#but she cursed him and rendered his eye useless

[jellophoid]

I have many thoughts about unknown and their eyes a— like I really popped off w them I love them so much

[emmcfrxst]

I’m wondering how Laura would react if reader and OldMan!Logan got into a fight? Maybe they tried to keep it away from her but unfortunately the girls too much like her father and ends up hearing most of it.

Ugh and imagine if she saw Logan storming off not realizing that he left you in tears…

(I’m feeling extremely angsty tonight.)

TW: MENTIONS OF DEATH, TRAUMA, ILLNESS, UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS, SUICIDAL IDEATIONS & GOD (I guess????) Set before Logan gets, as nonnie put it, chest-fucked, so during the period of time everyone’s trying to escape the fucking Reavers while figuring shit out. It got too long so it’s under the cut

You don’t argue that often with Logan— your relationship is solid and although communication was rocky at first, he’s made significant progress and is able to hold a serious conversation without immediately jumping back into his defense mechanisms (misguided anger, deflection and ultimately fleeing were his initial reactions when you tried establishing proper communication about feelings in the beginning). His progress, however, is rendered completely useless when the conversation is about his rapidly declining health; he’s immediately on the defensive, body going rigid and eyes going dark, jaw clenched so hard you’re afraid he might shatter it— he hates thinking about his newfound mortality, not necessarily because he’s afraid of death (it’s actually quite the opposite, he seeks death in a way, longing for the pain and the nightmares to just stop once and for all) but because he knows that dying means leaving you on your own and that’s something he can’t bear to think about— the guilt he feels at the thought of leaving you is immeasurable; it overwhelms him entirely because he knows that losing him would break you and it makes him feel physically ill to think about the consequences. So in true Logan fashion, he blows you off whenever you bring up your concerns, stating that he’s fine, and the anger he feels at himself and his body for failing him ends up being taken out on you through biting words he regrets as soon as they slip from his tongue.

“I’m the one who’s fuckin’ dying, for Christ’s sake, quit your fuckin’ yapping.” It’s a phrase he regrets uttering for multiple reasons: he hates being rude to you in any way, shape or form because you’re the last person who deserves to be subjected to his emotional constipation— you’ve taken all of his broken parts into your hands and pieced them back together with your unconditional love and unwavering patience, you’ve made him feel loved, you’ve made him feel alive, and most importantly, you’ve shown him that he doesn’t have to feel guilty or bitter about his existence. You’ve done so much for him throughout the years and he fucking hates himself for letting his emotions get the better of him like that. The other thing that bothers him deeply about his reaction is the verbal acknowledgment of his condition; it’s something that he somehow believes can be ignored, as if denying it could make it any less real. Acknowledging that he’s dying makes bile rise up his throat— it’s a bitter feeling, really, because he used to wish for death everyday before he met you, heart and mind torn to shreds from years of horrific abuse and unwavering violence; he even prayed to whatever God was out there, despite not being a believer, to just let him go, to free him of the chains of trauma that bound his psyche. His prayers were left unanswered, Logan only accumulating more trauma as the years went by— he can’t count how many times he’s cursed God for making him go through what he’s gone through, needing someone to blame and wishing for a way to end it all. Ironically, Logan’s immortality only seems to waver once he starts treasuring life; it feels like a stab in the back, a cruel joke orchestrated by God who finally decided to answer his prayers now that he wishes he could take them back. The feeling of betrayal only seems to further fuel Logan’s anger towards his illness, which, combined with the guilt he feels at the thought of leaving you alone, causes him to act out whenever you bring up the subject. You take offense in the words thrown at you, hurt by the reminder of his impending death and the way he navigates it, arguing back that you do this because you care about him, for fuck’s sake. Unfortunately, that only seems to make things worse, upsetting Logan further and bringing back years’ worth of feeling unworthy of your affections.

“That’s your fuckin’ problem bub. I told ya you shouldn’t waste your time with a man like me.” he physically winces as he utters those words, wishing he could unsee the way it makes your entire face crumble with despair— it’s a slap in the face, really, to be brought back to square one and have him reject you in this way. Logan flees before either of you can say anything else, slamming the front door behind him and walking in no particular direction until he feels like he can finally breathe again, leaving you in tears at home. Laura, although playing in her makeshift room at the time, hears the whole exchange as clear as day due to her enhanced senses, her fists clenching with rage when her ears pick up the sound of your stifled sobs. You feel her before you even hear her, your body tensing as a pair of small, skinny arms wrap around your middle, a head resting along your spine. After the initial alarm of feeling someone touching you, you can’t help but let out a watery laugh at just how easy it seemed for her to surprise you, turning around in Laura’s arms so you can look down at her. A frown is etched onto her features, lips puckered into an angry pout as she hugs you tighter, insulting Logan in spanish under her breath. It makes you laugh again, this time softly, your hand smoothing out her hair as you sniffle.

“I’m okay, Laura. I’m okay.” she glares up at you, unconvinced, giving you another squeeze and reluctantly allowing her features to relax when you gently run a fingertip across the furrow of her brows— despite not being together for long, you find that you’re able to soothe Laura quite easily; there is a connection between the two of you like you’ve never felt before, a bond that you feel like you were always destined to have. Your heart warms at the obvious way the child seems to care for you, wanting nothing more than to make all of her worries disappear.

“He made you cry.” her voice is so quiet that you almost miss it, a soft, indignant noise leaving her at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks. You sniffle again, free hand moving up to wipe at your eyes, the other caressing her hair lovingly.

“I know.” you don’t say that it’s okay because it’s not— Logan crossed a line that you thought had been worn down ages ago, and you’ll be damned before you ever teach Laura that hurtful words can be brushed aside so easily without an apology. It’s for her as much as for you; you’re aware that you deserve respect even when Logan is upset, and you’re not about to stomp down on your self-worth to coddle him when he’s done something wrong. He’ll apologize, you’re sure of it, but until that happens, you’re not going to pretend that his reaction was acceptable. It’s something you categorically refuse to do, and it’s one of the many reasons Logan fell in love with you in the first place. You know your worth.

“I’ll be okay soon.” you tell her honestly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She studies you for a moment longer before nodding her head, allowing you to lead her onto the couch where she curls up next to you.

You’re asleep by the time Logan starts walking back towards the house but Laura hears the crunching of sand and gravel under his shoes, quietly untangling herself from you and moving to the side of the door, frown back on her features. Logan barely has the time to pass the threshold before she’s on him, jumping onto his back like a feral animal and punching his shoulders repeatedly, growling when he grabs her and holds her still, visibly confused and irritated by her behavior.

“Don’t even think about it.” he warns her when she makes to bite the hand that holds her down, frowning down at her just as hard she does up to him. She struggles in his hold, trying to hit him again, making him grunt in pain.

“You made her cry, coño.” the words make Logan freeze in his tracks, eyes falling on your sleeping form on the couch, noting the way your eyes look reddened and the tear tracks on your cheeks. Nausea immediately strikes him like lightning, the expression on his face seeming to satisfy Laura as she stops struggling, frown still evident on her face. She sits up and watches silently once he lets her go, staying nearby to see the situation unfold.

You awake to a calloused hand gently running over the plane of your cheekbone, eyes opening to meet Logan’s remorseful ones. He’s sitting on the ground next to the couch, looming over you in a way that makes you feel safe like no one else ever could.

“Hey.” his voice is hoarse but soft, thumb swiping back and forth over your skin in a silent act of comfort. It makes you smile despite your grogginess, and you feel more than you hear Logan releasing a soft, relieved inhale through his nose.

“Hey.” you answer him just as softly, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes again, content to feel him again.

“I’m sorry.” the words sound heavy coming out of his mouth, a grim expression taking over his features as he wipes off the remnants of your earlier tears.

“I know.” you reply simply, turning your head to press a gentle kiss against the roughened palm of his hand. It makes him exhale shakily, shoulders squaring as he prepares himself for the discomfort of the following words.

“Didn’t mean to snap at you, baby. I just… I feel helpless, I guess, and it fuckin’ pisses me off. Never had to worry about dying and leaving you alone before.” he says the words slowly, trying to make the last sentence sound like a joke, tone falling flat. You can tell he’s uncomfortable with the discussion but he pushes through, causing you to feel a rush of sympathy— he’s trying, you know he’s trying, and that means something to you.

