time to argue or yell. He could let her father handle that back at Alchemax.

But someone grabbed her, and yanked her inside.

Hobie didn’t hesitate. He jumped up to where Gwen once stood and took the plunge after her, scrambling up into the window, but that same someone shoved him, sending him plummeting down to the frigid concrete. Miguel rushed to his side when he hit the pavement with a choked-back groan. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Miguel rolled him on his back. “Hobie, you fucking idiot.” Miguel’s panic ebbed just the slightest bit when he saw the punk blinking away stars instead of losing consciousness. 

Click. 

Electricity burst through him. Miguel ripped his revolver free of its holster and returned aim up at the shadow in the window. The tired winter sun illuminated a barrel of black metal, and the small, tawny hand holding it steady. A child. A kid. He was pointing a gun at a kid.

“We don’t want any problems, kid,” Miguel called up. He tried to relax, but he couldn’t; children who grew up in this world were ruthless. They were cruel, unrelenting, and unapologetic towards  their targets. He couldn’t blame them. It was all they’d known, all they’d been taught. But they were only as cruel as their teachers made them. Some of them still held on to shreds of humanity. 

And judging by that unwavering hand, Miguel feared their adversary was at least a confident shot if not a full-blooded monster.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Hobie groaned. “We just–we just want some seeds ‘n shit, ‘at’s all.” 

The small hand faltered a bit. Seems she still possessed sympathy. But a voice, deep and thread-bare, called to her. She looked over her shoulder for a second, before pulling the window closed and locking the latch behind her. 

Panic lanced through Miguel as anger possessed Hobie. “I’m gonna snap that kid in half–” but the creaky hinges of the front door opening cut him off. Miguel aimed toward it, and Hobie did the same once he got himself together, but then–then Gwen peeked out. 

“Guys!” Her hand fluttered and ushered them to come. “You’re not gonna believe this! It’s–” 

“Daddy?” A young, gentle voice asked, and Miguel’s gaze snapped to her. To her. To the little girl peeking out from around Gwen. To his baby, to his tiny world, long lost but never forgotten. To–

“Gabriella,” Miguel breathed. 

“Ho-ly shit,” Hobie commented.

Gabi’s eyes flooded with emotion. She sprinted to him, nearly slipping and tripping in the snow before jumping into his arms and holding on tight. She was so much older now, so much bigger; her tiny face used to bury into his stomach, but now she had her head tucked up against his chest, staining his jacket with heavy tears. 

“It’s okay, mija, it’s okay. I’m here, Daddy’s got you.” Miguel kissed the top of her head. He fought back tears of his own, but did so so pitifully with broken, bewildered laughs and shaking breaths. He pulled back and looked down at her face, her beautiful, beautiful face, and carefully wiped away the wet trails freezing on her cheeks. “I–you–L-Look at you. How’d you get so big?” 

Gabi smiled and sniffled as she wiped her eyes. “I-I, um, finally ate my veggies.” She took a breath to try and still the quiver in her lungs between thoughts. “Y-You have so much grey in your hair now!”

A few beats of warm laughter left Miguel. “Yeah, no thanks to you. Spent all this time worrying about you, kid.” His hand, so used to killing and defending, trembled as he brushed flyaways out of her face. "Listen, I–I'm gonna take you somewhere safe, okay? You won't be alone anymore." 

Gabriella blinked. Her small hands clutched his jacket. "What? But–"

"She's not alone." 

Miguel almost didn’t look. He didn’t really believe what he just heard. But when he risked it, when he managed to wrench his gaze away from his daughter and back to the heavenly light of the front entrance, he saw you. The man who'd been haunting him for years. The man who'd been keeping him warm at night. You, his lover. You, his husband. 

(You, the man he betrayed.)

"She hasn't been alone," you said, the words punctuated by hazy clouds of warmth–proof you were alive, that you weren't an illusion, not this time. "I promise." 

You looked so, so tired.

But Gwen was grinning, and even Hobie smiled with a lack of irony as he walked to you and gave you a hug. 

"My man! Officer tall, sunny and handsome in the flesh!" He clapped his hand hard against your back but you hardly wavered. You offered a smile, and hugged him back, short and sweet. 

"Hey, Hobie. Behaving?" 

"Eh. Sometimes." 

"Good enough for me." You let him go and scanned over all the survivors, your eyes not lingering on anyone for too long. "Head inside. It's warm, there's food. We'll talk. Gabs?" 

"Okay!" She hurried to corral everyone inside. "In, in, in, we gotta lock up for the night." Her gaze turned to Miguel as he hesitated, still watching you with glazed eyes. "Daddy, are you–?" 

"I'll be there in a second, mija." And, thankfully, his baby girl read the room better than he could have at that age, and let you two be. 

You looked over your shoulder, so like a predator making sure his cubs were inside and safe before prowling through the night. A man enchanted, Miguel followed you, watching you re-lock the gates they'd slipped through, and lagging behind while you checked the perimeter with thorough hands. Miguel would give anything to have those hands on him right now. 

He didn’t know where to start. "(Name), I–" 

"You said you could take her somewhere safe, right?" You asked before you turned that timid, unsure gaze back to him. "You meant that?" 

The words took too long to register. "I–yeah, I meant it. I mean it." Miguel forged courage out of trepidation and used it to fuel his journey to you. "We have a colony. The old Alchemax building, you remember?" 

"The one that was supposed to get torn down?" You wondered. 

Miguel nodded. "Yeah, that one." 

You kept walking. "Didn't we fuck in your office there?" 

A smile threatened Miguel as he followed like a lost puppy. "We did." 

"Ah. Always liked that building. Liked that desk, too." You shrugged. "Comfy, all things considered." 

Miguel hooked his finger into your belt loop and pulled you closer to him. "Then you'll be happy to hear it hasn't changed." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

You almost laughed, Miguel heard it. But you pulled away from him, and wordlessly finished up the perimeter sweep. 

"You should stay the night," you mumbled on the way back. "Pretty sure it's gonna snow." 

"Might make it harder to get back tomorrow," Miguel said, following you inside and watching you bar the door again. "We came here by foot." 

"No truck?" 

"None." 

"I'll take you back, then. I got a truck." 

"You make it sound like you're not coming." Anxiety gripped Miguel. "I'm not losing you again." He held onto your arm tightly.

You looked troubled, glancing between the hand on your arm and Miguel's eyes. "Did Dana die?" You asked. 

Sickness coiled in Miguel's stomach. "What?" But his tone was too deep, too dark. 

You shook your head. "No, I–I'm sorry I don't know why I said that, I'm just–" 

"We both know why you said that," Miguel said through clenched teeth. 

The way you looked at him, eyes full of bristling hatred for the woman who'd stolen away everything from you, set alight an ancient sort of fear in Miguel’s core. It was so like that night, the one where you'd found out. 

Gabi was still at daycare. You were at work. Miguel was supposed to be at work, too. It could have been the perfect crime, one full of sinful lust and infinite rapture. 

But you came home early. 

You didn't even say a word when you walked into the bedroom and found him tangled in the sheets with Dana, with the woman he'd convinced you to think was a surrogate, not someone he was fooling around with and just so happened to knock up. You had that same stare, rotting with hatred, infested with betrayal, all for the woman underneath your husband. Miguel loathed that look, but he found some sick joy in hurting you, too. Because he hated you, for some reason. 

 Dana laughed when you walked out, some smart comment about how pathetic you were dancing off her plush, scarlet-stained lips. Miguel scoffed a laugh, too. You really were a coward, weren't you? 

(But you weren't.)

Miguel finished with Dana, and she left. He heard her say something to you, something light and playful and damn hurtful, but Miguel didn't say anything. Nor did you. 

He found you in the living room after he'd pulled some clothes on like it mattered. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, staring hard at your profile while you graced the ground with an empty gaze. Your hands clasped and unclasped slowly. Your head nodded shallowly. 

"You're really not gonna say anything?" Miguel goaded. 

"What am I supposed to say?" You offered. 

Something. Anything. 

Miguel laughed, mocking, and sat down across from you, on a mirrored couch, across the glass coffee table you'd picked out together. 

"How long?" You managed. 

Miguel hummed in thought. "How old's Gabi?" 

That got a reaction out of you, something Miguel craved so deeply; your eyelids fluttered in disbelief, and your lips parted to suck in a sharp breath. You looked hurt. You looked like you were feeling something.

"The prenup says you keep what's yours, I keep what's mine, yeah?" 

Miguel's smile faded. "What?"

"Gifts fall into that category. I’m keeping the Jeep." 

"Wait–" 

"I'll find a lawyer in the morning." You got up, and Miguel snapped. 

"You're not even going to fucking ask why?" He yelled, pursuing you into the bedroom. "You don't wanna know why I'm fucking someone else? What the fuck is wrong with you?" 

You ignored him. Miguel's temper flared. 

"Fine! Fine, fuck it, I'll tell you. You don't excite me anymore. You don't try, you don't wanna fuck me, you don't wanna do anything anymore–" 

"Miguel–" 

"You're not the same man I married. What happened to you? When'd you get so–so pathetic and weak?" He took a pause to breathe. Or maybe gasp, more like, as the stabs of panic started to overtake him. "I hate you. You can't leave me." 

He braced on the door, trying to get his bearings on his own, but you were quick to his side. With a strength Miguel loved and adored, you eased him down and fell in slow-motion with his shaky frame secured in your arms. 

“It’s okay, Miggs. You’re okay.” Your fingers combed through his hair slowly. You held him tight,  and convinced him to breathe with you. In and out. In and out. In and out. He breathed to the rhythm of your heart, as it turned out. Slow and steady. Hurt and bleeding. 

“We’ll figure this out, I promise.” 

And he believed you. 

That’s why he took off the ring, and left first thing in the morning. 

Hobie and Gwen passed out after eating their fill of stew. Miguel was beyond annoyed, but couldn't find it in himself to wake them up and leave, not when you were undecided about going with them, but very much wanting him to take Gabi. 

Honestly, he didn't think you'd still be hurting after all this time. Dana was something of the past, a succubus that followed the steps of opportunity and wealth wherever it may go. That's why she wasn't with the group anymore. That's why she left him when he needed her most, and jumped in a truck with strangers while he bled out, alone, in the solitude of an abandoned pet store. 

Chills raked his spine, breaking off chunks of bone when he thought about it. He'd never been so fucking scared in his life. He wished he could have called you to come save him. He wanted you to be the one to walk in there and find him, crying and dying, because you would have stuck by his side through all of those moments; if he hadn't let his emotions get the best of him, if he hadn't made so many stupid decisions, he would've been with you. If he died that day, it would have been in your arms. 

"Hey," you murmured with a gentle touch to his shoulder. Miguel jumped, and your eyes softened. "You okay?" 

Miguel swallowed thickly as he nodded. He looked around, grounding his mind through the touch of your hand, the duo snoring and slumped against bags of soil, and the gentle flickering of the propane campfire keeping the space warm. You taking a seat beside him helped, too. 

Copper eyes took a moment to pace around the old garden centre; true to the outside, it was more or less untouched on the inside, just more cluttered with haphazard barricades and half-done projects. Miguel watched his ghost walk through the isles, once filled with tropical plants, but now replaced with beautiful, healthy trees raised by your hand. It was no wonder Gabi grew up so strong. 

Speaking of--"Where's Gabi?" 

"She's in the next room. Watering some seedlings." You smiled for a fraction of a second. "Putting her green thumb to the test. Tryna show her old man up, I guess." 

Miguel smiled though his eyes stung. "Sounds like an O'hara." 

"Yeah, I thought so, too." 

You shared a few broken beats of laughter before silence fell, just like the snow beyond the door. Then, shyly, like you'd never done it before, your arm reached around his waist. Miguel didn't hesitate to lean his weight into you, though, and that arm didn't wait to pull him in closer right after. 

"So. You still hate me?" Miguel dared to ask before the dancing cinders.

Your hand smoothed up and down his side thoughtfully, soothingly. Miguel melted against you more with a sweet, content sigh. 

"I never hated you," you whispered in return. "Never." 

Miguel made a little sound, something caught between surprise and relief, while your words sunk deep into his thoughts. You didn’t hate him. You didn’t hate him. 

“Then come back with us.” 

“Miguel–”

“There’s no reason to stay here,” Miguel bit out, frustration egging him on. “We have shelter, we have water, showers, rooms, beds–we have everything.” 

“What about food?” You asked quietly.

But Miguel didn’t have an answer; food was the reason they were coming out here, to find more ways to create sustainable living, to try and make life work again. He couldn’t help but look at the trees and bushes bursting with colourful fruits and vegetables, showing off years of dedication and hard work through the literal fruits of your labour. Miguel didn’t know how hard it was to get there. He didn’t think he wanted to know. 

“...It’s a work in progress,” he grumbled instead of admitting the truth. “But we could use your help.”

Your warm fingers dipped under layers of clothes to find the searing skin of your past lover. To Miguel, it almost ached. He hadn't been touched in so long. He hadn't felt your hands on his bare skin for even longer. It intoxicated him, filled his mind and blood with wants and needs–things only you could fulfil for him. 

"I won't leave you hangin', promise that. I just–I need to figure out how this is all gonna work." You looked around the room, taking stock. "Lots of gear we'll need, lots of shit to move. I'll send you back with whatever's already picked. Not worried about the cold with those. The trees are another story, don't want 'em to go dormant while–" 

Miguel kissed you. Sloppily, and wantonly, but with genuinity. Your hands scrambled to hold onto his massive frame when he leaned into you and almost knocked you off the discounted garden bench. This time, you were the one who made a cute, surprised noise. 

And you were the one who kissed him the second time, but it was smaller and shier coming from you, not so eager to consume like Miguel. Your calloused hand held the side of his neck, and your thumb ran along his jawline thoughtfully when you parted, noses bumping and nudging together in a weak nuzzle. 

"I guess you don't hate me anymore?" Your whisper ached Miguel's heart. 

"I never did," he confessed. 

"Then why did you say it?" 

"I don't know." He traced the curve of your lips with tired, weighted eyes. Your cupid's bow had a nice shape to it, so soft and pillowy, meant just for him. "But I didn't mean it." 

"I need a better answer than that." You swallowed down what Miguel could only guess to be a tincture of fear and sorrow, or maybe rage and betrayal. "I've lived with–with that for a long, long time." Your eyes glistened with unspent grief, suddenly. "I need more than 'I don't know.'" 

Miguel's heart lurched. He hadn't bore witness to the consequences of his selfishness before, not with you, not during his affair with Dana. He'd only seen you grow distant across that coffee table far before that god-awful night. And back then, he wanted a reaction. He wanted something like this out of you, but now, he couldn't fathom why.

"Mi amor, I–it's hard to put into words, and I was a stupid kid, and–hey, hey, don't--don't cry." He wiped away the bravest tear to fall first before you turned away, back to the flickering blaze, and rubbed your face roughly. 

"Here's my guess," you muttered. "You wanted to fuck, and I couldn’t–I just–it was hard for me. Or maybe it wasn’t hard, maybe that’s a better way to put it.” You rubbed your face, and held your head in your hands. "The, ah, the medication, the anti-depressants or whatever, they were fucking me up. I didn’t wanna fuck you. I didn’t wanna do anything. Then I was in training to join the force. Wasn't home, and when I was, I was too tired to take care of you and Gabi, so I focused on her. And that made you go back to Dana. Again." 

Bile scorched the back of Miguel’s throat. "You knew." A realisation, not a question. "You knew we–that she and I–" 

"Yeah, that she wasn't a surrogate.” You picked your head up from your hands and stared at the fire, unseeing. “Because she was dating Gabe at the time, and you were with me." You sighed and let a deep, venomous grief finally escape from the space between your lungs, from the spot where that thing had festered like a disease for too many years. 

"I could let it go the first time, turn a blind eye because she gave me–gave us–our daughter, but–the second time? With all the shit you two said?" You shook your head. "I just--I couldn't–I wish you'd just told me what was wrong. I wish I'd told you what was going on with me, too, 'cause I know all the shit that happened is my fault, too.”

"Dad?” Gabi's small, hollow voice rang. The both of you turned to her, but you were the one who got up. 

“Baby,” You said with a hushed tone, somehow so comforting but so afraid. “Hey, you done with the watering?” 

“Uh, yeah, but…um, is everything okay?” Her gaze flicked between you and Miguel. He could almost hear her little mind firing on all cylinders as she tried to parse what they were talking about. “You look sad.”

You crouched before her and took her hands in yours. “We’re talking through some things, honey, it’s alright. We’re figuring things out.”

A light of worried realization illuminated Gabriella’s gaze. Miguel fidgeted and futzed with his clothes as he looked away, unsure of how to deal with her accusatory revelation. How much did she know? Did you tell her anything? No, no, you wouldn’t do that, you wouldn’t dirty her memory of her father like that. You were a good man. You were a better man than Miguel. 

“Oh,” she whispered. 

You nodded and brushed some hair free from her freckled face. "We’ll be alright, baby. You just get some sleep, alright? Tomorrow's gonna be a busy day. Lots of loading up to do." 

