#but in the back of my mind there's a horrible darkness and hate that scares me and makes me feel so guilty

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 16

pairing — professor gojo x med student reader

summary — he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart — and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

word count — 11.5 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, substance and alcohol abuse, dark themes, unhealthy relationships, codependency, trauma, medical content and mentions of death, illness, abuse, and blood. full trigger warnings available on the masterlist. reader discretion is advised.

previously — unable to watch satoru turn to his abusive family for help with naoya's massive lawsuit, you're heading to his party against satoru's wishes, hoping to find something, anything, that might help his situation. but what happens when satoru decides to crash the party? and what will you find in that locked room?

author's note — hello lovelies, welcome back !! this chapter picks up right where we left off, but through satoru's eyes this time. also important note: this chapter contains a brief mention of SA concerning a background event not related to any of our main characters. as always, please mind all trigger warnings. and now enjoy the chaos <3

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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I saw her the moment I stepped into that goddamn party, and everything inside me went still. 

Like that moment right before you drown, when the water first fills your lungs and the world goes quiet. Terrifying and so still.

She stood there under those cheap neon lights, looking scared and yet so beautiful—beautiful in that terrible way that makes you want to destroy something, that makes you want to tear it apart just to prove it's real.

Every fiber of my being screamed to go to her, to grab her and get her the hell out of here. Away from this place, away from him, away from all of it. 

But I couldn't move. Couldn't let the mask slip, not here, not with all these eyes on me. So I plastered on that easy smile and played the part of the mildly annoyed professor who just happened to crash a student party.

As if my skin wasn't crawling with the need to use again, veins begging for something—anything—to take the edge off. As if the mere sight of her didn't make me feel like someone had reached into my chest and ripped my fucking heart out, her next breath away from something I might regret.

She looked up at me with those pretty eyes of hers, and I saw the guilt there, swimming just beneath the surface. And for one horrible moment I thought, Good. Let it pull her under like it's pulling me. Let it fill her lungs the way fear is filling mine.

I almost hated her then — for lying to me again and again, for doing stupid things behind my back again and again, for making me feel this goddamn helpless again and again and again and fucking again.

But what lay beneath was worse. Because I knew why she was here. Always trying to save me, even if it meant throwing herself into the deep end, drowning right alongside me. And that's the worst kind of torture, isn't it? 

Watching the person you love cut themselves open on all your broken pieces, bleeding themselves dry, yet still reaching for more. And that thought made me want to scream.

"We'll talk about this later," I said, forcing that easy smile back onto my face though everything inside me was screaming to get her out of this goddamn house before she got herself into more trouble. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need a drink."

I pushed past her, shoulder grazing hers, and I had to clench my fists to keep from turning back. Had to bite my tongue until I tasted blood to keep from saying something I couldn't take back. She had no idea what she did to me. Or maybe she did, and that was even worse.

Love and hate tangled together in my chest until I couldn't breathe. Because that's what she does to me — makes me feel everything at once, until I can't tell what's real anymore. Until I can't tell if I want to love her or ruin her. Until I can't remember which one would hurt more. Who I was before her. If I was anyone at all.

And it hit me then, as I left her standing there, all defiance and reckless stupidity and so unbearably precious it physically hurt—this must be what they mean when they say love and hate are two sides of the same coin. Because I loved her so much it felt like hatred. Hated her so deeply it could only be love.

Always on the razor's edge. One wrong step, and we'd both bleed out. Maybe we already were.

When was the last time I even went to a party like this anyway? Years ago, probably. Back when I could still pretend I had my shit together. Before I understood what it meant to love someone so consuming that self-destruction became a form of worship.

I needed a drink. Maybe ten. Maybe something stronger. 

Bass thundered through the floorboards as I shouldered my way deeper into the house, some shitty pop track slamming in my skull. Or maybe that was just the rage still burning in my bloodstream.

Sweaty bodies pressed in on all sides, but I barely noticed, lost in the chaos raging in my head. Lost in the desperate need scratching at my throat to turn back, to find her, to make sure she hadn't slipped away like every other good thing in my life.

I ordered vodka. First sip burned, but not enough. Never enough to wash away the fear, to forget that she was here, in this house, with him. The same bastard who'd tried to—My grip tightened on the glass. Yeah. Definitely needed something stronger. Here's hoping these kids still remember how to party.

"Professor Gojo! No way!"

A group of my students appeared beside me at the bar, their faces flushed with alcohol. Aoi, of course—that kid was everywhere. And Miwa, looking starstruck as always. Just my fucking luck.

"Is this what you all do instead of studying for my exams?" I asked, letting that easy smile slide into place.

"Come on, Prof, we've been killing ourselves over your damned hard exams," Miwa chimed in, all bright eyes and alcohol courage. "We deserve a break."

I let myself slip into the familiar role. The cool professor. The guy everyone wants to hang with. It was easier than I expected, letting their drunken energy wash over me, cracking jokes, making them laugh. Almost enough to wash out the withdrawal that made it nearly impossible to think straight. Almost enough to forget why I was really here. Almost.

Aoi was rambling about something, but I wasn't listening. Instead, I turned slightly, catching her gaze across the room. She looked at me like she wanted to kill me. Funny, how we wanted the same thing sometimes.

My woman. My stubborn, reckless, absolutely infuriating woman. Even now, with me watching her from across the room, I could see that defiance bright in her eyes. Even now, even here, in defiance of everything I'd asked of her, she stood her ground. 

It was admirable, really. And sometimes, that very defiance made me want to break her. Perhaps only to prove I could. To prove she wasn't in control. Perhaps because I was terrified that I wasn't. That I never was.

It's terrifying how thin that line is.

"See? Fucking legend!" Aoi raised his beer, at something I said, I think. I can't remember. Something clever, probably. Something that fits the role. "To the coolest professor on campus!" 

I raised my glass, I think. I can't remember. And that's when I caught sight of them by the front entrance. Suguru walked up to her, still standing where I'd left her, and cradled her face in his hands, tilting it up to meet his gaze. My god, could he be any more obvious about it?

I knew that look in his eyes. Had seen it countless times before, during all those long hours in the lab when he thought I wasn't paying attention. The way he'd lean in close to check her work, his hand lingering on her shoulder a moment too long. The way his eyes would follow her every move.

My best friend, in love with the love of my life. What a sick fucking joke.

He was examining her face now, probably making sure she was alright, being the good, caring friend he always was. His thumb brushed across her cheek, and something violent stirred in my gut. Because she didn't pull away. Of course she didn't. She never did, not with him.

They looked good together, standing there in the dim light. The brilliant researcher and his gifted student. No addiction between them. No sharp edges that sliced you open if you got too close. And I hated that.

I watched as she placed her hand over his, the gesture unbearably tender. Watched as he smiled down at her, that gentle smile he reserved only for her.

And just for a moment — one single, agonizing moment — I let myself picture a world where I hadn't reached her first. Where she'd chosen him instead. The better man. The one who'd never drag her down into his own personal hell.

The thoughts spiraled darker, louder, until I could barely breathe through the noise. Glass creaked under my grip. I needed a fucking pill. Needed something, anything, to make this stop. To make everything just fucking stop.

"Professor?" Miwa’s voice. "You okay?"

More students crowded the bar, blocking my view of them. One of them—what was his name? Third-year, not a complete idiot—shoved another beer into my hand. I chugged it in one long pull, their chatter fading to background noise.

"Well." That voice. That fucking voice. "Look who decided to crash my party after all."

I turned, meeting Naoya's scarred face with a smile that was all teeth and no warmth. "Zenin. Quite the gathering you've got here."

"Indeed." He signaled the bartender. "I gotta say though, I'm surprised to see you here, Professor. Don't tell me you're playing chaperone tonight?"

His words stripped away any pretense. He knew. Of course he fucking knew why I was really here. Not that I'd been particularly subtle about it.

"Just felt like reliving my youth," I said, taking the drink he offered. Anything to keep my hands busy, to keep myself from finishing what I'd started with his face.

Zenin's smirk widened, the scars pulling his flesh into something even uglier. "Ah yes, the good old days. Back when teachers knew their place and didn't go around screwing their students."

The fake smile slid off my face, the glass creaking in my grip as I pictured how easily his windpipe would crumple under my hands. How satisfying it would be to watch that smirk disappear for good.

"Careful, Zenin. Your face is already fucked up enough as is. Would be a damn shame if something happened to what's left of it."

He laughed, the sound grating on my last nerve like nails on a chalkboard. "Always so protective. But tell me, Professor, does she know the real reason you're here? Does she know about the—"

"Enough," I bit out.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" His eyes flicked across the room, landing on her. The way he looked at her made my vision bleed red around the edges. "She really is something else, isn't she? Too bad I didn't get a chance to get her alone that night—"

My hand lashed out before I could think, fisting in his collar. The fabric bunched in my grip as I hauled him close enough to see my own fury reflected in his eyes. "You fucking—"

Then Suguru was there, his hand slamming down on the bar between us. Silent, steady—a wall between me and a one-way ticket to unemployment. He didn't say a word, just fixed me with that look. The one I'd explicitly asked for earlier. Stop me before I do something I'll regret.

Fuck, I was really starting to regret that request right about now.

Then I felt her—her touch impossibly gentle as she laid her hand on my bicep, the heat of her skin seeping through my shirt. She leaned in close, "Satoru, can we talk for a minute?"

Her soft plea sliced through the haze, and suddenly I became acutely aware of the deafening silence that had fallen over the room, of the countless eyes boring into us.

I uncurled my fingers from Naoya's collar one by one, even though everything in me screamed to finish what I'd started. To paint the walls with whatever was left of his face. But I couldn't. We both knew. So I stepped back and followed her.

─── ·✧· ───

She led me through the crowd, her fingers still wrapped so gently around my arm. We pushed our way past the prying eyes, down a hallway, until she found what looked like an empty office. Probably belonged to Naoya's father, judging by the dark wood and that rich people smell.

For a moment, we just stood there, neither of us willing to shatter the fragile silence. Moonlight sliced through the blinds, turning everything silver and strange, like we were underwater. Maybe we were. I wasn't sure anymore. Her hand slipped from my arm, and suddenly I felt cold.

I collapsed into the chair behind the desk, the leather groaning under my weight. She stood silhouetted at the window, arms wrapped tight around herself, and I had to look away. Had to focus on something else, because I knew one glance at those eyes and I'd break.

My fingers found the pill on their own. Out of habit, really. Without thinking, I snatched up the silver letter opener next to me and crushed the pill beneath it, watching the powder scatter across the polished wood like fresh snow. I bent down and let the burn fill my nose, sear through my brain, numbing everything in an instant. 

When I looked up, she was staring. Always fucking staring, with eyes that flayed me to the bone. And she did it so effortlessly. Saw through everyone around her with that unnerving precision. Or maybe she saw through everything so clearly because she looked for the very things she wanted to hide from others.

"That's new," she said. Not an accusation. I was glad it wasn't.

"It's faster."

I averted my gaze and sank deeper into the chair, letting my head fall back against the headrest as warmth flooded my veins and the ceiling blurred and shifted above me. And then everything went soft around the edges, like looking through frosted glass.

A long exhale escaped my lips. Finally—fucking finally—the constant noise in my head, all that shit I can't shut up—the love, the hate, the fucking terror of it all—it faded to a whisper. The world got a little quieter, a little less sharp. A little more bearable.

For one perfect moment, I could actually breathe. Could almost convince myself I was in control. That this wasn't killing me. That I could walk away if I had to. That I wasn't fucking terrified of losing her. Of becoming him. Of everything.

I groaned, fingers raking through my hair, pulling, needing the pain. My hands were shaking again. Or maybe they never stopped. I couldn't tell anymore.

"You're angry," she said.

"No shit. What gave it away?" I scrubbed my hands over my face. "You showing up here after I specifically fucking told you not to? Or me nearly rearranging Zenin's face again?"

"Satoru—"

"Don't." I squeezed my eyes shut, fingers yanking at my hair again, trembling worse now. From the drugs, the rage, the fear, who the fuck knew. It all bled together these days. "You have no idea what he'd do. If something happened—" I stopped. Couldn’t continue.

"I'm not alone," she said, like that made a difference. "Maki, Yuta, Toge—they're all with me. We're being careful."

"Careful?" I sat upright, forcing myself to meet her gaze. "There's nothing fucking careful about this! It's reckless! You shouldn't even be—"

"I'm doing this for you—"

"Don't." I cut her off. "Don't make this about me."

"But it is!" She stepped closer, eyes blazing. "What, you expect me to just stand by and watch? While you fall apart?"

"This isn't your problem to fix—"

"Like hell it isn't!" Another step. Her eyes seared into mine. "I can't fucking take it anymore. You're in this mess because of me. Because you protected me that night. So don't you dare tell me this isn't my problem to fix."

I stared at her, something in my chest fracturing. "You think that's why I'm doing this? Because I feel obligated?"

"I think you're trying to protect me, like you always do."

"Then don't make me protect you all the goddamn time!" I shoved up from the chair and braced my hands on the desk. "I beat him within an inch of his life that night. I would've killed him if—" My throat closed around the words. "And I'd do it again. In a fucking heartbeat. That's what scares the shit out of me. What I become when it comes to you."

She went still.

"And if he hurt you again," the words scraped out of me, "I—I don't know what I'd do. So please. Just please don't make me find out."

I said the words I'd been turning over in my head for what felt like eternity. Don't make me find out, don't put yourself in danger, don't break my fucking heart. Which really meant break me all you want, just don't leave. I wouldn't survive it.

Her gaze dropped briefly to my hands, and she said, "You done?" 

Her question threw me. Done? God, this infuriating woman. But then I followed her line of sight and saw my hands clenched into white-knuckled fists around the desk’s edge. I slowly released them, my knuckles cracking in the sudden stillness.

I slumped back into the chair, exhausted, defeated, throwing an arm over my eyes. "God, I fucking hate you." The way she stood there, unflinching, unafraid—it made me insane. "I hate that you make me feel like this—so fucking terrified all the time."

"You don't hate me," she said.

"Sometimes I'm not so sure anymore," I answered.

How does it never get easier, I wondered. Loving her. Needing her. It just cuts deeper, spreads further, until I'm drowning in the ache. Until I can't breathe without feeling it in my lungs. And yeah, I hate her for that sometimes.

I couldn't look at her. I knew she'd be there, unyielding, waiting, enduring everything I threw at her, as she always did. Never breaking. Maybe that's what I hated most.

"You're so fucking stupid," I breathed, but it came out wrong. Too soft. Too much like 'I love you'. Too much like 'Please don't leave.' 

"I think that's mutual." She crossed the room then and leaned against the desk, arms folded over her chest. "I'm sorry I lied to you."

I lowered my arm and looked at her. "No, you're not."

"I am sorry for worrying you," she tried again, and I almost believed her, wishing desperately that she'd never have to worry about anything the way I worry about her. "Go ahead, say it. Tell me how stupid I was to come here. I know you're dying to."

"Why would you think that?"

She kept her eyes fixed on the floor. "Because it's true. I make the wrong choice every fucking time."

I watched her, this brilliant, stubborn woman that I love so much, beating herself up over choices that weren't really choices at all—just impossible situations with no right answers. Like there was ever a right answer. And sometimes she reminded me so much of myself. As if I hadn't spent years doing the same thing, and probably still do.

But seeing her do it—it was like staring into a mirror and seeing not just my reflection, but the reflection of everything I hated about myself.

"I think that's mutual," I echoed her words back to her.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed up from the chair, gripping the edge of the desk for a second. Then I reached for her, hands landing on her hips, tugging her close, needing her close. My lips ghosted over hers. Hesitant. Unsure. When she didn't pull away, I kissed her. My hand came up to cradle her face, thumb skimming her cheekbone as I deepened the kiss.

"Alright, what's the plan?" I murmured against her mouth.

She told me about the locked room upstairs and her plan to get it. So calm. She told it so calm. Like it was that simple. Like this wasn't the most insane thing I'd ever heard. But I knew she'd go through with it no matter what I said.

"You seriously think I'm gonna let you anywhere near him with alcohol involved?"

"No," she said. "I think you're going to help me."

"Times like this, I'm really feeling that age difference between us," I said, but we both heard the resignation in my voice. The moment I'd already lost this fight.

"So you'll help?" she asked, ignoring my comment.

Before she could celebrate her victory, I yanked her closer, fingers twisting in her hair. With a sharp tug, I forced her head back until she had no choice but to meet my gaze, her throat bared. Our eyes locked, and I saw the instant her breath hitched.

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

"When we get home, you're gonna make it up to me for all the stress you've caused. Got it?"

"Is that really how you want to play this?"

"Oh, love, I think we're way past propriety at this point."

A shiver ran through her — one that made me almost smile. I could feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips, could feel the way she melted into me despite herself. It almost made this whole mess worth it.

"Now then." I pulled back just far enough to look her in the eye. "let's have some fun, shall we?"

─── ·✧· ───

So, here's the fun story about how I ended up playing beer pong with my arch-nemesis (besides Sukuna, that is) against my future lovely wife and some chemistry nerd who wouldn't shut up about covalent bonds. Not exactly the Saturday night I had in mind.

I mean, here I was, standing next to Naoya — yeah, the same guy whose face I'd rearranged a few months back — trying to aim at red plastic cups while you were absolutely wiping the floor with us. Turns out that whole '10 years of grief training in alcoholism over your dead father' wasn't just a cute phrase you threw around. Who would've thought?

But really, trying to out-drink an opioid addict? That's like challenging a fish to a swimming contest. Except the fish is in heavy withdrawal. So like, with no fin. Not my finest analogy. I blame the alcohol. What was my point again?

Anyway. Most annoying part? This chemistry department kid with these wide, bright eyes wouldn't stop talking to you about molecular structures. And you were actually entertaining him. At a party. About electron transfers. Of all the insufferable things.

"So if you consider the aromatic compounds—" he was saying, and I swear on my medical license, I didn't mean for the ball to hit him. And I definitely didn't mean for it to hit him that hard. Pure accident, really. 

The ball bounced off his shoulder, effectively shutting him up. They both turned to look at me. "Molecular restructuring in organic compounds? Really?" I shrugged. "At a party?"

She shot me that look. You know the one. The classic 'I-can't-believe-I'm-sleeping-with-this-idiot' glare. It's become quite familiar these days.

"Trouble in paradise?" Naoya said beside me, and I briefly considered rearranging his face again. For symmetry's sake, of course.

But then she bent over to pick up the ball, and suddenly organic chemistry was the furthest thing from my mind. I definitely shouldn't have let her leave the house in that skirt. Though knowing her, she probably wore it just to torture me. 

"Getting distracted, Professor?" she said, straightening up with that little smile that never fails to make me want to do wildly inappropriate things to her in very public places. She leaned across the table, deliberately tapping one of our cups with her finger, giving me her most innocent eyes. Because apparently, driving me insane was her new favorite pastime.

"Me?" I lifted the red cup she'd tapped to my lips, taking my sweet time with the drink, my eyes never leaving hers. "Never."

And somewhere in the haze of beer and the way she was looking at me, I tried to remember why the hell we were even here. Oh right—something about stealing keys. Real professional operation we've got going here. The medical board would be so proud. Their star surgeon, reduced to playing beer pong as a distraction tactic. 

Naoya's keys were right there on the table, practically screaming to be grabbed. But between her legs in that skirt and the way she kept biting her lip every time she lined up a shot, I found myself giving fewer and fewer shits about saving my career and more about how quickly I could get her alone. Priorities. I clearly had them. Alcohol might have scrambled them a bit, I guess.

I caught a glimpse of Suguru standing off to the side of the beer pong table. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes darting back and forth between me and her like he was watching the world's most stressful tennis match. I really owed him one for putting up with this shit.

Near the chemistry kid, a girl approached who looked a bit like Higurama's intern—though I wasn't entirely sure. She looked different, wearing makeup and dressed up. But that couldn't be her. She'd avoid places with flashing lights because of her epilepsy. I must be seeing things.

Then Naoya, because clearly this shitshow wasn't enough of a disaster already, decided to "level up the process." He snapped his fingers at a passing bartender, and before I could process what the fuck was happening, there was a tray of perfectly lined up tequila shots on the table. Complete with cinnamon and orange slices, because apparently, we're keeping it classy while trying to get my future wife drunk.

"New rule," Naoya announced, his scarred face pulling into what I can only assume was meant to be a grin. "Next shot I sink, you drink both. Beer and tequila."

I glanced over at her, my gut churning. Not from the alcohol—it'd take a hell of a lot more than this to get me there—but from the way she met Naoya's challenge with a nod. That stubborn tilt of her chin that always meant trouble. My palms started to sweat.

Of course, Naoya's ball dropped perfectly into her cup. Because the universe really does have a sick sense of humor.

Watching her reach for both drinks, I found myself wondering what the medical board would be more pissed about — me playing drinking games with students, screwing one of my students, or the fact that I was seriously considering murder. Again.

Then, by some physics-defying miracle or sheer dumb luck, the chemistry kid actually landed a shot. He looked as shocked as the rest of us when the ball plopped into Naoya's cup. But it was her next shot that really got my attention — perfect arc, clean landing, like she'd been doing this her whole damn life.

"Drink up, Professor," she said, but there was something different in her voice.

She reached for the tequila, and then—fuck me—propped one leg up on a nearby beer crate, the motion making her skirt ride up just enough to flash a strip of skin above her tights. Wait. Those weren't tights. Those were fucking stockings.

My brain short-circuited as I realized she'd been walking around all night in stockings. Actual stockings, with what I knew had to be a garter belt hidden under that criminally short skirt. The same spot where she was now deliberately sprinkling cinnamon.

The sight of that exposed sliver of skin between stocking and skirt made my blood boil. When the hell had she even bought those? Had she worn them just for tonight, knowing they'd make me lose my goddamn mind? Was she trying to get herself killed?

Because right now, watching her purposely dust cinnamon on that band of exposed skin, I wasn't sure if I wanted to murder her or fuck her. Probably both. My mouth went dry, and it had fuck-all to do with the alcohol.

"Well?" She tilted her head, all innocence except for that knowing look in her eyes. "Coming to get your tequila?" 

Like she had to ask twice. Yet I hesitated. With all these people watching? What was she playing at? It was reckless, careless, like she was deliberately trying to expose us. It was power play, a challenge. And I knew, that she knew, that I couldn't resist.

A slow smile spread across my face as I sank to one knee before her, the crowd fading into a blur of noise. All that mattered was her—the way her breath hitched as I gripped her calf, the way she tensed as she realized that I made a whole show for her (poor girl didn’t expect that now, did she?)—the feel of her skin on my tongue.

I took my sweet time with the cinnamon, letting my tongue glide over the exposed strip of flesh, feeling her shiver. My teeth grazed her skin, just enough to draw a soft gasp from her lips. If she wanted a show, I'd give her a show. And part of me wanted to shove that skirt higher, to chase that taste of salt and cinnamon further up her thigh until—

Focus. Fucking focus.

I straightened, stepping into her space. She held an orange slice in one hand, the shot glass in the other, and I couldn't help but notice how her pupils had blown wide, how her chest rose and fell just a little faster than normal.

I plucked the orange from her fingers with my teeth, my lips brushing her skin, then took the shot glass, using the movement to press closer, my mouth right by her ear, "What exactly is your plan here?"

"Create distraction," she breathed back.

God help me, but it was working. I was definitely distracted. Whole damn crowd was distracted. And watching her play this game—watching her play me—was probably the hottest and most infuriating thing I'd ever experienced. And I'm pretty sure everyone could see I was hard too.

"You're distracting the wrong audience," I whispered before knocking back the shot.

In the midst of trying to control my homicidal urges over those goddamn stockings, she caught my eye and subtly jerked her head. I turned, making it look like I was just checking something, and spotted them—Zenin, Okkotsu, and Inumaki hovering on the other side of the table behind Naoya, waiting for their chance. 

Right. The keys. The whole reason we were here. I almost forgot.

The game continued, the tension building with each shot. We were down to the last round — winner takes all. That's when she decided to really test my patience.

"Let's make this more interesting," she announced, her voice carrying over the crowd. "Losers jump in the pool." A pause, then because apparently she was hell-bent on giving me a coronary. "No clothes."

"You wouldn’t dare," Naoya scoffed.

"Try me," she replied. 

I shot her a warning look. She subtly chewed on her bottom lip, meeting my gaze with an unnerving calm, perhaps her way of saying everything's gonna be okay. It did little to ease the knot in my stomach.

One shot left. If she made this, Naoya and I would be stripping down for a midnight dip. If she missed—

I tried not to think about her in that pool. Tried not to think about those stockings getting soaked. Tried not to think about murdering every sorry bastard who might lay eyes on her. Either way, this woman was going to be the death of me. If I didn't kill her first.

Naoya landed his shot, fucking prick. I missed mine for obvious reasons. Chemistry kid missed too, leaving everything on her shoulders. The ball left her hand, arcing through the air in what felt like slow motion. It circled the rim, then rolled away.