“I know. I feel helpless, too. But you have to remember that you’re not alone. Not anymore. And I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens, it’s you and me until the end.” he laughs wetly at your words, nodding his head and swallowing thickly before speaking again.

“I know.” this time it’s his turn to provide reassurance, the two little words more than enough for the both of you. The feeling of his warm lips connecting with your forehead makes your eyes flutter shut, hand coming up to lay over the one he’s curled around the back of your neck.

“Kid’s kicked my ass for making you cry.” he mumbles against your skin, the amusement in his voice clear. It makes you snort in surprise, unaware that Laura had intervened before you woke up.

“Did she? Well, you kinda deserved it.” your answer is playful, tone devoid of its previous heaviness, your eyes meeting Laura’s over Logan’s shoulder for a brief moment before focusing on your lover once again.

“That I did.” he agrees simply, a soft, tender, apologetic smile on his face. You lean further into him when he kisses your nose, heart feeling lighter than it had in a while.

You were going to be okay.

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 03. BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER

a/n: we are getting down to the nitty and gritty of this man's pain. and he's finally starting to the accept the fact that he has to talk about what happened to him. honestly out of all the chapters this one might be my favorite. solely for the soft vibes i tried to shove into what is already a very angsty story. also somehow wade weaseled his way further into this chapter than i intended him to. so enjoy the humor i've tried to add throughout. (i am reposting this since it didn't show up in the tags yesterday.)

summary: to open up was like taking a knife to a steel door. he never saw the use in letting someone in. but dinner spent in your company and conversations over wine and whiskey is where things begin to take a turn.

word count: 8.3k+ (i don't even know how tf that happened.)

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: partially explicit scene, angst by the bucket load, vulnerable and emotional logan, grief, trauma, heartache, fluff, domestic vibes, alcohol consumption, wade breaking the fourth wall, wade being a shit wingman, the beginnings of something more.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Blood poured over his hands and soaked into the ground below. The warmth of it coated his senses, dug into the grooves and lines of his palms. He swore he felt it down to his bones. Now permanently mixed with a version of him long forgotten—the man who used to smile.

Their shouts of pain rendered him immobile. Useless to help them, useless to save their lives. Useless. Useless. Useless. He fought against the restraints, the invisible shackles put there by his own hands. Whether to stop him from going or to keep him from harm—he'd never know—but he battled regardless. With a snarl, he felt them snap, his claws sliding free in all their familiarity. A weapon of destruction unable to be used for salvation.

When he began to run he felt it. The piercing echo of her. The power she emanated as they took her life, brought her to the brink of death. He felt her voice punch through his chest—puncturing him in his heart. She screamed his name with her final breath. Called out for his help; for him to save them all.

He could almost see her in his mind, the horror that befell a school of such powerful people. And he loathed himself for breathing. For living after they were taken so quickly from him.

His family. His home.

What once existed would no longer return. That alone broke him further than their deaths. The knowledge that his world—his universe—would be without their heroes. So much of their worth had been given to humanity. Only to be stripped of their lives within the blink of an eye.

And he couldn't save them. He could barely stand on his own two feet without stumbling.

"Logan!" The scream split along his skull, rupturing veins that healed far too quickly for his liking.

What the fuck was the point of his abilities if he couldn't put them to use? If he couldn't do the one thing they counted on him for.

Their blood stuck to him, burrowing into skin that would never scar. He'd never have proof of the wounds that rested along his heart. Forever damned to carry the weight of his own failure—the guilt that ate him alive. For what? To tell the story he could barely stomach himself? What was his life to the lives of those who meant so much more?

Why did he have to fucking live?

He stood on the doorstep. Death stained the walls, pierced the air with its pungent copper tang. He keeled over at the bushes, all the alcohol he'd consumed expelling itself from his body at the sight. His family was dead. His family was dead and he couldn't join them. He couldn't fucking die.

What once felt like a gift—eternity to find these people who loved him���now rang true with the only word that could make sense. Curse. His curse.

"No," he gasped, eyes bleary with tears as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted through the broken down door.

His claws came free, expecting a fight. Only to be met with silence. An eerie echo of nothing.

No laughter, no life, no chatter of students.

Nothing.

The breath ripped from his lungs as a blaring horn spilled in through the apartment's open window. In an attempt to get some cool air, he pushed the couch closer to what airflow there was. The only downside was hearing everything as he slept. Each little noise and loud mouthed fucker as they wandered the rather empty street. He wanted to leave—move to a better spot where humanity was sparse—but the pull of you across the street kept him there.

"Fuck," he grunted, eyes blinking away the nightmare that tore at his psyche.

The bottle of whiskey underneath the kitchen cabinet called his name. Offering a respite against the horrors he couldn't run from. And with a pained groan, he stumbled towards it—grabbing his coffee mug from the counter. The amber liquid felt bitter against the back of his throat. A familiar burn he welcomed.

He may not be able to stay injured, but this he could have. The darkness at the end of the bottle. The silence he found in collapsing drunk against the couch.

The streetlight outside lit the area filled with trash and the few people sleeping in darkened alleys. If he listened hard enough he could hear their heartbeats. Smell the pungent scent of the city as it seeped through the window. He could feel the thrum of New York beneath his feet—unfamiliar in its nature but home nonetheless.

The sight of a light flicking on grasped his attention—a glimpse of you staggering to the kitchen for a glass of water clear through your window. You should really get curtains, or blinds. He'd help install them for you. But then he'd never get this again. A small insight into your life, a peek into what he left behind a day ago.

Your lips against his still seared through his body—your moans and want for more left him breathless. And he had to go and fuck it up. Just as he did with everything in his life. He ruined the good. Corrupted the innocent.

Doing the same to you felt unfathomable—painful.

But how could he stop?

When you were catching his gaze in the window. Your glass of water was forgotten and the blanket dropped to the leather chair behind you. He left the bottle on the floor by the couch, his empty mug beside it as you grabbed for something. Logan yearned to hear your voice. To apologize for how he left things. But saying sorry never came easy and he found that keeping you at a distance was much safer than what he actually wanted.

The ringing on his phone broke his penetrating gaze. He reached for it quickly, pressing it to his ear as you brought your phone to yours. A breath was all that echoed through the small speaker—soft and warm. He swore he could feel it against his cheek. Hear the echo of your heart pounding beneath his.

"Can't sleep?" you uttered, finally putting his mind at ease. He exhaled a deep breath—hearing it fill your ears as warmth trailed down your spine.

"Nightmares."

You watched him stand still as stone. His fingers gripped the phone for assurance. A sense of stability from a past that had already cracked him in half. The sorrow in his eyes practically bled through the streets. Lapping at your feet like the waves on a shore. And in an act so unlike yourself, you took a step forward. You stood in his grief and offered to drag him to the sand—gave him hope that this world might treat him differently.

Logan wouldn't save himself because he believed he deserved it.

He'd save himself because he knew you deserved a better man.

"Do they happen often?"

The soft echo of your voice tinged with sleep set his mind at ease. For the first time that night he felt himself breathe properly. He could taste the sweetness in the air, the heat that clung to his skin held traces of you when you started to open your window.

Leaving you at your door suddenly felt like the stupidest decision he'd ever made. But the fear is what kept him at a safe distance. He couldn't hurt you here in this shitty apartment. He couldn't destroy what good you held in your heart standing here at an open window.

"Every night," he rasped. His hand clenched, the bones of his knuckles shifting as silver began to peek through the pierced skin.

He knew you could see it. He heard your heart speed up through the phone. And with a ragged sigh, he retracted them forcefully—hiding the beast within to present you with the man beyond.

"You don't have to hide them from me." If you turned, you'd see the punctures in your door you tried to hide with duct tape. The claws that came free because of your touch—your kiss.

They should have scared you.

Logan almost wished they had.

"You don't want to see that part of me honey," he muttered, watching as you stood closer to the ledge—your hand pressed to the chipped wood. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows."

You laughed and he felt it down his spine. "No. I think that's only in Wade's mind."

"Don't say that fucker's name please," he groaned. "Not while I have you here."

"Did I touch a nerve? Wolverine?"

Your smile deepened, mischief practically dripping from your words. Yet Logan couldn't help fixating on the way his title sounded off your tongue. The hero name he loathed for so long suddenly made his heart flip. He gripped the phone tight enough until he heard a faint crackling sound—his body going taut at the thought of you saying it under different circumstances.