Gabi whispered the softest okay before giving you a hug. She paused for a moment, before running to Miguel and throwing her arms around him for a few precious seconds before running off to the loft to sleep. 

You sighed, then, and Miguel did too.

You turned to him. “Look, you–I don’t know why I’m starting shit right after you…you wander back into my life,” you murmured, going back to Miguel and straddling the bench before taking his hand and squeezing. “I’m sorry. And I love you. You know that, right?”

That pang came back in Miguel’s chest, but this time, it was warmer.

December 2nd  3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel squeezed your hand back and this time, he was the one tearing up. “Mi amor, you don’t need to–you’ve done enough apologizing already.” 

"Miggs, don't say that. I–" 

"Stop. Stop it." Your husband straddled the bench, too, and scooted closer to you until he was more or less in your lap, his heavy thighs draped over your own. 

"But–" you started, and stopped as Miguel cupped your face with both hands and squished your cheeks. You sighed and leaned into his touch when it eased up. "Baby–" 

"Me arrepiento de lo que hice," he whispered to you, "espero algún día puedas perdonarme." He let go of your face, and found your hand to kiss its back. "Te amo." 

You smiled. Something real, something happy. Something that stayed around for more than a few seconds, and made the corners of your eyes crinkle with the beautiful way you'd aged. Then, you kissed him. 

"Te amo," you murmured back, your lips still touching his. "We'll figure this out. Work it out. We have the time." Your lips pressed against his again. "I'm not giving up on us." 

This time, Miguel cried.

It took some time to transport everything to Alchemax. It took a little bit longer to get you there, too. 

But you got there eventually, ready to stay for good, and ready to put Miguel's mind at ease. 

Your old friends and coworkers greeted you, clasping their hands on your back and hugging you tight until you couldn't breathe anymore. You smiled, too, and asked them how they were holding up, if your husband was keeping things in line. You couldn't help but remind them that you in fact hand the handsomest and smartest partner in the world, too. 

They let you get acquainted with the building pretty quickly, probably seeing the haggard, exhausted state you'd lived in for five years and wanting to let you unwind for the first time in a long time. And that called for a hot shower, food, and some sleep. 

"I'll take you to your room," Miguel told you as you both left the common area. 

"My room?" You retorted, sounding mighty confused and damn near insulted. 

Miguel blinked and looked at you. "Yeah. There's enough for–" Oh. 

"What's yours is mine, yeah?" You said, stern and a little bit spicy. "Then your room is mine. And your ass is–"

"Câllate," Miguel cut you off with a smile. "I'll take you to our room." 

He led you there with a bit of a spring to his step, and you kept up with as much enthusiasm. The room was nothing special, featuring nothing more beyond a mediocre bed, uninspired furnishings, and random knick knacks Miguel had left here over the years. But it was home. Your shared home. 

"Huh." You looked around the room. "I think that coffee table woulda looked nice here." 

Miguel scoffed a laugh and rested his hand on the small of your back. "You think so? I think it'd clash." 

"Yeah, well, you have bad taste, hun." 

"Oh, wow, you're really gonna say that when I'm married to you?" 

"I'm the one who confessed first. I'm the one who proposed. Pretty sure it's safe to say I picked you." You leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. “And I have good taste.”

Miguel felt his face get hot. "Shut up and take a shower." 

"Your wish is my command." You set your pack down by the bed before sliding open the door to the ensuite. Miguel watched you like a hawk, his prey drive skyrocketing when he caught swaths of your bare skin peeking out from the washroom. He wanted to watch more, but you deserved a little privacy. 

"Oh," you said, peeking out from the doorway. "I, uh, kept my phone through everything. There're some photos of Gabi, if you wanna check it out." You vanished back into the bathroom and Miguel heard the water turn on. "It's in my pack! In the shitty little phone pocket thing." 

"Yeah, I–okay, I'll take a look, thanks." Miguel smiled, and rummaged through what you'd brought with you before pulling out that beat up phone with the charger still plugged into it and kept together with bandages of tape. Colour him impressed. 

He sat on the edge of the bed and went straight for the camera roll. There were loads of new pictures ranging from Gabriella when she was littler, to pictures of animals that Miguel guessed Gabi had a hand in.

There were old pictures, too. Mostly of Miguel, as embarrassing as that was, but the baby photos took over his reign once that perfect little girl entered your life. It made Miguel wish he’d taken more photos, that he hadn’t thought it was too cliche and embarrassing to capture every moment. He used to say shit like, “Do you have to take a photo? Can’t you just live in the moment?” but you’d stick your tongue out, give him a pinch or a bite on his cheek or something else in retribution. Because you didn’t care, you wanted to look back on little memories. 

He scanned through photos until he caught one that sent a rush of red to his features; it was of him, on his back, eyes teary and face alight with a fierce blush as you, well, obviously fucked him stupid. It was the only one of its kind. Maybe you forgot to delete it? Maybe–

The videos. Oooh, now that had Miguel excited. Miguel scanned through the other folders, but found nothing, much to his dismay and relief, seeing as Gabi probably had free access to your phone. 

But then, he spied a locked folder. 

The first password he tried worked (your anniversary because duh. You were such a sap), and a whole catalogue of videos and pictures were unleashed. 

Miguel glanced up at the washroom door before he skimmed through. He remembered all of these places (but the geo tags helped, too. Christ, you were so organised with your exhibitionist porn), ranging from IKEA after closing, to an abandoned amusement park. He still didn’t know how you picked out these places, or how you knew how to get into them without getting in heaps of trouble with the authorities. 

He tapped on a video and bumped the volume up a couple notches, just so he could barely hear; it was him on his knees, on a rusty old ferris wheel, staring up at you like you were God himself as he gripped your thighs and did his damndest to give you the blowie of a lifetime. Your sighs and soft moans rippled through the speakers like waves lapping at the shoreline. Present Miguel rubbed his mouth, worrying at his bottom lip before licking the dryness away. 

“Good boy,” You whispered on the other side of the camera. Your hand came into view and carded through dark locks before cupping his cheek. Miguel of the past turned into your touch and took your thumb into his mouth while his hand took over stroking your length from base to tip over, and over again. 

Miguel swiped to the next video. He was on his back this time, in your shared bedroom, if that duvet cover was to be trusted, while your fingers plunged deep inside of his heat and tore loud moans and gasps from him. He remembered this; you called it an experiment before you bullied his prostate with three, thick digits.  

"How's that feel, gorgeous?" You purred. Miguel swallowed thickly, both in the video and in the now. His hesitant hand crept down his thigh slowly, like he was trying to hide it from himself and call it an accident as he reached to palm himself through his jeans while he watched. He almost felt guilty. But that's what made it better. 

"Good. Really fucking good." His past self rocked down against your fingers, choking on a needy whine as his eyes slid open, and found you. "I need you, mi amor. Please–" 

"I know, babe, I know. I'm almost done here," you promised. You tilted the camera down to his stretched hole to catch what you did next. "Then you can have whatever you want from me." 

You pressed your pinky in, then, and Miguel of the present bit his lip as his shocked gasp and shaky cry pierced through the speakers. Miguel still couldn't describe the deranged pleasure he got from having half your hand in his ass, nearly to the point of fisting him. 

Miguel switched to a different video quickly. The next one was in the Jeep you loved so much. You were both out camping for the weekend, something you loved and Miguel had learned to love; that stupid red truck became home for so many long weekends, it became host to long hours of napping and intimacy, it turned into one of Miguel's favourite places. 

The video started with you adjusting the camera and squinting at it while Miguel’s younger self bitched and moaned in the background. 

"I'm just making sure the tripod's working 'n shit, babe, just gimme a sec!" You whined back. 

"My dick's getting soft," Miguel threatened, so blasé but annoyed at the same time. "Come on, viejo." 

You pulled away from the camera, grinning smug as a fox, and scooted back to your lover. His past self was lounging, hair and clothes already a mess from the prologue to this movie, as he watched you.  

"I'm here, I'm here." You kissed him, and Miguel could almost taste the s’mores on your tongue, the coffee on your lips. "Sorry, just wanna make sure it's perfect." 

"Oh, yeah, 'course. Gotta make sure your indie porno looks good." 

"Hey, one day we're gonna look back on this! It's worth it, baby, trust me." 

"Whatever. Just kiss me," Miguel demanded with a laugh. And you did as you were told, kissing his lips, then down his chest, then–

"Knew you'd like watching 'em back." 

Miguel jumped, nearly dropping the phone as he jerked his hand away from his clothed bulge. "I, uh–what?" he asked dumbly as he stared at your built frame leaning against the doorframe. God, you were still an impressive specimen. He wished that loose towel would just drop from your hips already.

"Our, ah, home videos." You grinned, so much like that fox from the past, and paced to Miguel. "Nice looking back, ain't it?" You cupped the underside of his jaw and tilted his face up. "Got you a lil' excited, yeah?" 

You weren't wrong. With a hammering heart, burning skin, and tingling nerves, he couldn't deny he was stuck deep in a pool of desire and need. And now with you handling him like this–fuck. He was in trouble. 

Miguel nodded weakly. "Yeah." He took a deep breath. "Just a little." 

“I’ll help.” You eased onto the bed and took great care in settling behind him. "Let the video play," you whispered against his neck before leaving a possessive kiss. 

Miguel leaned back into you. He watched you pop open his jeans and slip a hand down, down, down, until your warm palm met his aching length. A shuddered breath escaped him when you felt him up, pulled him free, squeezing and stroking in all the right spots; it'd been so long since anyone touched him. It'd been so long since he touched himself. 

"I, ah, don’t think we–did we lock the door?" Miguel heard himself moan in the video, and he dared another look; your head bobbed between his thighs while fingers pistoned into him. He wondered if you would do that to him again. Maybe tonight. 

"Nope.”

“Shit.”

"Mmmh. You want me to stop jerking you off so you can lock it?" 

"No." 

You chuckled. "Okay." 

Your hand still worked him slowly and thoughtfully while lovers of the past filled in the rest of the silence. Miguel's hips bucked, and you hummed, so pleased with yourself. Pleased with yourself for pleasing him. Something Miguel found self-value in.

"I think I, uh, I think you mighta been right," he murmured to the air, trying to control his voice. Your gentle hum of intrigue spurred him on. "I think I need you to fuck me more than I realized. Need you to want me, ‘n…take me." 

“Yeah?” You asked before sinking a bite into his neck. “Figured you had somethin’ of a praise kink. Makes sense, in hindsight.”

Miguel gasped when you picked up the pace. “Fuck–I’d call it…mmmmn, I’d call it a-a love language–”

“Huh, didn’t know there were six love languages–”

“Sh-shut up, shut up, you know what I–what I mean–!” Miguel bit down hard on the inside of his mouth as his hips rocked up into your cruel, talented hand. He was close. How embarrassing. “I, uh…physical touch. Words of affirmation.”

“‘Needing my husband to fuck me and tell me I’m sexy.’” Miguel moaned and dug his head back into your shoulder as you chuckled. “That sound about right?”

“Viejo,” he whined, setting the phone aside to be forgotten. “I–”

“I know, baby; show me how hard this love language makes you cum.” 

It only took a few more strokes for Miguel to come undone. His teeth clattered together as he strained to keep his voice on lock as a forgotten rapture ripped the air from his lungs and electrocuted every vessel in his body. He clung to the other arm that’d come to wrap around his chest and hold him against you while you worked him through the motions, slowing down, accommodating the way his body reacted to the blinding pleasure. There were words said, probably encouraging ones muttered into his shoulder, but Miguel didn’t have the mind to parse the meaning of what you’d said. 

“Y’know,” you tried again when Miguel’s mind levelled out, “I think I have a praise kink, too. But a complimentary one. One where I like praising you.” You rested your chin on his shoulder and hummed. “Hm. Who woulda thought.”

“Hah. Good to know you’re still annoying,” Miguel said with a chuckle. He scrunched his nose up when you licked the side of his face. “(Name)--” 

“No.” You bit his cheek this time, and he sighed. You did, however, feel his softening cock start to come back to life again. “Want me to lock the door now, old man?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed. You got off the bed, letting the towel fall where it may, and Miguel finally gazed upon his lost treasure. “And set up your phone. We need to update the archives.”

You grinned when you turned back to him, and Miguel felt so at ease. 

There were still things to work out: the mental illness you hid from him, the cheating Miguel tried to hide from you, the little secrets you both kept wedged in the darkest cracks of your minds. But with you with him, the man who refused to give up on their bond and their love, Miguel felt safe indulging in mindless pleasure you so generously gave to him. Neither of you were about to seal away the past again, but if you could share in the good of your relationship while acknowledging the bad, then hope wasn’t lost; it was found in the moment you’d pulled his old wedding band from your pack, and slipped it back on Miguel’s finger that night, murmuring the words you said in a church so long ago:

“Till death do us part.”

[just-jordie-things]

11 and 34 for satoru with happy ending???

11: "I Almost Lost You" Kiss 34: Returned From The Dead Kiss ** current manga spoilers but also i haven't read this part myself yet either so it's not totally accurate lmfao** also hope this is good enough bc it's not super specific to the prompts but it's the same idea, yeah? ___

it had been weeks since satoru had been sealed in that damn box.

the world around you had fallen into chaos in a matter of minutes since word got out that the great gojo satoru was in the prison realm. curses and curse users seemed to crawl out of the shadows and the depths of hell itself to celebrate his removal from this plane. every day there was a new strife, a new challenge, just to keep up with exorcising all the curses that came out of hiding.

not to mention the weight of fear you carried, not knowing of his well being.

was he even alive in there? you worried, your mind too occupied with anxiety for you to properly patrol the area you were asked to.

there weren't many jujutsu sorcerers left. so many retired. so many died.

was he okay? you wondered. time worked differently in the prison realm, but that was about all you knew of it. it was supposed to be a rare object, but geto suguru had found it and used it with ease. would he ever return?

as the reminder of suguru crossed your mind, your teeth grit together. your eyes focused on a rather rowdy group of teenagers on the street, distracted.

your feelings about the man who'd once been your friend were always complicated. after he'd reportedly killed his family and went on to slaughter hundreds of non-sorcerers, you struggled with the way you missed him. no matter what he seemed to do, what heinous acts he committed, some nights you'd still cry yourself to sleep because you wished things could go back to the way they were.

most of those nights, satoru sat awake with you, comforting you as you wept and reminisced over simpler times, happier memories. he'd spend hours combing his fingers through your hair and cooing to you softly about how he missed those days, too.

and now that you were here, now that sartoru was sealed away, and suguru was to blame, it was as though all of your feelings became crystal clear.

you hated geto suguru. you hated everything about him. you hated who he'd become. you hated that he'd let himself take such a dark path. you hated that he'd betrayed you, and satoru, and shoko, and jujutsu sorcerers everywhere. but right now, you mostly hated him for what he'd done to satoru.

and satoru, on the other hand...

you loved gojo satoru. you loved everything about him. you'd grown to love him over many years, but you'd known you'd fallen when he'd give up his free nights to console you, to ease your heart and mind, and helped you rest. you loved that he kept you close, after everything that happened. you loved the effort he'd made to always know what you were up to, and how you were doing. you loved him for loving you, in whatever way he did, you knew he did.

with a huff, you deemed the area safe for now, and made the trek back to your apartment. if you mustered up the energy you could have jogged there to make it to the comfort of your bed sooner, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

so even in the dead of night, and even as you watched storm clouds rolling in, you walked yourself back home.

you've been trying to remain positive for so long, for the students, for the other sorcerers, you knew that your position as satoru's closest friend had meant you'd have to put on a brave face and ensure everyone that hope was not lost, that at the end of the day things would be okay and good would triumph because that's how it was supposed to be.

but you were feeling hopeless. and you'd carried that feeling since that day in shibuya when itadori had told you his sensei had been sealed away. you remember every second of the short interaction. his wide eyes, his shaky voice, the way he'd asked you what that meant, and then looked to you for guidance on how to help. you'd sent him off rather quickly to help at the bus station, but truthfully, you just needed him gone so he couldn't see your entire foundation crumbling.

and then the deaths of your friends, of your students, of people you'd fought alongside all your life, they all began piling up, and you couldn't help but feel hopeless. what else was there to feel?

the man who's mere existence was supposed to put all of this at ease was gone, and you were starting to think he'd never come back.

cold drops of rain begin to hit your face just as you make it to your apartment. you supposed you should consider yourself lucky that you'd made it home before the storm really started, but such positive emotion was squashed by the weight of your anguish.

it was only a matter of time before you were killed too, you thought bitterly, more irritated by the notion than afraid. you were getting reckless. running on little sleep and barely eating meant your energy was always on low battery. the last few curses you'd had to exorcize were low enough in grade that you considered yourself lucky, but you knew that if you ran into a grade one- or a special grade- that you'd be lucky if your death was quick.