The crowd went wild. Naoya's victory smirk made me want to punch his face in. I glanced over at her, wondering for a second if she'd missed on purpose. But there was no time for that.

"Well?" Naoya's voice. "I believe the losers owe us a show."

"The game wasn't exactly fair—" I started, but she cut me off.

"Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted, Naoya?" She turned to him, her words sharp. "To see me undress without having to drug me first?"

The crowd went dead silent. Naoya's scarred face contorted into something ugly. "Watch your mouth, little girl. You're not as untouchable as you think."

"And you're pathetic," she spat back, then turned away from him. "At least I get to choose when I undress, right?”

She started walking toward the pool, each step deliberate, commanding. I followed, caught between pride and sheer terror at what she was about to do. At the edge, she turned back to me.

"Don't," I pleaded, but she was already reaching for the hem of her skirt. It fell, revealing the dark lace of her stockings. Then her top followed, and I stepped closer, trying to shield her from the leering eyes.

"This is insane." But my protest died as she stood there in only black lace, and then I saw them—the bruises from the fire still painted across her waist and ribs. Dark purple and yellow marks that hadn't yet faded, cruel reminder of how close I'd come to losing her.

The sight sobered me instantly. Something twisted in my chest, sharp and painful. The bruises I'd carefully tended to, the ones that still made her wince when I changed her bandages—on full display for this crowd of drunk idiots, turned into a spectacle.

"Please," I begged, my voice barely audible. "Don't do this."

She met my gaze, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I’d reached her. But then that smile—the one that sealed my fate—touched her lips. "Sorry, Professor," she whispered, and then she was gone, falling backward into the pool, taking a piece of me with her.

The splash echoed in my ears like a gunshot, and I was already shrugging off my jacket, ready to either dive in after her or use it to cover her when she surfaced. A cold, hard fury settled in my gut. Naoya was going to pay for this.

The crowd roared as she surfaced, her hair plastered to her face, water tracing the curves of her body beneath the soaked lace. Our eyes met across the distance, me standing at the pool's edge, and I didn’t bother to hide my disappointment. Something flickered across her face—regret maybe, or shame—before she looked away.

Hell broke loose. Bodies crashed into the water, sending waves across the pool. Even Naoya stripped off his shirt and dove in, reveling in the attention. The whole party seemed to shift to the pool in a matter of seconds — clothes flying, drinks splashing, the pristine water turning into a churning mess. 

Perfect distraction.

But I barely registered any of it, my world had narrowed to her. I watched as she climbed out, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the concrete, practically sprinting past me, her gaze fixed on the floor, while water dripped from her hair, her skin, the dark lace clinging to her form.

Behind her, the pool had turned into chaos — exactly what she'd planned, I realized. 

I gathered her clothes from where they'd fallen and followed her inside. I caught a glimpse of Okkotsu's quick movements near the discarded clothes by the pool. 

Well played.

─── ·✧· ───

Her dripping form drew curious eyes as we moved through the foyer. Each step felt like a penance—hers for the recklessness, mine for letting it happen. Heads turned, conversations died, the sudden silence punctuated only by the soft drip, drip, drip of water from her hair.

Kento’s face flashed past, but I barely registered him. No doubt he'd give me shit about it at the university later, like he didn't already know something was up with me and her.

I wrapped my jacket around her shivering shoulders, fighting the desperate urge to reach for the opioids hidden in my pocket. Withdrawal, guilt, and fury burned together in my veins, making me want to crawl out of my own skin. 

I stepped in front of her, partly to block all those eyes on her, partly to hide how bad my hands were shaking. None of it was worth it. Not the keys, not avoiding my parents, none of it. How did we end up here? How did I allow things to get to this point?

Upstairs, she dressed quickly, water still dripping from her hair, leaving damp patches on her clothes.

"Are you cold?" 

"I'm okay," she said, avoiding my gaze. 

She was shaking. I could see the goosebumps on her arms. "You're shivering," I said and reached for her, but she pulled away.

“I’m fine, really.”

Despite her words, I pulled her close. She didn't resist this time, tilting her face up to mine. Her eyes were bright, and for a second, I thought she might cry. The world could have been watching, for all I cared. If those tears fell, it would be my undoing.

And then I thought of everything she'd done, everything she'd had to do—for me. My twenty-four-year-old student, forced to protect me from my own damn parents, to beg for my own money. Because I’d hit a guy who tried to hurt her. Why was it all so fucked up?

The high was long gone, leaving this gaping hole. My limbs felt heavy, detached, like they belonged to a stranger, unable to reach out and fix what I’d broken. And we were so far from where we started.

"You're disappointed," she finally said. She wasn't asking.

"We should leave." Because I couldn't bear to watch her sacrifice one more piece of herself for me.

"You can leave."

Before I could say anything back, Zenin came bursting into our corner, Okkotsu and Inumaki right behind her, her eyes all lit up. "That was fucking insane!" she yelled, waving something around—Naoya's keys. "But it worked! I can't believe it actually—" She stopped short, finally noticing the tension between us.

The win felt empty. Yeah, we got what we came for. But what did it cost? Looking at her, still shivering a little in my jacket, I wasn't so sure it was worth it. I was supposed to protect her. Instead, I just kept watching her throw herself in the fire for me. 

Some professor I was. Some man I was.

Strange how winning can feel so much like losing, especially when you realize you're not the one paying the price.

─── ·✧· ───

I stayed outside Naoya's room, playing lookout. At least that's what I told them. Truth was, I couldn't stand being in there, couldn't bear being near her, watching her fight my battles while I was barely holding myself together.

The itch under my skin had spread, making my whole body crawl with invisible insects while she did the dirty work. Even after everything, she was still trying to save me. 

And I was still letting her.

I slid down the wall, my head hitting the floor. How did we end up here? What the fuck were we doing? What the fuck was I doing?

I'm thirty-five years old, for fuck's sake. Why was I acting like a goddamn teenager? I should've stopped her, shouldn't have let her leave the house to begin with, should've been the adult. But instead, I let it happen, standing by and watching where it led. Again.

This whole situation was insane. We were in too deep, and I knew it. But I couldn't seem to find my way out, couldn't seem to stop this trainwreck we were on. It was like I was watching it all happen from outside my own body, powerless to change course.

What kind of man was I? What kind of professor? I was supposed to be her mentor, her… something more. Instead, I was dragging her down with me.

I thought back to that night, the one that started it all. The night I found her in the lab, working late, hunched over her microscope. She looked up at me with those eyes, those damn eyes that seemed to see right through me. And I was lost. I knew it was wrong. I knew I should have walked away. But I didn't. I couldn't. Drawn in. Consumed.

And now, here we were. Trapped in this fucked-up situation of our own making. I wanted to blame her, to say it was all her fault for being so reckless, so damn stubborn. But I knew that wasn't true. I let this happen. I didn’t stop it. But why? 

I could replay the events in my mind, frame by frame, but the crucial moment, the point where I should have intervened, remained a blur. It was as if some part of me had wanted to see where this ended.

Music still drifted up from downstairs, the bass thumping through the walls. It felt wrong, out of place. Like we were in a different world, a fucked-up one, while everyone else was living their normal, happy lives.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it all out, trying to pretend, just for a moment, that this wasn't happening. That we weren't here. That everything was okay. But it was happening. And I was in it, and I knew I couldn't hold my breath much longer.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Kept seeing things in the corners of my vision. Shadows that shouldn't move but did, faces that weren't faces at all. The wallpaper breathed. In and out. In and out. Like a lung.

Stop it. Just stop all of it. Make it stop. But it won't stop, can't stop, because she's in there right now, digging through his things, trying to save me save me save me why won't she just stop trying to save me?

Everything felt wrong, sick, twisted. Too bright and too dark all at once. My skin didn't fit right anymore. Nothing fit right anymore. God, I needed a goddamn fix.

A cough. I pressed my hand against my mouth. When I pulled it away, my palm was red. 

Huh. That's new. 

I stared at the blood, watching it pool in the lines of my hand. It looked wrong somehow, too dark, too thick. The longer I stared, the more it seemed to move strangely, crawling along the creases of my palm.

Was blood supposed to move like that? Like it was alive? Like it was trying to tell me something? I couldn't remember anymore. I couldn't remember a lot of things lately. The blood kept moving, kept spreading. 

Maybe this was it—maybe I was finally losing whatever scraps of sanity I had left, sitting here on a dirty floor watching my own blood drip down my palm.

A part of me wondered if he'd been right all along, that I was becoming him, the very thing I’d always feared. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to be better, different. Not this—huddled on a filthy floor at a college party, watching my blood move as if in psychosis, while she risked everything for me. Again. 

The door handle turned. Shit. I wiped my palm against the dark carpet, smearing the blood into the fibers where it vanished like it was never there. I scrambled to my feet just as they emerged. She moved quickly, shoving something beneath the waistband of her skirt. Before I could speak, she grabbed my arm.

"Let's leave." There was something like panic in her voice. "I'll tell you outside."

I gripped her hand, my own pulse quickening, and we went downstairs and pushed through the mass of drunk students. But then the music cut abruptly, plunging us into a moment of strange silence before panicked voices filled the void. 

"What the hell—?" Okkotsu’s shout cut through the din from behind us.

Then I saw the flashing lights—red and blue strobing through the windows. Fuck. 

"Cops!" Someone shouted, and the whole house erupted into chaos as people scrambled in every direction.

"Everyone freeze!" A voice boomed through the foyer. "Nobody moves!"

We reached the entrance as two officers shouldered their way through the front door. The bigger one looked like he benched trucks for fun, taking up almost the entire doorframe as he planted himself there.

"Listen up!" he bellowed, one meaty hand resting on his belt. "Party's over. Nobody leaves until we check IDs."

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

I felt her tense beside me, those things hidden in her waistband might as well have been burning her skin. I could practically feel her panic.

"Look, officers." I stepped forward, forcing my voice into something professional. "There seems to be some confusion—"

"No confusion here," Truck-Bencher cut me off, the scar on his lip twisting as he frowned. "Got noise complaints, reports of underage drinking. Everyone stays put."

"I'm faculty at the university. These are my students and they're all over twenty-one. You're wasting everyone's time—"

"Nobody leaves until we say so."

"You really want to process IDs for over two hundred students?"

"You telling me how to do my job?" He shifted closer, chest puffed out despite me having two inches on him.

Withdrawal crawled beneath my skin like insects, each bite feeding the rage that built vertebra by vertebra up my spine. "Depends. Are you actually doing it, or just power tripping?"

"Back the fuck up." His hand dropped to his belt. "Last chance."

I felt her fingers digging into my arm, trying to pull me back. But the rage was a living thing now, burning away anything resembling sense or restraint. "Or what?"

The punch came fast. I dropped, and heard the sickening crack of bone against flesh—not mine. Some poor student next to me. For a heartbeat, everything stopped. Then chaos.

Bodies everywhere. Screaming. Shoving. Radio static cutting through the roar. Her hand in mine as we pushed through the surge. Her friends somewhere behind. Everything blurred. I can't remember when she let go of my hand.

I just remember the scream. Different from the others. Then her voice, "Get her on the ground!" I shoved through the mass of bodies. Saw the girl on the floor. Ice flooded my veins.

I knew that face. Higurama's intern. My patient. My responsibility.

I dropped beside her, my hands shaking so violently I could barely feel them. Her eyes rolled back. Withdrawal made everything too sharp, too bright. I couldn't think. Couldn't—

Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. It was her voice. Fingers gripped my arm. "Satoru, look at me." I met her eyes. Steady. Unnerving. "Focus."

Everything snapped back into place. My phone was in my hand before I realized I'd moved. "This is Dr. Gojo from Jujutsu Medical. Twenty-six-year-old female, epileptic, pre-seizure presentation. We need immediate assistance."

My voice was mechanical, professional. Inside, my mind screamed. Why was she here? Had she been drinking? Were her meds interacting with something? I should know this. Should be better than this. Should be fucking better. 

Nausea rose in my throat and I'd never felt more like a failure in my entire fucking life.

Behind us, the fight continued to rage. A man’s voice bellowed, trying to restore order. Then Suguru was there, kneeling beside her, his hands gentle as he cradled her head. He murmured something, soft and low. The tenderness in his movements caught me off guard. 

"The ambulance is taking too long." His voice cut through everything. Before I could process it, he had her in his arms, head protected against his chest and moved.

─── ·✧· ───

I can't remember how we got to the hospital.

Everything blurred into fragments. Flashing lights, squealing tires, the weight of everything crushing my chest. Each breath scraped like broken glass. My hands wouldn't stop shaking until I swallowed three pills. Maybe four. I lost count.

The fluorescent lights overhead were too bright, too harsh, making my skull feel like it was splitting open. I wanted to crack my head against the wall.

Some part of me was still moving, still speaking in that detached doctor voice — rattling off medical history, medications, possible interactions. Years of training overriding the screaming in my head. But they never trained us for this.

Never trained us for how guilt tastes like acid in your throat while watching your mistakes breathe shallowly on starched white sheets.

They taught us to make clean incisions, to suture arteries, to restart hearts. But not how your own heart would seize when you recognize the face on the floor. Not how your girlfriend’s hands would be steadier than your own worthless trembling ones as you fumbled for your phone, your throat closing around the words "this is my fault", "please" and "I'm sorry."

Didn’t prepare us for withdrawal turning your hands into treacherous strangers while someone seized at your feet. For the shame that festers in your gut as you come down, struggling to remember basic fucking dosages through the need scorching through your veins.

They never warned us how love would carve you open worse than any scalpel, making you both butcher and victim, instrument and incision. Never warned us about loving someone while you’re falling apart. How it feels like drowning in open air, your chest cracked wide and your beating heart wrenched out into daylight, desperate and terrified and somehow still pumping, still fighting, still so fucking afraid.

Higurama's intern lay still now, the steady drip of the IV marking time like a metronome in the silence. I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, my mind replaying the medications, the dosages, searching for the mistake I must have made. There had to be one. There was always one.

Perhaps he was right about me after all. Funny how even now, even here, I could still hear his voice so clearly.

"You okay?"

She sat across from me, swallowed by my spare clothes—an old t-shirt and sweatpants that draped loosely on her frame, a blanket draped over her legs. Anything was better than those clothes from before, those fucking stockings I'd personally thrown in the trash.

"Satoru?" she tried again. "You okay?"

I couldn't bring myself to answer.

"Talk me through her meds again," she said, resting her head in her palm. Her eyes, piercing and unwavering, never left my face as she waited.

I rubbed my temples, trying to focus through the exhaustion. "Standard anticonvulsants. Levetiracetam, 500mg twice daily. Added phenytoin after the first seizure." I fell back into my chair, scrubbing my hand over my face. "She couldn't tolerate the Levetiracetam, so I switched to Topiramate, 500mg thrice daily."

She was quiet for a moment. "Side effects?"

"Minor. Tremor in her extremities sometimes, but nothing she couldn't handle. It was working." I paused. "It was supposed to be working."

"EEG results?"

"Showed mild abnormalities. Nothing that would explain a seizure this severe." I scrubbed at my face again, harder this time. "I should have seen it. Should have caught something."

"Satoru." Her voice held that gentle firmness I knew so well. "You did everything right."

"Then why did she seize?" I stood abruptly, the chair screeching against linoleum. I turned away, unable to bear her gentle gaze. Outside, dawn was breaking in shades of grey. No color, no warmth, just an endless stretch of concrete and clouded sky bleeding into each other. "If I did everything right, why is she lying here?"

"Because sometimes that's just how it goes. You know this better than anyone," she said. "Medicine isn't perfect. Neither are we."

My reflection stared back at me, ghostly and distorted in the glass. Dark circles, stubble, hair a fucking mess. A doctor coming down from a high while his patient lay in a hospital bed.

"I should have increased the dosage earlier. Run more tests. I should have—"

"Seen the future?"

"I should have been better."

"You are already the best," she said, but it felt like a lie to me. "But even the best can't control everything."

Higurama's intern stirred slightly in her sleep, and we both fell silent, the moment stretching taut between us. I dragged myself back to the chair, sinking down with my face in my hands.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she whispered, leaning forward to brush a stray strand of hair from the girl's forehead. "Sometimes life just happens, and all we can do is be there to pick up the pieces."

I wanted to believe her. God, how I wanted to. But the truth sat like stones in my stomach.

"I hate this," I whispered.

"I know."

Silence.

"Do you blame yourself?" she asked quietly.

"How can I not?"

Because it's stupid, you know this. I could feel them in my bones, the words forming on her lips before she could speak them. "How did that ever change anything?" I said before she could start.

She leaned back, the chair creaking slightly. "Do you think we are terrible people?" she asked, her voice so soft I almost missed it.

I turned to look at her then, really look at her. Even exhausted and worried, wearing my old clothes, she was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Like a drug I couldn't quit, a high I'd chase until it killed me. 

And what did that say about either of us? That I wanted to crack her open, crawl inside her skin and nestle myself in her marrow? Wanted to consume her, devour her, until there was nothing left but the two of us, fused together in the most depraved way possible?

It was as if we were always meant to find each other. But it was a penance, for both of us.

"I think I am what I am because of you," I finally said.

And it was the truth. She'd molded me, shaped me, just as I'd shaped her. We'd ruined each other for anyone else, stripped away the innocence and left only the filth and grit behind.

Her hand fell from her face, her eyes meeting mine. "And I am what I am because of you."

"Does that scare you?"

"I think one gets used to it."

"Yeah," I said finally, my voice rough. "I guess you do get used to it. Until you don't."

She frowned, but before she could voice something, Suguru stepped inside. 

He said we should leave, and maybe that was for the better anyway, though I couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was an edge to his voice. Anger, perhaps. But I couldn't blame him. Not really.

I grabbed her things, my hand finding its familiar place at the small of her back as we headed for the door. Suguru's voice followed us down the corridor. "What did you find in Zenin's room anyway?" he asked, as if it were something to be discussed in the doorway.

I walked ahead.

I didn't need to hear again about the unconscious women on the Polaroids. 

─── ·✧· ───

Too quiet.

He was never this quiet.

"How bad is it?" I asked, perched on the edge of the exam bed where the paper sheet betrayed every nervous shift of my weight with stupid crinkles. Pale morning light filtered through the blinds, casting thin stripes across the linoleum floor.

I'd coughed up blood again earlier this morning. More than last night. The metallic taste had filled my mouth before I even opened my eyes. I'd stumbled to the bathroom, careful not to wake her—she needed the rest after we spent the whole damn night at the police station.

I stared at the red running down the drain. Way more than there should be. I'd blamed it on stress and alcohol last time. But now? It meant my liver was probably failing faster than I'd thought. Coagulation system breaking down, blood vessels becoming fragile. Textbook end-stage.

I called him then. He was still at the hospital, had slept there while looking after Higurama's intern. His face had gone pale when he saw me walk in. Guess I looked as bad as I felt.

We ran tests. All of them. Blood work, chest X-rays, the works. And now here we are. I watched him reading what I assumed was my death sentence, waiting for him to finally look up, while the clock on the wall ticked away the seconds.

But he kept his eyes fixed on the test results, holding himself with the careful rigidity of someone handling explosives. Another bad sign.

"Suguru."

He exhaled slowly, finally meeting my gaze with eyes that said everything before his mouth could form the words. "You should have started treatment sooner. We talked about this months ago."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." I tried to wave off his concern. "What do the results say?"

His fingers tightened on the papers until the corners creased. "Your liver enzymes are through the roof. AST over 1000, ALT even higher. Bilirubin's climbing while albumin's dropping. Your PT/INR values—" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Your liver is failing, Satoru. Not just damaged anymore—failing."

I let the clinical terms wash over me. The doctor in me understood the implications perfectly. The addict in me wanted to laugh at the irony.

"Well," I said, forcing lightness into my tone, "guess I should have listened to you sooner, huh?"

Suguru's expression hardened. "This isn't a joke. Without immediate intervention—" He caught himself, but I could read the rest in his eyes as clearly as any lab report.

Without immediate intervention, I was dying. Fitting, really. That my body would choose to betray me just when I'd finally found something worth living for.

"How's the withdrawal going?" Suguru asked, setting down the test results.

"Managing." I ran a hand through my hair, trying to ignore how even that simple movement felt like too much effort. "Reduced the hydromorphone gradually. Down to about 5mg now."

"Satoru." His voice carried that familiar note of frustration, the one I'd heard a thousand times before. "You need to stop completely. Not reduce—stop. Your liver can't handle any more strain."

"I'm trying," I snapped, then immediately regretted the harshness. "Sorry. I know you're trying to help."

Suguru pulled up a chair, sitting down with a heavy sigh. "We need to start treatment immediately. The protocol won't be pleasant—high-dose corticosteroids, immunosuppressants, possibly plasmapheresis if things get worse."

"Sounds fun."

"It'll be brutal," he continued, ignoring my sarcasm. "The side effects alone—you'll need to be monitored constantly. Multiple blood draws daily, frequent imaging. And absolutely no narcotics—your liver won't survive it."

I absorbed this, the clinical reality of what lay ahead settling into my bones. "So basically, I get to feel like shit while you stick me with needles and watch me suffer."

"That's about right. But it's either that or start planning your funeral."

"At least you're honest." I attempted a smile that felt more like a grimace. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'll admit you tonight, get you set up in a private room," Suguru said, already reaching for admission forms.

"Monday morning."

He looked up sharply. "What?"

"I have a family dinner on Sunday," I shrugged. "Can't skip it."

"Are you insane?" Suguru's voice rose to fill the small room. "Your liver is failing, Satoru. This isn't something you can postpone for a damn dinner party."

"Monday morning," I repeated firmly. "I gave my word I'd be there."

"Your word won't mean much if you're dead."

"I can manage two more days."

"No, you can't." Suguru slammed the test results down with enough force to make me flinch. Since when is he always so fucking tense? "Your numbers are critical. Every hour we delay treatment increases the risk of complete liver failure."

"Monday."

"For fuck's sake, Satoru—"

"I said Monday. I need to do this, Suguru. Please."

He stared at me for a long moment, jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grinding. Finally, his shoulders slumped.

"Fine. Monday morning, first thing. But if you show any signs of deterioration—any at all—I'm admitting you immediately. And no alcohol at that dinner. Not a single drop."

"Deal."

"I mean it, Satoru."

"I know," I said, trying to inject some levity into the heavy atmosphere. "You can do all sorts of things to me on Monday. Not like I have much on my schedule anyway."

"So Yaga has exempted you?"

"Temporarily relieved of my teaching duties until further notice." I tried to keep my voice light, but the words still choked me. "Apparently, licking your student's leg in public view isn't considered acceptable behavior. Who knew?"

"Everyone would have known that."

"Most people were too drunk to remember anyway, or too busy dealing with the police raid afterwards to care." I shrugged. "Silver lining?"

"This isn't funny. Do you have any idea how serious this is? Your career—"

"My career?" I almost laughed. "In case you missed the memo, my liver's failing. I think my career concerns just got bumped down the priority list."

Suguru fell silent.

"Besides," I added, "maybe it's for the best. Can't exactly teach while going through treatment, can I?"

"Yaga doesn't know about your condition?"

"No, and he's not going to. As far as he's concerned, I'm just taking some time to... reassess my professional boundaries."

"And when he asks why you're not fighting this?"

I sighed. "Let him think what he wants. I've got bigger problems right now."

"Like a family dinner you're insisting on attending despite being on death's door?"

"Exactly." I flashed him a grin, this one a little more genuine despite everything. "See? You're getting it."

"You're impossible."

"That's why you love me."

"That's why I'm going to enjoy sticking you with needles on Monday."

"Kinky."

His expression sobered, eyes searching my face. "You should tell her."

The mere mention of her sent a knife twisting in my gut. "No."

"Satoru—"

"I said no. She has enough to deal with right now. This stays between us."

Suguru shook his head but didn't argue further. He knew me too well to waste his breath.

"I will," I added softly, more to convince myself than him. "When I'm a bit better."

"This will kill her."

"I know."

Silence.

"I'm sorry," I finally managed. "For being an asshole. For everything. And... thanks for coming to the party with me."

"You already apologized."

"I mean it." I met his gaze. "You've always been there, even when I didn't deserve it."

Something shifted in his expression—a flicker of the friendship we'd shared before everything got so complicated. Before I'd dragged us both into this mess.

"Just don't die on me," he said. "I've invested too much time in keeping your stupid ass alive."

I pushed off the bed, steadying myself against the sudden dizziness that threatened to knock me over. "See you Monday."

"You're a stubborn idiot," he called after me. I didn't disagree. 

I stopped at the door, turning back. "Hey, what's going on between you and Higurama's intern anyway?"

Suguru stiffened slightly. "Nothing. Just concerned since she's my patient now too."

I studied him, noting the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze shifted slightly left—his tell when he wasn't being entirely truthful.

"Sure," I said, too exhausted to push it further. "See you Monday."

As I walked away, I wondered if he knew how obvious he was. Then again, who was I to judge? I was hardly an expert at handling matters of the heart.