Moving past the subject was all he could do. All he wanted to do.

"Why are you up bub?"

You sighed, leaning against the window frame. "Restless. Too much energy from the day."

"Not too much moving in the archives huh?"

"I'll have you know I walk constantly. It's a very demanding job."

He snorted. "Down to the end of the bookshelves and back?"

"Shut up." Your laughter echoed across the street and it nearly startled him how normal he felt. How human. "I can guarantee my job is a lot more work than yours."

"You're right. Saving the universe is nothin' when it comes to books."

"I'm going to hang up."

"Don't. I'll stop." Despite his serious tone, he didn't try to stop the chuckle you felt strike against your heart. The husk of its deep nature.

The memory of his touch still rang clear in your mind. How his lips molded against yours, his body firm and hot beneath your touch. You weren't restless because of work. In fact you felt the pain in your feet begin to spread up your calves the longer you stood there. You couldn't sleep because of him. Too busy replaying that moment to find time in your schedule to sleep.

"Logan." His gaze fell serious at the soft murmur of his name. "Tell me about your dream."

He bit back the urge to push you away, to claim he was fine. That nothing happened and acknowledging it wouldn't save him from himself. But that's not what you were trying to accomplish, and he knew that. He could see it clearly in front of his face. But he was a man hardened by the nature of silence—of ignoring his pain until it eventually withered and died inside him.

Changing that wasn't a battle he'd win tonight. Nor tomorrow.

He sighed, seeing how you fought back a yawn. "Not tonight honey."

"Why–"

"I will." Your breath echoed loudly in his head. He wished he could feel it. "I'll tell you everything. Just not tonight."

Your finger traced the silhouette of him against the glass. "When?"

"I don't know." He imagined your touch was against his skin, pictured how you'd trace the lines of his muscles. How you'd lick along his veins for a taste of him on your tongue. "Tell me about your day."

"That's boring," you groaned.

"Not to me bub. I like history." He smiled. "I used to teach it."

"Fuck off. Did you really?" You perked up within seconds, eyes alight as they were the other night. And Logan felt himself get dragged in a bit deeper. He knew he was fucked the second he saw you, but now...there was no stopping the inevitability of you. "I guess I learn something new every day. James."

He growled, low and hungry—pleasure filling his stomach. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish honey."

Silence filled the air and Logan felt the doubt pull at his nerves. He watched you lean into the glass, your scent filtering through the warm air. Sharp and heady. Darker than your usual honeyed sweetness; the taste of it spread along his tongue—shivers rolling down his back. You wanted him. No fuck that.

You needed him.

"And if I want to," you breathed, trepidation and hope overlapping in your words. "Finish this."

He bared his teeth in a grin that felt feral—as if he could taste your flesh. "We will," he stated with such severity. A promise lined in truth for once. "Now go on. Tell me about your day."

He awoke to the sounds of clashing pots and pans being tossed on the stove—the incessant beep of the coffee machine blaring off every thin wall. And Wade singing loudly—and horribly—to some fucking pop song from the eighties Logan would learn the name of against his will. He groaned, slamming his head back against the couch in the hopes that this was all a dream.

If he wished hard enough maybe he'd wake up to silence.

Or to you.

"Good morning peanut!" Wade's voice shouted, another bang sounding off behind him. "I've got coffee, Canadian bacon, and the final answer for what came first—the chicken or the egg."

Logan longed to stab himself in the skull. This quick healing factor became a fucking pain in the ass at the worst of times. He staggered into the kitchen, immediately wishing he'd drank the entire bottle of whiskey last night at the sight of Wade in a pair of white underwear and nothing else.

"What the fuck." He shut his eyes, reaching blindly for a mug and the coffee pot.

"Yeah..." Wade slammed the pan on the stove, a now broken yolk spilling over the edge. "Laundry day and Al called dibs on the top load. Just call me Risky Business."

Logan's sigh was ragged, beyond exhausted as he gulped down the first dose of searing coffee. "He wore a shirt in that fucking movie."

"Lookie here! Someone is up to date on their Tom Cruise movies. Don't tell me you're a Top Gun fan honey badger because I have some fucking news for you. We topped them for highest grossing movie of all time." Wade smiled as the destroyed egg slid onto a chipped plate. "Financially topped. Personally, I don't think scientology allows Tom Cruise to fuck anymore."

"I'm not listenin' to your fuckin' bullshit," he grunted, pouring another cup.

The charred egg was slid his way. "Aren't you gonna ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

Talking this early in the morning made the veins in his throat strain—his grip on the mug nearly cracking the porcelain. In times like this Logan felt the overwhelming need to throw his roommate out the fucking window.

If only to get thirty seconds of hearing him scream on the way down.

"What came first."

He moved to make another pot of coffee, ignoring the chatter that fell from Wade's mouth. In order to even feel coherent enough to make sense of it, he'd need four more cups. Or enough to bathe in if the morning didn't calm down. The sun blinded him as he turned to glance out the window; the air stale and hot choked his senses. He'd never felt this overstimulated before—this out of place.

"You look like you've seen better days in a horror movie. Up having late night phone sex?" Wade grinned and leaned across the counter—his head in his hand and love in his eyes. "Tell me about it, stud? Tell me more, tell me more. Did you get very far?"

"Oh god," Logan groaned, slamming the coffee pot back into place. "Can you shut the fuck up for once? I'm begging you."

"Did you beg her?"

His claws pressed to Wade's smug face—blood spilling against his cheek. "I will cut your fuckin' mouth off."

"I just wanna know why you're waiting so long to give her the Hugh Jackman."

"The what?" he growled, heat blistering against his face.

"Ya know." The crude gesture to his groin had him digging his claws directly into Wade's cheek. But even then he mumbled around the metal piercing his skin. "The package. The full shebang. Rock her like a hurricane—or whatever the fuck that German band was talking about. Cause I sure know she's aching for it."

"Don't fucking talk about her like that."

Wade smiled until his cheek sliced down to his mouth. The sight was disgusting enough for Logan to forgo wanting breakfast. And lunch. And dinner at that.

"You don't believe me! HA! Let me tell you, you're pretty but there's nothing going on up there." A tap on Logan's forehead forced the claws to sink just a bit deeper. "That sweet angel across the street is ready to save that horse and ride you instead cowboy. All. Night. Long."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Yet even as he said the words he felt the lie stick to the back of his throat.

Last night's conversation was proof enough that Wade was telling the truth. Even Logan could fucking see what was right in front of him. Someone beautiful, someone smart. Someone...he wasn't worthy of. If he combined all those factors he only came up with one conclusion. The longer he stayed away from you, the better you'd wind up being.

The safer you'd stay if he wasn't constantly shoving his way into your life.

The loud sigh from Wade's healing mouth shoved another wave of guilt into Logan's stomach. "Look. Ignore it all you want, but sooner or later you're gonna wind up with only your hand for some company and she'll find someone who actually wants to be with her."

Wade was right. For once.

What Logan didn't expect was the anger he felt at the visual of you finding someone else. The rage that nearly overwhelmed him. That's how it should be. You with someone better, a man who actually gave you a chance at a relationship. One that wasn't doomed from the very start. He let the thought simmer, chewed on it for as long as he could.

And not a minute later came to the answer he'd been looking for.

Logan would rip apart any other man without hesitation if they came into your life.

This wasn't a fling. He'd known that on his Earth and knew it now. He clawed his way out of a grave once to get back to you. And he would do it again and again and again. As many times as it took to make sure he got a glimpse of your smile, felt the love in your touch.

"Grab your shit we've got somewhere to be," he grumbled, shoving the burned egg in his mouth and washing it down with fresh black coffee to kill the taste.

"Yes! Now there's the Wolverine I know." Wade shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Logan couldn't tell if he was being vulgar or not. 

"Let's go bang your girl!" A snarl ripped through his throat, blood splattering on his bare chest as he pinned Wade to the wall—his claws embedded in the man's heart. "Or you bang her and I quietly stay at home with the window open to serenade you two with the sensual sounds of Marvin Gaye."

He grinned, eyes flashing over Logan's shoulder. "Directly from Sam Wilson's playlist if you know what I'm getting at Marvel fuckers."