"what am i going to do?" you mutter to no one and nothing in particular as you dig in your pocket for your keys.

the rain seemed to have stopped, as you realized you no longer felt the chilly wet drops hitting your head. i could have sworn the skies were overcast just a minute ago, you pondered, ignoring your door for a second longer to tilt your head back to check the night sky.

sure enough, the stars weren't visible, and the sprinkle had turned into a full on down pour. you even heard distant rumbles of thunder, now that you were paying attention.

but curiously, you remained dry. you remained untouched.

you weren't under an awning, and you obviously didn't have an umbrella, so you weren't sure what caused this phenomena.

your brows furrowed as you stretched your hand out in front of you, reaching as far as you could, and to your surprise, you remained dry. when you brought your hand back to your chest again, you studied it curiously, wondering if this was somehow your doing.

experimenting again, you reached your hand upwards, but still, not matter what direction you lunged, the rain fell around you without touching you.

"what the hell?" you mumbled, checking the pavement below you now.

you could see a clear line before you, where the pavement had been pelted by raindrops, but it stopped just in front of your feet. this had to be the most peculiar thing you'd ever seen.

you turned in either direction, and just as you thought, to your left and right, there was a dry patch of pavement underneath you. an amused smile dares to creep on your lips as you turn your head to see just how far this dry patch stretched.

but as you turned to check the ground behind you, you find the dry patch stretched a few feet back, and clung around another figure.

the air is knocked out of your lungs as you saw that familiar shock of white hair, and you sputter for a second before you're gasping and tears are stinging your eyes.

you're running at full speed with abandon, and you don't slow down as you grow nearer, to until you've crashed into him and knocked the air out of him, too.

strong arms wrap around and you and hold you tightly against his chest, not that he needs to, you're clinging onto him with your arms around his neck and your legs wrapping around his hips to keep yourself in place.

for a moment, you just hold each other, wordlessly, too busy gasping for air and sharing breathless laughs of relief. your face is buried in the crook of his neck, and his is lost in your hair, breathing in your familiar scent he'd damn near forgotten.

when you do finally pull away, it's only for a split second, just long enough to see satoru's pretty face is unharmed, before your hands are grabbing the collar of his tee shirt and your tugging him against you so fast your lips slam together.

it's messy, your teeth clash and you're panting so hard that it's difficult to properly kiss him, but neither of you seem to mind one bit.

just a minute ago you were certain you'd never see him again, so you'll take any scrap of closeness that you can get.

he has one arm wrapped under your legs to help support you, but his free hand tangles in your hair, pulling you back while he gasps for breath.

he's not sure what he'd expected when he'd warped his way to your apartment, but he wasn't expecting this.

your teary eyes flicker between his as you finally find your voice.

"oh my god, you're real," you say through heavy breaths, your shock still not having worn off. "you're here- you're alive"

satoru chuckles, nodding back at you, pressing his forehead into yours to better look into your eyes. he's not sure how much time had passed exactly, but he knows he missed your eyes more than anything else.

"i'm alive," he assures you, his lips whispering against your own, before he gives you a longer, deeper kiss. when he pulls away again, he presses his lips into your cheek, next. "i'm here, i'm home"

"i thought-" you choke on your burning throat. "i thought you were gone, i thought- i thought I'd never see you again," you're tearing up again, the weight of your emotions confusing you, but you still muter a smile as you look at him. "i thought i lost you" you whimper out.

"oh, baby," he sighs, setting you down on your feet so that he could wipe our tears away. "you didn't lose me, i'm right here," he assures you, and you nod, leaning into the warmth of his palm. "and i'm not going anywhere, never again, okay?"

you nod back at him, shutting your eyes as you relished in the comfort of his presence. his thumb strokes your cheek as he finally takes you in. there's bags under your eyes, and you look skinner, maybe even more frail. he frowns at the state you're in, but decides to ignore it for now. there would be time later to get you both back on a healthy track. right now all either of you wanted was to be wrapped up in the other.

keeping his infinity on like an umbrella, the two of you embrace tightly. hands clinging desperately to one another, just to make sure there was nothing that could take either one of you away.

[albertasunrise]

Seeing Things - Oops Baby

Masterlist

Summary: Being best friends with Frankie meant movie nights, drinks with the guys and a shoulder to cry on when you got your hear broken. He is head over heels for you but you don’t feel the same… yet a drunken mistake will tie your lives together forever!

Relationships: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+ (So... I am trying to update my other pics but the reaction I getting from this ones really giving me the motivation to continue it... so thank you and I hope you enjoy this update! ♥️ It's not a super long one but everything gonna become clear I promise!)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

In the weeks that followed, the sightings of you only increased. You seemed to be everywhere he looked, asking him the same thing over and over again. 

Come back to me

He wished he knew what you wanted. Surely you didn't want him to leave little Esme? You would never have wanted him to hurt himself so why did you ask him to go back to him? You were dead!

"I brought you your favourites." He stated plainly as he pulled out the old bouquet of flowers Ben had brought you the week before. He poured out the stagnant water and replenished it with some from the bottle of water he'd stashed in his pack. Then, just as you had shown him on one of the many evenings you'd spent together, he arranged them carefully, sure to make sure they were just how you would have liked them. 

"I'm sorry I haven't visited sooner." He said as he got to his feet and rubbed the back of his neck nervously "Things have been busy with the baby and work... Don't want to bore you with the details but ya know... It's been hard." He let out a long sigh as he scraped his hand over his face to wipe away the traitorous tears that tracked down his cheeks "Esme's getting so big so fast." He continued "You should see her Titch, the spitting image of you! With the addition of my hair and eyes." He chuckled. 

His eyes traced over the words carved into your headstone. 

The words Here Lies carved in an elegant font followed by your first name and last name, 'Titch' at the end by request of Ben

Friend and Mother 

Forever loved

Never forgotten

Ben had selected the words. Frankie hadn't been able to bring himself to do it so the younger Miller had stepped up. Taking the 'anything I can do to help' statement he'd made to Fish when you'd died so literally. 

"Seeing you everywhere is killing me Titch." Frankie said after a short pause "Is this what you meant? Come to me, did you mean this? Because I am wracking my brains baby, trying to understand what it is you want from me." He sobbed "The guys all think I'm losing the plot but I know you're there. Just out of eyeshot or something and I know you're trying to tell me something so please... help me understand Titch." 

He paused, his eyes locked on the headstone as he let out a shaky breath before pleading one last time. 

"Please..." 

"Frankie." Your voice made him just and his head shot up, scanning the surroundings for you. 

"Frankie please..." You pleaded "Please don't leave me." 

No matter where he looked he couldn't see you. But he could hear you like you were right beside him. 

"What do you mean?" He begged, tears openly spilling down his cheeks "I'm here Titch... Baby I'm here!" 

"Please don't leave me, Frankie." You repeat, your tone breaking his heart as he desperately looked for you among the headstones "I can't do this without you." 

This statement let Frank's brows draw together. What did you mean by that? He was the one who'd been left behind. Your pleads disappeared like smoke on the wind and Frankie was left with the sound of his own breathing and the rattling of branches. He pressed his palms firmly against his eyes as he tried to slow his breathing, his pounding heart hammering against his ribs. 

"I can't do this." He whispered to no one in particular, allowing the dam to break "Fuck I can't... I can't cope with this." 

You didn't say anything else and Frankie audibly groaned before pushing himself to his feet. He didn't understand why you were doing this. Torturing him. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. 

...

"Well, ain't that better Lil' Titch?" Ben said as he finished fastening her babygrow "Uncle Ben's not so bad at this huh?" 

Esme smiled in reply, her legs kicking and arms waving in visible excitement before he scooped her into his arms and planted a big kiss on her cheek. She settled quickly on his shoulder and he smiled as she let out a little sigh and closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly. 

"Shit Titch... I wish you could see how perfect she is." He whispered as he placed a kiss on the infant's brow.

"Hands off... she's mine." Frank teased as he walked into the lounge, grinning as his best friend cuddled his daughter so closely.

"You gotta share the baby Fish!." Ben chuckled as he gently gingerly sat on the couch. 

“Yeah, yeah...” Frank grumbled as he waved off his friend, traipsing to the kitchen to fetch a beer. 

“How’d it go?” Ben asked when the older man reappeared, giving him a sympathetic smile as he watched him sit on the armchair across from him. 

“How’d what go?”

“Seeing Titch!” 

“Was fine.” Frankie shrugged, fooling no one once again. 

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Ben pushed and Frankie groaned. 

“Ben…”

“You gotta talk about this shit man!” Ben pushed, pleading with his eyes for his friend to just open up to him. 

“You won’t believe me!” 

“Why would you-“

“I heard Titch again.” Frank snapped, keeping his voice low so he didn’t wake his baby. 

“What do you mean you heard her?” 

“I keep hearing her talking to me. Sometimes I see her and she always says the same thing!”

“Which is?” 

"To go back to her." Frank replied, scraping a shaky hand over his face. 

"Go back to her?"

"Yes, Ben!" He snarled "And today she was begging me not to leave her!" He choked "But she left me Ben!... I loved her and she left me all alone..." He trailed off as he broke down into tears, head in his hands. 

Ben got up and placed Esme in her Moses basket with practised ease before sitting on the arm of the chair Frank was sitting in and pulling him close. 

"I can't do this..." He sobbed and Ben sighed "I don't know what she wants from me." 

"Fish... this is just your brain's way of holding onto her." Ben sighed "We all deal with grief in different ways... Shit, I keep listening to the last voicemail she left me over and over again just so I don't forget her voice!" 

"No!" Frank all but shrieked "That's not what this is Ben! It's her I know it is!" 

"You can't seriously believe Titch is haunting you, man!" Ben sighed as he stood up to check on Esme as she started to fuss. 

"I don't know how else to explain it, Ben!" He growled "I keep seeing her everywhere and she keeps repeating the same thing over and over!" 

"Fish-" 

"But then today she said something different." Frankie interrupted " She begged me not to leave her... Told me she couldn't do this without me..." He trailed off whilst nervously pacing his lounge "What does that even mean? She can't do this without me... She can't be dead without me? Doesn't make any fucking sense!" 

"Fish... Man, you need to calm down!" Ben pleaded, noting how breathless the pilot has suddenly become "This won't be doing your heart any good man!" 

"My heart's fine!" The older man grumbled.

"You say that but this can't be good for you!" Ben warned "Just take a breath man... I believe you, okay! I believe you saw her." 

"You're just saying that." Fish scoffed, rolling his eyes when Ben frantically shook his head. 

"I'm really not okay!" The younger man pleaded "Just... Just please." 

Frankie sighed as he ran a shaky hand through his mussed hair. His eyes then drifted to Esme who was staring over at him with her large, teary eyes. His heart ached and he was quick to scoop her up into his arms and lay a soothing kiss on the crown of her head. 

"I'm sorry baby girl." He whispered as he bounced her gently in his arms "I just miss your mummy so much." 

"We all do brother." Ben said as he placed a comforting hand on Frankie's back "I'm not trying to say that I even remotely understand the pain you're feeling brother but know that I miss her so much it hurts... And that I am here! Whatever you need..." 

Frankie nodded, giving his friend a weak smile before resting his cheek on the top of Esme's head. 

"I know Ben." He said softly "Thanks." 

"Any time." Ben replied, giving his friend a friendly wink before grabbing his stuff to leave "See you tomorrow for dinner yeah?" 

"Sure." The pilot replied softly "See you then." 

...

"Why the fuck did you pick a restaurant that didn't have a parking lot asshole!" Ben grumbled as he pushed Esme's pram along the pavement, the steep hill making it a little harder. 

"It had good reviews okay!" Will grumbled, "It's not that bad!" 

"You're not the one pushing a pram up a 90-degree hill!" Ben grumbled, pulling a smirk from Frankie. 

"You offered brother!" Frank pointed out, sniggering at the groan that he received in reply "I can take her if you're struggling."

"I am not struggling!" Ben argued and Fish threw his hands up in surrender.

"We're nearly there!" Will piped up "Just across the street."

The three of them reached the crossing, breathing a small sigh of relief when the restaurant came into view. Will crossed first with Ben following closely behind him. Something had distracted Frankie, leading him to step out a few steps behind his friends but your voice calling his name stopped him in his tracks and he looked to his left, your figure illuminated by a bright white light. 

"Come back to me." You pleaded as you always did and Frankie froze. Tears sprouted as he looked at you smiling back at him as you held your hand out to him "Come back to me." 

You disappeared as quickly as you appeared, a horn sounding before Ben screamed his name. Then suddenly he was flying for a brief moment before his body connected with something solid and he rolled over it before hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. 

"FISH!!" Ben screamed as he ran to the pilot's side, hands shaking as he took in his friend's condition "Fish stay with me." He choked as he saw how bent and broken the older man looked.

Frankie winced as he turned his head, noting how Will was standing with the pram as he frantically spoke to who he assumed was the emergency service on his phone. He also noted that the driver who had hit him was nowhere to be seen. 

Hit and run. 

"Ben." He coughed after he spoke, blood filling his throat at an alarming rate. 

"Shhhh." He hushed the man and stroked his hair, desperately trying to keep himself together "Just keep breathing for my Fishsticks!" He pleaded 'Please don't leave me..."

His last statement blended into yours. He could hear you again, pleading not to leave you and he only felt more confused. He was dying... it was clear that he was so surely he was going back to you. 

Surely you should be happy?

"Please, Frankie... Please don't leave me." 

You pleaded... your voice shaky. 

"I'm coming Titch." He whispered. His eyes fell shut as darkness took him. 

"What's happening?" You sobbed as hands moved you from the room.

"He's crashing!" Stated someone in the room and you shook your head as you were pushed into the hallway, still able to see everything through the glass walls of Frankie's room. 

"Please, Frankie... Please don't leave me." You sobbed "Please..." 

Another set of hands pulled you away but not before you witnessed them shock the man you loved, desperately trying to restart the heart that was supposed to save him. You were placed in a room where you had spent more time than you cared to remember in the past month and a half. Hours sat waiting for news on whether Frankie was going to pull through. 

He'd gotten the heart he so desperately needed yet for close to two months he'd been in a coma, fighting battle after battle. This was just the latest in a long list of complications he'd suffered. 

Kidney Failure... Infection... His body had even rejected the donor heart but that was something they had managed to detect early. It seemed his body just refused to get better, even if his mind wasn't willing to let go. 

"What's happening?" Asked Ben as he stepped into the room after being directed here by a nurse, his brows tightly drawn in concern. 

"He crashed." You sobbed as you threw your head into your hands.

"What?... What caused it?" 

"I don't know." You replied, shaking your head "They dragged me in here as they tried to bring him back... I haven't heard anything yet." 

Ben nodded solemnly as he sat down beside you, handing you Esme when you held your arms out to receive her. You needed to hold your baby. 

"Why won't he get better Ben?" You sobbed as your eyes locked with his.

"He's really poorly." He replied softly "He needs time to get better." 

"But that's just it... He's not getting better!" 

"He will, Titch." Ben assured you and you sighed. 

"How do you know that?" 

"Because he's got something to fight for." He stated plainly. 

The two of you then sat in that room for what felt like hours, glad of Esme to keep you somewhat distracted from what the outcome of this latest setback might be. The doctor appeared sometime later. His expression was difficult to read. 

"How is he Doc?" Ben asked, holding your free hand tightly in his. 

"We managed to bring him back." The doctor announced, "He's weak and we have had to up his anti-rejection meds." 

"He's rejecting the heart again?" 

"He never technically stopped." The doctor stated "We have been able to keep it under control with medication. He seems to be responding well though and we're hopeful." 

You both breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief, glad that finally, something was going right. 

"There's something else though." The doctor stated and both you and Ben shared a grim glance before looking at the doctor again. 

"What is it?" You asked, your voice shaking slightly. 

"He's awake." 

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[guessimate]

As I mentioned in my previous post, I'm going to play the Laos and the Siews, because they are part of my main families. I decided to start with the Laos, especially that I might wait with the Siews, as I have played them for 5 rounds, while I only played the Laos and the other families of Sim Asia for 4 rounds. Before I went into the main household [with the florist's store], I decided to check on Hisashi Lao, the Bruni sisters and their servant.

It turned out Hisashi and Gautseshen had fallen ill, possibly infected by the servant Camillus who was present at the party at the Tias' house. I needed Gautseshen to combat her illness before she would travel back to Europe.

The ROS I got for the Lao family was a scenario about a sim falling ill with the flu and dying at the end. Haru's daughter Magu would be left alone in the Lao house if her dad died, so I decided to move Hisashi back to the main Lao residence.

Hisashi had left his family home because of a ROS and a disagreement with his dad after his mom died. He also didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps by becoming a florist. He might have to do it now... or he might change the business type. I feel like Hisashi will be more open to selling chickens and eggs, as these constitute an immediate profit. Perhaps his sister will take over the ikebana craft some day instead?

Hisashi is not friends with his family, but neither is he enemies with them. The years spent at the monastery would encourage him to be peaceful. He would come back home to say his goodbyes to his dying father. He is quite indifferent towards his little sister however, and she probably has her reservations towards him as well.

I decided to quickly look through my past posts about the Laos, and it turned out this family was bound to fall ill sooner or later because of the chickens they have. I will say that Haru was fine with the local flu, but his immune system couldn't handle the sickness brought from foreign lands.