─── ·✧· ───

I paused outside our apartment door, my hand trembling on the handle. Withdrawal clawed through me, a living thing twisting my gut. Each breath was a struggle, my lungs constricting as if they'd forgotten their purpose. Just breathe, idiot. In, out. You're almost there.

Relief flooded through me the moment I opened the door. Her shoes were there, neatly arranged next to my scattered ones. Her coat on the hook. She was home.

Strange how that simple fact could lift the weight crushing my chest, made breathing a fraction less painful. No matter how bad things were, coming home to her felt like breaking the surface after being underwater too long.

Dog bounded up to greet me, tail whipping back and forth, before darting off toward the bedroom. Smart boy knew exactly where to find her. I kicked off my shoes, let my jacket fall where it would, and followed.

She was there, sprawled across our bed in a sea of papers, bathed in the warm light of the bedside lamp. The sight of her stole what little breath I had left. Hair messily pulled back, drowning in one of my old t-shirts, completely lost in whatever she was reading. Beautiful. It was a beauty that made my heart ache.

Without a word, I crawled onto the bed, dragging myself up until I could rest my head on her stomach. I paused, remembering the bruises on her midsection. But before I could pull back, she gently tugged me closer and I surrendered, resting my head against her warmth. 

I wrapped my arms around her waist and her fingers found my hair instantly, like they belonged there, gentle strokes that made my eyes flutter closed and I thought, this was home. This was peace. Even as my body screamed for relief, even as guilt gnawed at me, here with her, I could almost believe everything would be okay.

"What are you reading?" I mumbled against her shirt, already knowing the answer. Why did she still throw herself into this project? Did it even matter anymore? But I already knew that answer too. Distraction.

"Research papers. For our project." Her fingers never stopped their magic. "Everything okay at the hospital?" I wondered for a second how she knew where I went, but then she said, "Antiseptic smell."

Did I always smell like that? Like the harsh, sterile scent of the hospital? I hated it. Hated how it seemed to cling to my skin no matter how many times I scrubbed my hands raw. Hated the way it reminded me of sickness and death.

I hugged her tighter, breathing in her familiar scent as that was so unlike the clinical smell of the hospital as I crafted the lie. Yeah, everything's fine, I told her. Had to check on something with a patient. Normal stuff, nothing to worry about. Standard procedure.

But even as I spoke, the guilt in my stomach twisted. The truth was, I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep going like this. I could feel myself slipping, losing my grip on the things that mattered most and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd even make it to the end.

If I'd be there to witness the results of our research, to stand by her side as we perhaps do something great. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to drown out the intrusive thoughts, focusing on the feel of her beneath me, the steady rise and fall of her breath.

Her fingers paused momentarily in my hair, and I knew she sensed something off. She always could read me too well. But then she resumed the gentle stroking.

"You'd tell me if something's wrong, right?"

"Of course," I whispered, another lie to add to the growing pile.

I tightened my arms around her waist, as if by holding her close enough, I could somehow make up for my betrayal. As if loving her fiercely enough could somehow balance out the pain I was about to cause her. Monday felt both too far away and not nearly far enough.

Desperate for a distraction, I asked about how it went at the police station. She said it was fine, her friends were with her as they'd needed to clarify their statements, she explained, her fingers still weaving through my hair. Everything had been too hazy right after the party.

She mentioned they needed me to verify my own statement again too. I bit back the urge to say that they'd likely have to come to my hospital bed for that. Instead, I just hummed in response. Whatever it took to make that little shit pay for what he'd done.

"He won't hurt anyone else," she added. "We'll make sure of it."

Something about her struck me as odd. How could she be so unaffected by everything that had happened? Like we didn’t just discover that Zenin Naoya was—

"You're so calm about it." 

"And what would you have me do?"

I didn’t know. Maybe I should be grateful that at least one of us could keep it together. 

I turned my head, pressing a kiss to her palm. I wanted to tell her how proud I was of her, how sorry I was for dragging her into this mess, how I feared the rumors that would follow her through university halls. How fucking terrified I was. How much I loved her. But it all just crowded in my throat, tangled with all the other truths I couldn't voice.

Instead, I just held her tighter. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"For what?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Or lie again. I clung to her, as if she were the only thing keeping me from falling apart, pressing my face into her stomach, trying to blur myself into her very being. "Satoru,” she winced, a small sound escaping her lips. "You're hurting me."

"Please," I pleaded, tears pricking at my eyes. “Just… bear it for a moment. Please.” But then, a sudden tickle rose in my throat, and I sat up abruptly, he movement sending the room spinning.

"You okay?" she asked, sitting up as well, her hand cradling her side.

"Yeah," I managed, before another cough clawed its way out. I stood, turning away from her, my hand coming up to cover my mouth. When I pulled it away, blood glistened on my palm.

"Satoru? You sure you're okay?"

"Everything's fine." I curled my fingers into a fist, watching red seep between my knuckles. "Just need some water."

I should call him again. Should probably head to the hospital right now. Every logical part of my brain screamed at me to seek help, to stop this madness before it was too late. 

But Sunday's dinner loomed in my mind. One last chance to fix things with her, to make things right before everything inevitably crumbled around us. Just two more days. I just needed to hold on for two more days and then I could let the chips fall where they may.

Even as blood painted the back of my throat red, I clung to that desperate hope, that foolish notion that I could make this right. I knew I was being stupid. Reckless. Playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun. 

But then again, what did it matter anyway?

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note — welcome back, i hope this wasn't too intense, even tho i went through all stages of grief writing this chapter, but i'm quite happy with how it turned out. hope you all survived seeing things through satoru's eyes once more. writing from his perspective is always both challenging and thrilling in some strange way.

quick note, as this is somehow not obvious to some people: i understand that this story deals with controversial topics and might not be everyone’s cup of tea but this is purely fictional work, and i'm just here to enjoy a stupid little hobby. i am not looking for criticism. if the story makes you uncomfortable, feel free to block me and move on.

for those following the spin-off: yes, this chapter runs parallel to remedies and reasons chapter 04 ! if you want to see how certain events played out from a different angle, definitely check out the suguru spin-off.

and i want to thank you all for your incredible support. your comments, messages, and theories continue to blow me away. seeing how deeply you connect with this story and catch all the little details i sprinkle throughout brings me so much joy. your thoughtful analyses and wild speculations make writing this stupid story so much fun !! :''))

also a massive thank you to @/nanamis-baker who beta reads all these chaotic chapters, listens to my rambling about plot points, and talks me down whenever i'm convinced everything i write is terrible <3

& second quick note about the alcohol consumption in this story: while it's serve the narrative of the story, please remember that alcohol is toxic to the body and brain, with no "safe" amount. please be mindful of your health and wellbeing.

next chapter we'll be back to our regular pov as we deal with the aftermath of... well, all of this. until then, take care of yourselves ! and as always, thank you for joining me on this chaotic journey and being patient with my slow updates <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here !

tags — @browrm @panteramarron @starlightanyaaa

@myahfig4 @rosebluod @bloopsstuff @depressedemosantaclaus @nanamis-baker

@tofumiao @shoruio @s3vtrue @rosso-seta @bnha-free-writing

@chiyokoemilia @bonequinhagojo @janbannan @mikkmmmii @yeiena

@coeqi @faustina @glenkiller338 @yenmrtnz @buni-bunnydoll

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[aurorawritestoescape]

BAD BLOOD part 6

Pairing: step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller

Summary: a month after Joel exposed your relationship with Tommy, the Miller brothers pay you a visit and your feelings come to the surface.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, angst, step-cest, big age gap (reader is 22, Joel and Tommy are in their late and mid-40s), dark!Joel, soft!Tommy with darkish vibes, edging, mfm, unprotected DVP, f!oral, ass slapping(2), handjob, multiple orgasms, creampies, cum eating, degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, fingering, swearing. Joel can pick up reader. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions.

Word count: 8,2k

A/n: this is the final part of the main story so I’m very emotional about it. I love these menaces. There’s going to be an epilogue and I’ll probably do some extra stories for them bc I can’t see myself letting them go🥹 dedicating this part to my everything @milla-frenchy ❤️ Thank you for being with me every step of the way! Your support, your help, your love for the characters (mainly Joel *coughs*slut) mean the world to me. Love you sm, baby!!💖🫂😘 big hug to @romanarose for answering my dorm-related questions!🫂 I’m grateful to everyone who’s read the series, liked, commented, rb-ed, sent asks about it. I’ve been overwhelmed with your love and I’m sending you some back💕Love you all!!❤️ Hope you’ll like this part! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Part 5 || SERIES MASTERLIST II Tommy’s Visit MASTERLIST

“I’m off, babe!” your roommate Mel says when you meet her at the dorm on the way to your room. She’s carrying a big sports bag, ready to drive to her parents’ house for the weekend.

“Oh! Your dad’s here. He’s in our room,” she nods in the direction of your suit and adds with a playful smile, “he’s hot!”

You furrow your brows, blinking at her with confusion.

“Dad? But.. He lives in Europe.”

“Ehm…Maybe it’s your stepdad then? He said he was your daddy.”

‘Daddy’. Your jaw drops and your heart plummets into your stomach.

“You ok?” Mel places her hand on your shoulder, with a worried expression. “You look… shook.”

“No, I’m fine… just surprised.”

You wave her goodbye with a strained smile and your weak legs carry you to your dorm room.

Your mind is racing and every step seems to last an eternity. You can’t believe he’s here. A mixture of guilt, fear and excitement fills your chest. What are you going to tell him?

You haven’t talked to Tommy in more than a month, scared to face him, to admit that you had ruined his life because of your desire. You hoped that he realized that Joel was the real villain of the story but you couldn’t deny that all that mess had started with you. After that horrible day, your mom flooded your phone with hateful messages, calling you a slut, a whore and a homewrecker. You didn’t pick up her calls which were rare. Apparently she didn’t want to hear your voice, just like you didn’t want to hear hers. Indifference filled your heart. You had already hated her for years, your relationship ruined long before you slept with her husband.

And Tommy…You couldn’t bear to hear him breaking up whatever thing you two had so you just blocked him. His hate would be too much for you. You had never felt anything like that before and you wanted to save those moments together untainted by his resentment.

You did the same with Joel’s number. But you pressed ‘block caller’ only after you phoned him and cursed the fucker out. How did he dare to drop a nuclear bomb on your life like that? Deep in your heart you knew that he had overplayed you in your own game and your pride was hurt. What made matters worse was your sickening yet undeniable desire for the bastard.

When you come up to your room, you see that the door is slightly ajar. He really is here. After taking a deep breath, you step into the room and find Tommy, sitting on your bed, elbows planted on his knees, your exercise book in his hands. He’s wearing a black shirt with a white tank top underneath and a pair of dark jeans. Your pussy tingles just from a sight of him, his big body, soft curls, but you drive away these thoughts, trying to concentrate on the goal that you set on the way here - to get him back.

Your stepdad raises his eyes to you. Is it a trace of smile on his lips? What if he doesn’t hate you after all? A slither of hope gives you much needed courage and you take a few steps towards him.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

Your voice is small and shaky and you hate it but it’s stupid to deny your overwhelming feelings for him.

Tommy gives you a little smile and throws your book back on your desk, next to your bed.

“I wanted to see you. We need to talk.”

“Yes, daddy,” you agree, biting your lip and batting your eyelashes at your stepdad.

“I didn’t think you’d call me that after blocking me.”

“I’m sorry, but… I was scared. I thought you hated me. But it’s not my fault. I had feelings for you and Joel used it. He ruined your life. I’d never do it.”

Tommy drops his head, rubbing his hands, and hums. You start seeing red as soon as your step uncle's name leaves your lips and your anger spills out.

“That fucker secretly took the photo and sent it to our fucking family chat?! Who the fuck does that? Is he insane?”

Tommy looks up at you and then his gaze slides to the side, somewhere behind you, before he says,

“You can ask him yourself, sweetheart.”

For a second time your heart jumps in your chest, when a pair of strong arms grabs you from behind and you sense a broad chest pressed tightly to your back. Startled, you are about to scream, but a huge hand claps over your mouth.

“Surprise, angel,” Joel gruffs in your ear while his arm squeezes your waist. You thrust and shake but all your attempts to break free are fruitless against his strength.

“Keep wriggling, baby, I love feeling your ass, grinding against my dick.”

He hums and pushes his hips into you. You sense his huge bulge and your pussy tingles when you remember what he can do with this cock. Joel’s scent envelops you just like his body and you gush. Yet your hatred for the man overpowers your desire and you keep thrashing in his steel embrace. Your nostrils flare, and searching for help, your pleading eyes dart to Tommy.

To your surprise your stepdad doesn’t rush to help you— he sits up straighter and spreads his thighs wider, while his darkening eyes are sliding up and down your bound body, powerless in Joel’s arms.

You whine, realizing that he’s enjoying it, the view is turning him on. You’re getting worked up as well, feeling yourself small and helpless, fully at the mercy of the two men.

Joel’s arm, wrapped over your arms and under your chest, pushes your breasts up and they almost spill out of your neckline. You can feel your step uncle’s breath on your cleavage, and he’s groaning, probably enjoying the view of your tits. A new surge of arousal makes you press your thighs together. Are they gonna fuck you in your dorm room like it’s some raunchy porn? You really hope so.

Not being able to hide your desire any longer, you make a loud moan, muffled by the hand covering your mouth, but it still electrifies the air in the room, and both men grunt.

As much as you love Joel’s strong back and huge bulge pressed against you, scorching anger rises from the pits of your stomach again, and you try to push him off yourself. Tommy’s watching your weak attempts for a few seconds before taking pity on you.

“Let her talk, Joel.”

The older brother puts his hand away and you exclaim, wriggling in Joel’s arms, trying to break free.

“Let go of me, perv!”

"You had this perv's cock in your mouth and your ass not so long ago," he reminds you, not easing his grip.

"I'm not fucking proud!"

"You should be, angel. You took it like a champ both times."

He emphasizes his words with a thrust of his hips and you growl, trying to hide your arousal.

“Daddy, what the fuck? Why’s he here? Why didn’t you tell him to fuck off?”

Joel tightens his python-like embrace and gruffs in your ear,

“Blood is thicker than water, angel. But you and your “mummy didn’t let me host a party and now Ima fuck her husband” will never understand that.”

“It’s not…you know nothing about me, you asshole.” Your voice strains as the rage suddenly mixes with deep sadness. Trying not to burst into tears you grit your teeth as you explain,

“She ruined my whole life, drove my dad away. She cheated on him and now he’s not even talking to me, just sends money for college. It’s all because of that slut.”

Tommy drops his head and you know that he's feeling sorry for you right now. Your pride pangs but a ray of hope dries your upcoming tears - he cares, he still cares about you.

Joel on the other hand is not sympathetic in the slightest, commenting with a chuckle, "Damn, angel, you're a textbook example of daddy issues.

Not saying we ain't happy, right, brother?" He looks at Tommy and adds, "it got our dicks wet."

You begin thrashing harder and exclaim, “Fuck you!”

“Yeah, you will.”

“Let go of her, Joel,” Tommy commands, steel in his voice, and to your surprise, Joel follows his brother's order immediately.

You hurry away from your step uncle and stand closer to Tommy.

Your eyes dart between the men, as you’re fixing your bunched up clothes, panting heavily after trying to get free.

Joel grabs your chair, plops down and places his booted foot on the edge of your desk with a thud.

You’re glaring at him, trying to convey all disgust and hatred for the man with your expression, but Tommy sighs and your gaze darts to him.

“Daddy,” you whisper, taking a shy step in his direction.

His eyes freeze your heart. He looks serious, too serious for your liking.

Tommy leans on his knees again and starts talking, eyes moving between you and Joel.

“Joel is an asshole, sweetheart, you’re right. But what’s new? I’ve known him all my life and I understand what he’s capable of. Yes, he ruined my marriage but to be honest…I’m glad.”

Your jaw drops as you’re staring at your stepdad, and he continues,

“Life with Jess was suffocating me. I thought I needed to settle down, to start a family but I was wrong. I was happy in Austin. And she…fuck,” he shakes his head with a sigh, “She’s a lot. You’re the best person to know it.”

His eyes set on you and you see a genuine regret and sadness in them. You want to reach for him, hug him, kiss him but he needs you to listen. So you listen.

“In an absolutely horrible way, yes, but Joel helped me to get out of it. I’m gonna lose a lot of money in the settlement but it’s just money.”

“Shoulda got a prenup like I told you,” Joel mumbles.

The longer Tommy speaks, the more you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Wait! So now he’s your savior, huh? He manipulates you, Tommy! He says what you want to hear and then stabs you in the back!”

“Baby, the only thing I did behind your back is come in your ass,” Joel smirks and then points his thick finger at you, “And not you talking about fuckin’ loyalty! We had a deal but you weren’t gonna do shit with that recording! I saw your fuckin’ heart eyes. You’d never do it to your precious daddy so I had to do it my way. And it needed to be done!”

You narrow your eyes and clench your fists, barely holding yourself from hitting the man, as you exclaim,

“You sent the pic of me fucking my stepdad to my family group chat, you fucker! My nana’s there! She almost died after seeing that photo!

All you get from your step uncle is another bark of a laugh.

“Who gives a shit? She’s ancient.”

“You motherfuckin’…” you’re about to launch at the men but Tommy rushes up and steps between you and his older brother.

“Stop!” His hands are on your shoulders, his eyes kind and warm. “Calm down, sweetheart. Please.”

You take a deep breath and inch closer to him and Tommy doesn't push you away. He hugs you, pulling you closer to him, and rubs your back with his big hands. You immediately melt in his warm embrace with your cheek pressed to his chest, your arms wrapped around his waist. You bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, fighting back tears as a mix of strong emotions- hate, love, desire, rage, fills your heart and you take a deep breath, wishing to find comfort and peace in your stepdad's arms.

You open your eyes and see Joel watching you two, his gaze piercing, expression pensive. You’d give a lot to know what he’s thinking about at the moment. Probably scheming again.

You turn your face away from him and press your cheek to Tommy’s chest.

Suddenly he pulls away and looks down at you, head tilted.

“You hurt me, baby. I needed you, and you left. Even blocked my number.”

You swallow loudly, shifting on your feet, as fear is rising in your chest again. With your eyes downcast, you mumble, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you really?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Are you willing to show us how sorry you are?” He sits back on the bed, manspreading, his gaze dark, intense.

“To you? Yes. But not to him!”

“Sweetheart.” His warning tone binds your pride and you stop fighting what you really want. What your pussy wants.

“Ok, daddy.”

A corner of Tommy’s mouth curves up a little and he says,

“Good girl. Take your clothes off.”

Joel groans and slightly shifts in his chair, making it squeak. You glance at him but your eyes return to Tommy.

You start discarding your clothes piece by piece, gaze locked with your stepdad and he drinks in every exposed part of your body. Your panties fall on the floor last and you step out of them.

Now you’re standing in your dorm room completely naked in a company of the two fully clothed older men. You’re already dripping, the wetness between your thighs is evident just to you for now but you desperately wish for them to discover it.

“We’ve talked enough about Joel. Let’s talk about you, babygirl.”

You feel your stomach twist, nervous about what he might say.

"Have you fucked anyone since you left?" Tommy asks, his expression serious.

"No."

Your stepdad's eyes are darting between yours, searching for any sign of you lying.

"Has anyone fucked you?"

You hate that he doesn't trust you but it's hard to blame him —he knows better than anyone how thirsty you're.

"No, daddy. I promise. I've... only been making myself come, thinking of you. All this time.”

You bite your lower lip and purr, "been imagining you fucking me. Your kisses. Your hands on me. Your cock in my mouth."

Tommy's chest expands and he squirms on the bed. You clasp your hands in front yourself and drop your head down, telling him the truth,

"I've missed you. Still miss you."

"Aww, how sweet," Joel mocks you with a laugh.

Tommy frowns at him and you shoot a fiery glance at the older brother for ruining the moment.

“What about your favourite uncle, angel? Have you fantasized about me?”

"No," you reply without hesitation through the gritted teeth.

"Don't lie," Tommy commands, his tone cold and demanding.

You avert your gaze from them both and look in front of yourself.

"Yes," you admit as your voice is barely audible,

"yes, I did."

Joel's smug grin is noticeable even from your peripheral vision.

"What was it about? Your fantasies?” Tommy asks.

"You both fucking my pussy."

"Damn, angel," Joel groans, palming himself.

“I know my pussy is off limits to Joel. I’m sorry for thinking about it, daddy.”

“It’s ok, sweetheart. You’re allowed to imagine whatever you want.”

You inch closer to Tommy and his eyes slide down from your face to your breasts and then to your wet pussy.

Your stepdad licks his lower lip and a memory of him making you come on his tongue in the darkness of your bedroom overflows the glass of your desire and you kneel slowly between his legs.

“Sweetheart,” Tommy breathes out in surprise but spreads his legs wider for you.

“She remembers well where she belongs,” Joel comments as you feel his hungry gaze on your naked back and ass.

You place your palms on Tommy’s jean-clad thighs and sit on your heels, batting your lashes, before you lower your head to his crotch. You press your cheek to his huge warm bulge and whisper, “let me suck your cock, daddy. I want to apologize.”

Tommy takes a sharp breath and Joel whistles. You feel cold air on your naked pussy and squeeze your thighs together to relieve the ache in your needy center.

Then you nuzzle the stiff lump under his jeans and rub your nose and cheek over it. It twitches against you and a moan escapes your lips. Tommy bucks his hips against your head but then his hand on your cheek stops you.

“We have something else in mind for you, babygirl. You can’t deny that you deserve a punishment, right?”

You drop your eyes in agreement and Tommy continues.

“Your step uncle promised you something that morning when we ehm… had breakfast together.”

You hear the squeak of your chair and then Joel’s heavy steps. The older brother stands next to you two and you lift your head to look at him.

He’s looming over your body, tall and broad and your pussy throbs harder as your eyes involuntarily slide down from his handsome smug face to his broad chest and then huge bulge.

“Get your ass on the bed so I could eat your slutty pussy.”

You scream internally, keeping a straight face, and ask,

“Are you that bad that it’s considered a punishment?”

Joel shifts his jaw and gruffs,

“Let’s hope I won’t bite your clit off, brat.”

You wince and Tommy curses under his breath. Then he pulls you up from your knees and gets up too. You’re standing between the two men, burning up with desire to be used and Tommy doesn’t help you to calm down, when he starts taking off his shirt, leaving only his white tank top on and exposing his thick muscular arms. When you glance back you notice Joel is doing the same, and you softly moan at the sight of his broad torso in a mesh top.

“Moaning like a whore already,” Joel mocks you, stepping up to you and pressing his body to your back and ass.

You gasp but don’t pull away. His hands on your hips slide up and down, until he brings one palm to your pussy and gives your mound a light slap.

“Joel,” you whimper as it sends a wave of arousal through your body.

“You’ve been a bad girl, sweetheart,” Tommy chides you, stepping in front of you.

“Worse than usual?” You purr, biting your lip.

With Joel’s at your back, Tommy presses his hips to yours, sandwiching you between the two brothers and your pussy cries for them so much that you feel your slick run down your inner thigh.

With Joel’s arms wrapped around your torso, Tommy locks eyes with you and you reach for his lips but he immediately pulls away, takes your hand and leads you to the bed.

He sits down, leaning his back on the headboard and pats the place between his legs.

“Get in here, babygirl.”

You want to sit on your knees but suddenly Joel roughly turns you around and pushes you to plop between Tommys legs.

Your stepdad pulls you to lean against his warm chest before Joel kneels on the floor.

“Oh wow, big bad Joel Miller on his knees for me? Not the first time though,” you gloat and Joel grinds his teeth and roughly pulls your hips to the edge of the bed. You gasp as your head slides down Tommy’s chest and your naked breasts jiggle. Joel’s thick fingers dig into your skin as he throws your legs over his shoulders, and your pussy blooms for him. His dark eyes get obsidian with lust, as he glides his palms up and down your thighs.

“Fuck, ya seeing it, Tommy? She wasn’t lying about not fucking. This pussy is desperate for cock. ‘m afraid I’m gonna choke on all this slick,” he comments, not tearing his eyes from your needy cunt.

“I’ll be ok with this outcome,” you grunt as your clit twitches with anticipation.

Joel looks up at you with a sneer and then leans down to your mound. You hold your breath, expecting him to finally start eating you out but his lips land on your inner thigh instead of your waiting cunt. He kisses your skin there and you squirm in Tommy’s arms as Joel’s facial hair tickles you. He gets lower, peppering kisses along your inner thigh, moving closer to your center and you buck your hips to meet him halfway and to finally shove your pussy in his face, but Joel places his big palm on your lower belly and pushes your back on the bed. You hear Tommy’s voice over your head,

“Don’t move, honey. Promise to be a good girl for us, ok?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out and tilt your head up and to the side to look up at him. He’s giving you a warm smile, its effect spreads warmth deep in your belly, but soon it turns into a scorching fire, when Joel’s lips finally latch onto your aching pussy. You gasp and turn to him and the sight almost makes you come. Joel fucking Miller, your asshole step uncle, a mean, selfish, arrogant prick, is on his knees for you, feasting on your wet cunt, lips smacking, tongue gathering all the wetness between your folds.