On days where people were stuck at work and students infiltrated the library above, you found the solace of the archives to be everything you needed. For an hour you'd been placing books in their correct spots, labeling boxes to be housed somewhere new, and theorizing where you went wrong the other night when Logan left.

You didn't want to let the disappointment get to you. Nor should you. The phone conversation last night clarified enough for you to know him leaving wasn't your fault. It wasn't due to your kiss or even because he didn't want to be there. He simply hadn't healed from what his world did to him. Whatever Wade mentioned to you in a ramble of semi-seriousness gave you enough of a picture to know what that might have been.

No matter how much you wanted to help him; to make him see that you weren't scared of what he had to give. This wasn't your war.

Logan made sure you understood that.

That still didn't stop the swell of dismay at his actions. The belief that you weren't good enough to hear his story began to eat you alive the longer he pushed it off. Each comment came tinged with pain you'd never be privy to. Agony he wanted to endure alone.

You would give him the space he needed—the time that was required in order to heal from wounds you couldn't see. They were there. Dug into the shape of his heart—carved into the metal of his bones—but Logan wouldn't allow you to bear witness to that. To a broken side of a man who wanted to be better. If only he knew he didn't have to be for you to ache for him.

The thought of him alone left your heart twisting in your chest and stomach fluttering.

You slid another book into the correct spot, silence echoing like a void that went on for miles. Only for the ring of your phone to shatter it like glass. You scrambled for the device in your purse, breath filling your lungs at the sight of his name as it flashed across your screen. 

Maybe this made you seem desperate—a type of clingy that would make any other man run. You couldn't find it in yourself to give a shit.

"Logan," you said—his name leaving your mouth in a breathy manner you regret within moments.

"Oh shit girl you've got it bad."

The pounding of your heart jumped at the loud echo of Wade's voice blasting through the small speaker. "Wade?"

"The one and holy." To say you were perplexed felt like an understatement. But before you could spill the millions of questions on your tongue, Wade kept going. "Hey! What kind of wood do you prefer?"

A loud rumble of an engine blared in the background—killing your ears. "What?"

"Oh right fuck me. Silly question. There's twelve thousand words already written about what type of wood you prefer." He laughed as the sound came again. "I'm talking the tree kind. Got a preference for scents?"

"She's not gonna be able to smell it you dumb fuck!" Logan shouted. You heard an audible screech before a loud rustle had you pulling the phone from your ear with a groan. "Honey?"

You smiled, walking towards the part of the room that didn't echo with your voice. "I'm scared to ask what you guys are doing today."

"Oh," he chuckled. You wished he'd bought a better phone, longing to see each expression that crossed his face. "I owe you a door."

That kiss reemerged in your memory once more. Burning through your body in quick rapid strokes. As if Logan was fanning the flames of something stronger—a fire that you wouldn't be able to control. You imagined what he looked like at this moment, if he still wore the exhausted look of grief from last night. Or if he'd covered it with a mask of annoyance due to Wade.

"I can just call the building manager to fix it." You put it on your list of things to do today already, but the idea of seeing Logan again was too tempting to pass up.

He huffed, falling silent. Wade's voice shouting about the Lorax became all you heard for a brief moment—Logan no doubt figuring out what he could say to fix this. The glimpse of him last night had set your teeth on edge in a way you'd never experienced before. You felt you could sink your canines into the tension and rip it to shreds with ease.

"Where I come from it's only right to fix what I broke."

What he broke.

This wasn't about the door. You could see it clearly in the pained way he spoke his words—each one more clear than the last. Leaving you in a rush with no fucking explanation left him worried that you weren't going to be around if he kept pushing you away. You were something good—a light he sought in the darkness he found himself in—and messing up this chance wasn't going to happen twice.

He'd done this before. He pushed those he loved away.

Doing the same with you only made his chest echo with the hollow emptiness that he'd grown tired of feeling.

"You can fix my door under one condition," you said, effectively breaking the silence.

"Anythin'."

The flutter in your chest felt lethal when he spoke to you like this; open and willing to bend where you wanted him to go. A man had never given you this before. The attention, the knowledge that he wanted all of you. Not just sex, or meaningless conversations. He wanted every piece you were open to sharing—every dark crevice and thought you felt embarrassed about.

You only wished he'd understand you wanted the exact same thing from him.

"Dinner. My place. Seven p.m."

Fuck what you wouldn't give to see his smile as he let out a sigh of relief. "I won't be late."

You smiled, worrying your lip between your teeth—that familiar gooey warmth now back in your chest. "You better not be."

"I've got great timing honey. Got nothin' to worry about."

Bullshit. You nearly said it, but a loud shuffle and a few bitten off curse words—mainly growled on Logan's end—cut your conversation short. A triumphant laugh you could only figure to be Wade's pierced your eardrum as the phone was unwillingly handed off once again.

"I just want to let you know I've got money on whether or not he nails you tonight. So don't let me down cupcake."

"You're betting on this?" you exclaimed, loud enough to hear your voice bounce off the walls and echo back to where your supervisor was no doubt sitting.

"Of course. I'm not one to turn down the sleazy art of gambling." He sighed wistfully. You'd never wanted to punch someone more in this moment; suddenly aware that this is how Logan must feel every day of his life. "Besides if you heard the sounds that came out of our shower this afternoon. Oh ho ho. Something tells me that he was letting off some Steam Boat Willy to the thought of his late night phone buddy."

Disgust at Wade's words was rapidly overshadowed by the thought of Logan in the shower. Naked and desperate to find some release after your conversation last night. To say you hadn't pictured what he'd look like hard and aching from your touch would be a lie. But actually knowing that's what happened left you winded.

Your chest heaved as your body grew warm—the image of him with his hand around his cock, his head thrown back in pleasure, almost made your knees give out.

"Your thinkin' about it huh?" The overconfidence in Wade's voice snapped you back to reality within seconds.

"Shut up."

"Got ya red handed angel."

With a roll of your eyes, you made to head back to your work—Wade's words only served to fluster you more than you wanted. "Don't piss him off too much okay Wilson?"

His laughter nearly appeased you as the piercing sound of a saw went off again. The both of them must have ventured to a warehouse to find materials. You wanted to confirm your thoughts when Wade did it for you. As if he could hear you loud and clear.

"Who knew our man had lumberjack experience?" He sighed dreamily, a shout of what you guessed was Logan saying fuck off filtering through. "God it's like watching X-Men Origins Wolverine. Back when his hair screamed Staying Alive and I went by the name Billy Butcherson."

A cough from behind you gave enough notice that you had in fact been caught by your boss—her glare burning through the back of your skull. The short break you were allotted passed five minutes ago. Normally you'd be fighting your way to the end of the day. Today though...you felt that delicious bite of excitement at knowing you'd be spending tonight with Logan.

"I've got to go. But Wade..."

"Yeah?"

"Take a picture for me will you?"

"Already done. Got my phone set to burst. Which is what Logan's gonna do tonight instead of tainting our shower walls–" Logan's roar of I'll fuckin' kill you came seconds before you heard a thwack overlapped with Wade's high shriek. 

The line went dead instantly.

The elevator wasn't moving fast enough for your liking—each flash of a floor passed sent another wave of nerves through your body. Work dragged on longer than you expected. And the groceries you picked up on the way didn't feel like enough to make a meal grand enough for a night like tonight. You tried to destress by saying he wasn't expecting much. This wasn't even a date.

That is until you realized...that's exactly what this was.

A date that felt long overdue.

You hadn't known Logan long enough to pursue a relationship as deep as this, but that's where things got fuzzy. He knew you. Or a version of you that felt entirely different to the person you were now. And maybe that's where the security that this would last came through. The knowledge that no matter what happened, Logan was in this for the long haul.

This wasn't temporary.

A creak of the doors opening didn't deter you from digging through your mountain of thoughts. Each one more worrisome than the last. You should be terrified that this was it. The future had already been written and Logan was at the end of the road. That alone would be reason enough to turn tail and run.

Then you turned the corner leading directly down your hallway.

Logan stood leaning against the wall, a lit cigar in his mouth, smoke trailing past his lips, and a heavy wooden door placed directly beside him. A toolbox that looked to have seen better days sat by his feet. A bouquet of honeysuckle and peonies placed directly on top—wrapped in brown paper with a yellow and blue bow.