When I loaded Hisashi's lot, by some coincidence Haru was walking by. He came over to see his first grandchild and to meet his son's beloved. Upon seeing the living conditions, he invited his son to come over... Sadly, he got even sicker when he met this family.

Somehow Satet and her baby never got sick. Magu, Camillus, and then Hisashi combated the illness. I moved Camillus and Gautseshen out as soon as Gautseshen got healthy again. I didn't want them to bring the illness back to the empire. Coincidentally Haru Lao was the last person to start recovering from the illness, so it was fated for him to die.

~*~

I randomized this household's traits after Gautseshen had left.

Haru was Adventurous, Brooding, Flirty, and Perceptive, with a Green Thumb. Green Thumb makes a lot of sense because his one true hobby is Nature, and he loves Flower Arranging.

Magu Loves the Cold and is a Slob, with a Green Thumb.

Hisashi is an Overemotional Kleptomaniac, Virtuoso, and Party Animal, with a Good Sense of Humour. Music&Dance is his One True Hobby. Overemotional fits him, since he dramatically left his household before... Although he is the first Kleptomaniac in my Sim World, I don't think he'd get the chance to steal from the European part of town.

Satet is an Evil and Neat Mooch and Daredevil who Loves the Heat... These are quite odd traits for a Family sim, but she is 3 Grouchy...

Guiren is a Bookworm who Loves the Heat. I will allow the bookworm trait for Hisashi's children because both parents were schooled. She is an Aries. She's 8 Neat (like mom), 9 Outgoing (like dad... and his dad), 9 Active (like mom), 3 Grouchy (like mom), and 4 Serious.

~*~

What was the first want Satet rolled once she became an adult? Have a baby! Not even fall in love or get married. I interpreted this as her waiting for her beloved to age up so they could get married, but at the same time I thought I might grant her her wish right away. Sadly, this first baby was never meant to be, so they would try again after they would both age up and get married... Satet also wanted to teach her toddler daughter to walk.

The ghost of Mazu (Haru's wife) decided to show up on her granddaughter's birthday. She appeared again the very next night, shortly after I got the notification that Hisashi would be aging up on the following day... So I decided to age him up and get the couple married while the ghost was there.

Hisashi aged up well, but because he never went to university, it was not a very happy birthday for him. His aspiration hit rock bottom and he decided he would like to marry rich. Technically he is marrying a rich princess, but because she's been living with him already it didn't count.

I was really confused Satet wanted to leave Hisashi at the altar... I do have the random rejection mod but... The wedding was her idea, and it just didn't make sense for her to leave, especially that they were supposed to be married last round already. This princess got pregnant out of wedlock. The least she can do is get married. She's a Family sim... An evil one, but she still is one. I'm guessing it happened because her engagement memory was randomly rolled to be negative, or I was just very unlucky. She would always say yes to the proposal, not only the hacked arch one but the vanilla one as well, so I just had to replay the ceremony...

Haru was supposed to die of an illness, but his wife helped bring him to the other side by scaring him. He was feeling better mentally after his son's wedding, and he decided to spend some time outside, where unfortunately, his cough became way worse. He also thought he saw the spirit of his wife... And that's what ultimately killed him. But he died happy, joining his wife in the afterlife, having witnessed his son get married and move back to the family home to take care of Magu.

Before I left them, I allowed them to try for another baby. After all it was their wedding night. This baby will be fine, thankfully. I also moved Mazu's grave, because she haunted this lot enough already...

~*~

I built 2 bedrooms in the house with the spare money the Laos had. For some reason the princess wanted to get a toy making bench, so I got it for her. It was my choice not to open the store for them this round, especially that at one point almost everyone in this house was sick. They had ~500$ left, so they could pay the rent. Haru will probably try to change the way the business operates and he'd rather do it when his father is no longer on this planet.

[typingatlightspeed]

TFC Fanfic - Can't Let Go

Fred is concerned about the state of their boss' emotions since the death of their medic, and worries about his compentency to lead the team. Virgil agrees, but is able to empathize a little bit with how much losing someone important to you can mess you up. Either way, this isn't going to lead anywhere good.

Idk y'all this popped into my head at work and I had to get it out.

Warnings: Very mild gore, mild eye scream re: Virgil's mechanical eye, past character death (TFC Medic, or Gabe as I have named him).

--------

"He ain't right, is all I'm sayin'," Fred grumbled, a terribly thin and small screwdriver held between two thick fingers as he finished rebuilding the mechanical eyeball cradled in a shop towel on his worktable.

Virgil huffed, shaking his head. "When's he ever been right, Fred?"

The engineer shot a look to his friend, the one-eyed sniper currently hogging the only chair in the workshop. "You know what I mean. Moreso'n usual."

"You know how close he and Gabe were. They were as married as two men can get. A heavy and his medic; it's awfully romantic."

"Awful is right," Fred chuckled, joined in a laugh by Virgil. "That's the thing, though. Ever since that explosion, he ain't been the same. Gabe dead, me ripped in half, Bea's eye. That op couldn't've gone worse if we'd tried. An the bossman losin' his husband; I think that might'a finally pushed him over the edge."

"He'd been teeterin' as long as I've know him."

"Exactly. He's been awful cagey about jobs now. It's either sure things or the most outrageous shit, never nowhere between. The worst part is how spooked he's gotten."

"Spooked?"

Fred finished reassembling the eye and wiped it clean on the towel. "Here, should be good to go," he said, handing it to Virgil, who stretched open his eyelids and popped the thing back into his empty socket, letting the nerve linkup inside grab hold and reattach, restoring use of the thing. He almost wished he'd asked for an off switch for the damned thing this time. Seeing through everything, even his own eyelid, had been deleterious for his ability to get any rest. But having the ability to turn it off would mean he'd use it, and it would make him lazy, and an easy target. Best to just deal with it, he supposed.

"Back in working order. As you were saying?

"When I can get him talkin', it's... he can't let go of death. Ain't never bothered him none before; we're mercenaries, we know what we're gettin' into. What we're riskin'. But ever since Gabe died, he can't shake it. Keeps talkin' about how we're gettin' older. Gettin' slower. Gettin' weaker. We're some of the best damn mercenaries there are, but even we can't stop Death from comin' callin' sooner or later. I don't think he can figure out how to reconcile it."

"It is a lot to take in; losing someone that important to you," Virgil offered, thinking back to the year prior, when he'd seen the explosion from his perch, when he'd seen Fred get torn in half, his legs basically paste, his intestines strewn from his open, gaping torso, blood everywhere. It was a sight he'd never shake. He'd splattered more brains and pierced more hearts than he could remember, but it was different when that gore, those guts, were someone who mattered to you. "Changes your perspective in some fucked up ways."

He was just grateful they'd managed to save Fred, and that the canny engineer had been able to retrofit one of his father's old designs for prosthetics. Though it had required a bit more biological knowledge than he truly had the depth of understanding for, and without Gabe around to help anymore, it had been a long, taxing, infuriating process to get right. All the while their heavy was going mad in grief and couldn't be consoled by anyone.

Bea had just wrenched the shrapnel from her eye, bandaged her face, and gone about her day. Hard woman, she was. She terrified Virgil, which was no mean feat.

"I'm just concerned he's gonna do somethin' stupid. He's angry, and hurt, and it's gettin' him more 'n' more riled every day, and one of these days he's gonna snap, and it ain't gonna be good for any of us."

"That new medic isn't helping with it, either."

"That absolute fruit loop is gonna get us all killed even faster'n the boss if we ain't careful. I know a mad scientist when I see one."

"I'm thinking more the boss is gonna kill him first."

"Half thinkin' we should let 'im. Maybe it'll blow off some steam," Fred laughed.

[weekend-whip]

I just realized something that could happen for Jesse & his lil' flower readings after reading that Nature-based Outburst ask.

What if... after the last time Jesse sees Harumi prior to Season 8, he decides to summon a flower, maybe wanting a sign that everything's gonna be alright with his troubled friend...

Only to pull out a lycoris radiata... a red spider lily... a flower said to line the paths walked by those you'll never see again...

'Cause yeah, he's not gonna see that Harumi again. He's gonna see the Harumi that's secretly The Quiet One the next time she shows up. But he doesn't know that, he'll think she's gone for good, after everything she's been through.

And when Crystalized comes & goes, when Harumi swaps back to the Good Guys during the last moments, when Jesse doesn't have to worry about his long lost friend stabbing him in the back while he gives her the most long overdue hug in existence... he'll know that she still isn't the Harumi he once knew, and she never will be again...

...because she's already walked the path lined with red spider lillies.

"I think it's more surprising—" Harumi hums, eyeing the wispy red flower that Jesse holds out to her as a sort of a peace offering. It's not the snapdragon she'd expected, but seeing something so pungent with meaning makes a smile creep on her face. Her pink eyes flit up to meet his brighter ones. His are not amused. "—that the spider lily didn't appear sooner, given that I died as soon as my parents did."

She says it dismissively, carelessly—like that hadn't been the inciting incident for years of impending agony. Maybe she's stopped caring. Maybe she's moved on. Maybe she's just trying to make a point.

Jesse doesn't know anymore, because he doesn't know who this is anymore.

It should be easy to look past it, as she says she's reformed, learned her lesson, wishes to atone...and there's moments where Jesse can see shades of the past sprinkled across her face in the few ephemeral moment since. It's in the way she carries herself, slightly shy yet bold when given the opportunity; in the way she does her part to help rebuild and makes sure no one else is slacking; in the way she'll catch the eye of those who were once friends turned enemies turned something else and then smile privately with nostalgia. But this Harumi doesn't deserve to do so, does she?

She almost has the same sparkle in her eye, same slight tilted smile, same windchime-like laugh...and even after a fall from grace, grace she still carries, derived from her duties upon the council and accumulated in the title of 'princess' eventually bestowed upon her. A grace that, even all those years ago, had been deduced by the appearance of a white and pink snapdragon, and enforced even now.

So, too, is that unwavering strength, for without it she wouldn't have defied all those deaths, metaphoric or otherwise, and certainly wouldn't be standing before Jesse now. He concedes she's overcome much with that strength, but used it just the same to inflict so, so much harm. Her strength is a neutral one, only taking on a connotation of good or bad depending on how she wields it...or, who beholds it.

That much is still the same as before.

But the most alarming similarity is the one he doesn't want to say. That, even back when she'd still wore her long pale hair in braids and skipped through the school halls and paraded around her adoration for the ninja, her snapdragons still whispered mentions of a capacity for deceit; a quiet, subtle warning Jesse had chosen to ignore.

Because surely, surely, surely, his best friend could have never been capable of hurting him and everyone they cared about to a life-destroying degree. And to believe otherwise would have been wrong.

...had the old Harumi truly died, if the most important shades of her still persisted within the girl before him now? Or, worse...the Harumi he'd known all along...really was this girl the whole time?

Jesse mentions her snapdragon's hidden meaning as she accepts the spider lily in its stead. She almost laughs, though it comes out as more of a choked sob than anything else. To anyone but Jesse—yet except maybe Lloyd—it would have been impossible to tell the difference.

"...that, I find incredibly ironic," Harumi remarks. The subtle mirth vanishes from her gaze, replaced by cold, expressionless melancholy. She's not upset, nor angry. Just tired, mostly. Resigned, if nothing else.

A hand slips into her pocket, and unto her finger slips a keychain, connected to a snapdragon encased in resin. Jesse's eyes widen as she pulls it out.

She spins it around like it's a meaningless toy. And yet, she'd kept it after all this time. It's almost enough to make him think that the lillies could be wrong; this could still be her—his best friend, lost to heartache, turmoil, and the unforgiven march of time and a slew of bad choices...

And maybe one day, if they're lucky, they'll be able to have what they used to, or at least parallel to it, if the Master is kind.

But, it won't be today.

"So you...find it ironic because you would have deceived us, even before you would have had reason to?"

"No." Harumi brushes a hand through her bangs, her fingers featherlight against the scar torn across her face. Sometimes, that's still enough to bring back the sting. "It's ironic because you had deceived me first."

And Jesse is swiftly reminded that no, this is not the same girl.

And also, that it is his fault.

[purpleturtle9000]

*skitters in through a hole in your ceiling*

Hi

So. The oranges. How much emotional damage are we lookin at, if any? Youngest siblings who have watched their older siblings die/almost die club? Is there guilt for not sacrificing sooner or does old Mikey have the self awareness to not fall into that? Are they cooking buddies do they swap recipes who helps them with their nightmares? Do they compare scars? Is there art done to cover/reclaim that pain?

Are there pranks involving floating

Until next time

*skitters back out the ceiling hole and patches it on my way out* 👍

🍊🧡🍊

Angelo is perhaps weirdly well-adjusted to everything that happened to him in the future. It affected him, of course it did, but he had the temperament and knowledge to deal with it a little better than the rest of his family. (He's not actually doing quite as well as he thinks he is, but like, he's ten out of ten compared to Leonardo.)

He doesn't feel guilty for the last minute self-sacrifice. Seven years after the apocalypse started, they tried the same plan as in the movie, and Angelo died. The rest of the family was barely able to bring him back, and his mystic powers hadn't done shit toward making a portal, so they called off the whole idea. None of them could bear to make the call, especially when it likely wouldn't work.

There's also the fact that going back to the past was going to reset the whole future. The more intel they could take back, and the better-trained that person would be, the more likely their chances of success. Besides, if it worked, all the suffering and death technically would have never happened, so he technically would have nothing to blame himself for.

He kind of still does, though. He'd always trained toward the idea of trying the time gate again, they just hadn't been sure if he could pull it off until it was time to try it out. Sometimes he wishes he tried earlier, if only so he didn't have quite so many memories of his loved ones dying, but at least they're all still alive in the past/present.

Little Mikey, on the other hand, has an absolute damn boatload of nearly-watched-my-brother-die trauma. He heard the wrist-comm recording of what happened in the prison dimension (he wasn't supposed to) and blames himself for every injury Leo got while Mikey was trying to open a portal to him. He could have had stronger powers, he could have been faster, he could have done something else-

Hearing Angelo's account of the future, what with the first attempt at the time gate and all, helps ease his guilt a little. But it's not like Leo's prison dimension injuries can be unwritten with a time gate, like all the drama from the future. There's not as much help there that Angelo can offer, besides being a listening ear, though that does help quite a bit.

They are cooking buddies absolutely! Angelo knows a thousand and one tricks for outdoor cooking and has April's mom's much-coveted brownie recipe. He won't share it, but he will let Mikey help stir things once all the ingredients are in a bowl. Mikey keeps guessing at what's in there, much to Angelo's amusement. And Angelo knows a bunch of new secrets about greenhouses and hdyroponics that endears him to both Mikey and Donnie (botany and tech nerd that he is).

Angelo also knows the best teas for soothing stressed-out turtles, which helps with everyone. The smell always wakes him up, so he goes looking to see what's happening whenever it's in play. He and Mikey have a lot of late-night conversations. Sometimes it's about serious stuff, sometimes it's about the Lou Jitsu fanfic that Angelo kept writing all through the apocalypse.

There's not a lot of scar comparison, because Angelo doesn't want to freak Mikey out by showing him everything that happened. Y'all've seen that post about Mikey missing a part of his shell in one frame? Angelo's not gonna show a fifteen-year-old kid that, doesn't want to freak him out.

Besides, his shell has healed, and Mikey's hands haven't quite. Angelo is actually quite helpful there! He's the only turtle with strong enough mystic powers to use them to heal, but it requires a use of his hands that still causes some pain for Mikey. Angelo can do it just fine, and add a bit of warmth to help soothe any lingering aches.

Angelo doesn't compare a lot of his art therapy, either, cause uh. There's a lot of blood in some of them and he doesn't think he should really show a fifteen-year-old that either. But not all of it is vent art! And he shows Mikey everything he draws that's a little less gory, cause there were still beautiful moments in the apoclaypse, and he's glad to have someone to share it with.

Mikey shows Angelo absolutely everything he makes an attempt at, and Angelo encourages all of it. And provides some art tips! Cause he's had twenty more years to hone his art skills so there's quite a bit that he can pass on.

There are so many pranks involving floating. Angelo teaches Mikey how to make his cape float behind him even when there's no wind, and how to open doors ahead of him. Mikey calls it their Jedi mind tricks and does the hand wave every time. (He also tries to mind-trick his way out of the chore list sometimes, which Raph never falls for). It's their favourite thing to do and they use Leonardo whenever they need to work on floating people/objects. He's patient about it and only whines a moderate amount when they drop him (Angelo does it on purpose, Mikey doesn't).

Thanks for patching the ceiling hole, I've been saying I need to get to that for weeks now!