Already feeling like you’re in heaven, you moan loudly, not caring who might hear and catch you getting a head from your step uncle, while your stepdad’s hands are kneading your breasts and twitching your hard nipples.

“You love it, sweetheart?” Tommy whispers in your ear, as you’re fluttering your eyes shut with pleasure, when Joel’s skillful tongue flicks your throbbing clit and then he sucks it into his mouth.

“Yes—yes—yes,” you chant, almost tasting the climax on your tongue. But a second away from the explosion, Joel parts from your puffy cunt and presses his wet lips to your inner thigh again, kissing and nibbling on it lightly.

“No, Joel, my pussy,” you desperately whine.

“What is it, angel?”

“Make me come, please.”

“Good start but you can do better,” he mumbles while he’s watching his fingers trace your sopping hole. It’s hot but not enough to push you over the precipice.

You grit your teeth but your pride is quickly drowning in the sticky pit of desire.

“Joel, please, please make me come on your tongue. Please, I need it,” you beg and his smile is triumphant and content.

“I’ll do anything for my little niece.”

His mouth returns to your pussy and he grabs your thighs tighter as his tongue swirls your clit around and then slides down to your leaking hole.

“Fuck,” you hear Tommy curse and you feel his stiff cock under your back, he must be so turned on by this.

The older brother starts fucking you with his hot muscle and your hand slithers down to rub your puffy clit but Tommy grabs your wrists and pulls your hands up to your chest, crosses them and keeps them there with his one strong hand.

“Daddy, I wanna come,” you beg the moment Joel’s mouth leaves your pussy again and again whenever you feel so close to ecstasy.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but bad girls don’t get to come so fast,” Tommy smirks and his fingers tighten around your wrists.

You feel tears well up in your eyes, your breaths heavy, belly and chest heaving and your whole body is vibrating in frustration.

“Joel,” you sob and your step uncle lifts his head, his lips, mustache and beard glistening with your juices.

“I’ll give the candy to you, slut. But only if you tell me why you love your uncle Joel so much.”

“What?”

“You heard me, baby.” Joel’s lips are so close but, at the same time so far from where you need him. You curse and whine, grinding your teeth while anger is taking over you again.

Joel hurries you by planting a feather light kiss on your clit and your whole body jerks from a bolt of pleasure but it quickly dissipates, leaving you desperately needing more.

So you cave in.

"You're hot, Joel."

"Yeah, I know. What else?" your step uncle mumbles, drawing a path from your pussy to your knee with his lips.

Tommy chuckles and you squirm in his embrace, annoyed and frustrated.

"You... you're a good fuck."

"Mmm... don't ya think 'great'?"

"Yes. You're a great fuck, Joel."

"You sound like a horny slut, angel," he grumbles, "Hot and a great fuck. Way to objectify your poor uncle. I need more."

His lips travel back down to your cunt and you raise your hips in search of his caress, but Joel pushes you down and Tommy's free arm wraps around your waist tightly.

“Keep still, sweetheart,” he orders and emotions take over your mind and burst out of your mouth.

“Wanna know what I feel? I fucking hate you, Joel. I see myself in you and I fucking hate that. Because it’s like I’m staring at my own future. Just like you I want someone so much that I grab onto them until I realize that they don’t need me. Not as much as I need them. So I lie and manipulate and make them love me. But sooner or later they will see the real me. See my tiny black heart and they will get disappointed and dump me. And I’ll lie and manipulate more to get them back. And it’s a fucking cycle. I’ll never be loved for who I am. Because who I am doesn’t deserve any love.”

Joel freezes with his face between your legs, his expression pensive and serious. If you didn’t know him you’d say you see a trace of sympathy and sadness in his eyes.

“That’s why I hate you, Joel. And you know what’s funny? It’s that I can’t get you out of my fucking mind.”

You want to puke at how vulnerable you’re feeling, baring your soul and body to him. You turn your pained face to your stepdad and say,

“I can’t stop thinking about both of you. Is it love? It’s hard to understand. I’ve never experienced anything like this. Tommy, you’re fucking perfect and I made you suffer and I hate what I did to your life.”

You burst into sobs and your stepdad grabs you by the arms and manhandles you to get on his lap. Joel gets up and sits on the bed.

Tommy’s holding you close, your cheek pressed to his naked chest, peeking out the tank top, that you’re soaking with your tears.

He’s rubbing your shoulder with his hand and softly says,

“I'm not perfect. I’m a piece of shit. I should’ve never done what I did to you. We shouldn’t have. And it’s my fault for getting you into this mess.”

You throw your hands around his neck and start crying harder, mumbling through sobs and whimpers,

“No, please— don’t say that you regret it— regret us—don’t leave me like everyone else, please, daddy.”

“I won’t, babygirl. I’m sorry for… for everything. I love you. I’ll be there for you. Always.”

His arms tighten around you and he kisses everywhere he can reach — your forehead,

your temple, your nose until you tilt your face up and he finds your lips. He’s gentle with you, and you kiss him back, smearing your tears over his face but none of you cares. You’re caressing each other, drowning in the comfort of the embrace and the kiss.

When you part from him you press your nose into the crease of his neck and breathe in his scent, nestling into his big body. While sobs still crawl up your throat from time to time, Tommy wipes the wetness off your face and covers your naked body with a bedspread.

For a few minutes it’s quiet in the room, and when you calm down, you turn your red eyes to Joel, surprised that he hadn’t said anything assholish yet.

You find him watching you with curiosity and now you’re sure. He’s upset too.

A strange feeling envelops you. You want to hug him, feel the warmth of his body and share yours with him. But it’s not your relationship, not the way you connect. So you narrow your eyes and croak,

“Do you know how creepy you look when you’re staring like this, perv?”

You give him a little smile and notice a corner of his mouth slightly rising too.

“You surprised me, angel. Jus’ one month without a cock and you go completely nuts. Crying and shit. Throwing ‘L-words’ around.”

Now you’re both smiling at each other.

“Fuck off.”

“Ok, she’s back,” he says and slaps your ass over the fabric. “Ya know, your tears are golden, angel. Any man will do whatever you want if you cry like that.”

“It was genuine, asshole,” you snap back but there’s no bite to it. You feel lighter, all the pent up frustration and pain left your body and were wiped away by your stepdad’s warm embrace and Joel’s quiet support.

The only emotion that’s still tormenting you is desire. You squirm in Tommy’s lap and the bedspread falls off your shoulder revealing your naked breasts.

“Do you want us to leave, sweetheart?” Tommy asks and his breath caresses your tits.

“No, no, please, I want— .”

“What do you want?”

“I want you. I want you both.”

You look at your stepdad and notice him and Joel exchange glances.

“I think I owe you something, baby,” Joel gruffs and you turn to him and the shine in his beard reminds you of his lips on your pussy. The thought sets your core ablaze and you turn back to Tommy.

“Daddy?” you purr and the man nods.

“But no playing around this time, Joel,” Tommy warns his brother with a serious tone.

‘Course. Hop on my face, cry baby, I ain’t kneeling again.”

He lies down next to Tommy, shoulder to shoulder, and you almost squeal with excitement, throwing the cover off. Tommy leans back on the bed and you tell Joel to scoot lower.

“Wanna play with daddy’s cock.”

“Jesus, angel, is there anything you can do without daddy’s cock?”

You don’t reply and plant your knees on either side of Joel’s head.

A rush of dominance goes through your body when you see your step uncle in this position.

“Finally I’m gonna shut you up,” you smirk and lower your hips slowly, eager for your pussy to meet his smug grin.

Yet Joel is not the one to give up control easily and his hands grab your thighs and he pulls you onto his face. Having teased you before, now he doesn’t play at all and starts passionately making out with your sopping cunt, drawing gasps and moans out of your mouth. With his mouth open wide he stimulates you with a perfect suction while his tongue swirls your throbbing clit around.

You are reduced to a whimpering mess in a matter of seconds and you go so high and so fast that you need to ground yourself.

“Daddy,” you call.

“I’m here, sweetheart.”

Tommy unzips his jeans, trying not to fall off the bed, and takes out his cock.

It’s throbbing, the head glistening with smeared pre cum, and you spit on your hand and wrap your fingers around it. You give his manhood a few pumps, and Tommy moans, but Joel gets your full attention, when his tongue prods your clenching hole and then pushes inside you as deep as it’ll go. He starts fucking you with it and you ride his face, rhythmically bumping your clit against his prominent nose.

“Daddy, I can’t,” you whine, failing to concentrate on two acts at once.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Tommy mumbles and his hand wraps around yours and he starts moving them together up and down his stiff shaft. His head is resting against the headboard but his half-lidded eyes are sliding between your pussy, crying into Joel’s mouth, and the unity of your hands, pleasuring his cock.

Your other hand is clenching your step uncle’s hair and your tits bounce as you increase the pace of riding his face.

You almost there when Tommy pulls your hand off his cock, sits up and mumbles, kissing your palm and panting,

“Oughta stop— too good— wanna come in your pussy.”

“Delicious little cunt,” Joel growls and starts rubbing your clit with the flat of his tongue, up and down, up and down, and you cry out his name, as euphoria bursts in your core and spreads like wildfire all over your body. You’re sobbing with pleasure, trembling over your step uncle's face, dripping juices onto his lips and he drinks them, slurping and groaning.

When the climax subsides you move off Joel’s face and Tommy takes you in his arms. The men are still fully clothed, except for their exposed cocks. You look down Joel's body and realize that he has been stroking his huge hard manhood while eating you out and your core reignites.

Tommy searches for your eyes.

“Do you feel better, sweetie?”

You nod with a tired smile and in a moment your lips crash against his and you kiss while his hands are hungrily roaming your sweat-covered body, your fingers running through his curls.

Not parting from your lips, Tommy brings his hand to your pussy and your legs fly apart. You shift in his embrace, now your back flush against his chest, lips still glued to his, and you moan when he slowly inserts two fingers into your hole, avoiding your oversensitive clit.

You sense a movement and open your eyes to see your step uncle get up.

“Mmm, Joel stretched you well with his tongue,” Tommy murmurs against your mouth. “Your pussy probably can take two cocks now.”

You pull away and stare at him.

“Two cocks, daddy? Do you mean..?”

“Two fat dicks, angel.”

Your head darts to Joel while Tommy’s fingers are still massaging you from the inside and the older brother laughs, lighting a cigarette, standing next to the bed,

“We gonna stuff your needy cunt so full, your belly’ll look like ya 4 months pregnant.”

He takes a drag while his free hand is wrapped around his huge hard cock.

Their words are ringing in your ears- ‘two cocks, your pussy.”

Your head snaps back to Tommy as you plead, “Please-please-daddy-yes-I want it. My pussy can take it, please, please.”

Your brows are pulled together and big needy eyes are glossy with desire. Tommy smiles at you with adoration in his warm dark gaze.

“We can try, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, angel. Your cock hunger sometimes surprises even me. And I know what a giant slut you’re.”

You don’t tear your eyes off Tommy as he coos at you while his fingers are playing with your soaked cunt,

“We still should prepare you. You know we are big. Especially now.”

“Now?”

“Look at you, my beautiful girl. Our cocks are throbbing hard just because of you.”

He leans lower and his lips brush your ear.

“I barely hold myself from taking you right now.” His fingers are moving inside you, slowly at first but gradually increasing the speed.

“My cock demands your little pussy. I’m so close to just sticking it deep in your sweet cunt and using you, taking what I need from you.”

“Fuck, daddy,” you whisper, closing your eyes and spreading your thighs wider, offering yourself to his hand.

You feel him add two more fingers, four inside you now, and the stretch makes you whine but the dull pain adds to the pleasure.

“Yeah, good girl,” Tommy praises you and kisses your cheek, his hand still working tirelessly, preparing your hole for them and bringing you closer to another climax.

You turn your head and see Joel smoking and watching you getting fingered.

His obsidian eyes lock with yours and he winks at you.

“Lemme help you, brother. ‘m afraid to split her poor pussy in half with my dick.”

He bends down and you gasp when you see his meaty hand move to the place where Tommy’s fingers are already stretching you to the limit.

“Joel,” your scared mewl mixes with the squelching noises of your sopping cunt.

“He’s gonna be gentle,” Tommy commands his older brother, and Joel humms absentmindedly as his thick middle finger prods your entrance over Tommy’s digits.

“C’mon, angel, breathe for me. Yeah, good slut, relax your hungry cunt.”

You do as he says and soon you watch his finger disappear inside you, joining Tommy’s digits. With an open mouth you watch two brothers fuck your stretched hole. You grip their wrists, not to stop but to encourage them to keep going.

Tommy's voice is strained with lust when he groans,

“Shit, honey. Listen to her. She’s crying for more. My fingers are drenched.”

His words send you spiraling into the depth of arousal and when the heel of Joel’s hand hits your clit, you cry out. Your body is shaking, your nails scratching their wrists, your face twisting with euphoria.

“Yeah, jus’ like that, little slut. Happy pussy, happy dicks, yeah?”

You barely hear Joel, after two orgasms your brain is mush. Through the fog in your head you hear Tommy’s voice,

“You sure you still want it? Honey, yes or no?”

You nod because of course you do. The way they make you feel when you fuck is the best thing you’ve experienced in your life, the brightest, the richest pleasure. You feel needed, desired, like they will never leave you. Never will be able to exist without you.

“You need to say it, baby, c’mon,” Tommy coos, “Need to hear it.”

“Yes. Please, fuck me both. Fuck my tight pussy.”

“Ain’t so tight anymore, angel,” Joel laughs, “but it’ll snap back after we done with her.”

He gives you a reassuring slap on the thigh and you smile, too spent to talk.

The men get undressed and then manhandle you into straddling Tommy. You kiss him as soon as you’re close, moaning into his mouth as if tasting him is your basic need, one thing you can’t live without. You both seem to get lost in it until you hear Joel’s grumble.

“Quit it, lovebirds. Let’s get to fuckin’.” He’s next to the bed and you turn your head, ogling his gorgeous cock.

“Soon my dick and your sweet cunt will meet, angel. Let’s make their first time special, yeah?”

He tilts your head up with his fingers, bends down and kisses you passionately. You missed his taste, mixed with yours now, missed his lips, his scent, enveloping you. Your pussy aches for him as much as for Tommy and you might hate to admit it but your heart craves him too. His fire is as scolding as it is addictive and you want him to destroy you, in whatever way he wishes.

You wrap your arms around his thick neck and kiss him, really kiss him, like you’re surrendering yourself to him.

Suddenly he lifts you with his strong arms, throws your legs around his waist and starts devouring your mouth like an offering.

You feel his hot cock pulsating between your bodies and you mumble against his lips,

“Fuck me, Joel. Ruin me.”

With a growl he helps you to sit back on Tommy’s thighs.

Your stepdad’s eyes dart between yours as he cups your cheek, “ya making me jealous, sweetheart,” with a smirk he adds, “I love it.”

He’s not lying, judging by the way his hard cock is smearing precum over your belly, and you smile, taking it in your hand and lifting your hips.

Joel encourages you, his heavy hand on your shoulder,

“Yeah, like that, baby.”

Eyes locked with Tommy’s you sink on his shaft in one go and you both moan, joined at last, relishing this sensation.

“Fuck, you’re wet, babygirl. So warm.” You press your tits to his chest, nuzzling his neck and start moving on his length, up and down, slowly and steadily. His hands grab your ass and he kneads and spreads your asscheeks while his low moaning in your ear makes your head spin.

“Ahhh—That’s my good girl—sweet pussy—riding me so well—missed it—hnggg.”

Then he looks up at his brother and grunts,

“Fuck, let’s do it, Joel, gonna come soon.”

“Daddy was celibate just like you, angel. Savin’ his dick for his dear stepdaughter,” Joel chuckles, stepping on the bed and getting on his knees behind you with a grunt. “Miracle that he didn’t bust a nut yet.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy groans and adds, “hope we won’t break the bed,” he smiles at you but you couldn’t care less about it.

“Daddy, what should I do now?”

Instead of Tommy, Joel replies, “Lie forward and enjoy, baby. Your daddies gonna do all the work.”

Tommy nods with a reassuring smile and you lean on his chest, your eyes locked.

Tommy’s cock twitches inside you when you feel Joel’s hands grip your hips and his fat tip prod your already full pussy.

“Be careful, Joel,” Tommy says as his hand rubs your cheek and he stares into your widened eyes.

He moves his thumb to your lips and says, “Suck, my love.”

You feel butterflies in your belly, hearing the pet name, and take his thick finger between your lips and start sucking. It instantly calms you down.

At this moment Joel pushes his tip fully in and you whine around your stepdad's thumb.

“Shhh, the head’s the meatiest part, angel. Now it’ll slide in like a knife through butter.”

Surprisingly enough he’s not lying. The burning you felt before subsides and with his fingers digging into your hips, Joel parts your walls, inserting his whole cock into your slicked up pussy and bottoms out with a roar.

“Fuck me,” he growls and laughs, “My little niece has a perfect hole.”

He slaps your ass lightly and your pussy clamps around their fat cocks, making both of them groan.

“Oh my god, I’m so full,” your voice is shaky, endorphins already coursing through your body.

“Yes, sweetheart, you did it. Shit, it’s so tight inside you now. It feels amazing.” Tommy’s head falls back against the headboard as his eyes flutter shut.

You almost giggle at how great it feels, then take a deep breath and whine,

“Fuck me, please.”

“Damn, you don’t have to ask twice, baby,” Joel gruffs and pulls his cock out almost to the tip before rolling his hips back into you.

The sensation almost sends you over the precipice. You squeeze your eyes shut, your nails scratching Tommy’s chest, and he hisses and thrusts his hips up into you. You gasp when they both start moving and in a few moments the brothers find a perfect rhythm of fucking your stretched hole, their stiff cocks, sliding in and out of your channel, are drawing moans and whimpers out of your open lips.

While Joel is concentrating on balancing his weight on his knees and stuffing your hole, Tommy makes sure to kiss and lick every spot he can reach. His tongue swirls around your nipples, hands grab your flesh, teeth nip your skin. He paints your neck with hickeys, gently kissing the pain away, until his lips reach yours and he kisses you, while the two cocks are fucking you.

Joel interrupts your kiss when his hand wraps around your throat and he pulls you closer to him. Your back arches and you look up at his face, hovering over yours, as he growls,

“Here’s my sweet niece— our pretty fuck doll.”

He begins snapping his hips into you harder, faster sending his cock deeper and Tommy follows his suit, thrusting his member up into your pussy with the same rhythm.

“I told him ya a slut—ahhh, fuck— and look at ya,” he smirks, ruining your pussy, holding your neck tightly, “his good girl’s bouncing on two big dicks, pleading to be fucked like a whore she is.”

“Dreams do come true,” you mumble back with a hazy smile.

Suddenly Tommy’s fingers swirl around your clit and the sensation together with the filthy words, spilling out of Joel’s mouth, pushes you over the edge and you come, harder than ever, trembling between the men, squeezing their cocks with your pulsating pussy while tears of bliss stream down your cheeks.

With a groan Joel licks a tear off your face and pushes you on Tommy’s chest before immediately exploding into your core, spurting warm cum deep inside you.

While you’re still shaking with your orgasm, Tommy embraces your body tightly and begins coming too, pumping you full of his load. Both men are thrusting, the rhythm uneven and hectic, and you’re milking their cocks until their balls are empty. You feel bloated with the amount of cum they squirted into you and soon it starts leaking out around their cocks and sliding down your thighs.

Gradually your climax dissipates while the men are still inside you. The room gets filled with heavy breathing of the three of you. Joel’s manhood slides out of your pussy first and he tilts your head to him and plants a quick kiss on your lips.

“Keep ‘er plugged, brother,” Joel gruffs, getting up, plops in your chair and lights another cigarette. “Happily,” Tommy murmurs into your ear, before he starts peppering soft kisses along your neck. You giggle when his mustache is tickling you, and to make him stop, you press your lips to his and you make out while his softening manhood is still buried deep inside you, in the pool of their cum.

Joel doesn’t ruin this post-orgasmic moment between his younger brother and you, the room is quiet except for the sounds of lip smacking and him smoking. And you’re grateful to him.

When you finally part from each other, Tommy helps you to lie down next to him. The mess between your legs makes you whine and Tommy gets you some tissues and helps you to clean yourself.

Then you settle down next to him on the bed, your cheek on his shoulder and your leg thrown over his thigh.

Meanwhile Joel puts his jeans back on without zipping them up and rests in the chair.

Tommy and you don’t care about the clothes, both reveling in the afterglow. Your eyes are closing when suddenly Tommy asks,

“Do you have any plans for thanksgiving holidays?”

You blink a few times trying to understand the question and gather your thoughts.

“I…Mel invited me to spend them with her family… but I don’t know. Why?” You tilt your head up to look at him.

“I’m moving back to Austin. Gonna live with Joel for now until I find my own place. Maybe you can visit me there. Us.”

Your heart sings and stomach flutters with excitement when you hear his invitation.

“Sounds nice,” you murmur, barely keeping yourself from squealing. Then you look at Joel.

“Would you mind?”

His piercing eyes slide along your naked body, linger on your lips and then lock with yours.

“I wouldn’t. Always nice to have a good pussy in the house.”

You roll your eyes and Tommy shoots Joel a glare before talking to you again,

“What about Christmas?”

You try to hide a wide grin, biting your lower lip.

“You might meet someone by then, daddy. Get yourself a girlfriend,” you murmur, drawing hearts on his chest with your index finger.

“I won’t. I don’t need anyone else.”

He places his hand under your jaw and tilts your head up.

“You’re the only one I need, sweetheart.”

You’re searching for lies in his eyes or his words but don’t find any. Your throat tightens and tears sting your eyes but you blink them away and reach up to give him a kiss. You pour all your love into it, need and desire in every stroke of your lips and tongue.

A few minutes in heaven are interrupted by Joel’s gruff voice,

“Before you swallow each other whole, let’s go find a bar and get me a drink.”

You giggle against Tommy’s lips and turn to your step uncle.

“I know a good place.”

You try to get up but your legs are still weak from all the orgasms, your pussy sore from the double-cock-pounding, so you almost fall, but Tommy’s strong arms help you up.

The brothers smirk and exchange glances, visibly proud of what they’ve done to you, when you stagger to the wardrobe. You’re still leaking and the thought that their cum is going to seep out of your pussy for days, makes you smile.

“Wear something slutty for us, angel,” Joel orders, putting on his mesh top. Then you feel his bulge press to your naked ass as he whispers against your cheek, “And no panties. Wanna play with your messy cunt under the table.”

The vision painted by your mind sends a shiver through your body and your clit twitches.

“Ok, uncle,” you agree and he lightly slaps your ass.

“Good little slut.”

Already dressed, Tommy comes up to your two and you turn around to the men. Joel’s bulge pokes your hip and his sticky gaze slides up and down your body. Tommy places his hand on your asscheek and gives it a gentle squeeze, cooing at you with a warm smile,

“Our good girl.”

You bite your lip, batting your lashes at the men, and purr with a mischievous smile,

“We’re gonna have so much fun together.”

Thank you for reading!❤️ Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! l'd love to hear your thoughts🌺💕

Part 5 || SERIES MASTERLIST |I Tommy’s Visit MASTERLIST

Tag list for the series:@milla-frenchy @iamasaddie @koshkaj-blog @survivingandenduring @nana90azevedo @mermaidgirl30 @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @obscurexsorrows @tammythr @ratoonstown @anama-cara @pedge-page @huskyfox5 @ashleyfilm @neverwheremoonchild @stevie75 @untamedheart81 @puduvallee @theoraekenslover @eloquentdreamer @ashhlsstuff @evolnoomym @pinkiec6-rubi @guelyury

Tommy tag @huskyfox5

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

If you'd like to be tagged in the series or in anything else let me know!

[wolverineluvr]

(This is in response to an ask but I accidentally deleted it, so, whoever that was, here it is!<3)

You won't leave me.

Content Warning ⛈️: Suicide, attempted suicide, mentions of making reader limbless, kidnapping, nonconsensual nonsexual touching and kissing, suggestive thoughts and thoughts of r4pe! Reader uses she/her pronouns. Ft. Yandere Xiao, Scaramouche, Venti and Kazuha x reader!

So, just dark content! If you don't like it or can't handle it, please, just leave. If that sounds rude I apologize but don't read something you might not be able to handle! ♡

Summary🔎: They're finally leaving you alone for a little while, maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to escape?

Part 1

I don't condone these actions. If you are having thoughts about taking advantage of someone, do not do it and get help.

If you have thoughts about hurting yourself or commiting suicide, know that you aren't alone and please try to reach out for help.

Words: 1k!

Estimated read time: 5 minutes!