Whatever fear might have lingered in your body dissipated when his gaze found yours and his lips pulled into a smile.

"You're early," you said—desperate to catch your breath. The scent of his cigar lingered on your senses, mixing with the leather of his jacket.

Suddenly Wade's words from earlier felt a lot more real than you expected. He showed up dressed casually. Jeans, flannel, the familiar dog tags strung around his neck. Yet whatever transpired the night before came rushing back with the promise of more.

This was a date. But whether it would lead to something else you'd leave entirely up to him.

"I told ya I had great timing honey."

Heat trailed down your body where his eyes followed. "I didn't believe you."

"I know."

The claw marks on your door brought a flustered smile to your face. As if to say you were okay with them staying. You wanted them to stay. Logan's eyes darkened at the sight, a flash of something worse taking hold of his mind as you pushed it open.

You longed for him to tell you the truth. He wouldn't either way. But the hope still remained—lingering on the edges of your heart.

"Easy enough to fix," he muttered, reaching for his tools—the bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in his large palm.

"I didn't know what exactly to get." He stood in your living room, eyes trained on the window. Finally he was on the other side—in your home—and yet he found he didn't belong here. "Do you have a preference?"

He sucked in another drag from the cigar before pulling it free—stamping it out on his palm as you watched. A heady wanton look crossed your features. You doused it quickly in favor of unpacking the groceries. He made sure to store it away for a later time. One that didn't feel dragged by the weight of his own thoughts.

"I'm not picky."

You nodded. "Feel free to use whatever's useful. I don't have tools though."

"I came prepared bub." He lifted the box with a smile and suddenly recalled that he bought you flowers. Much to Wade's annoying comments about this being a first date. Logan wouldn't push you in any direction you felt uncomfortable going towards. But in an irritating turn of events, Wade was right. Twice. "These are for you."

The smile on your face was worth every dollar and excruciating minute spent picking out what went with what. He reminded himself to thank Wade. Even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"They're beautiful." The delicate white lay atop pink flowers that filled your senses. An aroma you'd never known could work so well together. "Why these?"

A touch of crimson began to tint the tops of his ears as he let out a breath. "They're uh..." He coughed. "The day we met I said somethin' kinda awkward."

"I smelled different."

"Yeah." Logan wanted to bury himself six feet under at the teasing glint in your eyes. "That's how you smell. To me. Like honey and flowers."

There had to be an explanation for the way your heart split down the center—as if to offer him one half. To give him a part of yourself that once didn't belong to him. But that's where you were wrong. Even in a different universe, he would find you. You were once everything to him; the person he'd go through hell for. That fact never changed. Even if you did.

You wanted to spill every emotion, every truth about how your heart already longed for him in ways that left you reeling. But Logan wasn't a man to speak longer than he had to. And before you finally gained the courage to open your mouth, he was stepping back into the hallway. His hands busy with a project and mind eons away.

Dinner was simple to cook knowing he'd eat whatever you made. Pasta, some wine, and an old bottle of whiskey a friend of yours bought sat on the table as he put the final touches on the door. You'd spent the time at the stove combing over every word spoken. Every minute touch and fleeting look. As he worked effortlessly on setting your new door in place.

A dark honeyed wood with grooves throughout that almost resembled the small panes of a window. The quality was stunning. Beyond anything you'd seen before.

You wanted to prod and ask where he learned to do this. But the sight of him slightly sweaty, flannel tossed into his toolbox, and arms on display when he carried the door to its spot, left you dazed. Each movement caused the muscles beneath his skin to ripple—face screwed in a look of concentration while the sound of the drill echoed off the hallway walls.

For a moment you forgot dinner was cooking as you practically ogled his form. That familiar flame burned through your body when his gaze met yours and a smile crossed his lips.

Logan could feel your eyes on him—the aching burn of your gaze now seared into the bare skin of his arms and shoulders. And he fought himself to keep going. To ignore your now heady scent—the way your heart sped up with each shift of his body—and finish what he started. If he was being honest, which he rarely was with himself, he put on a show for you.

You liked him.

He just wanted to reaffirm that fact once in a while.

The smell of slightly burnt garlic had him biting back a smile as you rushed to fix what his distraction caused. His ego swelled. Heart pumping with a sense of pride the second he caught you flustered with your head bowed in the kitchen.

"Smells delicious honey," he said, testing the lock on the door a few times until he felt satisfied with his work.

"It's not much." You popped open the two types of alcohol, pouring a generous helping of wine in your glass. He fixed himself his own whiskey. "Something my sister taught me when I was in college. She believed if there was nothing else to cook, pasta was always the correct answer."

"Smart woman."

You pushed the plate his way and caught the grin he hid at the small act of domesticity. What began as a nerve-wracking date became an insight into what your future with him might look like. Dinner at a tiny kitchen table, his jacket draped over one chair, the scent of flowers twining together with the faint traces of his cigar.

A life that felt perfect enough to keep forever.

"I hope you know Wade's betting on tonight," you said, pouring another glass of wine.

You were settled next to him on the couch, dinner resting full and warm in your stomachs. The alcohol tasted sweeter on your tongue compared to an hour ago. He lounged with his legs spread, glass balanced in one hand. A lazy look of satisfaction in his hazel eyes.

Logan had never felt this comfortable. Soothed by the scent of you beside him, the whiskey on his tongue, and the sight of you with your legs curled beneath you. The red wine made you smile more, laugh easier. He noticed how you bloomed before him, light shimmering between small jokes and half assed teases.

All his life he wondered what home would truly feel like. What would having a place be? And this...you beside him with an endless night stretched before you, gave him the answer.

Home felt like you.

He groaned, head falling against the back of your couch. "He's a lucky fucker with that can't die bullshit. What's the bet?"

Your eyes dragged to the door—tracing the carved marks as his hand hesitated to settle on your thigh. "That you'd and I quote nail me."

"What?" he spit.

The laugh that bubbled to the surface echoed with the heady effects of too much wine. "I hate to break it to Wade. But I don't have sex on the first date."

Logan's lips turned up, hand finally against the bare skin of your leg. Your skirt fanned around your lap, covering your soft skin that lay beneath. "So this is a date huh?"

"Yeah." He tugged you closer. "At least I think it is."

"I think so too."

Unconsciously, you toyed with the chain of his dog tags, catching a glimpse of the worn letters of his name. Any other time you'd push the questions away. You would claim that tonight wasn't the right time. After all this felt good, right in ways nothing had before. But the wine made you loose lipped. Braver than the other times you pushed past the line he drew deep in the sand.

Except this time...he started the conversation.

"You asked about my nightmares last night."

Your eyes caught his, fingers stilling against his chest. "I know you don't want to talk about it."

He shook his head with a deep exhale he felt down to his stomach. "If this is what I think it is. What we're startin' here. Then you should know what you're getting into honey."

"I know what I'm getting into–"

"No. You don't." He sat up straighter, tugging you close until your legs lay over his lap. "You don't know what happened to me. What I did..." He sucked in air as his heart began to twist. The cold wash of anxiety suddenly brighter than a few minutes earlier. "What I couldn't do."

The pain in his eyes chipped off a piece of your heart. Oh how you longed to give it to him.

Cupping his cheek, you felt the scratch of his beard against your skin. "Logan. You're not a bad man."

"Yeah bub. I am," he barked in a half laugh meant to discourage you from seeing his grief.

That's what this was. The full spectrum of his emotions scared the shit out of him more than any villain he fought. More than the thought of dying alone one day. The moment you saw them for yourself, he knew you'd run. He almost expected it. Which is why he'd taken so long—put it off each time the curiosity lingered in your gaze longer than he liked.

He told himself you didn't need to know.

It was better this way.

Tonight proved that all those reasons—all those excuses—stood no chance when it came to you.

"I don't believe that," you whispered, your other hand curling around his dog tags.

"Gotta remember I'm not him. I'm not the hero and never have been." When you looked at him like that—eyes wide and lips turned down—he felt the full weight of the words he was about to say out loud. Words he hadn't spoken since Laura met him by the fire way back in the Void.

Somehow saying it to the other Logan's daughter felt easier. As if he couldn't disappoint her anymore than he had. She'd been there at his death, watched him struggle to protect her, and loved him in spite of all that. She called him Dad and spoke over his grave with a smile. Knowing full well he'd never come back to life, he'd never find his way back to her.