[nightguide]

Lately with PD, i have been flying notes and letters since i found this one episode lately that got on my nerves a little bit too much to talk since i do things in a chronological order

finally Norway called them out for it.

since work is meant to pay off, the show (Pushing Daisies) has a legacy point, so the actor knows how to work deeper to keep face secret than making an obligation to please the crowds after despite them knowing chunks of the forbidden occults to make sure the viewer has a reason to find themselves back in relativity in time and space

not like any other aquatic variating reasons to search and make do for it

season 2 episode 10

Chuck's Dad has a relativity = Ned really saying a point that now RS should not affirm to but delayed time much sooner (bringing her Dad back to life by the forbidden occult book that was her wish ultimately bringing her closer to RS knowing she gambled away whats already been meant for her right back (friendship to the Queen like she is as pure as she is)

SMWC: Chuck actually made it up as she went along (optimism intuition) that did not lose her touch on the book (she can do the same thing as Ned does but ultimately if she did, she would have died by the same intrusive attack as RS at the time but she could have taken her as a demon than just a friend (lost bet) so she survived by light presentation (human plant period takes 15 years for a mind and hearts are just born with it but they known tested now for 10 years max upon arrival (world end vibrations does not seek support but of the weakest link known that will use them to power the Earth by slavery)

legacy: Squishmallows

Ned SMWC: he definetely wanted to shape the universe, but knowing how far he'd go to 'save' the world is condescending him to a point he cannot find but urges now the 'body of' a woman he will ever find if not for a spiral created by the end of season 1 (filler episodes indicating a return of _______ plotline is immaterial investigation, hence why manifestations occurring is inhumane to actor's priviledge (shams al ma'araf also gives ascension to users between ages 4-19 to ascend worldly thought upon feeling (crisis in the UK happened to work underneath a theory of their own cosmic understanding: west end productions is why Ned's materialism (The Pie Hole) is more UK by rhetoric than US grabbing RS for theory)

gambled promise in the SAMA: private parts to be honed in on himself because your erotic nature in the show (as revealed) is themselves based on by true feeling of than of the outside world perceiving you being (what and why you're made of)

legacy: Lee Pace can actually bring back the dead (as on the show) but he also made now history on the viewer's representation being declared unified whole than breaking the latter of social deformations of an evil astrologer on the clock app

Emerson SMWC: he has a point, now if Anson Seabra makes anything equivalent to you, then you knew i was right by predictions of the 17th Doctor hesitating and reinstating time going by in wonderland poverty, so initially he rejected himself 5 times on the show if you see a very open sentiment about what he could have done than releasing victim porn the first time, Cod had no idea all the way through (the actor) but he played guess who multiple times to see people his way (Simone the dog person) now believing in a theory that escapes him seeing Ned (RS) in a social prison of his own, he was the black kid grown up in the OG stranger things getting into a semi-occultist observation of his own theory (he lies all the damn time)

gambled promise in the SAMA: being with Simone (actress irl is always one of them) but he also knew Pokemon was the ending of everything (if you did your homework right) he gambled the Pokemon franchise with it (knowing he'd get back rights for everybody to be pokemon trainer one day by theory) also he gambled the banking industry to settle the score with Sue Sylvester sarcastically (not even how and why she stopped working cuz she lives on dreams... no. black holes) that

legacy: everything Ryan Reynolds did in Detective Pikachu is a clock work legacy of EC knowing PD too well that Chuck won the title name (theres a bet going around HW that the best of the worst case scenario characters live it knowing the missing member is letting the poor people go in there for free)

Olive SMWC: rationality and reasoning (her family did it for her)

gambled promise in the SAMA: cartoon universes live on (theory knows best)

legacy: RS alive and well *beginning of the end but it neverends*

[frosnpls]

cw rhory (and suicide) talk again and general mental health talk

following on from that post yesterday i do definitely need therapy because as much as i convince myself ive healed (and to be fair i have, his death may have been traumatic but its incredible how quickly you realise you were being abused when youre... not being abused anymore) i do sometimes miss him and i hate it. ill see things like accounts from others who've lost people to suicide and it triggers that deep emptiness i felt when he first died despite the fact that he essentially ruined the first few years of my adult life

part of me wishes id never even met him but then i dont know if i would be as close to the friends i have now without him having been there (most of them anyway, if we pretend he didnt have one my best friends blocked because he would get jealous of how much fun i had speaking to her) and i also think he would have. died a lot sooner if i hadnt met him. his brother in law once told me it seemed like id afforded them two more years with him alive and i think it was meant to be grateful but in a way it was just upsetting because it made me feel guilty for all the times i had wished i didn't know him. it felt like i couldnt even afford a theoretical past version of myself that release. i know ultimately his death wasn't my fault and in fact i actively prevented it for a long time but it always always feels like i should have done something else. i feel like i shouldve told his brother that he was actively suicidal again but id come to his brother about it so many times that i think he just didnt think anything of it anymore.

and like despite how much i suffered through everything i dealt with with him i. do miss how we were sometimes. not him specifically, but the relationship we had when it was good. sometimes it upsets me that i cant even remember most of the positive times despite there being so many of them for the first two years we knew each other. sometimes i catch a glimpse of the tattoo on my arm when im getting out of the shower. the tattoo of one of his drawings, one of the only ones i managed to save when he deleted every single message he'd ever sent me. and sometimes it makes me feel like shit because i have this constant reminder of the boy who abused me emblazoned on my body, and nobody's first tattoo at the age of 21 should be a memorial to their boyfriend who killed himself, and it just makes me feel like shit because under everything else i really did love him and thats why i never walked away. thats why i didnt give up on him even when i started realising how damaging it all was for me. i loved him so much and i fucking hate saying it because logically i shouldnt have. its. a lot and its so complicated and nobody but me ever, ever saw it because he masked it around other people or would just dm me instead of saying anything out loud, and i could only tell people very nervously in private and i never had a way of proving it.

i think the hardest part is that my aocial circle now is almost exactly the same as it was when he was in it. all of our friends mourned that loss just the same. some of them know about the abuse now, but most of them don't, and the grief they will occasionally express (though never directly around me, which i appreciate) is so plain and easily explained and i almost feel jealous that i can't grieve the way they can. without any of the complicating factors. and that sounds so horrible but i wish my feelings about him were just SIMPLE.

i have a floater in my left eye. when i was with him, i developed stress stims. i would bash my hand against my head or bash my head against the corner of my desk. floaters are caused by head trauma. im consistently reminded of what that time was like every time i move my left eye in the right lighting.

i remember one particularly bad night where i cried for four hours straight because he just refused to talk to me like a normal person, blamed me for everything that was happening between us and told me to leave him alone and never speak to him again. i knew if i agreed to that he would kill himself as soon as he could. i knew i was the only thing keeping him alive, and that he resented me for that. i used to get acne on my nose and sleeve burns on my eyelids from crying so often and for so long each time.

it was fucking horrendous and i can't even vent to anyone because most of them grieved his death too. we don't even say his name - if he comes up it's always "you know" or "someone else, you know who i mean". so i think i... should really do a proper therapist hunt.

[rayofsunas]

otherworldly! s/o

A/n: happy monday! I woke up at 7am and since then I've been grinding out assignments/classes and now this, so I actually feel productive even though I've been staring at my computer for a while. but thank you for requesting anon! I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it! <33 also to understand this more, I'd like to point out that this connects to the speculation Genshin and Honkai are alternate universes of one another. so for example, Scaramouche is a harbinger from his time, but he may have been a warlord in a different, with a completely different name (keeping his appearance ofc) hope that makes sense. so if you've paid attention to what I've been saying about Scara and his mini-series, etc. you'll understand what I mean in Scara's lol. his reader insert is fem for the same reason as above btw!

Summary: otherworldly! s/o who arrived as a fallen meteor, that can bring back plants to life/heal deep wounds/scars and resurrect people.

Parings: Albedo/Gn! Reader, Xiao/Gn! Reader, Scaramouche/Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, fluff, alternate realities/time traveler au! (reader is not the traveler), death/resurrection

Word count: 1.7k

Albedo

you don't have a vision like some people in Teyvat, because you're not from there; you're from a whole different world itself. instead, you have healing abilities that allow you to any energy you absorb in the form of food/sunlight, and you can use that energy to heal others. though, the healing can only go as far as healing minor injuries such as shallow cuts, scratches, or smoothing out scars. the same can work if you were to heal yourself.

Albedo is so intrigued when he finds you passed out in the pit of a meteor, half of your body hanging out while the other is awkwardly still in it

one, because who is this stranger in a meteor for crying out loud

and two, he notices your wounds on your arms are healing by themselves, slowly though

as someone who studies alchemy, life forms, and such, he's very intrigued that you're able to heal yourself without medicine, and he wonders if you can do the same to others

so he takes you to his lab, and runs a few tests

yes, you're still passed out when this happens, but he's just so curious and couldn't hold back

don't worry though, he's just drawing some blood and testing to see what you can do, because who knows, you may not even speak his language and won't be able to communicate with him (doesn't make a difference Albedo, you need COnSENT-)

so, just for science, he cuts the palm of his hand a little and decides to see if you can heal him

it doesn't take him long to notice the way the tips of your fingers are glowing a light greenish-yellow, so he immediately assumes that's the source of your powers and places a finger on his palm

it takes a second before anything happens, but eventually his cut starts to slowly close

once again he's even more shocked and intrigued

you have the natural ability and he's never come across someone with so much raw strength being able to do that

so you're right up his alley

when you wake up you're confused as hell (obviously) but thankfully, you can speak his language and are able to share your story

Albedo decides to make a deal with you

he'll help you get home if you can educate him more about your ability and your homeland. you agree

it works out perfectly, because you both have something the other needs/can do for the other (you have your power that he's interested in, and he's found a way for you to return home)

it's also easy to work together because of those same common interests, and it helps that he studies alchemy cause he's way more knowledgeable about you and the process can go a tiny bit quicker for you if you wish to return home sooner

at first you're merely friends, co-workers if you wish

but then he starts falling for you and vice versa

you both genuinely enjoy each others company, so you decide to stay in Teyvat a little while longer, even after he finds a way for you to go home

I wouldn't put it past Albedo to want to return to your world if you allow it

he'd be interested in this new or not so new world ;)

Xiao

you're like the traveler in a sense, where as soon as you climbed out of the meteor, you felt this connection to Teyvat and your vision randomly appeared. you have a dendro vision, something you learned was a rarity within liyue and mondstadt. along with that vision, you had the previous ability to grow/heal plants. you can bring back dead plants, though if they've been dead for a very long time, that's beyond your ability. they also can't be brought back if they've been badly burned.

Xiao may not be interested at first about what vision you have or even where you came from + why the hell you climbed out of a meteor

he's more interested in getting you home so you can stop asking questions about his own abilities/vision and odd, unfamiliar, but beautiful world

but boy when he catches you bringing back a wilted Glaze Lily?!? shook

he secretly thinks you're so cool and it piques his interest

he's never seen anyone do this before, and though his eyes were deceiving him when he first saw the lily spring to life again

but then when he catches you healing more plants, on your way to Liyue to hopefully find Zhongli for answers, he's so interested

he doesn't ask a crapload of questions, BUT he's going to ask at least one or two

"how're you doing that?"

"what are you?

the questions are kind of vague and require more in-depth explanations than he'd originally hoped, but he's surprisingly willing to listen to your story on the way to the harbor

after he learns your story and calls for Zhongli, he'll immediately leave and claim he has no further interests in you

but he's obviously lying

he finds as he's sitting on top of one the smaller mountains one night, looking down at the glowing Liyue town, he has more questions

way more questions

surprising Zhongli, Xiao shows appears when he's showing you around and getting you accustomed to the people/culture

he finds himself hoving behind you, shyly almost, never asking questions (at least not in Zhongli's presence

his reason for standing behind you is to protect you from any harm, so that way, when he decides to ask you more questions, you'll be there for him to do so and not dead or lost

when you tell Zhongli you'd wish to stay in Teyvat, specifically Liyue, Xiao is happy ngl

he can ask you questions and now that you're somewhat used to Liyue, having been here for four months already and planning to stay forever, he can catch you alone and ask questions without Zhongli hovering or acting as your tour guide lol

slowly, and I mean sluggishly slow, he's going to ask you more questions and he may, emphasis on may, tell you his own story

Scaramouche

you're from an alternate reality of Teyvat, a former doctor in your world. basically, Teyvat hundreds of years in the future. you've studied the human body to become a doctor obviously and you used to be able to bring back the dead using your bare hands. it didn't matter how far back ago they've died, as long as their full-body was still intact (full skeleton needed). though, the further back they died, the more energy you'd use, and if you run out of energy too soon, you couldn't bring them back. but now in this strange land, you can't. in exchange for your powers being lost, you're given an electro vision.

Scaramouche is tasked with finding out more about these odd meteors that keep appearing in various corners of Teyvat

and one very large one

he doesn't care who you are, what you are, what your excuse for being in Teyvat is, but he's been ordered to explore the fallen meteor and since you happened to be passed out inside it upon further exploration, you're part of the mystery he's been told to check out

and, it doesn't further help your situation that you landed in Snezhnaya, in the weirdest, not-so-warm clothing AND he finds you attractive (yes, you heard it here folks), plus you're going to catch hypothermia out here dressed like that

it would suck for a pretty girl such as yourself to be frozen to death

so Scaramouche decides to take you to the Tsaritsa, who leaves you in Scaramouche's care since he found you

she says he can do whatever he wants you, dispose of you, etc.

when you finally come too in an odd room on a couch in front of a fireplace, you're confused, cold as hell despite the flames, and when you see his face, you're immediately angered, which he finds odd

it's almost as if you recognize him... but he doesn't recognize you so he's confused as well

"what're you doing here?"

bold of you, he thinks. to question him with that tone as if you have authority here, over him

"watch yourself. I was going to ask you the same."

you don't seem too pleased with him though

"we agreed to never speak again, or so I thought..."

"are you stupid or are you just playing the stupid card to be released?" he'd say

though as soon as you burst and yell at him about a situation he's not familiar with, he's starting to understand a bit more

you're not from here, not anywhere in Teyvat at least, and by the way you're talking to him as if you know him, he assumed correctly that you're from an alternate reality, where he's also present

though despite his correct assumption, he demands answers and you cannot be allowed any kind of freedom until he gets them

you tell him your story and how in your world, a version of himself exists and that you were briefly married, though split because he was too much of a control/power freak for you and your daughter

he disagrees with the last part about him being a control/power freak ofc but

he decides he'll keep you around, against your wishes

one, because you can become useful if your resurrection abilities are awoken; you'd be able to save many fallen Fatui soldiers, with more training so you don't run out of energy ofc

and two, he doesn't think his other self would miss you very much if you're both on bad terms, he sure would miss such a pretty face if you were to leave though, that's for sure...

so, he's going to keep you around, so he can help train/get used to your electro vision. it works best that way since he has the same vision and can train you more efficiently (I think Scara has electro powers, just an assumption!)

he will also hopefully be able to awaken your resurrection abilities and if you can't, well then sorry you're disposable

overtime, all the Harbingers tease him about his little crush and he either denies it or strongly provokes it cause his ego is through his fucking hat

exhibit a. literally doesn't care that he's caught by childe staring at you train and will say something like, "and? you're just jealous she's not interested in you like she is me."

exhibit b. will throw a fit if someone accuses him and says he has, "no room for crushes or love." even if he was somewhat capable of it in your world...

3.22.21, rayofsunas

[dearcat1]

(Winter)

Part 62 of Sofia

Yawning, Sofia curls up closer to her mate. "Why is it this cold?"

"Why is it this cold? During winter? High up on the mountains?" Xanxus snorts but starts rubbing her arm. "Of course it's cold."

Sofia clicks her tongue, she knows she's being ridiculous but she's fine with it for now. "How am I supposed to see the mountains if it's cold all the time?" 

"We can come back in summer." Xanxus sighs, rolling them over. "What is the problem?"

"I'm miserable." Sofia ducks her head under his chin, breathing him in. "And I've decided this is why." It's not, they both know this. But it's better than thinking about it. 

With a grunt, Xanxus pulls her closer. "I'm not sorry I killed him." Xanxus sounds carefully neutral but he's still holding her tight and Sofia doesn't have the energy to analyze what it means. 

"Xanxus…" Sofia murmurs before surrounding his neck with her arms. "I'm glad you did. I'm not mad."

"But you're miserable." Xanxus drops his weight on top of her. "I don't know how to help."

"You don't need to fix everything, you know?" Sofia huffs, pleased with the closeness. "I'm mourning the father I hated, I'm supposed to be sad."

"Fuck that man." Xanxus cups her cheek. "I wish I killed him sooner."

Sofia sighs, biting her lip. "I'm glad that you did. And…" She rubs her face with her hand. "I'm so sad that you did. He did love us, I think. In his own fucked up way. He cried, you know? Every time one of us died and… when it was only me left, I remember… he'd stay with me for hours. Stern, always. But I think he was trying to be gentle. He rejected some of the offers, said I was meant for better." Xanxus looks at her, forcibly silent but he lets her speak. "I loved him. And I wished… I think I hoped he'd call one day, visit or something. I think I wanted him to say he was proud or that he was sorry."

"I don't care what you were meant to," Xanxus finally answers. "I care about what you want." He pulls away for a moment but leans back in when she complains. "I would have made him apologize if I had known." 

It makes her smile, mostly because it's a very Xanxus-like answer to give. And that makes her pout. "You're not allowed to make me smile, I'm trying to wallow in my misery!" Sofia sobers up, covering her face with her hand when she feels herself tear up. "Thank you, I don't know if I said it properly, I guess. But thank you for kidnapping me that day. I was so scared, I didn't… I didn't want any of that and I didn't want to ask because I knew you would. But you saved me anyway." 