You hate it here. You can't even cry, when you do, you get coddled or yelled at. You haven't been left alone for a year. Showers, going to the bathroom, sleeping, eating, everything! You don't want to feel anymore. Everything hurts. You're so tired of it all. But, finally, you have some alone time. "I will miss you, Dove, but I don't have a choice! Xiao will be back quickly, alright? So you won't be alone!" Venti coos as he holds your cheek. When they leave, and come back, they always hold onto you so much. It's so horrible. You miss your friends.. You know not all of them are still alive. Some of them have even been killed right in front of you as a punishment for acting out! Just a little protest!

You nod in response to Venti, forcing back the tears that threaten to spill except, for the first time in a long time, they're tears of joy. You quickly snap out of it, though. "Oh, poor Dove! Don't cry my love," Venti says, reaching to cup your cheek. You didn't even realize you were crying. But you play along with Venti, you have to, or there's a chance he won't leave. "I'll just miss you so much!" You say, internally cringing as you force yourself to hug Venti. You make yourself cry harder, thinking of everyone you've ever cared about dead. It works. "Don't worry, my love, I'll be back soon enough!" Venti coos, as a grin breaks out on his youthful face. You know he doesn't really believe you. Venti pats and rubs your back, kissing your forehead before lifting your face up to his, pressing his lips to yours. Kissing you.

You want to scream, to tell him to stop, to leave you alone! But you just comply, kissing Venti back as you cry a little more. The kiss is vulnerable, soft, in Venti's mind at least. To you, it's invasive, predatory, disgusting. You hate it. You hate him. Venti breaks the kiss. "Buh bye my love! Don't do anything stupid, alright?" Venti smiles, petting your hair. You nod, looking at him as he kisses your cheek and walks out of the door, unlocking the many locks before leaving the house and relocking all of them. You're sure there are more locks outside. You breathe out a sigh of relief and joy, a grin breaking out on your face, one that you were holding back before.

You laugh to yourself, you probably look so stupid, don't you? You wipe your tears. They've proofed the house so you can't hurt yourself without it being painful, and they know knew that you couldn't do that, you're you were scared of pain. So it's picture frames after picture frames of them and you, no knives or sharp objects, no weapons, plastic baby utensils, baby cups, etc. It's so dehumanizing. But, not anymore.

You break everything you can in the house. One last picture frame stares at you. It's a picture of you, Xiao, Kazuha, Venti and Scaramouche. Although Scaramouche and Xiao didn't really want to be in the picturenot rlly w Xiao. You rip it off of the wall, throwing it against the ground like you've done all the others. Yeah, maybe that's wasted time. But you wanna get back at them. At least a little.

Route 1

(I have never attempted to hurt myself in such extreme, so forgive me if I don't write it correctly)

You pick up a shard of broken glass, you tightly grip the glass, causing yourself to bleed as the glass cuts into your palm. You wince. You press the glass to your wrist. But, you hesitate. You don't want it to hurt. But this is the only way to escape. But you don't want to die. You press the glass against your wrist, cutting into it. You wince, tears start to stream down your face again. It hurts. You take the glass from your wrist and wince as the cold air reaches the wound on your wrist. You move the glass down, cutting into it again, this time, lower. You continue to cut, until you feel dizzy from blood loss. You pass out.

You...

☆ bled out! ☆

Route 2

You pick up a shard of broken glass, you tightly grip the glass, causing yourself to bleed as the glass cuts into your palm. You wince. You press the glass to your wrist. But, you hesitate. You don't want it to hurt. But this is the only way to escape. But you don't want to die. You press the glass against your wrist, cutting into it. You wince, tears start to stream down your face again. It hurts.

Suddenly, the door is broken open. It's Xiao. "What is it you think you're doing!?" Xiao yells, quickly at your side and puting pressure on your wrist wound. He flings the shard of glass out of your hand, it shatters on impact against the wall. You struggle to get away from Xiao, trying to move back as you sob. "No! Stop! Let go of me!" You yell, but Xiao grabs you by the back of your neck, stepping over the shattered glass and various other objects, and he brings you to the bathroom.

Xiao starts to bandage and patch up your wrist. You didn't cut too deep, you were scared after all. Xiao softens. "Come on." Xiao grunts, lifting you up and bringing you to the bedroom as you sob and plead. Normally, the ones with the worst punishments are Venti or Scaramouche, and sometimes Xiao. So that's what you assume is going to happen. "Shut up. I'm not going to hurt you." Xiao says, laying you down on the bed and laying beside you. He hugs you close to him. He's glad he got here before you did anything more. But he's angry. Angry that you tried to leave him.

Maybe he'll cut off your arms or legs so you can't run or do anything without him. Just a compliant little bird. He would feed you, bathe you, have you drink things, have you be absolutely unable to do anything as he slots himself in between your thighs(that's where your legs would end, just above your knees), sinking himself inside of you inch by inch-

"Xiao..?" You tiredly whisper, snapping himself out of his thoughts. "Yes?" Xiao says, sharply. "I-I'm sorry..." You murmur, barely awake. Xiao curtly nods in response. Xiao feels you cry as you start to fall asleep. It's been a few minutes, probably around ten or twenty. Huh. Guess he just lost track of time.

You fall asleep. When you wake, Scaramouche is yelling at Venti. "Why did you leave her alone!? You stupid archon!" Scaramouche yells, glaring at Venti. "Says the puppet." Venti snaps, glaring back. Kazuha is cooing to you, realizing you've woken. You're laying in-between his legs, your back against his stomach.

You...

☆ Survived without a punishment! ☆

[writteninlunarlight-years]

I have an idea if you accept💕

What would the romantic and scary version be like? From the nun! Alastor with reader, where the 7 years that Alastor disappeared in hell, for some reason he was summoned by someone (probably teenagers doing stupid things) and because of that, he was trapped in the radio, of course he took advantage of this to haunt everyone who bought the radio ... Until the Human! reader bought the radio, but what Alastor didn't expect was that he fell in love with her after a while... Just like in the horror film Valak, apart from the romance part, it's obvious! (film: The Conjuring).

Note feel comfortable could be a yandere alastor? If it can't be normal....

Wicked Woman~

(I love this concept, especially if, later on down the line, the reader dies and remembers her life with Al. Please let me know if you would like this as a part two. I followed closely to what you asked but put my spin on it. Hope you all enjoy.)

TW: Dark themes, Murder, Death, Yandere Type Tendencies, Stockholm Syndrome

Alastors POV

Hell was everything I could ask for it to be. After my untimely death by those damn dogs, I vowed to continue my pursuit of power and strength. I entered hell unfathomably powerful, and I will take hell over with this power. I was feared and revered even by the highest class of demons that walked among us. Thousands of poor, unfortunate souls rested in my claws. Even in this prey-like form, I was purely a predator. 

How my name ended up in those damn demon books up top was beyond me; it probably had something to do with the one I sold my soul to for even more power—a damn trick to make me suffer for having power that rivaled those in all of hell. Yet, no one was brave enough to fully summon me or try and control me. I was elusive and would scare anyone who wanted to open ties with me on the mortal plane. However, that was my biggest downfall. In hopes of showing off my immense power and strength, I allowed those up top to know more about me in the end.

Ironically, children sought to summon me more than any damn adult; hell, I even thought cult leaders would call upon me more than this. That fateful day, though, when I was trapped in the radio, was due to some pesky teenage punks looking to harm some poor young girl. I hate people like that, those who prey on the weak, just like my father. 

It was quick work killing those teens off; the world was probably thousands of times better off without them. Yet every time I tried to go back to hell, I was stuck, some weird plan of reality; I was there on earth, but I wasn't. This had to be another twisted game my master was putting me through. It was another joke to show how I was still just below them on the food chain of power.

I knew showing my demon form would be unwise in this place; enough people tried calling on me as it was. While deciding my next plan of action, I heard the sirens coming close to the location of the slaughter. Sighing, I absorbed myself in the radio, hidden from sight and out of mind. Watching the clean-up was entertaining, but scaring the wits out of the police and cleaning crew was far superior. 

Once all was said and done, I learned this cabin was in the middle of the woods, once owned by one of those teens' parents. After the gruesome murders and odd occurrences around the house done by yours truly, they sold it off. This left a gorgeous cabin in the woods empty for me to enjoy. Being so secluded, I could come and go from the radio as I pleased; no need to fear that someone would see me.

This cabin reminded me so much of my home in the bayou with my mother. The woods resembled that of where my father took me hunting, resembled where I ended his life, and countless other horrible humans that got in my way. This place felt like I was living my human life once more with less killing that is.

For a year, I had tried going back to hell countless times. However, I realized till my master needed me, I was trapped here on the mortal plane. Accepting my fate, I decided to give up on hell and take this nice vacation. Who knows, maybe with my time away, I could have new ladders to climb upon my return. Plus, no one would dare to buy a cabin in the middle of the woods after a gruesome murder, where it was deemed haunted. 

I was dead wrong, however, when I heard the noises outside the cabin door. It finally happened on the day that marked the first year of my purgatory on the human plane. Someone had bought the cabin in the woods. I was shocked and almost pleased with this person's brazen stupidity. It's probably another punk kid wanting to do rituals or someone running away from their misdeeds. 

Yet the biggest surprise was the young woman who entered the house with the first set of boxes. She was lovely, kind, and vibrant. She wore a large black hat even though the skies were cloudy gray. Her voice sounded like bells from a chapel, and her smile radiated the sun's light. If my undead heart could beat, it would be beating faster. 

I swore off love at a young age, only courting women when it allowed me closer to targets that I needed to kill. Once in hell, I just killed to kill, no need for love or emotions. Yet this woman lit something within me that was to be feared and hated. 

As the days passed, I watched her unpack her boxes. I learned she was a Wiccan, finding joy in the dark and light of all things. I knew she knew I was there. She could feel me lurking in the shadows and hovering around. No matter how often she saged the house, I stayed, an entity far surpassing her mortal purities and spirituality. However, I would hand it to her; her spiritual prowess was strong.

I tried relentlessly to scare her off; I had a rule about killing women: unless they were evil, I would never lay a hand on them. So, all I had going for me was scare tactics and horror. Convincing her, I would eventually kill her. A few cuts and bruises here or there from a broken floorboard or a throwing knife. She never budged, though, a smile on her face as she said a prayer and went on with her day like I hadn’t just hung knives above her head. 

Months had passed since she joined me in this cabin; she cut firewood early in the morning, would come home, shower, cook food, go out to the town an hour away, and then come home and relax or pray to her deities. She did not care about my existence; the more I became attached to her, the more she didn’t care or fear. She took to calling me Shadowy, a stupid name but chosen purely due to me refusing to show her my proper form. I lurked in the shadows, only allowing that to be seen. Sure beat her first name for me, Radioy; humans suck at naming things.

Sitting at two years trapped in the mortal realm with a woman I was growing fond of wasn’t my ideal step in the process of unlimited power. However, I was more content trapped here in this cabin as long as it was with her and her alone. She would bring men over, enjoy their company, and send them on their way. They never made it far, though, having accidents as they returned to their place. Even when she left the house for the night to see them, I knew exactly who they were. 

By year three, she had stopped dating, growing frustrated with my senseless killings. The police had shown up at our door countless times to question her involvement, only for them to fade from existence as well. She stopped going outside much, only cutting firewood and grocery shopping occasionally. As much as it pained me to see her light diminishing, it also fueled a sick, sadistic part of me. 

I enjoyed watching her more; now that I didn’t have to worry about others popping up, I began showing her my proper form. A slight sense of pride swelled in me as she became pleased to witness my deer-like looks. Though I hated my looks, how she fawned over me, almost forgetting all my misdeeds towards her, was pleasing. I allowed myself to indulge in daily life with her, I stopped trying to scare her or kill her, and we fell into a semblance of domestic life. 

Once year four came around, she was tied to the house after interacting with a hunter in the woods. I would go out and kill her meat and anyone on our land. I would bring her wood and sustenance with my face covered in the blood of those who dared to try me. Eventually, she, too, became okay with this method of mine, and I was thrilled. I had my perfect human right here just for me. 

I taught her how to dance and cook meals my mother once taught me, showing her the joys of good Southern cooking. Though I could not process the cooked meals I showed her, I knew feeding her and making her strong was all that mattered. I gained plenty of sustenance by killing off anyone who came close to her. I gained sustenance by watching her fall more into me and my spell as I fell more into hers.

 Year five came around, and I had her clung to me; she was mine and mine alone. She gave up on her deities and only worshiped me. Fueling the God complex I already had, I swore to make her mine; no other man or demon could take her. She was powerful spiritually, and she would be vital in her death when she joined me. 

I began teaching her how to kill and maim those who entered our woods. I taught her how to murder and never be caught. In the beginning, she was horrible. I had to end a lot of police lives, yet she grew stronger as time went on. Soon, she was as notorious of a serial killer as I once was. The woods covered our tracks, ensuring we were hidden from the eyes of others. Oh, how I wished when I was alive that a spirit would assist me like this in my kills. 

In year six, I knew she was as strong as I was when I fell to hell. I made her so perfect, molding her to my ways. I knew when her time came in death, she would find me; my Doe. She used her spiritual powers to assist me in breaking my binds to my master. Though nothing ever seemed to work, she was persistent. I was proud; I understood why pride would be such a sin. Watching her work her powers and drain herself for me was delicious. 

This year was the year I finally claimed her. I took her and made her mine, not just in thought or word but in mind and body. I would not allow anyone to ruin my hard work. She was perfect, and she deserved me as I did her. We were bonded in a way that transcended soul bonds or mortal relationships. We were unstoppable.

This knowledge alone is why, come year seven, I felt the shift in my presence. I knew it was coming to my departure from her world. My master was calling me back to hell, threatened by the perfect morsel that I had created. My master knew I would be unstoppable if I followed my plan to convince her to die, to join me in the afterlife as one. This alone is what sent me back to hell, the fear I struck in the one I had controlling me.

I knew when it was my time to perish, she would join me here, and we would rule hell side by side. No one would stop that—no contract, no princess, and certainly no king. Though I enjoy the hotel and the people I have met there, I know my power only has room to grow. My doe would make quick work of anyone who dared to take her from me. She was left on earth to grow stronger and stronger to benefit me in her death. To help me rule all of hell. I would be unstoppable and grow immensely in all dimensions and planes of reality.

Oh, and my power will grow; it will grow when my wicked woman joins us in this fiery blaze…

[hermiona52]

I can't stop thinking about the recent cases of horrible abuse of women in France, South Korea, Uganda and India, so this fragment of Pauline Harmange's "I Hate Men", about why misandry is actually a healthy and reasonable response, is always on my mind:

If misandry is a characteristic of someone who hates men, and misogyny that of someone who hates women, it has to be conceded that in reality, the two concepts are not equal, either in terms of the dangers posed to their targets or the means used to express them. Misandry and misogyny cannot be compared, quite simply because the former exists only in reaction to the latter.

You’d literally have to have never looked beyond the end of your nose –or alternatively to be possessed of exceptional bad faith – to deny point blank that the violence women suffer is, in the huge majority of cases, perpetrated by men. This isn’t a matter of opinion, it’s a fact. The reason society is patriarchal is because there are men who use their male privilege to the detriment of the other half of the population. Some of this violence is insidious, background noise in the daily lives of women, so pernicious that we grow up with the impression that it’s the norm in male/female relationships. Other kinds of violence are so shocking that they make the headlines in national newspapers.

In 2017 in France, 90 per cent of the people who received death threats from their partners were women, while 86 per cent of those murdered by their partner or ex-partner were also women. Of the sixteen women who killed their partner, at least eleven, that is, 69 per cent of them, had themselves been victims of domestic violence. In 2019, 149 women were murdered by their partner or their former partner. In 2018, 96 per cent of those who received a prison sentence for domestic violence were men, and 99 per cent of those sentenced for sexual violence were men.

It’s not only women who are the victims of sexual attacks and rape, though it’s hard to find statistics of sexual attacks on men. There’s an enormous taboo when it comes to talking about sexual violence perpetrated against men, who suffer the full force of sexist stereotypes that imply that aman cannot be raped, since supposedly they’re always up for sex. It’s also very difficult for men to talk about sexual trauma. Society expects them to be strong and virile: nothing can be forced on them – and if it is, they aren’t ’real’ men.

A significant number of rapes are committed against minors, both male and female, and here too, the perpetrators are overwhelmingly men. In fact, whatever the sex or age of the victim of sexual harassment or violence– whether male or female, child or adult – it is vital to emphasise that the vast majority of those responsible for such violence are men.

[...] There are plenty of reasons to dislike men, if you think about it. Reasons backed up by facts. Why do men hate women? During the thousands of years that men have benefited from their dominant social position, what did we do – what have we done – to deserve their violence?

Misandry has a target, but it doesn’t have a list of victims whose morbid tally is totted up on almost a daily basis. We don’t injure or kill men, we don’t prevent them from getting a job or following whatever their passion is, or dressing as they wish, or walking down the street after dark, or expressing themselves however they see fit. And when someone does give themselves the right to impose such things on men, that person is always a man, and it still falls within the heteropatriarchal system

We misandrists stay in our lane. We might hate men, but at best we put up with them, frostily, because they’re everywhere and we don’t have any choice (incredible but true: it’s possible to hate someone without having an irrepressible urge to kill them). At worst we stop inviting them into our lives – or at least we make a drastic selection beforehand. Our misandry scares men, because it’s the sign that they’re going to have to start meriting our attention. Having relationships with men isn’t something we owe them,a duty, but, as in every balanced relationship, all the parties involved have to make an effort to treat one another with respect.

As long as there are misogynistic men who don’t give a damn, and a culture that condones and encourages them, there will be women who are so fed up they refuse to bear the brunt of exhausting or toxic relationships.

[rayassecretlife]

So this is love?

Pairing: Aged up!19 year old Neteyam sully x Fem!omaticaya!reader

PLEASE READ PART 1, PART 2, AND PART 3 BEFORE READING THIS.

Summary: After the long loving night you shared with Neteyam, it was time to go back home to the clan and tell them the news, but you also had to deal with your father.

Warning(s): Mentions of ab*se, Self h*arm and death, mature language, mentions of pregnancy, mature content, choking

“Neteyam?” You call as you walk further through the forest, listening to the trees blow in the dangerously silent wind. You had just woken up moments ago but it was still night, forest darker then it had been before you got there which was weird because the forest was anything but dark. “Neteyam!” You yell but receive no answer, calling to your Ikran but she was nowhere to be found.

A tall silhouette came into view making you sigh in relief, walking up to it slowly with one last call to his name. You smiled as he began to turn around, just a few feet away from his body.

“Nete-“ Your once love filled eyes turned into pure fear as the silhouette turned, gripping your neck in their hand as their face started to become clear to your eyes. “D-dad” You couldn’t breath, his hand was too tight against your neck and only got tighter, staring at you with the most hateful look you’d ever seen.

You choked out a cry as you clawed his hand, but he wouldn’t let you go—your breath getting caught in your throat quickly. “Y/N” a voice called faintly but it wasn’t your fathers, your mind not even processing it as you struggled to breath. “Y/N” the voice repeated, your vision starting to get foggy. “Y/N!”

With a blink of an eye you found yourself gasping for air in a whole new area, hand clasping at your chest with every shaky breath. “Y/N, look at me, Sweet girl” you jumped as you felt hands touch the small of your back, still gasping for air as you looked toward the figure. “It’s okay, I’m right here” you looked at your mate mortified, eyes widening at him without you even noticing. “Come here”

He pulled you into him and you soon began to cry, his hand grabbing yours to place against his heart. “Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that, Baby”

“I-I-“ he shushes you once more, hand stroking your hair gently as you continued to cry, holding onto him the hardest you ever could. “He almost killed me…”

“It was just a nightmare, Ma’Tìyawn. Nothing will happen to you while I’m here” His words are as true as Eywa herself, his comforting arms only tightening around you. Another day, another nightmare—this was nothing new to either of you. It hurt him horribly to see you so scared, feeling all the emotions you felt in your dream because your queues were still connected. “Don’t cry, beautiful girl. I’ve got you”

You wanted to apologize but you knew what he’d say so you bit your tongue, resting your head against his chest. You sigh as you felt his tail hook your leg, his hands roaming your hair as he kissed the top of your head.

“It felt so real… his hands—god, his hands, Nete” Neteyam didn’t want to hear of it any longer, shushing you once again in hopes you’d leave it alone. He was more worried about what was to come, how you two would soon walk home to the clan mated.

“As long as I’m still breathing, nothing will ever hurt you again, you hear me?” He lifts your face into his hands, eyes sincere with plead and you nod, wiping away your tears. “Let me deal with him when we get back, yeah?”

You remembered… the fact no one knew this had happened—that you had to explain it to them soon, just as you were to walk into high camp. You were nervous but you knew this is what everyone wanted, they wanted you to be Tsahìk. It was so much pressure. You didn’t know how to be Tsahìk, or even act like one—lessons with Neytiri and Mo’at we’re gonna be a long process.

“My love, your nervous” you look beside you and realize where you two had connected, head ducking down slightly once you realized he could feel everything you felt. His hand calmly rested in yours, thumb caressing over your skin. “Do you…have regrets?” He hesitantly asked and you quickly shook your head.

“No, of course not. I’m afraid I won’t be the Tsahìk they want me to be. I’ll fail…” He watches you closely as you reach down to your queues, thumb brushing over the root of them with a sigh. It was a terrifying feeling, falling in love and actually pursuing it. You had no idea how to give him what he needed, how to be the leader he needed you to be.

“I don’t want to worry about that now” His voice interrupts your thoughts and you look up, watching his lips peak into a small smile. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise” Eywa, how beautiful he was. His eyes always seemed to sooth you, always so sincere when he spoke to you. He wanted you to feel comfortable, safe whenever you touched. He would never let anyone lay a finger on you again.

“Can we stay here a little longer? Just… alone?” He smiles and nods his head, laying back onto the grass with his arm open to you which you happily accept. He can feel your nerves relax as soon as you lay your head against his chest. You didn’t want to think about the future either, just wanted to stay with him for as long as you could. His fingers began to stroke through your long hair and you couldn’t help but stare up at him, admiring his features without saying anything.

You swore you could fall back asleep just in his arms. You felt so weightless, like nothing could even get close to you as long as he was with you. You felt safe. “Your so pretty, Nete” The words slip from your mouth but before you could react he lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

“It still feels surreal. I’m mated to the most beautiful girl on pandora” You push his face with a laugh, hiding your head in his chest so he wouldn’t see your burning cheeks. You were laughing but he truly was being serious. He waited so long for this moment, spending so many days debating on whether it would come true or not. This was his dream. “Kids gonna be so pretty, I’m gonna have to fight off any boy that tries to fuck with our daughter”

Your laugh slowly dies down and he looks at you slightly worried he had taken it too far, his ears falling back against his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“How many do you want?” You ask, fingertips tracing circling over his chest. You could tell he was still on edge, but he knew you meant it. You always wanted kids—always talked about how well you’d treat them because of how you had been treated growing up. You wanted to give them a good life, good parents.

“A lot” He lets out a nervous laugh but your indistinct giggle is enough for him to lighten up, your eyes meeting his with a smile. “Like… four? Five?” Neteyam was always a family man. He wanted to treat his children the same way you did, and had the motive to treat them better then his father treated him and his brother. He needed a big family—it’s where he belonged.

“Boys and girls?” He nods his head instantly. “So if we have five, how many girls do you want?”

“I want three girls and two boys, but I want the oldest to be a boy” You smile, he wants girls. you couldn’t help but look at him in awe—admiring how his eyes lit up when he talked about it. “I don’t want a lot of boys… stresses you out” He notices your eyes on him mid sentence, a small smile appearing on his lips with a laugh. “What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. Your just so cute, wanting a family with me and all” You snuggle into him, heart full at the sentence you had just said. You and Neteyam… parents? Oh Eywa, it sounded so good. “I used to stay up all night dreaming of this. Just the two of us, you know?” His heart is doing backflips, stomach filling with butterflies at your words.

“Eywa, I’m so in love with you” You smile against his neck, pressing a small kiss against his jaw. You could cry just over your relationship. You’d never felt so safe, so calm in another’s arms. Your mate would admit his love for you in a heartbeat, over and over if you needed him to. “As much as I love being here with you, they have been paging me all night” You notice his pager against his necklace, letting out a small sigh before nodding.

“I’m just nervous… it’ll be okay” you reassure him but before you could get up, he cupped your face, pressing a soft but passionate kiss to your lips. It felt like his way of telling you it would be alright, and that he wouldn’t let anything ruin this day for you both.

“Don’t be nervous, Syulang. The people love you. Plus, we need to move into our own cave now, huh?” A smirk appeared across his lips and you rolled your eyes, pushing him. “All alone, every night… man, we’ll have 5 kids in no time-“

“Neteyam!” You cover his mouth and he only laughs, watching your face turn into a mug. “Not funny”

“Really? Cause with what happened last night…” His hand reaches down between you, pressing onto your stomach with a smile. “We’ve already started”

The two of you made it back to the village about 15 minutes after, Neteyam’s hand locked into yours just waiting for someone to see. You hoped it was Neytiri, knowing how badly she had been rooting for you guys. She would be the easiest.