Laura wasn't his kid and yet...he knew she'd understand.

But saying it all to you…

He wasn't sure he'd survive it if you never understood.

"The X-Men in my world weren't as respected as the ones in yours. We were heroes, but the humans. God they fuckin' hated us." His eyes burned with each memory that came rushing back. A river that threatened to drown him. "And I always had to be an asshole. I didn't know what home felt like—what...family felt like. So when I got it, I pushed it away."

"Oh, Logan–"

"No, let me...let me finish honey." He gripped the glass until he heard a crack—his eyes dazed and mind lost to a different time. The night that would later become his ghost. "So I left and did the only thing I was fuckin' good at. I drank until I couldn't feel anythin' anymore. And the humans decided they'd had enough of the X-Men."

Grief struck your heart straight down the center. Tears spilled down your cheeks at the sight of him so broken—so raw from a time that would never leave him. You finally knew why Wade never explained it to you.

This wasn't his story to tell. Not his past to share.

"I came home and they were–" His fingers dug into the skin of your thigh in an attempt to ground himself. Claws slipping free as he struggled to get the final words out—the truth of why he pushed you away. Why he should keep pushing you away. "They were dead."

You pressed yourself against his side, lips against his temple as he silently bit back the emotions he refused to set free. What would become of him once they were finally out? He couldn't risk hurting you because of it.

"They called for me." His breath was ragged, voice thick with tears that never fell. "Jean. Charles. I heard them die in my head. But I was too fuckin' drunk to save them. I got home and all of them were...Jesus. The humans called us mutants vicious, but I'd never seen anythin' like this."

The worst part crawled up his spine with a chill that had his claws coming free. "And you. You survived due to your gifts. Apparently you hid in the future—snapped there without even realizing it. But by the time you returned they were dead and no matter how many times you tried to go back, you couldn't." He raised his head, eyes red and glassy. "You tried to kill me that night. I couldn't blame you for it cause I wanted to die."

"That's not me."

He shook his head. "I know, but you have to know why it happened. I couldn't protect you honey. I couldn't protect any of them."

"The humans did this. Not you." You dragged his face to yours, forcing him to see the sincerity in your eyes—the fire that burned no matter the variant. "You did not kill your family Logan. Don't take their shame."

"It's easy for you to say that bub. You weren't there." He felt your touch mark against his skin and fuck how he wished it would leave a scar. "I'm not the fuckin' hero. I'm the man who fucked it all up because he was too proud for his own good. I need you to see that."

Your gaze hardened. "Why?"

"So you know what you're gettin–"

"Bullshit," you demanded. "I know exactly what I'm getting into Logan. I knew the second I met you. So don't do that. Don't push me away." The press of his forehead to yours leveled the pain and allowed him to breathe. "I'm here to stay. Whether you want me or not."

He grinned, tears finally falling as your lips found his. You breathed life back into his chest, made his heart worth beating again. For all that time he damned himself, loathed the reflection in the mirror, he never thought he'd get this. The soft press of your kiss, the bitter tang of wine on your tongue as his hand gripped your hip—his claws retreating back into his body.

"Trust me. I want you," he mumbled against salt stained lips and broken smiles. "I'll always want you."

"Then it's a good thing I want you too."

That familiar flicker of sparks still existed in the air, begging for more. But you were content to stay here. Kissing him over and over again in order to embed the sensation in your mind.

"Thank you for telling me," you sighed, fingers curling into his hair to drag his lips back to yours.

The thud of his heart ran through his whole body. "Can I show you somethin'?"

You nodded, pulling away as he dug into his pocket. As much as he longed to keep kissing you, to spend all night right there on that couch. He knew there'd be time for that. A night where you were both unburdened by the weight of a past that defined who you were. Tonight was not that night.

The picture was old, burned slightly at the edges and crinkled, but he handed it over with a grin. A group photo like the one stored in the archives at your job. Only this time you recognized two faces among the small team of people in yellow suits. You were smiling with an arm around Logan's waist, your face pressed against his chest.

The sight of his smile—wide and unfiltered—made your heart leap. But the blue aura that seemed to wrap around your body is what gave you pause.

"The blue..."

"Your powers." He pointed to the way it ended at your hands, seeming to stem directly from your chest. "Turning them off wasn't really a thing you could do. Somethin' about time being a constant flow of energy. Charles always explained it better."

Thousands of questions came to mind. All of them pertaining to the powers and the team and more specifically him. He sunk into the couch with a sigh, his eyes hazy with a different kind of need. An ache that no doubt begged him each night. Sleep. Rest without any nightmares, free of the shackles he'd placed on himself.

So you stood, nearly startling him when you did. Nothing had to be said about your intentions, or why you held out your hand for him to take. He simply followed. Each step heavier than the last. The kitchen could be cleaned tomorrow, the bottles put away later. You couldn't find it in yourself to care when his hand was in yours and he smiled at you as if you'd hung the moon in the sky.

"Thought you said Wade was losin' tonight honey?"

You laughed, pushing the flannel from his shoulders as you led him to your bed. "He is. We're just sleeping."

There was no mistaking the doubt in his eyes, the trepidation of his nightmares. "I might hurt you."

"No you won't." Drawing his hand up to your mouth, you lay a kiss along his knuckles. "I trust you Logan."

"You shouldn't." His breath was a shuddered exhale at the sight of you pulling your dress up and over your body.

"Well too bad," you replied, tugging the covers back while he pulled off his shirt—leaving his boots by the door. "You don't scare me Wolverine."

"Wolverine huh?" Crawling into bed with you was easy. Though the mattress sunk under the weight of his bones, you still let him tug you closer—his arms wrapped around your bare waist. "It was James the other night."

"Careful," you said. "Or I'll start calling you Howlett."

A growl rumbled in his chest, his teeth nipping at the bare skin of your shoulder as you laughed. And suddenly he remembered what it was like to live. To want more than just the bottom of a bottle and a peaceful night's sleep. He could recall nights like this in the past. A different you curled up against his body—the love resonating in how you clung to him.

It all slammed into him at once.

Although tonight he didn't push it away. He kept you close, his nose burrowed in your hair, and welcomed the gentle tug of a few hours rest.

Tonight—for the first time—he slept.

Without nightmares.

[itsafairytalekay]

𝙒𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧.

Anon requested!

Gojo x little sister reader!

Desc: after a battle he reassures you on your efforts.

Warnings: blood, death, light angst, hurt/comfort!

It was epic, it was bloody it was unlike the world has ever seen, but there she was the daughter of the Gojo household, living up to the name, proving that they deserved to be at the top.

She wasn't an adult, she was barely a teen, she looked up to her brother like he was an entity and not human at all. He loved her with all his heart, she was the Apple of his eye. Everyone who were jealous of them tried to break their bond but it was stronger than they thought, they were an unshakable force.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘺𝘦𝘵? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

She was sure she got this handled but out of the two, she always had second thoughts about herself although being almost as strong as her brother she always had thoughts that she just couldn't do it, why? She didn't know.

People were screaming at the top of their lungs but she was helping others and fighting a special grade at the same time. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮? 𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰? Same reoccurring thoughts in her brain ran like a mantra.

Just as she helped the other people and ran towards the others a big wave came from behind and rendered her completely powerless, she was thrown in the air far away she closed her eyes on instinct but before she could, she saw the people under the rubble 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. She wanted to scream but she couldn't she crashed into a concrete wall and heard something crack, it was her wrist trying to stop her face from banging into the wall.

𝘐𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘪𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺, 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘨- "y/n? " She heard a familiar voice.

"Y/n, where are you cupcake? " He called out, but she didn't wanna face him like this at all, at her lowest.

"Y/n, this isn't funny sunshine" His voice breaking.

"You did your best now c-come out p-please"

"Sunshine, I swear to God I'll-"

"I'm here, Satoru" She called out, her voice rough from all the screaming.

He recognized it in a second and ran towards where the voice came from.

He ran towards her with a smile on his face

𝘔𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘎𝘰𝘥.

He hugged her as soon as he saw her and she winced. He immediately let her go and saw her wrist that looked broken.

"Oh cupcake you are so strong, you fought that curse to the end, he was a scaredy cat fighting a 15 year old, I'm so proud of you. This little boo boo is nothing, you've got better stuff to worry about like where we'll go on vacation to celebrate your first special gr- Are you crying???" He asks, holding your face in his hands.