Xanxus lets her hide her face but purrs softly for her. "You worry too much," it's the same admonishment he gave her that day. "You were mine even then."

Not in the same way but it's true. Xanxus made himself her alpha when he refused to be driven away by her attitude. And Sofia accepted him as such when she started to run to him for comfort. Xanxus always took pleasure in providing for her, even when they were kids and all he could do was bring her trinkets. Sofia chuckles wetly, baring her throat to give him more space to nuzzle. "You were a little shit, too violent for your own good."

Her alpha snorts. "I learnt my best comebacks from you, I don't know why you're complaining."

"I'm not." Sofia pulls her hand away from her face, kissing him once. "You were mine too, even then."

[gltwrites]

the day isym said: i'm gonna fuck shit y'all up

So this is how it ends. I guess I won't be able to let this go sooner, or not ever.

Following the lives of these incredible characters since 2014 had been an astonishing journey for me. And now, we reached the end of one of the most-loved mangas, Attack on Titan/Shingeki No Kyojin—probably the only masterpiece that will touch my heart like this in this lifetime.

What an awful timing it was that chapter 139 arrived at the time I was supposed to be celebrating with my mutuals on exoltwt lol. While, overall, I rate AoT as 11 out of 10, I can't eschew that the culmination has left me qualms and questions unresolved.

Let's start with Armin thanking Eren for his sacrifices for Paradis—which equates to thanking him for committing a global genocide (bro, wtf???). This did not sit right with me, but I'm taking into account that Armin could see there was no easy way out, and that he believes achieving peace requires sacrifices, notwithstanding his altruistic nature and efforts to not completely throw away his humanity.

And I'm also considering the fact that, with the reality Paradis had, bringing off peace without lives being taken was a wishful thinking.

His idealistic worldview clashed with Eren's, and he wasn't able to present a solid resolution 'til the windup. And yet, Armin was still willing to talk things out with his best friend so they could come up with a better plan, without further casualties.

Up until the very end, he wanted PEACE.

I think, this is what makes Armin admirable, contrary to what other readers paint him out to be—weak and useless. He's one of the strongest and skilled characters in AoT imo. He didn't need to be a Titan or an Ackerman. He's innately whip-smart and a natural tactician, making himself a consequential character despite his lacking combat skills.

Weighing up Armin's burdens and the mental load he carries, it hurts to be in his shoes, especially since he's the commander. He's torn between his friend's life and the rest of the world. He took the responsibility of the Rumbling aftermath to shoulder Mikasa's burden and let her live in peace.

And in the end, conflict dragged on, and he ended up with a large obligation to the people.

There were little appearances of Historia, which I initially found a bit absurd since she's among the important characters in the whole series. She didn't say anything, and her pregnancy was for what again? I was disappointed. Her bearing a child held no importance and was a random subplot.

Conversely, amid a slew of readers demanding her clarification on knowing Eren's plans from the get-go, her explanation on the matter would be unnecessary. It seemed to me she has done her part on how the story would play out. And if there was an epilogue or a succeeding set of panels, Historia might've made her comeback since her role as the queen is expected to hugely partake in peace propositions.

And over and above these, the final chapter seemed...rushed? I feel like some panels need to be fleshed out more, such as the whole of Founder Ymir's feelings towards that bitchass abuser Karl Fritz. I was appalled that the root of the sufferings that prolonged for two millennia was because of her martyrdom and servitude to the king and the royal family, which she described as love.

But in reality, without having to chew this over, Ymir didn't really know what true love is. She was a slave since birth, her family was massacred by Karl Fritz, and was impregnated thrice by this murderer who never gave a shit about her. She lived a wretched life, manipulated and abused, and died after jumping in front of the spear to protect the king.

Brought by fear of losing the power of the titan, he made her daughters eat Ymir's flesh and told then to bear many children. Sick fuck.

Then Ymir discovered Mikasa, who she deemed a mirror of her own. The difference, however, is that Mikasa's love for Eren isn't one-sided. And so her greatest desire to be freed from an abusive relationship was accomplished after discovering what real love is through EreMika.

Speaking of Eren, I can understand why plenty of readers condemned him. The guy, who masked himself as a peak tsundere, cold, temperamental bastard, exterminated almost the entire global population, and when asked by Armin his reason, he said he didn't know why, so from here we can assume he neither had a goal behind that warped undertaking nor did it for the greater good.

But Armin is smart, and Eren's silence was a tacit answer. The predicament seemed unsolvable, and wiping 80% of humanity is his last resort to hold off the rest of the world from attacking Paradis.

Taking also into account that he didn't mean to have his mother killed by Dina after rerouting her from Bertholdt. If he didn't, Bertholdt wouldn't end up as the Colossal Titan and Armin wouldn't have eaten him and died along the way.

Bear in mind that Eren believed Armin would save the world, but if he kicked the bucket—and had Eren, who was obviously enslaved by his destiny, altered anything in his memories—would unravel another reality unknown to Eren that could pose a bigger risk.

And the fact that he let the familiar fate dictate him meant opening a door to another door of possibilities of achieving world peace, with Armin taking the lead.

By making himself the bad guy in his story to make his friends be the heroes, the ending suggests that harmony would work out in the end.

In 139, Armin, Reiner, Pieck, Annie, Jean, and Connie were planning to make peace negotiations. And through this, there's a light at the end of the tunnel.

Levi finally bidding farewell to his comrades bawled my eyes out—this is probably the saddest shit ever AoT has ever done to me, next to Erwin's death. Levi is the last one existing among his original comrades, and it sent a pang to my heart when he did his final salute, wearing a faint smile while wrapped in bandages.

It was not indicated what he'd been doing post-Rumbling. The end of Titans' curse also put an end to the Ackerman bloodline's "awakened power" and above-average human strength, so he's probably a military consultant or mentor, given his amazing contribution as humanity's strongest warrior.

It was also shown he remained in the capital and is with now-grown Falco and Gabi, who both have shown their potential for a military career.

Meanwhile, unlike Levi, Mikasa chose to retire and live in her hometown. While others remark her ending as tragic (I'm guilty of this tbh), her former comrades were on their way to see her and visit Eren's grave next to the tree from their childhood, making her not entirely lonely. I wished she and Armin were in the same multiple frames of the latter panels of the final chapter as they both grieve losing Eren. But given Armin's new and bigger responsibilities for humanity, it's impossible.

EreMika may not be endgame, and I may be bound to perpetual frustration of them never getting the chance to wear their hearts on their sleeves, I am satisfied with the ending—imperfect but fitting. It's actually funny that my feelings got the best of me upon reading the last chapter, and cursed at the story for not ending in absolute peace and bliss, forgetting that AoT had always been a poignant, anxiety-induced, existentialist story, and hinted at a bittersweet finale from the start.

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | TWO

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 3,495

warnings: depression, anxiety, mental illness! angst, fluff if you squint really hard

18+!!! minors stay away

Peter Parker was relentless, insufferable, and extremely annoying. It all started the morning after what you'd decided to call The Encounter, and it had been unending ever since. Nearly a week had passed since that fateful night, and you'd yet to see a day at school where Peter didn't try his hardest to get under your skin.

On Monday he sat next to you in Calculus, and no matter how blatantly you ignored him for the entire class, he continued to whisper facts about himself and stupid little jokes to you. You wished you could say you hadn't listened, but ever since that morning you'd been unable to forget that his favorite color was red, his Aunt packed him a lunch every day that he threw away because she couldn't cook, and his middle name was Benjamin. Why he thought you needed or even wanted to know such things you weren't sure, but even more befuddling was the fact that you couldn't un-learn them.

When Tuesday rolled around he stepped it up a notch, much to your dismay. He sat with you during Calculus and insisted on jogging with you during gym class, feigning that he was out of breath despite your slow pace and the fact that you were certain he could run for miles without getting winded. He told you more jokes then, too. One of which you begrudgingly found yourself exhaling a little harder over whenever it popped into your head; what did one stranger say to the other? Nothing. They didn't know each other.

Wednesday was the worst, because Peter made a scene. You came into calculus late and the teacher scolded you in front of the class, at which point you got flustered and tripped over your untied shoe laces. Your books spilled to the floor and you tumbled to your knees in front of everyone, and the whole class laughed. But Peter? Peter just had to be the hero, and your blood boiled at his actions.

He'd dramatically swept all his books off of his desk, feigning surprise at the loud clatter as if he hadn't done it intentionally. When the teacher scolded him, too, he just apologized and made a show of picking up each of his things one by one. "Why did you do that?" you'd hissed as you sat down, scowling at the brown-eyed boy who just blinked at you innocently.

"Do what?"

He'd ran with you in gym class again, and he'd even followed you to your locker afterwards. In all the years you'd known of Peter, you had never known him to be much of a talker. In fact, he seemed like a rather shy boy who didn't like to branch out much. With you, though, that was far from the case. Silence was a pipe dream with him around.

On Thursday he sat next to you in Calculus, ran with you in gym, walked you to your locker, and went so far as to sit with you at lunch. You'd put your earbuds in and blasted music as loud as you could without hurting yourself too much, but every time you looked up you could see he was still talking. Part of you wondered why he was being so relentless, but you didn't want to ask. If you asked he would think you cared, and you didn't. You didn't care at all, and the sooner he figured that out, the sooner he would leave you alone.

Or, at least you hoped so. As you walked into school on Friday morning, you groaned at the sight of Peter waiting patiently beside your locker. "What do you want, Parker?" you gritted out, glaring at him as you twisted the dial to enter your combination.

He grinned in spite of your glare, "I'm walking you to Calculus today, obviously. How was your night, (Y/N)? Do anything fun?"

"What part of I don't need friends did you not understand?" you demanded, giving him a stale look as you swung the metal door open with a clang. Peter blinked at you, clearly not used to you actually speaking back to him, and further uncomfortable with your hostility. What did he expect? Did he expect for you to suddenly be happy? To not be completely fucked up anymore just because he started talking to you?

He replaced his lazy smile and shrugged, retorting, "You know my secret and I know yours. That makes us friends."

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to shout, yell, stomp your feet, and throw a tantrum fit for a child. Friends were not something you wanted or needed, and you certainly didn't want to be friends with Peter Parker. You didn't want to be friends with someone just because they were worried you'd spill their dirty little secret, or because they pitied the girl who wanted to die.

The black hole in your chest was worse than ever that day, and it sucked away all the fight you had in you. So, with a roll of your eyes, you stuffed your earbuds in your ears and tuned him out once more. Just like he had at lunch, Peter continued to ramble even though he knew you weren't listening, and you pretended you didn't see his lips moving at the speed of light.

For once, at the very least, he at least shut up in class. You were thankful for the break from his incessant chatter, the endless monologue you couldn't escape from when you were stuck in a desk while Mr. Tinley droned on and on. Calculus was far from interesting, but you found yourself beyond relieved to finally be able to pay any sort of attention to the lesson.

Friday was steadily continuing along the same path every other day had since The Encounter. Peter thankfully parted ways with you after Calculus, but quickly rejoined you two classes later in Gym. From Gym he was glued to your side through lunch until you escaped to your Spanish class, which you thankfully didn't share with him, but the solitude was short lived. Your last class of the day was one you also shared with Peter, and prior to that day he had remained seated with his friends.

That day, though, he plopped down in the seat beside you with a cheerful smile. "Ready for our new project?" he asked, skipping the greeting he knew you wouldn't return.

"Huh?" you asked, blinking at him in bewilderment. New project? Our? What was he talking about?

Peter beamed back at you, clearly pleased that you hadn't snapped at him for once. "Our new project! Didn't you see the list on the door? We're partners." he explained, and you stiffened.

It was too big of a coincidence to truly be happenstance. All week Peter had been pestering you, perpetually following you around and talking your ear off, and now he just happened to be assigned as your partner for the final Speech project? He did something. That was the only logical conclusion.

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at him with as much intensity as you could muster. "Peter, what did you do?" you growled.

Peter's eyes widened at your tone, and he shifted in his seat nervously with a sheepish smile. "What do you mean?" he questioned coyly, and you scowled at him fiercely. "I didn't do anything, (Y/N)."

"Bullshit." you snapped, "I find it hard to believe that we just happened to be assigned partners after how obsessively you've been harassing me all week."

He gaped at you, "Harassed? What?" he stammered, "(Y/N), let's calm down--I haven't... I haven't been harassing you. I just want you to know I really do want to be your friend."

You scoffed at his excuse, "Shut up, Peter. Just leave me alone! I don't want to be your friend, okay? My lips are sealed. I won't tell anyone your secret, just leave me alone!"

With one finally glare, you lurched out of your seat and stomped to one far away from the still aghast boy. As you settled into your new seat, ignoring the strange looks from your classmates who witnessed your outburst, you wrinkled your nose and picked at your nails angrily. As much as you were angry with Peter, you were also angry with yourself.

You were angry that he'd stopped you, and you'd let him. You were angry at the world for letting your sister die. You were angry at your sister for saving you when she should have saved herself. Most of all, though, you were angry with yourself for how you were acting. Even though she wasn't there, you could almost hear your sister scolding you for how you'd treated Peter.

She always was the levelheaded, rational sister. The good sister. The better sister. She would have been ashamed of how you'd been ignoring Peter, ranting to you, "He's just trying to be there for you, idiot. Stop being such a jerk and let him help you. You need to stop being so stubborn..."

You listened eagerly to Ms. Lovell's lesson and instruction for the new project. It wasn't because you were genuinely interested, because you weren't, but it was something to distract you. It was something to drown out the voice of your sister that was echoing through your skull, rattling you to your core as you tried to keep your emotions at bay.

This was the hardest part of losing your sister. She'd been so close to you, so important to you, it was impossible to not think of her in every moment of every day. It was impossible not to think of what she'd have done, instead of what you had done. It was impossible not to think of what she'd have thought of your actions, what she'd have said to you, of what she'd have wanted you to do.

She had been your voice of reason, your confidant, your role model. She'd always been so much better than you, someone you aspired to be like, and now that she was gone the comparisons were so much heavier on your head. Why couldn't it have been you instead of her? She would never have had such a hard time like you were.

For instance, she wouldn't have been so bitter. She wouldn't have been so filled with rage, hatred, or despair. She wouldn't have blamed anyone, not even herself, and she wouldn't have hated the people who had killed you. She always did love a good superhero, and even if you'd have died at the hands of the Avengers like she had, she would have found a reason to still have faith in them. She would have forgiven them.

This project was going to be a tough one, and not just because you were going to have to work with Peter Parker. "This is going to be a persuasive speech, guys, so you're able to pick your stance freely so long as it pertains to the Avengers. For example, you could persuade us that they're bad, if that's how you feel." Ms. Lovell explained, "Just be prepared to face debate from the class. Each group has to face five full minutes of argument from the class and be able to firmly debate their stance."

A project in which you'd have to argue your stance pertaining to the superheroes that had killed your sister, and you were working with Peter-Spiderman-Parker. Great, you thought to yourself, this was going to be a nightmare. There was no way the two of you would agree on what stance to persuade; you hated superheroes, and he was one, for God's sake.

You glanced over at Peter, only to catch him already staring at you. The pair of you quickly looked away from each other, but you noticed the way his cheeks flared red in embarrassment. How long had he been watching you? Was he dreading the project now as much as you were?

He probably didn't know how you felt about the Avengers. Not many people really cared enough to read about what had happened to your sister, and you weren't exactly in the right state of mind to be out protesting the many shortcomings of the superheroes. You wondered, though, how he would react when he found out.

Lying was an option, but there was no way you'd be able to debate in favor of the Avengers without breaking. Could you debate against them without losing it either, though? You weren't entirely sure. It was a sore subject and you were certainly not looking forward to having to dedicate your time to speaking about them.

Peter lingered by his seat after class was dismissed, staring at you awkwardly as he told his friends he would catch up with them later. You could see the strange, weary looks they shot you, but you chose to ignore them. Everyone looked at you a little funny ever since the incident, and you'd long ago grown accustomed to it. This time, though, you couldn't help but think they were looking at you strangely for a reason other than your sister.

You had two options. You could suck it up and talk to Peter right then, or you could continue to ignore him until you were forced to do the project. Catching his warm brown eyes as he timidly watched you, you sighed. It was now or never; maybe if you were nicer he'd back off a little with the obsessive tendencies.

"So," you drawled, approaching him shyly, "how are we gonna do this?"

This was what she would have wanted you to do; that's what you chanted in your head as you forced yourself to at least seem somewhat approachable. "Uh, we could--we could meet up tomorrow? You could come to my apartment." he stuttered, scratching his neck awkwardly and fiddling with his backpack.

He radiated nervous energy, and the black hole inside of you consumed it greedily. You twiddled your thumbs just as nervously as you replied, "Do you, um, do you mind coming to my house instead? My parents are--they're a little weird about me going out because of... yeah."