“Neteyam!” Oh no. The little voice calls to your mate, running up to the two of you with the biggest smile on her face. You knew she’d draw so much attention, and now you were royally fucked.

“Tuk, did you see him-“ Neytiri’s eyes fall on the sight before her, her pupils lighting up with excitement. She made her way to you, pulling you into a tight hug with her hand soothing your back, whispering little reassuring things into your ear. “Great mother… you are mated?”

You nod and she almost shrieks out of excitement, the clan now coming to see what had been happening. Neteyam grabbed your hand and pulled you further, walking to the people who had been coming to you. Only one person stood out.

Mo’at.

“My sweet grandchild, I am never wrong!” She pulls you into a hug and you laugh, wrapping your arms tight around her. “I was hoping that’s where you went, boy. You’ve been ignoring us all night!” He laughs, hugging an arm around her while she still hugged you.

“Does this mean we have a Tsahìk?” Tuk’s little voice asks and the family all looks at each other, Neteyam’s hand squeezing your own. The simple nod of your head makes the clan cheer, and you couldn’t help but smile. You were nervous, but these were your people.

“You can’t keep me in here forever, sully! I’ll find my fucking daughter!” Your head turned at your fathers loud voice, almost jumping from your mates grasp. He placed a hand against the back of your head, squeezing your hand.

“Hey, hey” He soothes, turning your head to face him. “I’m right here, your safe. Your safe now” Neytiri smiles at you two, giving mo’at a slight look. Neytiri taught Neteyam to protect you growing up, but now? Great mother, nothing was getting passed him. “I’m going to deal with it, okay? I’ll be back”

He kisses your head before you could say anything, voice hesitant as you watched your mate walk toward the caves where the yelling came from. You hated that you felt so empty without him next to you, now biting your lip to try and stop your nerves from getting the best of you.

“Come, child” Mo’at grabs your hand and you turn to face her with slightly widening eyes, watching her face soften. “It is okay, he will handle everything” Neytiri’s hand cups the small of your back, giving you a reassuring look. “I will show you to your new cave—that is, if your looking to-“

“Yes. We are” Neytiri smiles, noticing how you’d lightened up when she soothed you. “I will follow you” And you did just that. Mo’at did you a solid giving you one of the more deserted Caves that happened to be bigger then most. Only the best for her grandchildren, right?

You enter the cave and almost instantly fall in love. It was a beautiful cave under the trees, and it had an opening on the back wall which looked out onto the waterfall behind your new home. You imagined it all here, the moment you’d bring home your first child.

“Do you like it?” Mo’at doesn’t miss how your eyes begin to water, her hand rubbing your shoulder with a small smile. “Sweet child, don’t cry” it was bittersweet. You grew up in a broken home with a broken family, The Sully’s being the only thing you ever had—and now, you were soon to become the Tsahìk of your clan and live a normal life with the boy you loved. You couldn’t believe it was real.

“I love it, Mo’at. I—oh, Eywa” You sniffle, wiping the tears that fell from your eyes. “Thank you… thank you both so much” you couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful water, remembering you still had to take a bath due to last nights events. Neytiri must’ve known what you were thinking because she almost instantly reassured you.

“We will give you time to get used to your new home. Let us know if you need help grabbing things from your old one, okay?” She combs your hair and you nod, giving her a small smile.

Soon enough, the two mother figures left the cave to go on about their day, most likely planning something much bigger for you and Neteyam later on. The only thing that had been holding Neteyam back from becoming Olo’Eyktan, was the fact he didn’t have a mate. Now that he did, you knew things would move fairly quick.

You let the water take you as you walk into the small waterfall stream, the loud crashes of the water somewhat soothing you in the fact you had been alone. You could still feel Neteyam’s hands against you, and his voice in your ear. You must’ve been losing it. This mate bond was far too strong.

Neteyam on the other hand, but standing right behind you with his eyes flush just taking in your perfect body. He was mesmerized by your looks, your voice, your hair, hell—even the way you smelled. You were so beautiful.

“Need some help with that?” He asks as you try to wet your back, body quickly turning toward the loving accent you were so fond of. Your eyes were big with excitement and he loved every second of it—pulling you into his arms so you’d wrap your legs around his waist. “I was only gone for 30 minutes”

“30 minutes too long, Mr. Sully” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you into a kiss. You felt your queues connect, eyes squeezing shut at the still fairly new feeling. “Did you see the cave? It’s so beautiful, Tey. We have a waterfall and-“

Neteyam watched in awe as you continued to ramble about your new life, only imagining what things are gonna be like from now on, what it would soon be like once you two started a family. He imagined you would be even more beautiful then before, pregnant and carrying his child? After years of feelings hidden away, you two were finally one—and he couldn’t wait to start a family with you.

“I love you, Syulang” He blurts out and you stop talking, looking at him while your cheeks burned with heat. He lifted his head toward you, still holding you up with his hands—pressing a passionate kiss to your lips.

Everytime your lips touched, you’d get lost in yourself. You’d forget where you even were whenever he was with you. You don’t know what came over you, but one hand set on the back of his neck, pulling him closer into the kiss while your other hand roamed his chest.

“My love, Not right now but later” Fuck. He knew you so well. You whine against his lips, tugging his hair gently back, earning a small moan from his lips. “You make it real hard to stay on task, Pretty girl”

Just as you were about to reply, the sudden snap of a twig caught your attention quickly, and your head snapped toward the direction it came from, pulling away from Neteyam’s grasp. Was someone watching you?

“Let her go!” Your mother yells, your now bleeding body fallen onto the dirty under you. Your father continued to beat you, objects cutting you and leaving bruises

“Daddy…” you tried to wipe your tears, you tried to stay strong like your mother had told you, but you couldn’t when your body had been this destroyed. Your were 9, it wasn’t your fault.

It wasn’t your fault

It wasn’t your fault

At this point, he was trying to take in the many cuts and bruises along your back, placing a soothing hand against your body. Your ears stood tall as you searched for what made that noise, up until he engulfed your body against his.

“Can we check it out—what if-“

“It’s not him, baby. He’s locked away. He can’t hurt you” You didn’t believe him. You didn’t believe that your father would leave you alone because you knew he’d find a way. He always finds a way. “My love, you can’t stay this way forever”

His hand softly caressed your stomach under the water and you couldn’t help but close your eyes, letting a small tear roll down your cheeks. That fact only made you cry, the fact he could hurt your child if he got out… it terrified you.

“I’m sorry” He shushes you, turning you towards him and pulling you back into his chest, your head laying in the crook of his neck. You felt like such a burden. You didn’t want neteyam to have to deal with this, you wanted him to be able to love you easily.

But Neteyam didn’t care that you were harder to love. He didn’t care that you woke him up every night because of your nightmares, he didn’t care when you zoned out because of your memories—he loved you. His broken hearted girl, he loved you so much.

You were all he needed, and he wanted every part of you.

Just a little cute ending to the series that started me off. Excuse the inactivity 🩵

Taglist: @doggyteam2028 @luvagirlsworld @mashiromochi @angelsamor @neytirishottie @lu-the-ghost-reader @jakescumdump @myh3artttt @rinizitos @luz15sstuff @lalamac125 @countryandsweetbabygirl @queenmizuki @sunnysolhaze

Sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged, the tag list is a copy n paste of my other post ://

[gunthermunch]

[Transcript under the cut]

WG: hi Gunther: hi uh- sorry if i woke you up or something. i felt like calling. i don't know. WG: nah i was just… hanging. what's up? Gunther: ah uh- well. we're cutting our honeymoon short. Lilith had one of those really bad nightmares yesterday and she insists on going back with the kids. WG: seriously? it's not even been a whole week yet Gunther: it's that bad. i've never seen her this alarmed before Gunther: so uh- yeah. make sure to get Garrett from Caleb's before tomorrow night? please? she really needs the kids around. WG: yeah yeah. ahah. Bluma's gonna hate that Gunther: speaking of, i'm standing in the shore in my underwear because i want a starfish or something colorful and or shiny for said little lady. the sand feels horrible in my feet, i have to add. Gunther: how is she? WG: oh yeah. it's disgusting. WG: and she's doing excellent. Everything's excellent in fact; Bluma made a friend and Garry's first steps were right in front of me Gunther: …i'd need you to be more specific before i yell WG: i'm half joking. The house you and grandpa got includes a big freaking haunted maze, you geniuses. Gunther: what. WG: okay. I'll make a sum up. Gunther: i'd prefer all the details

WG: so are these forever or…? Caleb: oh no, nonono. well. not unless he learns or wants to control his mind controlling powers. Morgyn: if you ask me it' be fantastic to just glue those sunglasses on him WG: are you kidding? Garry's sick little powers could make us RICH Morgyn: and how exactly you plan on doing that? WG: dunno. infant robbery? i'm sure he'd love that Morgyn: my godness.

Bluma: the world has gone insane! all crazy! why'd they bring Garry back?! Bluma: not fair… and you! Jojo! Jojo why won't you sleep in the bed i made for your little body! Jojo: meow Bluma: i even gave you your own light because you've been on that basement for so long you must be scared of the dark! Jojo: mrow… Bluma: your- did your last owner let you sleep on his bed? is that why you don't like yours? Bluma: …what happened to them anyways? i saw the picture. Bluma: wish your kitty paws knew how to write… but i can't even read well either Gunther: hello my little flower Bluma: papa!!! Bluma: dad i missed you so much! so many things happened i really wanted you to see! Gunther: i know darling your uncle told me everything Bluma: all of it? Gunther: in big detail, yes. Even about your Jojo Gunther: how's he not dead? Bluma: dunno! Gunther: we need to get him checked in every way possible. The basement too, good lord. Garlic down there? Bluma: and ghosts! my kitty radio the Goth lady made spirit-y played a lot of music on it's own! Gunther: oh god Bluma: yes!! Gunther: now what are YOU so excited about Bluma: daaad!!! Gunther: …Bluma darling, there's something we need to talk about.

[balkanradfem]

male's violence is increasing so much and im worried and i hate that my worrying is because of the fact women won't still wont do anything it's like being on the losing team i cant look into anything literally anything without misogyny i log in instagram i watch a woman and the comments being misogynistic i log in twitter i see posts with thousands of likes by males threats and rape and how they discuss that women dancing or being happy or being independent or even existing is violence against them and then u see pick mes agreeing with males and all the countries are treating women horribly u have korea and Afghanistan and iran and india and middle east and america and everywhere and yet we get gaslighted that we are the violent and we are the oppressors and we are just playing victims, as an arab woman i feel like the whole world is turning into middle east and im scared i can't believe i escaped hell just for that hell to spread everywhere

I am so sorry. It's true what you're saying. The world is currently a dark place, and it would burn anyone out. Especially to be so explicitly exposed to all the women-hating on media all at once!

I believe that in order to persevere, we have to carve out our own little spaces with zero women-hating, normalize it, and get a little peace of mind. I don't think we can immediately do something to stop all this, to end it, but we have to push trough, we have to wait for our chance to make a change. Women won't be fooled forever, they won't believe the gaslighting forever. Truth will out, especially if we keep saying it.

It must be devastating to believe you finally got to a safer place, only to turn out that this place too, is developing the same hatred, same dangers for you. It sucks so bad. You don't deserve this. I hope you can surround yourself with women who have your back and don't believe a word males are saying. I would never log into twitter or instagram when I know it's not created for female safety, happiness, or fun. I only feel safe here.

[goodolddumbbanana]

TO BE A MIRROR [2]

An Au when Sun is dead (by Nexus), Dark Sun pretends to be Sun while trying to find some way to revive him in secret. Nexus is having a mental breakdown, maybe get some redemption later. Everyone is not having a good time except Sun, that poor boy only when he is dead (temporarily) can get some rest.

It starts with hope and ends up with despair.

Dark Sun would never understand why, out of all variants of Sun. This Sun, or his naive stupidly version of himself, is still trying so hard to save 'Nexus' - the 'brother' who already fell too far of the cliff, the one who claimed he would be different so frequently, and just ends up doing the same process that every Moon does when things don't go as they pleased. Being a piece of shit and ruining everybody's fun.

He doesn't hate Nexus, not that much as he hated the other Moons. He hated all Moon's variants equally, mind you. But, that skeletonish version of his so-called brother recently started getting on his nerves.

He became too reckless for Dark Sun's liking. Putting his family in danger isn't a big deal in Dark Sun's booklist, but what Nexus's tampering pose a greater enemy to approach Dark Sun... And well...It could potentially be a delay for all Dark Sun's plans and a pain in his ass to solve it. Dark Sun wants to stay low, thank you. Not everyone is as dramatic as Moon.

Maybe he had miscalculated. Maybe, recruiting Nexus is a mistake, causing him more trouble than good in the long run.

If this situation continues, Dark Sun will have to deal with Nexus first. Even though it will be a waste of talent, and time and how trouble Sun has been through to get his stupid egoistic ass to come here. But, oh well, you need to do what you need to do… 

And who says Sun isn't the kind of person who would cut down an entire flower garden just because it had a few worms.

Oh, he is getting a side track again. Where was he? Oh right, that Sun, the spineless one, is truly something different. Dark Sun has traveled to a lot of dimensions, it always ends up with Sun kills Moon or the opposite. Or if it is not, Sun would be too scared or stutter to do anything, too stunned by reality. It truly rarely sees a version of himself, after going through so damn craps, still stays the same like this.

It almost puts him in a different perspective, and makes him feel a little bit of pity and...angry for no reason.

-----Some of my rambling words that maybe one day I would try my best to write all of this out.

Anyways, The feeling of emptiness and anger (a little bit flavored of jealousy and bitterness, pity and curiosity) is what makes Dark Sun start to stalk Sun from the beginning. He shows up at Sun's room randomly, he uses Neptor to talk with Sun when nobody is around, and calmly gaslighting him that if Sun talks about these 'Neptor thingy' with anyone, Moon will destroy 'Jack and Dazzle 's new best friends' and it would be all his fault. Also, Dark Sun promised that Sun doesn't have any value in Dark Sun plans so he doesn't need to worry, because if Dark Sun needs anything, he would go to Moon.

So, after a long long ass interaction and episodes, Sun gets used to Dark Sun's bullshit. He talks back, he ignores Dark Sun present, and sometimes, he expresses his thoughts for Dark Sun like he forgets who the person he is talking with.

They both know there have been some changes between them, but both choose to ignore it. They rather believe it is just an illusion than a real friendship.

They’d rather think between them just purely the manipulator and the one who is being manipulated, than both Dark Sun and Sun actually feel comfortable and understand each other.

They are Sun. They are experts at lying and suppressing their own emotions. So, it is no surprise that even with this  information that Dark Sun and Sun actually like to hang out with each other, nothing changes.

Dark Sun still continues his suspicions plans may or may not affect horribly with Sun's life, and Sun still tries to rely on his nonexistent plot amor to find out Dark Sun's secret and how to stop the bigger threats to hurt everyone he loves, and when push comes to shove, he has to realize and accept that he will have to kill Dark Sun just like every of his enemies.

And, it is why the confrontation happens.

Some episodes go by, Sun and Moon figure out there are some sinister reasons behind Nexus going off to madness. Sun wants to try to save Nexus, and Moon just wants to kill Nexus for good..

(MF can't stand the idea of another version of himself just hurting his family and getting free tickets to go back like nothing happened.)

They succeeded in getting into Nexus's lab (it is a trap), but they got separated. (Because it is a trap, Moon, you are dummy)

And because Dark Sun still has some Self destructive tendency he gets from Moon, he decided to be a little silly.

"Dark Sun!!? Why are you here??!"

"Oh don't worry about me. Say, Sun. Consider it my pity. Do you want to know where your New Moon is? "

They have some talk. About some secret unshow things.

And then we see Sun just get out of his trap room, and see Nexus, for the first time since a very long time and boy... It is bad.

Nexus, the one Sun feels responsible for, the one Sun thinks if it is not because of him, Nexus wont turn out that way, is just laughing like a freaking maniac and talking about his evil plan with a bot while dressing in pink.

Nexus despite his downgrade episode, in my AU, Sun is the only person he doesn't want to harm, yet. So when Nexus lost his control, he just hit Sun hard. And Sun dies.

Anyways, while Nexus gets yeet in a different room because he is too unstable (pinkish boy having a mental breakdown about killing the only one who still cares about him) for Dark Sun's liking, Dark Sun walks in front of Sun face.

Sun asks why he is not dead by now, Dark Sun said he has already planted some kind of technology in Sun head that makes Sun stay awake for more minutes than just go poof. Sun is still dead though. It just slows down the process, a very painful process for them to talk, the last talk.

Turns out between Dark Sun and Sun, they had made a deal. If Nexus can't change and kill or hurt Sun, Dark Sun wins. And if Nexus comes back to his senses, Sun will win and Dark Sun has to admit not every Moon is the same.

And when Dark Sun looks at Sun's eyes to see some regrets or hatred for Nexus like some symbol of victory, he is surprised because there is none. Just classic good old Sun - in Sun's eyes, he only sees the feeling of shame and guilt and blames himself for not being better, or trying to talk more to Nexus.

And in this moment, Dark Sun snaps. He yells at Sun's face, begging Sun just to just get angry, to just stand up for himself. Don't defend Moon anymore, he is not worth it, not worth for Sun's truth and love, not like that.

But Sun literally only likes a minute to live, the first and the last time in his life, tell Dark Sun to fuck off, so he can die in peace.

But Dark Sun doesn't do that. He is just sitting next to a half broken body of Sun, saying dying alone is very lonely and it is cruel to let someone like Sun, like them, to suffer this fate in the hand of Moon.

Sun asks if Dark Sun has lied about his plans not involving Sun. Dark Sun doesn't say anything.

Sun asks if it is the end for him, the answer is the same. It makes Sun laugh, it is a ugly laugh, the kind of sounds you only hear from a wounded animal.

Then, Sun uses the last of his breath, asking Dark Sun a favor.

And things go to history. Dark Sun accepts his new identity, and while still being manipulative behind the curtain, he takes Sun to a different room in his pocket and lives his life as 'Sun' like a promise for a friend.

[werewolves-are-real]

Time Travel Temeraire snippet

At first, Laurence assumes he's dead.

It's a natural conclusion. He remembers dying, after all.

He and Tenzing were at a function hosted by Wellesley. They were mostly there to support the dragons. Temeraire had long abandoned them to quarrel with Perscitia in the courtyard, with half a dozen ferals watching like it were a jousting match. Wellesley had laid out his grounds to allow room for dragons and men to mingle, but a good portion of the guests retreated inside to avoid the raised voices of the dragons.

Laurence wonders how Temeraire felt about that, later. About not seeing.

He was stabbed. He barely remembers it – just a quick pulse of pain in his chest, looking down. Red blooming over his coat.

Then he was on the floor. People screamed. Tenzing appeared, grappling with a tall and finely-dressed man; he used a dinner-knife to punch a hole in the stranger's throat, in a fantastic spray of blood, and dropped the body at once to kneel by Laurence's side.

He remembers Wellesley barking orders – bandages, water, a hot knife. Have to cauterize it, he'd shouted. Keep pressure -

But Tenzing never spoke. Just pressed down on Laurence's chest, over the wound, without particular panic. Laurence still remembers the grim resignation on his face; Tenzing knew what was coming. Laurence was glad to have him there when he died.

Then Laurence woke up.

The world sways in a familiar way, a rhythmic motion that Laurence registers on a soul-deep level. He's on a ship. But why? Where is Tenzing, Temeraire? Why would they put him on a ship?

“I think the fever's breaking,” says a voice. A naval doctor, disheveled and salt-stained, with long scars down his bared arms. “Oh, and awake too!”

“Well thank Christ,” says another man. One Laurence recognizes.

It's Captain Gerry Stuart – but he looks different, younger than the last time Laurence saw him, with smooth skin and dark curly hair.

Gerry died two years ago.

“Well, Lieutenant! You gave us a scare – how are you feeling?” Gerry asks.

“It's Admiral,” Laurence corrects rather than all the other things he does not dare ask. He hates the title foisted upon him; but it's at least more comprehensible than Lieutenant, and he clings to that rather than demand where did you come from.

Stuart throws back his head to cackle, though the concern doesn't leave his face. “Still perhaps a bit feverish, I think!”

“That might be the laudanum,” says the doctor, also amused. “Why don't you sleep a bit more, Lieutenant?”

“But where is Temeraire? Or Tenzing?”

“I can only assume you had some very vivid dreams,” Stuart chuckles. “You were babbling and babbling for Temeraire – isn't that a ship?”

“Perhaps the flagship of his fleet,” suggests the doctor, and Stuart laughs again. “Get some rest, Mr. Laurence. Holler if you need me.”

They both exit the sick-berth. Laurence stares blankly at the door.

What?

Laurence pats his chest. No wound. He looks down, startled by the pale thinness of his fingers, his youth-soft skin.

Well; not soft. Callouses cover his hands. But even these patterns are different – hard skin in places where he would hold a sword, or pulls ropes. His hands should be more wrinkled, yes; but these callouses faded years ago.

“Where am I?” he asks when the doctor returns. “And what is the year?”

“The year? 1793. You don't remember?”

1793. Laurence was 19 in 1793. A lieutenant for two years, on the Shorewise.

The doctor narrows his eyes. “What's my name, lad?”

Laurence swallows. His stomach churns; for the life of him he can't remember.

The doctor rushes off to retrieve the captain.

_____________________________

Laurence is diagnosed with brain fever, and partial amnesia. Gerry is horribly guilty about laughing, earlier; Laurence could not care less. He is given strict orders to stay on bed-rest for another week, in hope his strength will recover – and his mind.

Laurence doesn't think he'll have any issues working – he's forgotten many of the people around him, true, but he may never forget the way to run a ship. He's far more concerned with learning what happened.

From all appearances, it is indeed 1793. France is undergoing riots, and declared war against Britain in February. Temeraire has not hatched. Napoleon is probably a corporal or general himself, at this point. If he exists at all. God knows, perhaps Laurence is only mad.

But he doesn't feel mad. His memories are too vivid to be mere fever-dreams. A man cannot dream up twenty years of life!

But neither can a man go back to his youth, and live it all again.

I have a dragon, he thinks of saying. There is no war, because I captured Napoleon – an unknown man who makes himself emperor.

Mad. It sounds mad even to Laurence himself. But to imagine that Temeraire was a fever-ridden dream... Tenzing and Granby and China, all of it...

Laurence doesn't share his turmoil with anyone – not even with Gerry, who checks on him fretfully. After a week the doctor declares him well enough, physically. He's paired always with another lieutenant for the first few days on duty, and his shipmates watch him carefully for signs of permanent debilitation; but aside from a moment or two of hesitance, Laurence competently resumes his duties. The oversight lessens.

Laurence thinks about writing letters.

He thinks about writing to Tharkay's late father, who ought to still be alive, inquiring after his son. He thinks of writing to Prince Mianning, asking about the health of Lung Tien Qian. He thinks of writing to young Midshipman Granby, his unwed brother, his dead father...

Not all of them would reply. But he could ask questions. Could verify the truth of things. Unless this, instead, is the delusion.

Is he in 1793, imagining the future? Is he in the future, imagining the past? Or maybe he is already dead, and this is the reality of hell. He came here burning with fever, and now he burns with fear. Surely that is it's own form of torture.

Laurence is ironically given the task of tutoring the midshipman and lieutenant-hopefuls more than any other duty as the weeks pass; his crewmates still look askance, and the more eager of the midshipman become protective. Laurence remains perfectly capable of command; it is only that he can't help but be absent-minded, sometimes, staring at all the crewmen that pass him like they are nothing but moving paintings. Images of a world that no longer matters.

One evening the midshipmen drag him away to a meal with the other officers. It's a noisy crowd; Laurence would find the friendly bustle comforting in another life.

One of the senior officers, Lieutenant Moore, waves him down as Laurence enters. Evidently they used to be friends, given his notably concerned behavior of late. Laurence can't remember the man, and has a sneaking suspicion he died too soon to make a lasting impression.Moore jostles him when Laurence sits at the long table. “Will! Did you get any letters with the last batch?”

A patrolling gunboat brought a satchel of letters just this morning. “I did not,” Laurence says. He's grateful for the fact. He'd found a few pieces of correspondence in his quarters that he dutifully sent on; he cannot imagine writing a letter now, in this confused state.

“Then you've had no news! Robespierre has gone mad. Madder than before, I suppose.”

“Robespierre?” asks Laurence blankly.

Lieutenant Moore double-takes, as does everyone else around them. “Good lord, Will, please tell me you remember Robespierre?”

Right... Robespierre's reign was brief, but this is when he led France. Some of the things the papers published...

Well, at least Laurence has a well-worn excuse for his ignorance. He plays up his malady: “Yes. I think I recall he was... French?”