"What happened, you better tell me these are tears of happiness bubba"

"Hic-hic... Satoru I... Couldn't save those people under the rubble... They got crushed when he released his final wave, i-i thought he was dead. I really tried I couldn't be like you, i-i'm useless I couldn't do even one thing right and they're so injured, ar-are they dead? I can't tell I-I-" He hugs her immediately and pats her head.

"Oh cupcake these were the thoughts you were having?I thought you'd be proud of yourself. For saving so many people and showing that special grade who's boss, you're a Gojo c'mon!"

"See that's the t-thing I am a Gojo and I'm still so useless. "

"Shh shh not a word should come out of that mouth now. "

He holds her face.

"You are amazing, you are strong, no 15 year old is this helpful in a battle against a swarm of curses. You did amazing sunshine"

"I can never be like you, you're the strongest and I didn't, I C-couldn't save even a few sorcerers how will I ever be like you? You defeated a special grade at 15 or 16 I'm sure"

"Who said you have to be like me hmm? Who said that? You're your own amazing person with her own thoughts, her very own strong cursed technique, her own charm, her own personality, her own style of fighting, and the best heart which is my favourite the purest of all, so much that you can't see even a few people injured but you can put your life in danger, break your wrist in battle and I'm sure you were willing to put your life on the line, we can't save everyone and that's a fact, we are human after all, Gojo Or whatever it's human first, always, please don't think of yourself like this all I've wanted in life is for you to not end up like me. You should laugh, play with your friends, go to the arcade which you love so much, saving the world can wait can't it? If it can't your big brother is willing to lose a little sleep and help his precious sister out" As soon as he finishes he looks up to you and sees tears, your was red from tears.

"Oh wait, too cheesy? " He looks a little embarrassed " I know you're a teen now and teens hate cheesy stuff and-"

"I loved it" You hug him suddenly and he falls back from where he was on his knees.

"Bubba this is violence you know? I'm your bigggg brother" But despite the complaining, he's hugging you back.

"Thank you"

"For what cupcake? Being the most amazing handsomest, strongest, coolest big brother ever?"

"Figure it out satoru"

"I remember your friend yapping about how cool and handsome I am tho, I have eviden-"

"You must be daydreaming from shock of battle. "

"One day you'll grow out of your teen phase and realize you love me very much"

"That isn't needed" You say softly.

"Hmm? " He asks again but you know his smug ass heard it and wants to hear it again.

"Hmm what, shut up and carry me home, I'm tired of being the stronger sibling, it's exhausting really."

"Sure sure, hop on cupcake"

He gets up and carries you on his back all the way to the car.

On the way there you cry softly, what would you do if your big brother wasn't there to reassure you? He really is the best.

Comments are appreciated!! ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

@cafekitsune dividers🫶🫶🫶

[just-jordie-things]

the blackest day - fushiguro megumi

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 12.2k warnings: shibuya + light culling game arc spoilers but not very canon compliant lmfao. suggested major character death, heavy themes of depression (not reader) including: not eating, insomnia, feelings of worthlessness + suicidal ideation. mentions of needles, stitches, + blood. heavy angst with a happy ending. summary: megumi tried to tell her not to go to that station. all he can do now is think that he should've tried harder. more info: rivals/friends to lovers, lots of hurt/some comfort, megumi has reached ultimate functioning angst in this ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ it’s not easy for me to talk about // i have heavy heartstrings.  and not simple, it’s trigonometry // it’s hard to express // i can’t explain // ever since my baby went away, it’s been the blackest day ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I don’t care that they assigned me to go with Nanami,” 

Her voice came out in a huff, irritation getting the better of her, and it was starting to become quite noticeable.  Her chest was puffed, her lips were pulled into a snarl that looked completely unnatural on her usually bright features.  The hand that wasn’t holding a short sword was curled into a fist so tight it began to tremble.

“Itadori needs my help more” She finished, sounding sure of this change of plan.

Megumi cursed under his breath, this petty argument being the last thing he was in the mood for.  There was no time for some ridiculous change in team ups.  The pairings had already been decided, and had happened for a reason.  With a veil over Shibuya making communication impossible, a change like this was absurd.

“You don’t get to just pick and choose what you want to do, (y/n),” He snapped back at her, before aggressively pointing in the direction of Nanami’s team, where he and Takuma had just taken off.  

It hadn’t been until too late that Megumi caught (y/n) hovering away from her group, looking lost under a flickering street lamp as she gazed off in the opposite direction of her team, chewing on her lip as she worried about her other classmate headed for the train station.  Had Megumi noticed sooner, he probably wouldn’t be standing here fighting with her right now.  He probably could’ve hollered for Nanami or Takuma to circle back and drag her off if they had to.  But they were too far gone now to yell after, and his phone was useless.

“These teams were drawn up for a reason,” He muttered.  “Now you’ve rendered it useless” 

She rolls her eyes at his drama, turning to head off towards the train station, not caring about winning this argument.  There were more important things to do right now than stand here and bicker with Megumi.  She was getting tired of this repetitive game of his anyways.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He took a large step towards her, making her halt in her tracks before she could get very far.

“I told you,” She snapped back.  “I’m going after Yuuji.  Something’s not right.  I can feel it” 

Megumi’s eyes widened and twitched.

“You can’t be serious” 

“Does it look like I’m joking?” 

Her expression didn’t flinch.  He could tell by the hardness in her eyes that she’d set her mind to this new plan of hers, and no matter how stupid it was, he knew deep down she wasn’t going to waver on it.

“You’re not going off on your own,” Megumi scoffs, hoping he could get her to see that she’d be walking right into a trap if she split off by herself.  “Do you even know your way there?” 

“I think I’m capable of reading street signs, Fushiguro” 

Surname.  Ouch.  He was only succeeding in pissing her off.

“Just- god, just come with me, alright?” He suggests instead, thinking a compromise would sway her.  “Going off by yourself right now is reckless and you know it.  Come on.  If the roles were reversed you wouldn’t let me do this” 

Her eyes narrow, and she clenches her jaw.

“I’m not going to stand here and play the ‘what if’ game with you,” She told him.  “You’re wasting time.  If you cross paths with anyone, tell them I went after Yuuji”

“(y/n)-” 

Before he could come up with another argument- or resort to picking her up off the ground and forcing her not to go- she was already turning on her heels and breaking into a full sprint.

Megumi had tried to follow her, but she’d always been faster than him.  He called after her until his throat burned raw.  Eventually he had to go off with his own team, knowing if he strayed too far then he was putting himself at just as great a risk as she’d been.

But fuck, had he made a mistake in not pushing himself to follow her.

Even if they’d both died trying to get to Yuuji, he thinks it would’ve been better than this.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Megumi wakes up that morning looking like he was in just as terrible of a state as he had the day before.  And the day before that.  And every day before that for the last six days.

It had been a week since the incident with Shibuya, and with every day that passed and the more ground they covered, Megumi was starting to feel worse.

Yuuta silently offered up an apple he’d found at the last shop they’d raided.  Megumi barely glanced at it before shaking his head, going right to work rolling up the sleeping bag that was starting to get worn and dirty.  Yuuta frowned, crouching down beside the younger man to talk quietly with him.

“You should eat something,” He suggests calmly.  “When was the last time you’ve eaten anything?” 

Megumi tries not to appear annoyed.  He knows Yuuta is only trying to look out for him, he’d been trying to look out for everyone.  Unfortunately since the impact of Shibuya, it was hard to keep everyone in check and healthy.

“Ate last night” Megumi replied.

Yuuta frowned.

“You had a bite of a loaf of bread” He replied knowingly.

Megumi paused in his movements, his sleeping bag rolled up part way, and his eyes caught the beginnings of a hole that he hadn’t noticed before.  It must’ve gotten caught on some rubble or debris and torn the nylon.  He frowned at the supposed tear-proof material.  If it worsened it would be a nuisance, and if he was out of a sleeping bag, well, who knew when or if he’d come across another one.

Pushing that worry off for a later time, he glanced at Yuuta over his shoulder.  His face was blank, as it had been for the better part of the last week.

“You don’t need to keep tabs on me,” He said.  “I’m fine” 

Yuuta held his stare for a long moment, hoping that if he let the lie sit there for long enough, Megumi would realize how empty it sounded.  