God, his stutter was rubbing off on you, and you cringed at the way you stumbled over your words like a fool. It had been such a long time since you'd invited anyone to your house, let alone talked to anyone besides your parents and your therapist, and it was stressing you out. The exhaustion of the day was wearing you down rapidly, and having to socialize was making it worse.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course!" he spluttered, "Uh, could I get your number? So I can, like, text you when I'm coming?"

You hoped he didn't notice how much your fingers were shaking as you took his phone, struggling to type in your number as you mistyped multiple times. Once you'd saved your contact into his phone, you sent yourself a text so that you'd have his number too. You didn't exactly answer unknown numbers anymore, though if you were honest, you often didn't answer people you knew either. That was what drove your friends away.

Peter shot you a shy smile as you handed his phone back, and he asked, "Do you want to get started tonight, maybe? I could call you."

Biting your cheek, you paled. Tonight? You were exhausted, and the thought of having to talk for any longer made you nauseous. "No offense, Peter, but I... I really just need a break. This week has been a lot." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes as you stared at your feet.

"Oh, yeah, totally." he acquiesced, "I'll, uh, I'll see you tomorrow."

You didn't reply, only giving him a tight lipped smile that probably looked more like a grimace as you quickly walked away. Once you were out of his sight, your entire body drooped and the numbness steadily washed over you. It had been the longest day, and you were once again grateful for the escape from the overwhelming emotions.

Ever since she died, it was as if all your emotions were on overdrive. There were the many constant ones, like the guilt, shame, and anguish over her death. Along with those were more fleeting ones, like anger, disgust, and fear. Peter, though, he brought about a whole slew of new and equally as intense feelings that drained you.

He made you feel things like anxiety, apprehension, and hope. There was anxiety both due to his wild behavior in regards to you, but also because you feared he might tell people what he'd seen. The apprehension was due to your suspicion he was only so interested because you knew his secret, and was just as fearful that you would tell. But the hope, the stupid anticipation, was the worst.

It was the worst because a stupid part of you hoped he was genuine. You wanted him to really want to be your friend with no ulterior motives because, no matter how much you denied it, you really did need a friend. You wanted a friend. You wanted to let someone in.

You weren't buying it, though, because you were certain you couldn't handle the heartbreak of being wrong about his intentions and discovering he really did only care about his secret. You weren't going to let him hurt you, and if you had to shut yourself off from the world and hurt yourself to prevent it, then so be it. It was easier that way.

Peter Parker: hey i know you said you didn't want to start tonight but that doesn't mean we can't get to know each other

Peter Parker: so if you want, lets play 20 questions! i'll start. what's your favorite movie?

The typing cursor blinked at you tauntingly as you laid on your bed, huddled under the blankets with your thumbs hovering over the keys. That stupid part of you that wanted to make your sister proud begged you to go along with it, to let him be a friend, but you were terrified. You were terrified of the way you actually opened the text and went to reply without hesitation, something you hadn't done since before the incident. You were terrified of the way you wanted to reply, but the only thing that gave you pause was the fact that you didn't have an answer.

Movies weren't something you'd given much thought to in awhile. You knew all of your sister's favorite movies by heart, but your favorite movie? It was as if your brain opened an empty drawer. You didn't know what your favorite movie was.

You: i don't know

Peter Parker: what do you mean you don't know

Peter Parker: do you not like movies?!

You: i just don't know okay

You: i can't remember the last time i watched a movie.

That was a lie. You very well could remember the last time you'd watched a movie, and that was because it was with her. The weekend before she'd died, your sister had dragged you to the theater to watch some cheesy romance film she'd been gushing about for weeks. It was awful, but it was so utterly her that you'd weirdly enjoyed it. You enjoyed it because it made her happy.

Peter Parker: that's crazy wow

Peter Parker: no offense sorry

Peter Parker: it's your turn to ask

You: what's your favorite movie

Peter Parker: star wars but you can't ask the same question!! try again

You: fine

You: what's your favorite food?

Was talking to boys always this hard? You couldn't remember the last time you'd had to get to know someone, but you didn't think it had ever been so nerve wracking. Was something wrong with you? Was everything destined to be this hard now that she was gone?

Peter Parker: anything from Delmar's

Peter Parker: best sandwiches in Queens

Peter Parker: since you got a double and you technically didn't answer my first question, i'm asking you the same but also what's your happiest memory

Everything was always going to be hard. Reading his response, your lungs deflated in your chest and the numbness gave way to the all too familiar sensation of despair. She'd always loved Delmar's, insisting on getting the same sandwich from there every single Friday after school, and it had been your thing.

Would there ever be anything that didn't remind you of her? Remind you of the hole punched in your life where she used to be? It was hard enough dealing with the empty space in your room where her bed used to be, the empty chair at the dinner table where she'd used to sit, all the empty spaces she'd used to fill up. But the little things--the little memories of things she'd used to love--those hurt so much more.

You: i have to go

You: i forgot i'm busy tomorrow so we can't start the project

You: i'm sorry

SERIES TAG-LIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton

[feminaexlux]

One Last Night in the Life of...

Hello folks this is your pilot speaking, please buckle up for some classic fxl Sexy Awkward coming your way!

Explicit!

Dedicated to @bloody-no-kissu, @chromemist for belated birthdays…

AO3 Linky here

⁂

Marinette had argued and eventually won the fight over paying for the smoothies. Luka had felt bad for “ruining” things, but she felt bad for having pushed him into the “date” with Adrien in the first place. She got to the counter to pay and the cashier working there leaned in close. “Hey,” she said. “Your girlfriend’s super cute!”

It felt weird to be complimented when she wasn’t in her own body. “Oh? Thanks? But we’re not going out.”

The other cashier elbowed the first one and said “See? I said she was out of his league.”

“What?!” Marinette yelled out loud. “No I–she’s not?”

“Hmm, I’m glad you’re optimistic!” the first cashier laughed, handing Marinette the two smoothies she ordered.

What the hell, Marinette thought. People were thinking Luka was… what… not handsome enough? He totally was! He… totally was. Maybe not the Adrien Agreste conventional sort of handsome but… What made him attractive was more that he was a freaking Saint and helped out everyone regardless of their circumstances. God, she thought back to when she was 14 and a stumbling mess over a crush that had been, in retrospect, severely crippling to Marinette’s self-esteem.

Luka never made fun of her for that. He'd… actively helped her try to find her own happiness.

And here, again, Luka had been given a bum deal and still stepped up to the task. He was too good for Marinette, honestly. She placed the smoothies down at a table Luka was waiting at. He’d been staring out the window at something.

“I really didn’t know Adrien and Kagami were dating,” Marinette said. “I know he said I got them dating but… all I did was… distract everyone so they could ditch Chloe’s parties together,” she sighed.

“Oh? Hmm. Yeah, I don’t think anyone knew about them. I asked Juleka since she got modeling gigs with Adrien sometimes. She said she had no idea.”

“I guess they had to keep it on the down low,” Marinette shrugged, taking a sip of her smoothie. She’d gotten blended strawberries. Usually she had… passion-fruit, but it seemed a little too sour for her today. She had gotten a blueberry mix for Luka. “It's… I’m not too surprised with what happened. I just wanted to say that… I’m not devastated or anything.”

Luka looked at her, staring at her with her own eyes. It was strange to see them looking so… confused and pained simultaneously. “Let’s take these back to the dorm.”

⁂

They chatted lightly on the way back to Marinette’s dorm, mostly about how difficult it was for Marinette to wrap her head around sound engineering and how Luka basically had no idea what was happening in her fashion courses. A few eyebrows were raised when “Marinette” brought back a boy to her personal room but no one had stopped them. They both stepped into the tiny space, and after the door closed behind them Luka asked “Can you help me take everything off? I have no idea how you ladies handle these things by yourselves.”

“It’s definitely easier having someone else help you take your clothes off,” Marinette laughed.

They both paused, replaying back what they had just said.

“I can try–” “I mean that–”

“I just wanted to–” “No no, I know how–”

“I already know what I look like undressed, Luka, let me get this,” Marinette said, half yelling in a slight panic with Luka’s voice. She reached over and unhooked the collar fasten, hastily pulling the back zipper down. “And I guess now you know too, right?” she laughed nervously.

Luka flushed instantly. “I'll… I’ll be right back,” he said shakily, gripping parts of the cute pink cocktail dress Marinette had chosen for the date. He stepped behind Marinette’s changing screen and shucked off the dress, throwing it over the top edge.

He’d seen her undressed, yep. He wasn’t going to go multiple days without a shower. He’d tried his best to not think about it but after two full days of still being Marinette he felt kinda grimy and figured she’d understand the necessity. Especially since there was that date with Adrien. He kept his eyes to the ceiling most of the time but nearly died from shock when he looked down to towel off and discovered The Heart.

What body hair she had down there had been kept neat and trim, probably… waxed actually, except for a patch that was in the unmistakable shape of a heart.

Luka felt like he might have violated some unspoken contract that they weren’t going to judge each other’s body choices. He was judging right then, and he found himself having many, many emotions over it. Some amusement, some “this seems so Marinette”, some wistfulness over not being the lucky asshole who would have discovered it under more natural circumstances.

He also found himself being incredibly turned on.

Now that he knew it was there he couldn’t help himself imagining a giggly Marinette laying back on her bed, her biting her lip in anticipation as… someone… slowly slid her panties off her and uncovered the surprise. God how he wished that’d been him. But it hadn’t, he discovered it the wrong way, he was going to respect Marinette’s choices and her privacy by never mentioning it and… never thinking about it again.

Or desperately try to not think about it anyway.

He shook his head and put on some relatively comfortable clothes. This wasn’t the thing to focus on right now. “Marinette” just had a somewhat boring date with an Adrien Agreste who turned out to not only be more oblivious than Luka had initially thought, but also had already been dating someone else. It didn’t sound like Adrien was going to jump ship to get with Marinette.

And Marinette was probably trying her hardest to not break down in front of Luka. She’d loved Adrien for years. And Luka had slammed that door shut on her unintentionally. So he had to man up and take the L, let himself take the blame, let Marinette work through whatever she needed to while being present to listen if she wanted him around. Not that he could really go anywhere else since she suggested going back to her dorm and this was where “Marinette” was supposed to sleep for the night.

He walked back out and found Marinette laying back in her bed (in his body, that was still going to be weird) rolling her… his eyes at her phone. “Do… you wanna talk about what happened?” Luka asked.

⁂

“I don’t really have more to say,” Marinette shrugged. “I’m glad it’s over?”

Luka blinked back at her, somewhat doubtful. “I thought you’d be… well, it was Adrien and I thought you were still… after him?”

Marinette looked down at her phone and the explosion of texts and voicemails she had. Many of them had been from Adrien, in various flavors of “I’m so sorry”, the last text of which she had replied “I accept your apology but I don’t want to talk right now.” A few had been from Nino, also various flavors of “I’m so sorry dude” (she gave the same reply), from Alya going “Holy shit Luka actually did this for you?” (“yep talk later”), and two from Kagami that were practically essays of how she was punishing herself for not explaining more clearly to Adrien, but that she had also assumed Marinette had been over Adrien for a while. The second text said Kagami would continue to punish herself for making the assumption, that she had severely damaged their friendship, and that she would do her best to restore Marinette’s trust (Marinette’s amused reply was “kags ilu talk later”).

Marinette would deal with all of that later. Right now, she just wanted to relax. With Luka. As if I’d done the hard part, she mentally berated herself.

“The funny thing is,” Marinette started softly. “I know I was in the Friendzone and have been for a while. What I finally realized a while back is that I put Adrien in the Boyfriend-Zone, and… that wasn’t really fair to him, you know? He has his own choices to make and… I wasn’t one of them.” She sighed. “I wish I could have realized it sooner and moved on, but I guess there had been a tiny part of me that still jumped at the chance to see what… what things would be like if he saw me any differently.

"So when… today happened it was just… it felt to me like the one last chance where I could finally get some answers. Or closure, anyway.” Marinette looked back up to Luka, who had been standing stock still. She peeked down at the hands and saw that they were trembling. “And I got both, thanks to you,” Marinette smiled.

“Not sure you should be thanking me for anything just yet,” Luka said. “I had kinda yelled at Adrien on the way out. He’s going to think that was you.”

“I know,” Marinette laughed. “I don’t think anything you said was wrong, though. Except for the part where I was in love with Adrien for ages. It lasted like 2 years, tops, and that first year was so cringey. And if Nino had to remind Adrien to think about me it kinda says more about how much we’ve drifted apart over time. So really, you said to Adrien what I’d been thinking myself. I’m just not brave enough to say it like you did.”

Luka pulled out her desk chair and plopped down. “Okay. Alright. That does make me feel better,” he sighed in relief.

“Luka, why are you so worried for me?”

He sat up a little straighter. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Marinette sat up and leaned forward, reaching out to take Luka's… her hands and Luka closed… her eyes. “Dingo told you, didn’t he?”

Marinette laughed a little. “Yeah. I heard from him.”

“Sorry. I’m really trying to not mess up your–”

“Luka, am I important to you?”

He opened her eyes and shut up for a moment, surprised. “Of course you are.”

“Then don’t apologize. I’ve seen the way you’re trying to… make things easy on me. I basically put you on a train wreck today and you’re still being selfless and worrying about me. My hands will be fine, I want to make you feel better. Is there anything I can do for you?”

He laughed, taking in a deep breath. “Don’t think there’s anything I need. Except for getting my own body back.”

“Then what do you want?”

He shut up again. “I don't…” he trailed off. He shrugged. “I want you to be happy, Marinette.”

“Alright, done. Is there anything else?”

“‘Done’?”

“In spite of this… akuma nonsense… I think I’m happy just being here with you.”

⁂

Luka wasn’t sure how to parse that… and maybe he shouldn’t read much into it. But he still felt some heat on his face.

“Huh,” Marinette commented. “Am I really that obvious when I blush?”

He laughed. “Yeah, a bit.”

She leaned back while still holding on, pulling Luka and the chair closer to the bed, the wheels of the desk chair squeaking lightly as they rolled. “Come relax on the bed. It feels like a laying in bed kinda day.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Most of the day’s over, you know that?”

“Even better,” Marinette laughed. “It’s just… you know. It's… I’m just thinking…” she sighed. “It’s weird. What do you think we’ll do if we’re stuck this way?”

“I have no idea,” he said, moving to the bed and leaning back toward the foot of the bed, away from Marinette. “I’m barely holding together as it is,” he sighed.

“Is it hard being me?”

He considered. “Yeah, kind of. I think it’d be hard to be anyone but me. What about you? Was it hard pretending to be me?”

Marinette giggled. “I got a lot of pointers from Juleka and Dingo. Really the hardest part was figuring out what to do about erections,” she laughed, then stopped and looked wide eyed, propping herself up her… his elbows. “OH I DIDN’T GET OUTSIDE HELP FOR THAT! Just! Just wanted to clarify!”

Luka choked on air, flushing again. He coughed, pulling up Marinette’s shirt by the collar over his… her head to hide his… her face. Well shit, what was he going to say to that? Oh that’s normal you kinda have to… touch it until it goes away? But… the idea that it’d been Marinette touching him, well, that set off a new wave of really intense feelings and he was glad he kept his… her face hidden.

“Pfft, Luka are you embarrassed?”

“Completely. Give me a minute,” he sighed. After a bit he set her shirt back down. “Yeah, I didn’t warn you about that, I guess,” he said, still flushed. “That… must have been weird for you,” he said carefully, remembering how foreign and mind-blowing the concept was when he was still going through puberty.

“Yeah,” Marinette laughed. “I mean, it’s natural. Bodies are bodies, right? I was just kinda… surprised in the morning, that’s all.” She cleared her throat, also getting a little red. “Sorry,” she sighed. “I guess I should have… asked for permission? To… um. Deal with that?”

He laughed. “I… God, I don’t even know. You can do whatever you want with…” he gestured at his body. Don’t think about it, don’t think about how she touched you.

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Have you been doing 'whatever you want’ with…” she gestured at him.

He choked again. “No! No, I haven’t done… no, and I won’t,” he said quickly.

“That seems a little unfair,” she smirked. “If you’re telling me I can do what I want, why shouldn’t you do what you want?”

⁂

What the hell was she saying? God, Marinette, why are you being so weird right now? she asked herself.

Well. Part of it was… an odd sort of tension snap after that date with Adrien. And she did feel more relaxed than she’d been for years, being able to finally let go of an old obsession. When she got the closure she needed, she didn’t realize it’d come with a sense of elation at having a clean slate for the first time in half a decade.

Even if the universe closed a door on her, she felt like she’d been given freedom. Now she didn’t have to worry about how things could have been. She didn’t have to keep pining away in silence. She didn’t have to watch everything she did around Adrien. She didn’t have to… be someone else entirely just to be able to talk to him.

She regretted that she had put everyone else aside for that silly crush.

And now without Adrien as a distraction, there’d been someone else nearby who made her feel… really good… for just being herself. And she was here with him. There was just the minor inconvenience that they’d switched bodies.

“I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” Marinette asked worriedly. “It just struck me as… how many people have an opportunity like this? To really experience another life outside of their own? A completely different body? Don’t you want to… explore that?”