Groans of horror mixed with amusement echo around the table. “...Well you aren't wrong,” says Moore, looking pained. “He has styled himself the 'President' of their Assembly, which is some stupid way of being king; the French are all mad about removing and adding words right now. I don't know how they expect anyone to hold a conversation.”

“We should... probably educate Mr. Laurence about the war at some point,” some midshipman mutters. Laurence doesn't recall his name.

Moore sighs again. “Anyway. Robespierre is a tyrant, of course. But he's elected someone else to rule France! Barely more than a boy, too.”

Laurence frowns; he doesn't remember what Moore's talking about. “Why would he do that? Did they capture one of the Bourbons?” Declaring himself regent of a child-prince would at least make sense.

“Well, at least you remember them. No; it is some nobody, a young soldier. Not even French! I cannot fathom it.”

It feels like Laurence has been dunked in ice.

For a moment he can't respond. “What was his name? The soldier.”

“Napoleon Bonaparte. He has been chosen as head of their new heresy, the 'Cult of the Supreme Being,' they're calling it; and now de facto head of the government, too. Must be a priest? I don't know, nothing the French are doing makes sense. I expect his little group will be as short-lived as everything else about these riots.”

But Laurence doesn't think so. “...Excuse me; I'm feeling a bit poorly,” he says, rising on wavering legs.

“Yes, you look it! Go on, we'll tell you about the war later...”

Laurence flees.

[kirby0strombolli]

Ghostface | Matt Sturniolo P6

'What's the matter Sidney? You look like you've seen a ghost.'

ghostface!matt x reader

Chapter 6 - The truth.

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8

a/n: y'all are getting a matt pov!!

matt's pov

It was supposed to be the night of the annual Halloween party that I had been looking forward to going to with y/n.

We were supposed to be matching- cowboy and cowgirl- not exactly scary, but it's whatever.

His plans had changed that.

Y/n hated horror movies, and knew remotely nothing about them.

Like if she was being spam-called by some loser, she wouldn't block them. She hasn't even watched scream, my all time favorite horror movie.

But then again, I've only watched about 3 horror movies.

None of them with y/n, of course.

I honestly didn't blame her. Not that I would admit that I'm scared of horror movies.

I'm pulled out of my deep thoughts when my phone buzzes, and as I glance at the screen, I frown;

y/n <3 our plans are off, sorry matt :( me why? what's up?? y/n <3 busy you can go.

The crease between my brows furrows impossibly deeper.

She never declined anything on such short notice.

She wouldn't ever make me go to a party on my own. She knows how bad my anxiety can get, especially at parties.

Let alone being alone.

My mind battles with the thousands of possibilities for why she was acting so cold.

She's: Planning a surprise, annoyed, insecure, lost feelings for me, cheating, talking to her ex??

The most horrible thoughts appear in my mind, but I shrug off my worry, hoping for the best.

Maybe she really is busy.

yeah right.

Maybe I should just go. It wouldn't be that bad, would it?

I mean, what was the worst that could happen?

I drop my phone, and rub my eyes, feeling a newfound surge of confidence coming through me.

I was going to go to this party.

I run a hand through my hair as I make my way to retrieve my costume from my closet.

As I open my closet, ready to change into the costume for the halloween party my smile drops from my lips, my face paling.

It was me. But- it wasn't me.

It stood in the corner of my closet, Its face distorted into a huge grin.

When I blinked it was gone.

I blink my eyes several times again, making sure I haven't gone crazy.

With trembling hands, I gently pull out the outfit, and quickly whip my hand out, grabbing the hanger.

Shaking off the uneasy feeling, and dismissing it as my imagination running wild, I shake my head and head into the bathroom.

Before shutting the door, I make sure to do a double check around the room, just in case.

I'm being stupid. I'm not a kid anymore. Monsters aren't real.

Looking in the mirror, I observe my tired face in the reflection.

I open the tap with a sigh, splashing water onto my face, and with the cool liquid washing away the remnants of my grogginess, I momentarily close my eyes.

But, with my eyes closed, I suddenly felt vulnerable. Like someone was watching me. As I opened my eyes again, blinking away the droplets, I could feel that something was off.

I hear a loud thunk from inside my room.

My wardrobe.

I didn't shut it.

I jerk my head up, but it's too late.

Before I even look in the mirror I know what's there.

It's me. But not me.

my biggest fear.

Looking in the mirror, I can see my pale face, eyes wide with horror, and, staring right back at me with eyes that glinted evilly was something so identical to myself- with its firm claw clamped around my mouth.

Our eyes meet in the reflection, and I know one thing.

I'm fucked.

______________________________________________________________

When I open my eyes, I am met with darkness.

As my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, panic surges through me like a tidal wave crashing against the shore.

The room was pitch black, the air heavy with the suffocating scent of fear.

As I try to move, to break free from the restraints that bound me to the chair, my efforts proved futile.

My heart pounded in his chest as I struggled against the tight bonds, my mind racing with a thousand questions and a million fears.

I struggle about, trying to free my wrists from what I think could be rope, but wince as it starts to run vigorously hard against my skin.

As I screw my eyes shut from the painful burn against my wrist, I can feel my memories slowly coming back.

It's my doppelganger.

He wants to kill her.

He's going to kill her.

______________________________________________________________

y/n's pov

It was like a lucid dream.

I was aware of my surroundings, but I couldn't move.

I was in a blank room.

I was trapped, nowhere to go.

And the doppelganger was there, his long cloak billowing out from behind him.

As he approached with a large, glistening knife, she could do nothing but wait.

And hope.

That he wouldn't kill her.

______________________________________________________________

matt's pov

I fled into the cold night air, running as fast as I could, not daring to look back.

I escaped.

And it was easy.

But it wasn't over, yet.

I knew the way to y/n's apartment like the back of my hand.

Through the pounding rain and the enveloping darkness, I ran with all my strength, my heart hammering in my chest with each stride.

The urgency of my mission propelled me forward, my footsteps echoing in the eerily empty streets as I navigated through the labyrinth of shadows.

Every second felt like an eternity as I raced against time, I couldn't live knowing I was too slow to save her.

Her safety was all that mattered, I can't live without her.

With each step, the rain soaked through my clothes, plastering my hair to my forehead and chilling me to the bone.

But I paid no heed to the discomfort, my focus solely fixed on reaching her before it was too late.

As I turned the corner onto her street, my pulse quickened, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

The familiar landmarks blur in my peripheral vision as I zeroed in on her apartment building, my breaths coming in ragged gasps.

With a final burst of energy, I sprinted up the stairs to her door, my hand shaking as I reached for the handle.

With a swift motion, I push open the door, and as I hear my own voice on the other side, my eyes widen in fear.

"Not this chapter then, y/n."

taglist: @lexisecretaccx @itssophiasstuff @junnniiieee07

comment to be added to the taglist a/n: the scream quotes are hard to miss y'all

[thornybubbles]

Jotaro Yandere Alphabet (Incomplete)

I filled some of this out a while back, but didn't post it because I never finished it. I decided to go ahead and post what I have to tide my followers over while I work on my other projects. So enjoy what I have. I may actually finish the rest of this at a later date. Be aware that it's in bits and pieces right now as I skipped over some entries.

Original alphabet found here.

Reader Beware! Dark content ahead! Yandere behavior and Jotaro being a big meanie because you won't just shut up and love him...

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Hey, this is Jotaro we’re talking about. He’ll get as messy as he needs to in order to keep you by his side. Though, he doesn’t want you to be afraid of him, so if he needs to resort to violence, he does so when you aren’t looking. If he feels he needs to get rid of someone then he’ll most likely do it the sneaky and (mostly) non-violent way. Do you have a teacher that keeps giving you a hard time? He’ll corner her after school and “convince” her to back off. The next day, that teacher won’t show up for class. She never comes back to class. Jotaro’s scared her so badly that she not only packed up her things and moved out of town, but she never took a teaching job again. That one guy that’s always trying to get a date with you? He’ll suddenly end up suspended from school due to “suspicious objects” found in his locker. 

Murder is a last resort for Jotaro. As violent as he can be, he doesn’t want to have to kill someone just to get a point across. That doesn’t mean that he won’t, though. Don’t ever make the mistake of assuming that he won't take a life to have you all to himself. As said before, he doesn’t want you to be afraid of him or hate him. If he feels that he has no choice but to resort to killing someone, he’ll do it in a way that leaves no evidence. That’s where Star Platinum comes in. The Stand is more than happy to remove another pest from his user’s life. Due to Star Platinum’s limited range, Jotaro will still have to be careful, but rest assured the pest will be dealt with in a way that leaves no evidence. The authorities will blame an animal attack or a freak accident. Murder won’t even cross their minds as nothing human could mess someone up that badly. 

The only time that Jotaro will resort to taking a life right in front of you is if someone puts you in danger. If someone puts their hands on you with intent to harm you, Jotaro will have Star Platinum reduce them to a stain on the sidewalk. No one hurts you and lives. No one. 

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Jotaro would only abduct you if he thought it was the only option. Most likely it was because you were hurt or almost killed. He knows it looks bad but if it keeps you safe then it’s absolutely the right thing to do. You don’t have to do anything. Just relax and let him take care of everything. It’s for your own good. All you have to do is love him back. That’s the only requirement, and it is required.

Jotaro will only be cruel if he thinks you’re being cruel to him first. One thing that you could do to set off his cruel side is to start acting like a total bitch. If Jotaro falls for you, it’s because he views you as a genuinely decent person. If you start trying to manipulate him, insult him, snap at him for no reason, or take advantage of his kindness towards you, then you’ll break the illusion of the kind of person that he thought you were. After all the work he put into getting you, after all the risks he took, after all the careful plans he laid, if you turn out to be a horrible person, he’ll realize that you were a waste of time and it will bring out the very worst in Jotaro. Being mocked will be the least of your worries.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Abduction isn’t really a part of Jotaro’s plan. It’s another last resort he doesn’t want to have to go to unless he feels that your life is in real danger. It’s not what Jotaro wants, but it isn’t completely off the table. Aside from keeping you safe, abduction may come to Jotaro’s mind if you keep rejecting him. It would be an act of desperation, but Jotaro figures that it may be outside influences that are causing you to reject him. If he separates you from those influences, then maybe you’ll realize that you were meant to be his from the beginning. 

How Jotaro treats you is dependent on how you act around him. As mentioned before, if he feels that you are being cruel to him, he’ll punish you accordingly. Especially if you push him away. He’ll isolate you until you start behaving how he wants you to. 

If we’re talking about forcing himself on you… No. Never. Jotaro would never do that to you. He wants the love he has for you to be mutual. If you don’t want him the way he wants you, then it’s a turn off for him. He may be twistedly obsessive and possessive of you, but even he has lines that he won’t cross. 

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

As stated before, it takes a long time before Jotaro can fully open up to you. It’s a slow, delicate process, but once Jotaro feels he can trust you, he’ll tell you almost everything. He’ll tell you about being a Stand user, about DIO and the trip to Egypt to save his mother, and about the crazy history of his family. He’ll eventually bring himself to tell you how he really feels about you and how he’d like for you to be together as a couple. Confessing to you will be like pulling teeth for Jotaro; painful. He doesn’t want to be vulnerable in front of you for fear that you’ll think he’s weak. He’ll get frustrated, embarrassed, and stumble over his words, but once he gets his feelings across he’ll feel a lot better. If you accept him, he’ll be over the moon. It will be the first time you ever see him smile. 

Reject him however, and it will devastate him. He won’t show it though, and he’ll act as though it doesn’t bother him, but that’s only because he has no plans to give up on you. If the direct approach didn’t work on you, then he’ll have to try something a little more devious. Maybe if he saved you from some thugs, then you’d realize just how much you need him in your life. It shouldn’t be too hard to set something like that up…

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Jotaro can be patient when he needs to, but you fighting him will cause any patience he has to run completely out. He won’t hit you back, but he will have Star Platinum restrain you until you calm down. If you start screaming he’ll gag you until you get quiet again. If that doesn’t work, he’ll tie you up and shove you into a closet until you stop acting like a spoiled toddler having a tantrum. If you calm down, he’ll take you out of the closet and take the gag out of your mouth. He’ll leave you tied up though, until you can prove to him that you aren’t going to lash out anymore. Do it again and he’ll put you in isolation until you can learn to act more civilized around him. He has little tolerance for bullshit. 

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Jotaro wouldn’t enjoy it at all. He’s in no mood for games when it comes to his relationship with you. If you try to escape him, he’ll chase you down with frightening relentlessness and when he finally catches up to he’ll demand to know why you’re running from him. What did he do to make you fear him? And you better word your answers very carefully, Darling. Jotaro may be a stoic delinquent type but his heart is fragile when it comes to you. If you break his heart, he’ll retaliate with anger. 

He never wanted to have to abduct you, but if that’s what it takes to keep you with him, then he’ll lock you up and throw away the key. He hopes you really like his house because it’s interior is gonna be the only thing you see for a very long time. Jotaro has to make you understand that you belong to him. It’s not up for debate. 

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

That all depends on you. How Jotaro treats you depends on how you treat him. Love him and you’ll (almost) never see his yandere side. Your relationship will be mostly normal (minus all the things Jotaro keeps hidden from you: like how he threatens your boss to give you a raise, or how he secretly follows you to the store to make sure nobody messes with you). 

The problems start only if you do anything to disrupt Jotaro’s sense of having a normal relationship with you. If you become aware of his possessiveness and confront him on it, he’ll deny it. He’ll act like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. If you keep pressing him on the matter, he’ll get angry. Just let him love you and return his love! He’s never asked you for anything else, so why are you complaining? So what if he gave that delivery man a black eye? The bastard had it coming with the way he kept looking at you. No, he is not overreacting!

As long as you play your part as his lover everything will be fine. But cross him and he’ll put you through something that will make Hell seem like a vacation getaway.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

One of the main reasons that Jotaro fell for you is that you give him a sense of normality. It’s something he took for granted before becoming a Stand user. Not that he’s ungrateful for having Star Platinum and the power his Stand gives him, but having your life be turned into a constant battle for survival gets really old after a while. The stress of always wondering when another enemy Stand user will find him and want to fight to the death starts to take a toll on his sanity. Jotaro is more than a little sick of all the bizarre bullshit that keeps popping up in his life and he’d give anything if he could go back to a time when studying for exams, his mom embarrassing him, trying to ignore horny fangirls, and dealing with bullies was the worst he’d ever have to deal with. 

Jotaro feels grounded again when he’s with you. He can come home and relax in your arms and just let the stress of the day flow out of him and disappear. He’ll listen to you ramble on about your day with the smallest of smiles. (Blink and you’ll miss it.) You can talk about the most boring, mundane things and he’ll be fine with it. You’ve become almost like a drug for Jotaro and he hates how weak it makes him feel. It doesn’t stop him from coming back to you though. He’ll be the first to admit that he’s addicted. 

All Jotaro wants is to grow old with you. He won’t cage you or control you. He’ll even let you have friends… just as long as none of it gets in the way of you being with him. He’s fairly lenient for a yandere (at least as far as you know). Just as long as you agree to be his and live happily with him, there won’t be any problems. 

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

You’re walking on thin ice if you manage to make Jotaro jealous because he doesn’t cope well with it at all. He won’t stop you from having friends as that only adds to the sense or normality he has with you, but if he feels that certain interactions with one or more of your friends becomes a little too friendly, he won’t hesitate to intervene. After a while, that friend that you kept having to remind that you were in a relationship will suddenly stop hanging around you so much. It will get to the point that you hardly see them at all. You are relieved, thinking that they finally got the point that you weren’t interested. The truth is that Jotaro got them alone, broke their arm, and promised them even more pain if they didn’t stay the hell away from you. He also made them understand that if they didn’t leave you alone, he’d do worse than just break some bones. 

But if it’s you that’s getting too friendly, that’s a different matter. Now you’re playing a dangerous game, Darling. If you rouse Jotaro’s suspicions, he’ll follow you in secret to make sure that there isn’t anything shady going on. If he actually catches you cheating on him… he’ll snap. He wasn’t stable to begin with and you just snatched the rug out from under him. He has no choice but to fall, and he’s taking you with him. He’ll have Star Platinum tear your lover to pieces. Your lover got off easy. He’ll take you far away from everything and everyone you know to a secret place that is only known to him. Once there, he’ll lock you away until he can calm himself down. He’ll kill you if he isn’t careful, and death is too kind of a punishment. Once he’s calm enough, he’ll have Star Platinum remove your arms and legs. You won’t die. He’ll make sure of that. You will suffer though. Now you have no choice but to rely on him. You can’t cheat on him now can you? No one else will want you now that you’ve been reduced to a sobbing paperweight. But that’s okay. You have him and he’s all you’ll ever need. 

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

After becoming your boyfriend, Jotaro will seem as standoffish as always. As your relationship progresses, he will start feeling less embarrassed about public displays of affection and be more comfortable putting an arm around your shoulder as you sit together at lunch. After you have been together awhile, Jotaro will loosen up even more. He’s never been the romantic type so don’t expect any poetry or grand gestures. He’ll buy you stuff sometimes and take you to dinner at a quiet restaurant where the two of you can just talk and chill. 

Jotaro is kind of like a cat that is content to just be in the room with you. Sometimes he’ll wander into the room, sit down next to you, and open a book and start reading, all without saying a word. If you speak to him, he’ll respond, but in a quiet, calm tone. 

His favorite thing to do is to just lie partially on top of you while you’re on the couch with his head tucked under your chin while you run your fingers through his hair. Bonus points if you just ramble on about whatever mundane thing that comes to your mind. You grumble about a hard day at work, make fun of how dumb the new intern is, mention a few things that need to be added to the grocery list, talk about a new movie that looked like it might be good, or rant about your boss being a jerk (he’d take care of that later). Your voice is so calming to him that he ends up dozing off once or twice before he decides to sit up and turn on the TV and pull you close to him. It’s moments like this that make Jotaro feel normal again. He doesn’t have to think about poorly dressed vampires, enemy Stand users, or hand-crazy serial killers when he’s with you. 

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

By being reliable. It would start subtly. He would always seem to come to your rescue whenever you needed help with anything. Locker stuck? He’d appear out of the crowd in the halls, knock his knuckles against your locker and unjamming the door, then disappear back into the crowd without saying a word. Lose your pencil? You’ll have one suddenly tossed into your lap during class. When you look up you’ll see Jotaro give you a quick look before he goes back to staring out of the window. Forget your lunch? He’s got you covered. You can share some of his. He’ll grumble that his mom always makes too much and it ends up going to waste anyway. 

This will continue even after you two are adults and out of high school. Eventually, you’ll get to the point where you wonder how you ever survived without JoJo. This is exactly what Jotaro was hoping for.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Jotaro believes that the punishment should fit the crime. How he punishes you depends on what you did to set him off. 

 Try to manipulate or control him, you’ll find yourself being the one manipulated and controlled. He’ll gaslight you and start making decisions for you without consulting you. He’ll have you constantly second guessing your every decision and even doubting your sanity. It won’t be long before he has total control in the relationship and any free will you had will be a distant memory. 

Be mean to him and Jotaro will be twice as mean to you. Any insults you toss his way will be met with the coldest glare that Jotaro has to offer, followed by the cruelest thing he could possibly say to you. Jotaro already knows about all your insecurities and embarrassing secrets. Be nasty to him and he’ll throw all of it into your face. He’ll shame you, degrade you, and make you feel utterly worthless. He’ll have you in tears with one conversation and he’ll have you believing you deserved it. He’ll destroy your self esteem and feel no remorse for it. You deserve it for being such a bitch. 

If Jotaro suspects that you’re only with him for his money, he’ll cut you off without hesitation. No more expensive clothes, no more elaborate trips, no more jewelry, no more indulging in overpriced hobbies. If you want something, you can get it yourself. And if you have the gall to whine to him about it, he’ll look you full in the face and tell you that he’s not your personal piggy bank. You can either stop being a lazy bitch and get a job or….. 

… if you really want him to be your sugar daddy so badly, then you’re gonna have to earn it. Prove your love to him and he’ll think about getting you that new car, but you better make it damn convincing. Jotaro is nobody’s simp. 

One of the worst things you could do to set off Jotaro’s yandere side, is to push him away when he wants your affection. If you simply need some personal space, Jotaro will understand and respect that, but if you shove him away for no reason but to play with his emotions, then you have really crossed a line. Jotaro will snatch you up and put you in a place where you can be alone for as long as you want. (More like as long as he wants.) If you despise his presence that much, then he will deprive you of it, and everyone else's too. You obviously need to be reminded of how much he used to mean to you, so he figures that a few months in total isolation will help jog your memory. He’ll leave you there for as long as he deems necessary. You’ll have food, water, and something to keep yourself entertained, but you’ll have no contact with any other living soul and no possible way to escape. When Jotaro feels that enough time has passed, he’ll come and get you. If you still reject his affections, then another month or two of isolation should do the trick. If not, make it a year, two years, three… however long it takes to have you begging for his love. Jotaro is not the type to open up to others very easily. Emotions are tricky things and he has a hard time showing how he feels. It took a long time before he was willing to make himself vulnerable to you enough to tell you how he feels. To have you cruelly reject him after he bore his soul to you would destroy him. 

In short, break Jotaro’s heart and he’ll break your mind. He’ll do whatever it takes to mold you back into the person he fell in love with, even if that means he has to turn into a deplorable asshole. Jotaro never said he was a nice guy. He’s a lucid yandere and very aware that he’s the bad guy in this situation, but he doesn’t care. Not after the way you treated him. Cry and beg all you want. He won't show you any mercy until  you can prove that you deserve it. 

NOTE: If you really want to press your luck with Jotaro, making him jealous is the way to go. But be warned, nothing in this world can save you if you actually cheat on him.

[bumblesimagines]

Midnight Beach

Part 7

Request: Yes or No

Attempting to do a taglist for this series but know that my memory is horrible and I might forget sometimes! Some tags may not work so apologies for that!

Taglist: @hyubg @nathan-no

~~~

Barry and Rafe's voices sounded muffled to him. Distorted and distant. They went back and forth, debating and switching plans. As if they'd done this plenty of times. As if they weren't planning on spilling blood. (Y/N) stared out the window, fingers slowly rubbing over the bruises that had formed on his skin. His thoughts both ran and remained still. His body felt numb and cold. The whole goddamn car reeked, strengthening the growing migraine in his head. Barry's dark eyes glanced at him through the rearview mirror, suspicious and pitiful. 

Was he about to be a bystander to a murder?

Was his friend truly the one who'd shot and killed Sherrif Peterkin?

Only one answer came to mind for both questions. Yes. Because Rafe Cameron was volatile, impulsive, and bloodthirsty. And he'd backed (Y/N) into a corner where his only choices were to risk becoming another skeleton in the Cameron's family closet or go along with whatever sick plan had morphed in their twisted heads. (Y/N) squeezed his eyes shut when the car slowed to a stop and he shakily inhaled through his mouth. Barry turned in his seat, his gun glittering in the moonlight shining through the windows. 

"Tranquillo. You feel me?" Barry spoke quietly, watching Rafe closely. He turned his head toward the back where (Y/N) sat and raised his brow at him, practically sneering. "You especially. Stay behind us and stay fuckin' quiet, aight? Let's be smart about this. I'd hate to break your face 'cause you switched up on us."

"He's cool, Barry. I told you already. I got him if shit goes south." The fuck did that mean? (Y/N) swallowed thickly and pushed the car door open, stepping out into the dark night. Looking down the path leading up to John B's place, he could see lights in the distance. Someone had to be home. A mix of hope and despair bubbled up in his stomach and the car doors closing felt like death sentences. Rafe nodded for him to follow them, tightly holding his gun in his hands. No matter how many times (Y/N) tugged his jacket closer to his body, he still felt so cold.

He followed the two up to the edge of the property and relief flooded him when he couldn't spot anyone in the front yard. Beer cans, used blunts, and random garbage had been scattered around the grass and the hot tub appeared to have been used so somebody must've been around recently. The two men craned their necks in search of the teenagers, whispering back and forth until Barry slipped away from Rafe's side and crept around toward a back door leading into the house. Rafe glanced back at (Y/N), only having to look at him to let him know he wanted (Y/N) to follow him into the yard. Rafe searched the yard, stumbling upon a firepit that'd been recently used.

(Y/N) stilled by the firepit, gazing around the yard until his eyes slowly crept up the large tree. Three familiar faces stared wide-eyed back down at him. JJ brought a shakey pleading finger to his lips while John B's features hardened into a venomous glare. But his attention didn't linger on the two. Instead, it focused on the blonde girl alongside them.

Sarah fucking Cameron.

Alive, healthy, and scared shitless.

(Y/N) looked forward again and cleared his throat, searching for Kiara and Pope's hiding places until he noticed he couldn't spot the HMS Pogue at the end of the dock. "Rafe, the boat's gone. They probably left to get more beer." Rafe turned toward the dock and squinted through the darkness, a curse falling softly from his lips. A glass broke and (Y/N) turned around, watching Barry angrily toss open the porch door and step out.

"Ain't shit in there, bro." He barked and Rafe groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

"(Y/N) thinks they left to get beer 'cause the boat's gone," Rafe told him, motioning over to the dock and beginning to pace. "I mean, shit, they couldn't have gone far. Maybe they're coming back now. We just gotta- We just gotta..." Rafe trailed off and halted his pacing, staring at the trunk of the tree with knitted brows. (Y/N) stepped forward and turned, spotting the burnt writing on the trunk. A makeshift gravestone for John B. Rafe began giggling.

"So, your sister's a Pogue for life, huh, Rafe? Now who would've thought?" Barry snickered but his words made Rafe stop. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared, muscles flexing slightly as he stared at the words written on the trunk. His breathing grew uneven and (Y/N) glanced at Barry before flinching and reeling away when Rafe lifted his hand and shot at the tree, the sound echoing in his ears. Barry sprung forward, quickly restraining Rafe's arms and scolding him. 

"You're gonna get our asses busted, bro! Let's bounce." Barry shoved Rafe forward and quickly took off in the direction of the car in case a neighboring house called the police to report the gunshots. (Y/N) walked forward, avoiding looking up toward the branches where the three were still hiding. Rafe spared one last look at the house before taking (Y/N)'s wrist and running into the foliage back to the car. (Y/N) yanked the car door open and climbed in, nearly stumbling onto the floor of the car when Barry stepped on the pedal and reversed down the path. He collapsed back and breathed a heavy sigh, eyes squeezing shut again. 

"Take me home."

"(Y/N)-"

"Barry, take me home or drop me off somewhere. I don't give a shit, just let me out of this fucking car!" (Y/N)'s eyes opened and he met Rafe's, jaw clenched and chest heaving. "I'm not going to snitch on either of you because I know what'll happen if I even think about it. Whatever shit you two have planned, keep me out of it."

"You promised, (Y/N)-"

"And you're fuckin' crazy, Rafe." (Y/N) shot back and took in another deep breath. His eyes met Barry's in the rearview mirror and the dealer silently pulled over, letting him get out of the car and onto the sidewalk before peeling off. (Y/N) pressed a hand against his chest, feeling his heart quickening with each passing second and his stomach lurching violently. Bile rose up and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep it down. His lunch and a mixture of fluids splattered on the sidewalk and he groaned, rubbing his mouth with the back of his wrist. He placed his hands on his knees as tears pricked the back of his eyes. 

"Fuck... Fuck, fuck, fuck." (Y/N) whispered, staggering back and falling onto the grass beside the sidewalk. He pulled his knees to his chest and covered his face with his hands, sniffling softly. His heart yearned for his parents. A desire to melt into their arms and cry until the tears no longer ran. But he didn't have the luxury. Instead, he allowed himself a couple of seconds to cry before getting himself together and making his way back home.

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John Booker Routledge had willingly handed himself over to the police after a brief chase through the marshes. Sherriff Peterkin's murderer would be brought to justice after a long month of waiting. That's what the radios and news stations claimed anyways. But the longer (Y/N) stared at the courthouse from the safety of his car, the longer he grew uncertain of who to believe. Ward's worried stares whenever (Y/N) hung around Rafe, the quiet conversations the father and son would have, Rafe's erratic nature growing more unpredictable after Peterkin's death. Rafe knew how to shoot a gun. He'd proven it the other night. He'd done it so casually and with ease. 

It'd been why he remained in his car. He couldn't walk into the courthouse and take a seat after what'd happened the previous night. He wouldn't be able to look Ward in the eye, not after everything Rafe had said and done. (Y/N) could still hear the gunshot, could still see the fear on JJ and Sarah's faces, could still feel Rafe's controlling hold on his skin. His eyes caught movement at the doors of the courthouse, waves of people exiting the old building. Most, if not all, looked beyond happy. They shared smiles and hugs, nodding to the officers present. Among the crowd piled out the Pogues with a mix of rage, disappointment, and sadness on their faces.

"Shit.." He breathed and looked forward, teeth digging against the inside of his cheek. His hands on the steering wheel tightened and untightened, breathing growing labored. Images of the previous night flashed in his mind, combined with the feeling of fingers on his throat. He tried blinking away those images and shakily turned the engine on, pulling out of the parking spot and driving aimlessly down the street. He knew everything, he knew everything. Would Rafe hurt him? Would he go after him? Would Ward turn on him? 

Turning into a random parking lot, (Y/N) stepped on the brakes, seatbelt digging into his chest as his body nearly flew forward from the force. His head dropped down onto the steering wheel, eyes closing as he tried calming his breathing. His mind continued to run wild, forcing thoughts and assumptions that made his skin crawl. Rafe's words kept echoing in his head. The treasure, John B, Peterkin. Had Rafe been lying to him about those things? Pain spiked in his head and he leaned back with a groan. 

Soft knocking came from his window and he turned, spotting the top of Topper's head peering through the window. He raised a bag of Cheeto puffs in one hand and a pack of beers in the other, bushy brows wiggling playfully. (Y/N) snorted softly at the sight and turned his car off, lightly pushing the door open and hopping out. Upon closing the door, Topper slipped out one of the beer cans and offered it to him before tucking the pack under his arm and opening the bag.

"I, uh, saw you peelin' in and you looked upset so I thought I'd share some goodies with you." Topper explained with a boyish smile, offering the bag next. (Y/N) sniffled and chuckled softly, digging his hand into the bag and taking out a handful of puffs. 

"I'm... I had a rough night yesterday. Rafe and I... I-I can't be around him anymore." (Y/N) told him, eyes falling onto the pavement. He shoved a puff into his mouth, feeling the setting sun warming his back. Topper's brows knitted and he nodded slowly, lips forming an 'o'. 

"What happened? Did you have a fight or-or was he high and did something-"

"I don't want to talk about it, Top. Not now." (Y/N) sighed heavily and Topper nodded again, this time more rapidly. 

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just... let me know what you need and I'll be happy to help." Topper smiled widely and (Y/N) couldn't help but return it. He tilted his body slightly to peer over his shoulder, the sparkling water in the distance catching his eye. He nodded toward it and the two began walking, letting a comfortable silence fall over them as they shared food and beer. Despite having a habit of throwing tantrums and getting defensive, he knew how to treat his friends.

(Y/N) watched the sky erupt into shades of orange, yellow, and pink when the sun began dipping over the horizon. Once out of view, the sky morphed into a blue that darkened over time until all they had were the lamps from the harbor in the distance and the moonlight guiding them. The area around them remained silent, apart from the sound of voices growing louder and louder, turning into angered shouts and then into desperate pleas. (Y/N) halted, recognizing the voices in seconds. A mind-numbing chill ran down his spine and the last can of beer slipped from his fingers. His feet moved on their own, rushing toward the harbor with Topper at his heels just in time to spot Rafe holding a squirming and panicking Sarah in a large canister of water. 

"Rafe!" (Y/N) ran forward, grabbing the back of Rafe's jacket and shoving him back into Topper who immediately landed a punch to Rafe's jaw, knocking him to the ground. He quickly scooped the weakened teen out of the water, relief flooding him when she gasped for air and coughed, hands and arms flying out toward him. Her nails lightly scratched his arms as she practically climbed onto him, arms gaining an iron grip on his shoulders and neck. (Y/N) stepped back, keeping his arms secured around Sarah's waist. He turned his head and looked down at Rafe. He took each hit Topper threw, even when blood trickled down his nose and lip.

"Topper, come on. Sarah's more important than him." (Y/N)'s words snapped Topper out of his rage and he heaved, wiping his bloodied knuckles on his spots and backing up. Sarah buried her face in his neck, legs weakly wrapping around him. Her body shook and trembled against him, quiet sobs coming from her lips. (Y/N) spared the bloodied and bruised Rafe another glance before following Topper back to the sidewalk. He fished out his car keys and tossed them to Topper, motioning for him to go ahead and bring the car back toward them. Topper nodded and ran in the direction of the car as (Y/N) carefully lowered Sarah onto a bench and brushed wet hair out of her face.

"(Y/N)," She cried, lips quivering. Her fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt and she pulled herself out of the bench, arms wrapping around his neck again. Sighing quietly, (Y/N) slipped his arms around her waist, the familiarity of it making his head spin for a moment. Sarah pressed herself against him, breathing in his familiar smell and closing her eyes. Her shivering body relaxed and she nuzzled against his shoulder, inhaling deeply. Headlights appeared nearby and (Y/N) guided Sarah to his car, helping her get into the backseat before getting spare towels from the trunk. He wrapped them around her, rubbing them into her skin and clothes. 

Turning around in the driver's seat, Topper licked his lips and spoke, "I know a place we can go where you both can stay."

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Sunlight draped over his eyes and made him turn his head. His face brushed against soft hair and his brows furrowed, eyes cracking open. His vision looked blurry and as he regained consciousness, he noticed his body was pinned under something heavy. Blinking away his drowsiness and adjusting his vision to the brightness of the room, he took in the small unfamiliar home around him. The heaviness on his chest and stomach shifted and his gaze snapped down, meeting a head full of blonde hair. His still groggy mind failed to replay the events of the previous night but from the fact he still had his clothes on, he assumed whatever had gone down had been innocent enough. 

"Uh," He cleared his throat and the person shifted again, head tilting up and revealing his ex. He froze and tensed, the fog in his brain lifting as the memories rushed back. Right, that's right. Rafe had tried to drown his sister and Topper had taken them to a small place he'd gotten for himself on the bank. Sarah's eyes remained closed with her lips slightly parted and a dribble of drool beginning to slip out. He almost chuckled at the sight. Sarah Cameron had always been such an odd person to watch when she slept. She'd sometimes contort herself into the weirdest of sleeping positions but still managed to awake without any neck or back cramps. She snored- something she always refused to admit- and almost constantly drooled onto her pillow, especially after long days. And yet, even with the drool and bedhair, she still looked near perfect in the mornings.  

"Morning, sleepyheads." (Y/N) glanced back at Topper when he quietly entered, balancing two trays of food on each hand. His eyes momentarily left the trays to look at him and flash him a quick smile before his lips pressed together and his eyes focused on the trays. He took quietly and carefully walked across the room to the counter and breathed a sigh of relief. He grinned triumphantly and nodded to himself. (Y/N) slowly tried dragging himself out from underneath Sarah without disturbing her, but his movements caused the girl to stir and open her eyes. Her lips formed a pout and she stared sleepily at him, squinting slightly. Her eyes suddenly widened and she scrambled away, falling back onto her rump on the other end of the couch.

"Sorry!" She squeaked and (Y/N) waved her off, shaking his head and swinging his legs over the edge of the couch. He stood up and adjusted his shirt, lips pressing into a thin smile. He averted his eyes from the blonde and turned toward Topper when he spoke.

"So, I got ya'll some breakfast." Topper picked up the tray with the orange juice, croissant, and scrambled eggs on the side. He gingerly set it on her lap and motioned to the phone on the tray. "I got you this so you can keep in touch with us in case of an emergency or if you just want to chat." 

"Thank you." Sarah breathed, licking her lips and eyeing everything on her plate hungrily. (Y/N) snorted quietly and sat down at the table across the couch, quietly thanking Topper when he brought him the tray with three pancakes, bacon, and sunny-side-up eggs. His stomach rumbled at the sight of breakfast. Topper brought him some syrup and proudly smiled when the two dug into the food he made. 

"I'll get the Malibu ready and we can head out once you've two eaten and caught up, alright?" Topper gave them a thumbs up and walked out, closing the door behind him and approaching his precious boat. (Y/N) licked some syrup from the corner of his lip and looked up at Sarah, watching her eagerly devour the croissant as if her life depended on it. Her eyes flickered over to his and she paused, pulling her face away from the croissant and wiping the crumbs off her face with the back of her wrist. She chewed and swallowed the chunk in her mouth, getting some orange juice and smiling awkwardly at him.

"It's good to see you honestly. I've had... a crazy week." 

"I had a crazy month thinking you were dead." The smile fell and she looked away. "Honestly, Sarah, I was expecting to bury an empty casket in your name by the end of the year. I... I thought you'd died out at sea after you rode into that storm. And then, fucking Rafe goes crazy with his coke and Barry and- and-" (Y/N) inhaled deeply and clamped his mouth shut, shoving his fork into the pancakes and rubbing his forehead. He finished the rest of his plate and stood, walking toward the sink and placing his plate inside. Arms slipped around his waist and Sarah rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. For how things ended, for making you worry." She apologized softly, pressing her lips to his shoulder and kissing it sweetly. "And thank you for the other night. If you hadn't thrown them off our trail... Who knows what Rafe and Barry would've done to us." 

"I was doing what was right." (Y/N) muttered and turned around, leaning back against the sink. Sarah's arms remained loosely around his waist, staring at him with warm eyes he always found himself lost in. She smiled at him and stepped closer, her lips parting to speak but he pulled her arms from his waist and stepped around her, walking toward the doors and stepping outside onto the dock to help Topper with the Malibu until Sarah was ready to head back to John B's place. 

The ride back was silent, apart from Topper occasionally attempting to make light conversation. It took him four tries before he realized the two had no intentions of keeping a conversation flowing like they used to. (Y/N) stared out into the marches, watching large houses become trees and then become mobile homes and overrun houses. Among them, John B's place. The Pogue's had already been out on the boat and upon closer look, a familiar face was back with them. 

"John B? John B!" Sarah jumped to her feet, excitedly calling out to the brunette. (Y/N) shared an exasperated look with Topper and stood up, holding on while Topper stopped the boat by the HMS Pogue. Sarah sprung from one boat to the other, jumping into John B's arm for a tight embrace. "What happened?!"

"Uh, they dropped all the charges. I'm a free man, yeah." John B explained, chuckling as Sarah threw her arms around him again and laughed. He rubbed her back and sighed, grimacing and pulling away to speak again. "But listen, Sarah, they're coming after Rafe."

"Good." Sarah exhaled in relief. (Y/N) felt a weight lift off his shoulders. "He's completely unhinged. He jumped me last night. That's why I didn't come back." 

"Yeah, man. Rafe has completely lost his mind. First, I find (Y/N) all shaken up in a parking lot because of him, and then he tries drowning his own sister. I mean, thank god we got there just in time." Topper told them and Kiara's gaze jumped to (Y/N) instantly, her eyes zoning in on the marks on his neck. She frowned at him and it only deepened when he averted his eyes.

John B's jaw clenched and he scoffed quietly under his breath, tapping his thumb on the boat and nodding. "Well, I guess I owe you two, don't I?" He spoke through gritted teeth.

"It's all good. I mean, somebody had to rescue your girlfriend." Topper's lips quirked into a small smirk and (Y/N) grunted, rolling his eyes at Topper.

"That's funny because she's not actually my girlfriend, right? You wanna tell 'em?" John B turned toward Sarah with a smug look, quirking a brow at her. Sarah pursed her lips and ran a hand through her hair, staring at her boyfriend for an awkward moment before shrugging lightly and looking at them, gaze lingering on (Y/N).

"I'm- I'm with him." 

"Yeah, we gathered that." (Y/N) responded, nearly snickering at the way John B's face fell at her answer. Kiara sucked in a sharp breath and winced at John B's face, looking away from the couple and scratching the back of her neck. Topper laughed and nodded, basking in the embarrassment rolling off John B in waves. (Y/N) lightly nudged the side of his leg and Topper stepped back, snickers still leaving him as he turned the boat back on and prepared to leave. 

"Guys, hey, thank you." Sarah stepped forward toward (Y/N) and reached out, wrapping her arms around him. (Y/N) wrapped an arm around her waist and returned the hug, making eye contact with John B. The brunette watched them with a glare and scoffed again, tearing his eyes away when the two pulled away from each other. A prickle of satisfaction entered (Y/N)'s veins and he nodded to the other three. Kiara leaned forward, pushing the sunglasses up onto the top of her head and smiling at him.

"Since I'm sure Topper's busy-" Topper scoffed. "-We definitely have room for one more if you wanna hang, (Y/N)." Kiara offered, earning nods of agreement from JJ and Pope. John B whirled his head around to stare at her with wide eyes. 

"I appreciate it, Kie. But I'd rather be alone for a while. Maybe some other day."

[stell404]

𝗜𝗩. 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬 𝗝𝗘𝗪𝗘𝗟𝗦

𝗢𝗛 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗜'𝗠 𝗨𝗡𝗙𝗜𝗧, 𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗗𝗜𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗖𝗨𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗜𝗧

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Family jewels masterlist | back to navigation Parings: Sully family x reader, jake sully x daughter!reader Word count: 887 Notes: I hate this chapter but like I hope you guys like it 😭 so so sorry if it took forever and if it's horrible😞 Taglist: @lorre-verie @eywas-heir @damiiworld @arianapjs @arminsgfloll @buterccup @ifuckinghatemathrahhhhhh @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @inluvwithneteyam @il0vejj @neteyamforlife @ducks118 @ssc7514@liyahsocorro @saltedcoffeescotch @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @avatar4life @wheezy223 @venomsvl @heart-an0n @myh3artttt

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Back in high camp, the family was a mess, the clan was a mess. The crowd went silent as she ran, looking over their Olo'eyktan, hoping he'd do something; run after her, or shout at her to come back, at least. But he didn't do anything.

The clan didn't know what to do, or what to feel, they had never seen this happen; this was new. As much as they were annoyed by that Sully kid, they couldn't help but to feel a tinge of worry.

Neytiri dragged Jake back to their tent, holding him by the ear, as Mo'at shooed the prying people away.

"What were you thinking?" Neytiri hissed once they reached a secluded area of their tent.

"What? It's not my fault that she was stupid enough to actually go." he scoffed.

"She could die, Jake." Neytiri said, her voice breaking, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

Suddenly, Jake was hit with a terrible realization. He killed his daughter.

His ears laid flat on his skull. His heart thumping as if it was gonna burst out of his chest.

How could he do this?

Why did he do this?

Why did this happen?

What happened?

Millions of questions ran through his head. His memories with his daughter played back from the beginning, her first word, her first few steps, her first hunt, their first fight.

His mind played every single memory, looking  for the one that ruined them. But he couldn't find it, it was like it was erased from his life, deleted. Or maybe he just was not looking harder, scared that he would see what he does not want to see.

He heard cries, snapping him from his thoughts. Looking up, he was greeted with the sight of his family in a state of desolation.

He hated this. He hated himself. Something in him changed, snapping back to what he used to be; a father that loved his daughter. In that moment he would do anything. Anything.

"Neteyam, Lo'ak. Come with me, we'll look for her. Kiri, stay here with your mother and Tuk, arrange a search party, get the best hunters, fighter, healers—just anyone." he ordered, his voice laced with desperation

He would do anything to find her, he would send out an army for her. All he wanted was his little girl back. He was willing to do anything.

[Name] found herself standing in the entrance of the Ikran rookery. It was dark, the bioluminescent plants being the only lighting up the way. The cold wind brushed against her skin.

She started to walk in with hesitance.

Why was she hesitating?

She did want this, right?

Right?

Regardless of her skepticism, she continued to walk in. Heart pounding fast.

The Ikran rookery was majestic, there were many Ikrans, all of different colors. All of the Ikran were asleep, but one awoke the second she walked in. At first she didn't see it. It sat in the corner near the vines alone.

The Ikran was a beautiful dark blue-purple color, getting darker and darker as it reached the tail, it was the color of the midnight sky. It had green freckle-like dots surrounding its body, making it easier for it to blend in the dark forests of Pandora.

Before [Name] could admire its beauty, the Ikran launched towards her, knocking her down. Quickly, she held on to its neck and managed to swing herself on it.

The Ikran screeched, trying its very best to shake her off. She grabbed her queue to connect it to the Ikran, but, before she managed to make the bond, the Ikran jumped off the cliff; taking her down with it.

"Shit." she whispered to herself, breathing rapidly, as she was falling down.

"Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she cried as she noticed she was nearing the ground. Quickly, she grabbed her queue and connected it to the Ikran, she felt the bond being made, she felt what he felt, what he thinks, his heartbeat, his breath, everything.

But still it did nothing, the ground was only a few feet away, she panicked, breath getting faster and faster. She did not want to die.

Not yet.

Not here.

Not like this.

Her Ikran kept screeching, panicking as well.

"Just shut up and fly straight!" she shouted, the ground being very very close to them. The Ikran quickly flew up, saving both of them.

They soared around the sky, and just then [Name] felt true freedom her whole life. She felt the cold breeze on her skin and the wind hugged her.

"Woooo! This is awesome!" she exclaimed in happiness, letting her arms spread out as her Ikran flew to the horizon.

Hours have passed, [Name] sat on the edge of a cliff with her new found friend right beside her.

"So...bud, what should I name you?" she asked, lightly nudging her Ikran.

"What do you feel about Jo?" she said, a slight giggle leaving her lips. The Ikran nudged her, burying his head on her shoulder.

"I think that's a yes," she laughed. "so Jo, do you think we should come back?"

Jo didn't react.

Should she come back? No her father would kill her

But what about her siblings?

Her mom?

Spider. What about all that?

What would Jake think?

[simpforchuchu]

Written in the scars | Tsukasa x reader

Summary: Your boyfriend knows you have insecurities about your scar and trying to comfort you.

a/n: Hi! I was writing another one but suddenly this idea came up and wanted to write it shehhd 🥰 Hope you like it too ❤️🌸

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: blood, injury, stabbing, fights, scars, a lot of pain, fluff i guess ?

Part2

Tsukasa silently watched his girlfriend in front of the mirror, who was carefully examining her clothes. While you were trying to decide on the scarf to tie around your neck, a thousand thoughts were bothering him.

He was aware that you had been living through hell together for months. But how long should you wait to leave the dark days behind?

Neither you nor your friends could have predicted that a normal high school fight would end so horribly that day. When someone stabbed your throat with a broken glass bottle during the fight and you slowly collapsed to the ground with blood flowing from your throat, Tsukasa knew very well that his heart had never before beaten so fast or had never been so scared in his whole life.

Neither you nor he thought you could make it. Or that a small shard of glass can take a lot from both of you…

Tsukasa had never thought that hearing your voice was a treasure for him. But he could have sacrificed his own voice for you that day, when the damage to your vocal cords caused by the cut in your throat took your beautiful voice.

When he thinks about what you've been through for months, the sweet eyeshadow color you put on your eyelid in front of the mirror made him smile unintentionally.

He wanted to cry as he remembered the days after surgery when you didn't want to see anyone. The times when he watches you with fear every night because he is afraid of you hurting yourself, the nights when you had nightmares and wake up and cry, he cries with you, the moments when you throw your phone or notebooks crying because you can't explain what you want over and over, or the evenings when you can't scream out in pain when your hand burns while cooking on the stove...

But it was the moments when you woke up silently at nights and cried secretly for a while that upset him the most. Even though he knew you didn't want to wake him up and wanted to be left alone, he couldn't stop himself from pulling you into a tight hug.

While all these moments were running through his mind, he looked at the white scarf you were wearing around your neck. He knew your voice would come back, he just didn't know when and he waited with excitement like a baby's first words. But you hated the scar on your neck so much that Tsukasa could see it clearly every time he looked into your eyes.

He slowly stood up and stood right behind you in front of the mirror. You gave a small smile in the mirror and looked at him, even if you were slightly startled as he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist.

He was looking at you with love and interest, as always. You knew he wanted to say something when he placed a small kiss on your cheek and sighed deeply.

You looked at him curiously and he nodded, stroking your cheek with his hand. You looked at him in surprise as his hand slowly moved to your neck. He blinked reassuringly and gently removed the scarf from your neck.

You looked at him in shock. He gently caressed your neck with his hand. He shook his head when you wanted to reach for your phone and didn't let you go.

"I know what you're going to say, I really do, but listen to me first"

You stopped fidgeting and slowly closed your eyes and let out a timid sigh.

“Y/n… baby… if you want to wear this scarf as an accessory, I won't say anything, but if it's to hide your scar-"

You didn't open your eyes. You couldn't. You tried to cover your neck with your hair as his hand slowly ran over the scar, afraid he might hate it. Because you did.

“Baby please look at me, open your eyes.”

He smiled when you opened your eyes and looked at him in the mirror. He tucked your hair from your neck to behind your ear with his hand and placed a small kiss on your scar.

He hugged you tighter around your waist as he saw you close your eyes and lower your head.

“I know what's on your mind. But you are wrong. This little scar doesn't affect your beauty. I love you with everything. You are beautiful with everything you have. I know it reminds you of bad memories. But I want it to remind you that you fought and how strong you are."

Tsukasa's soft voice gave you some relief. He gently grabbed your chin with his hand and lifted it up as he felt you relax in his arms.He smiled at you in the mirror as you slowly opened your eyes.

"I'm proud of you. I know this is hard for you. But we did it, we will make it. I love you, don't forget that."

You turned to him and moved your lips as the corners of your lips curled up as he whispered in your ear.

"I love you."

He smiled and placed a small kiss and looked into your eyes.

"Me too."

HnL taglist : @straysugzhpe @tiddly-winx  @ninamarie1994 @thatpoindexterpixy