What the hell am I saying?

Luka snorted, still red. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that? You’re dealing with this a lot better than I am.” He sighed, putting himself against the wall. He cleared his throat. “I never really thought about it until now. I don’t want to… mess up anything.”

“What if I helped?” Marinette blurted out, sitting up all the way. What the hell am I saying? “I mean, I know how my body works. I could help you… explore whatever you want to? I… I think it might be an interesting experience!”

He took a deep breath, still blushing, but something about his raised eyebrow said his curiosity was piqued. “Are you suggesting that you… touch me while I’m in here?” He pointed at her body.

“Y-yeah, it’s that… if I can teach at least one guy to handle me properly I’d want it to be you!” Oh hell, I just said that, she thought at herself. She opened her mouth to try to take it back, then closed it again, stopping herself. It’d been a conditioned reflex to try to take back the things she said, but she didn’t want to this time.

“Could… you… explain that?” Luka asked slowly, his eyes open wide.

“Okay, so,” she started, trying to sort her thoughts. “I’m finally not hung up over Adrien for the first time in a long time, and it’s in part thanks to you, and I was just thinking well if we’re stuck in these bodies we might as well know how they work? And maybe Ladybug and Chat Noir will figure it out and fix things for us but I also was thinking I want to know more about… what feels good for you and I also want… you to know what feels good for me… if you want that… because I-I… I'm…” She breathed. One last hurdle. “I’ve had feelings for you for a while… And I know this is like horrible timing but… maybe… this might be an opportunity where we could try something? A-and learn more about each other? Together? If you want?”

Here’s to hoping I didn’t get this wrong… she thought. On some level Luka had always been clear about his feelings toward her. He’d even liked her when she was throwing herself at Adrien. But… since she took this long, maybe he’d moved on. At least with the rush of relief sweeping over her with the Adrien Feels all over and done, she might not feel this particular sting so badly if Luka was… was going to turn her down.

No, no, she definitely would so she really hoped he wouldn’t.

“Wow,” he breathed out, shaking his head in disbelief. Her heart stalled. “I… really wish I was back in my own body right now.” He sat up and turned toward her. “This is… a little difficult to say when I’m looking at myself, but… Yeah. Alright.” He looked up at her. “Thing is, once we switch back I’m going to want to use all I’ve learned with you. Probably every day if I get a chance to.”

Her heart fluttered back online double-time. “That’s a naughty way of asking me to be your girlfriend.”

“You started it.”

“True,” she laughed. “Okay. Yes, Luka Couffaine, I’d love to be your girlfriend. Once I get back to being an actual girl again.”

He grinned. “Then I’m all yours. So, what do you want to show me?”

⁂

He ended up on her lap, sitting back against her (his) chest. “Th-this is how I usually um… start things,” she said shakily. She had first laughed over the fact that Luka had ended up wearing a sports bra because putting on a normal bra was too “difficult”, but then she got a little more nervous as he took off the shirt and sweatpants he had thrown on after they came back to her dorm.

He hadn’t really wanted to raid through her intimates drawer for anything other than what was necessary. There was just too much of a possibility that he’d discover something even more racy than The Heart.

He had stripped down to her underwear, feeling somewhat less self-conscious than he’d expected. She was going to show him what she wanted to show him of her own body, and somehow that was enough to let him forget whatever discomfort he had for a little while.

“I'm… I’m thinking that it m-might be easier to imagine… just imagine that you’re um… inside my head with me? S-so like it’s virtual reality. Except… you’ll feel everything too.” She was really nervous.

“We can stop at any time,” Luka said, to alleviate any tension. It’d be a little disappointing but he cared about Marinette more than he cared about… a lot of things.

Marinette pressed her… his face into his… her own neck and smiled. Marinette’s body was apparently pretty sensitive in that particular area because it felt way more ticklish than he thought it would have on his own body. Maybe? It wasn’t as if he had anyone put their lips on him like she just did… Maybe she’d be the one to discover that with him. “Hmm,” she said, “I’ll keep that in mind. You let me know when you want to stop too, okay? Wanna keep going?”

“Yeah, to both,” he answered. She laughed against his neck and he felt shivers run down his spine.

Marinette’s body was really sensitive. Good to know.

Marinette traced with her… his fingers down over his… her breasts and stomach, barely touching anything. Fingertips ghosted down thighs and back up to the panties, lazily following around opposite sides of the hem until the fingers met at the convergence point. Then she pressed a middle finger to the slit, rubbing up and down. Luka had no idea how to process this, but it was very… intense.

“What are you feeling?” she asked.

“Hard to describe,” he answered eventually. It was fascinating to feel… whatever it was. There was an insistent signal that something pleasant is happening but otherwise Luka just noticed Marinette’s body was… reactive. He finally started noticing that he was feeling hot.

And wet. Well now, that was… new… ish.

Marinette pulled aside the panties a little bit. And holy shit Luka jumped when Marinette touched the clit directly. “Are you alright?” she asked, stopping in place.

“It… feels pretty good,” Luka said, Marinette’s voice coming across higher pitched and a little breathy. Damn, if it hadn’t been Luka saying it, it would have been hot as hell to hear. “I’m alright,” he said, laughing a little. He said that a bit early, perhaps, because Marinette put her fingertip inside him. That felt… completely and utterly new. He let out a very Marinette sounding squeak. “I’m okay!” he assured her when she stopped in place again.

“I’ll keep going,” Marinette said, her… no, his? voice sounding low and a little excited.

If… if Marinette was getting excited this was going to be a hell of a ride for Luka. She pumped her finger back in Luka and he still had no idea how to process everything. All of the sensations were rushing in, very foreign but… Marinette knew what she was doing. Even if she’d been using another person’s fingers, she knew exactly which spots to hit and exactly how hard to hit them. And she’d gone all in. “Mari–!” Wait, wait, wait. That sounded EXTREMELY wrong coming from her own voice.

Marinette laughed. “Remember,” she whispered against his neck. “Just pretend you’re me.” She just kept going and Luka’s mind was more or less melting away. She reached under the sports bra to pull it up and squeezed a breast. It felt nice, but it wasn't… it wasn’t as intense as Luka had thought it’d be?

Until she pinched a nipple. “Holy…” Luka breathed. He didn’t notice it but he’d been breathing harder and faster. Marinette did something with her fingers and rubbed up against the clit and in that moment all of the nerves in the body Luka was in lit up and threatened to overwhelm him.

“Mmm, yeah, it feels good, doesn’t it?” Marinette whispered, using his voice so goddamn effectively. It’d been smooth and husky in equal parts, and for some reason it… it actually was kind of sexy. Holy crap he couldn’t think his own voice was sexy, could he? Well fuck, he was being fingerfucked by himself so why the hell not. She circled her finger inside, slipping in another digit to spread… spread her body wider. “Tell me, does it feel good?”

“Y… yeah,” Luka laughed. It wasn’t bad, it certainly wasn’t even just good, it’d been so different but it also felt kind of amazing.

“Sometimes I imagine… someone like you doing this to me, you know?” She said that so simply, like it hadn’t been enough that she was inside him. “I came so hard when I thought of you,” she admitted.

Well shit, how was he going to recover from that? “You thought of me?” he asked dumbly. Shit, it felt like he was close.

“I did, and I came while calling out your name,” she continued, turning what was left of his consciousness into soup. He was imagining her and him in exactly this situation, except back in their own bodies, and her body pressing up against his hand and her voice screaming out his name while she came on him.

And then he came.

It was… a different sort of coming than he was used to. Instead of the release crashing like a wave after it had crested to a high point, it felt more like… a boil. Little bursts of sensation and… it kept getting more and more… something. His… no, her body was in a sort of vibrato, rapidly flickering between too much and need more.

Holy shit, he thought. Apparently the sensation continued through for a while, following Marinette's… his finger’s movements. “Aah,” he breathed out. Or at least, he thought he’d been quiet. Turned out not quite, 'cause Marinette slowed down and stopped. He still felt the sensation of coming, just less amplified. Her body was still… tensing and the signals from down there were still pulsing but starting to taper off. “That… was something,” he laughed.

⁂

“Mmm,” she hummed against his neck. “Did you like it?”

“It was… yeah, pretty nice,” Luka said with a little hitch in his voice as he spoke. She noticed that he’d still been squeezing his hand into tight fists as she had been working him, but the fingers unfurled after he came. That was a good sign, he was relaxed. She drew out her hand from him and licked the fingers clean as he watched. It was an idle thought: if her juices tasted different from his perspective. The answer was not really. He let out a sigh. “God, I wanna taste you,” he said breathlessly.

She giggled a little. “Why don’t you, then?”

He turned and blinked back her own blue eyes at her, wide and dazed. “Uh, I…” He shifted a little in her lap and stopped moving, freezing abruptly. It took a moment for her to realize why.

She’d gotten hard. God that was so weird to realize.

She was pretty sure she’d gotten turned on when she was imagining him… in pretty much this same situation except with the two of them back in their own bodies. It was pretty bold of her to admit out loud that she’d gotten off to imagining him fucking her in her solo play… But she’d been feeling pretty emboldened in spite of, or most likely because of how bizarre the whole situation was.

She wasn’t in her own body. She didn’t have to think about anything the same way.

“Did you get turned on watching… me?” Luka asked, slightly amused.

“I got turned on imagining us,” she admitted.

He pulled his head back a bit in surprise, but nodded. He shifted again turning to sit sideways across her lap. Then he unzipped her jeans. “Let me take care of this,” he said, a smirk on his face. “As payback.” She let out a very un-Luka squeak as he pulled her out of the front opening of his boxers. He licked her fingers and wrapped them around his cock, squeezing and pulling up and rubbing a thumb over the tip.

And just as suddenly Marinette felt a rush of sensation.

It wasn’t even something that she could name, but all of a sudden she had gone from 0 (okay probably 20) to 80% done with just that… “Ohhh my god,” she breathed out. “Is… is this how it is for men?”

Luka chuckled and continued… palming her? Whatever it was he was doing, she should probably etch that into her memory. For “payback”. There was squeezing and stroking, fingers rubbing the underside and just barely skimming over the flared ridge. He took her thumb and pressed lightly into the very tip, spreading the slick drop over the increasingly sensitive head and sending Marinette so much closer to that 100%.

It didn’t take long to send her over that peak with the way he was using her hands. Marinette groaned and felt Luka’s body strain like a plucked string. Some part of her consciousness appreciated the delicious sound of Luka’s voice reverberating through her. She’d be able to do that to him from her own body someday.

She heard Luka laughing with her voice and after a few seconds of heavy breathing she peeked from half-lidded and suddenly very heavy eyelids. She… felt relaxed, a little bit tired. Hah, men, she thought.

⁂

There was a strange buzzing in the back of his mind and Luka could swear he heard some distant raucous laughter. He felt a weird pulling tension in his brain and had in his vision what seemed like an afterimage of… some outline of a neon yellow star?

He looked up and saw Marinette staring back at him in shock.

Oh.

This was… right. At least, this was how it was supposed to be.

He was in Marinette’s room and…

Apparently back in his own body?

And Marinette was still holding his dick.

“Uh,” he laughed, embarrassed. “I… don’t know what happened but…” He nervously shifted back and noticed his cum was on Marinette’s hands because of course he hadn’t thought about cleanup at the time like a dipshit.

“We’re back to normal?” Marinette asked, noticing the sticky mess on her hands.

He tucked himself back into his boxers and sat up straighter. “Sorry,” he muttered, the heat on his face continuing to build as she got up and rinsed her hands at her sink.

Marinette turned back around and bit her bottom lip while she dried her hands on a towel. “How… how did we… W-was it because we had–”

Luka coughed, cleared his throat and shrugged an “iunno”, suddenly unable to bear with the fact that they’d done what they’d just done. And gotten snapped back to their own bodies because of it? Holy fuck if that’d been the reason they got swapped back that’d be the most ridiculous fucking akuma. What even was the Lucky Charm trigger, their staggered orgasms? Did that even make sense? He shook his head and tried to look anywhere but at Marinette.

He heard Marinette giggling and he looked back sheepishly with a lopsided smile. She walked back across the tiny space and sat on his lap, resting her arms around his shoulders. “We’re back to normal,” she trailed off, a light blush on her cheeks. “Aaand we've… learned a few things,” she continued. Luka just nodded and wondered what was going through her thoughts. “Didn’t you say you’d use what you learned when we switched back?”

Oh.

Well then.

⁂

“Asterr, fade out!” Brielle wheezed through her laughter. There was a golden flash and a starfish kwami popped back into view, giggling along with Brielle.

“That was unexpected!” Asterr giggled, covering her mouth with her fins as the laughter took over again.

“Holy shit I didn’t expect them to go that far,” Brielle kept laughing. “Three days of nothing and all of a sudden they dove straight into that! Has that happened before?!”

“Star-Crossed is a tricky power and sometimes unpredictable, so I hadn’t seen something like this before!” the kwami said. “It depends on which two you switch! Why did you choose them, Bri?”

Brielle shrugged. “One, it’s hilarious. Two, they’re both shy as fuck except for the fucking apparently. Three, I knew they’d be okay, more or less. And four, it all worked out. Luka’s been stoic and accepting but I sure as hell can’t stand to see another year of that kicked puppy face when he thinks no one’s looking.”

“You’re a good friend, Bri,” Asterr giggled.

“I sure am.”

⁂

Thanks to @verfound for letting me borrow Brielle as well lol

[faded-neon]

[He winced slightly at Neon's speech, looking down and away in spite of himself. He couldn't bring himself to look into his younger self's gaze at that moment, terrified of what he'd see reflecting back at him, terrified to see the reminder of how much he'd failed. He'd failed to get here sooner. He'd failed to protect Neon. Faded had no earthly idea of how long he'd spent in that terrifying void between life and death, how long it had been before he'd been more or less yanked back into the land of the living, but he knew about Brozzith. Knew what Neon had had to go through without him, in a constant struggle of desperately trying to tread water while it just kept surging around him. Because he knew exactly how it felt. It was how life had felt not long after both Donnie and Usagi had died, if he had to be honest with himself. Like trying to bail water out of a ship that was doomed to sink no matter what he did.

Maybe he could have been here sooner. Maybe he could have saved his younger self from having to hang over that terrifying precipice, where you wanted to take that final step and let yourself fall into the void so damn badly but there was always that thought in the back of your head that even dying would manage to disappoint someone in your life, so you forced yourself to stay, the great howling hole in your chest growing larger and larger all the while. But the worst part was, Faded didn't know if he could have. Didn't know if fate would have been that kind to him, if it had ever been that kind to him. God only knew that he'd never meant to get his younger self tangled up in the mess that he'd left behind, but when trying to fix it seemed to have only broken it even worse than before--

Breathe. Breathe.]

I....I'm that way because I had to be. Any kindness, any mercy, anything....good.....that kind of environment just beats it right out of you. Sure, I was a good leader. I kept us going for as long as I could. But that was because nobody else was left to step up and do it, more than anything. I didn't have time to ease into it. They just chucked me in the deep end and expected me to learn how to swim. You....you have time to figure out what kind of leader you're going to be. You don't have to be like me. I hope you don't have to be like me.

[A heavy sigh.]

You're doing so much better than I could already. You're living your life. You're getting better. All of that happened, and you....you had a support network. And ways to cope. And I can't say that more things like that won't happen, at some point, or that things will always be easy. I think you know that too. But I feel like....in terms of healthy coping skills and moving on....you're doing better than I ever could. I feel like I have to live up to you, actually. You're doing well, and I'm still....you know. Tripping over my own feet and flailing around and trying to find steady ground again.

[A pause. And then he reached out to lay a hand on Neon's shoulder, squeezing lightly.]

I.....kind of wish I'd been there too. There's probably no way that I could have gotten here sooner, but I wish I could have told you that it wasn't your fault and not just left you to figure it out. For what it's worth, though....I think you're doing a pretty decent job of it so far. You seem like you're doing....twice as well as I did. Pretty hard to not feel....jealous sometimes. Which isn't really fair to you, since we're....technically the same person. It's just. Complicated. You have all this spark and fire and hope. And I'm still.....learning how to get it back. You do all these things that I almost forgot how to and it's....inspiring. For me. To try and push myself to do better and get better.

....I just hope I can be someone you're proud of.

[Okay. Okay. He could do this. Just because the future version of his youngest brother had texted him and said that his future self wanted to talk to him, and had been concerningly vague about the reasoning for the talking, that didn't necessarily mean anything. Faded could just....want to talk to him about training. Or being a good leader. Or any number of other things. He could hear Donnie's voice in his head as he stepped through the portal and wound his way towards Faded's apartment, inhaling and exhaling as calmly as he could. You can't catastrophize off of a singular data point. It doesn't do anyone any good to think like that. Relax.

Easier said than done, when his heart felt about ready to pound its way out of his chest the closer he got to the apartment. Biting the inside of his cheek and trying to regulate his breathing, Leo simply raised one hand to knock upon the door, his voice somehow managing to come out remarkably steady in spite of his internal turmoil.]

Alright, old man, open up. Your Girl Scout cookie delivery is here.

(@faded-neon)