But he didn’t budge.

So Yuuta sighs, standing and dropping the apple back into a paper bag and rolling it up so it’d tuck neatly in the backpack of supplies they’d been gathering.

“You know eventually, you’ll need to eat something,” He says matter-of-factly.  “If we come across something and you don’t have the energy to fight-” 

“I said I’m fine” 

Despite the harsh words, Megumi’s voice is monotone, and not all that loud.  In fact, he’s almost whispering.  It only sends a chill of worry through Yuuta’s demeanor.  He’d already been stressing over his well being- not to mention Maki’s, and Itadori’s- it was starting to be a weight on his shoulders keeping an eye on everyone.

It wasn’t that he was burdened by his friends or the guilt they bore, but after a certain amount of time, he just didn’t know how to help anymore.

Yuuji was completely unable to separate himself from Sukuna, taking on the destruction of Shibuya and blaming himself for the entire catastrophe.  All the death, the chaos, and where they found themselves now, the boy could barely keep it together.  Yuuta had only known him for a short amount of time, and even he found his behavior to be unsettling.

Maki had slain her entire bloodline.  All but her sister, who had died trying to protect her, trying to make her stronger, so that when she broke free from their twisted clutches, she was able to take down every single one of them.  Yuuta had barely approached the subject.  No one did, really.  Maki had briefly mentioned it when they all grouped together, and since then, it’d been radio silence.

And Megumi… well, Megumi was still beating himself up over (y/n).  It didn’t matter what anyone said.  It didn’t matter that Yuuji held onto some sliver of hope that she’d made it out of Shibuya before shit really hit the fan.  It was as though Megumi had tuned everything out.  They practically watched him dim before them, a burnt out bulb that wouldn’t light again no matter how much they prodded and tried.

For now, Yuuta let him be.  The gang packed up their supplies from the spot they’d crashed the night before, and without much talk at all began moving again.  Here and there they talked about direction, and brainstormed how to get around stealthily, but other than that, it was mostly a quiet journey.

Megumi remained completely silent.  One hand on the strap of his sleeping bag over his shoulder, the other shoved in his pocket.  Distantly he recognized that his stomach was aching and his mouth was dry, and he was sure he was also in desperate need of a shower, too.  But even as the thoughts crossed his mind, they seemed to float away and fade into nothing.  Just like everything else that tried to fill the time in his head, it was always replaced by the overwhelming gnaw of grief.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to eat.  It wasn’t like there was much food to go around anyways.  Wasn’t everyone else much more deserving of a healthier portion? What had he done in comparison to everyone else in this makeshift group of people who were once peers but now that Jujutsu Society had fallen apart… did they even have anything else in common?

Just as the mental downward spiral began, it was washed away once more by the reminder that it didn’t matter anyways.  Guilt and loss settled at the forefront of his thoughts again, and he kept his head down as he continued walking.

The ironic part about all of this was that if she had been here, she’d laugh at him and smack him upside the head.  Everything matters, dummy, he could almost hear her scolding him, with no bite to her bark, just as always.  She always had something dumb to say like that.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Stop being so gloomy, ‘gumi!” She’d hollered, followed by a string of laughter as she skipped up to him, turning her back to Nobara and Yuuji, who happily kept walking along to the next shop on their trip.

“Definitely don’t ever call me that again” He muttered back, crinkling his nose and narrowing his eyes in distaste for the nickname.  She laughed again, stopping just before him on the sidewalk, just as their friends entered a boutique, leaving them behind.

“Oh yeah?” She places her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow at him, and he wonders if she knows that their friends just abandoned them out here.  “Or what?” She asks defiantly.

He’d taken notice that when she was trying to instigate a bickering match, the corner of her lips tilted up in a proud little smirk.  She tended to get ahead of herself, always certain that she’d win whatever it was they were doing.  From petty arguments on the sidewalk to sparring to missions where she always wanted to compete and one up him.  Although after a while he had to admit it could be a little fun to show off on the easier-to-exorcize curses.

“Dork,” He rolls his eyes without a hint of genuine attitude.  When she gapes at him in mock offense he raises his hand to flick her forehead.  “C’mon, our friends dipped” He starts to head towards the shop Nobara and Yuuji had disappeared into, but she stays put outside.

“Yeah… I sort of let them…” She admits, a small, guilty smile stretching across her lips.  Megumi raises his eyebrows at her, smiling back in amusement.  Usually whatever those two were up to, (y/n) was following behind like an eager duckling.  “What?” She asks innocently.  “I just don’t want to spend all day looking at things I won’t buy and then carrying all of Nobara’s shit!” She defends herself.

Megumi laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling at their corners and his shoulders shaking and everything.  (y/n’s) almost taken aback by the action, surprised that he looked so… joyful.

“Alright, you’ve got a point.  We have an opportunity here, and we should take it while we can” He begins to plot with her, and her smile stretches into a grin as she nods back at him.

“Bookstore and coffee?” She suggests quietly, as if it was more outlandish of an idea than it really was.

Megumi nods affirmatively, tucking his hands in his pockets before turning in the opposite direction, (y/n) following him right away so they could make it there before their friends noticed their departure.

She still pushed his buttons as they made their way to their destination down the street, but he couldn’t help but feel a blossom of warmth in his chest that for once he was the one getting her to tag alongside him.  He would never admit it, opting to poke back at her the rest of the day like nothing had changed, but it had felt… good.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The day that annoying chirping flyhead had announced a culling game, Megumi felt a glimmer of hope spark inside of him that he barely recognized.  It had only been nine or so days since the incident, but it seemed like ages since he’d felt optimistic about something- anything.  

But as the flyhead spouted off the rules to the games, he’d hoped that a lineup would be included.  Surely with so many sorcerers pitted against each other, there must be some condition of having all of the participants and their points on display, right? 

The others recognized a change in him then, an eagerness, an impatience as he barely took in what the flyhead was announcing, only waiting to hear what he wanted.

Announce the players’ names, he silently pleaded with the damn thing.  Say her name, tell me she’s a participant, tell me she’s alive.

But the rules concluded, the flyhead seemingly disappeared, and Megumi felt like a fucking idiot.

Yuuji and Yuuta shared a look, and the pink haired boy turned to give his friend an apologetic expression.  He opened his mouth to say something, but Megumi tightened his hold on the strap of his sleeping bag and kept walking before he could say anything.

He didn’t want to hear any bullshit about maybes or what ifs.  He just wanted to get to the next safe place by nightfall so he could lay awake on his sleeping bag for eight hours, and then repeat this whole cycle again tomorrow.

His ever so present grief and his growing hunger was starting to blend into a concoction that made him more stand-offish than usual.  The others had almost cracked, barely acknowledging him at this point, simply not knowing how.  Yuuji still tried, of course.  Forcing a water bottle in his face, or a piece of food that hadn’t gone totally bad.  He’d maybe had a few bites here or there in the last few days, not nearly enough to keep up his energy, but somehow he pushed through anyways.

Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t finding some hidden source of energy, he wasn’t persevering, and he certainly wasn’t living because he had to.  If he was being honest, he’d been wondering why his body hadn’t given out on him yet.  Nothing felt good anymore.  If it wasn’t numb, it ached, and neither one of those options was more of a relief than the other.

He wasn’t pushing through the unmovable force of his grief.  (y/n)... Nobara… Gojo… Nanami…  He wasn’t staying strong in their memory, and if anything, he wished his body would just give up already so he wasn’t such a burden to those around him.  Megumi spent most of his time in his own head, but he wasn’t completely oblivious.  He saw the way the others talked about him with only their eyes.  Short, worried glances exchanged on his behalf, each of them trying to silently convince the others to do something first, no one wanting to be the one to address it.

Tonight when he rolls out his holey sleeping bag and lays back on it, he stares at the starless sky and pleads with it.  He begs the rolling clouds and inky black night to let him close his eyes, just this once, so that he won’t have to open them again.

He can’t possibly spend another long night wide awake, thinking about his hunger, thinking about her, no matter how hard he tries to shove it all deep, deep down and ignore it.

As exhausted as he is physically, sleep never takes over his body.

A tear rolls out of the corner of his eye, trekking slowly down his cheekbone.  It lingers at his jaw, fat and wobbly as he clenches his teeth together as hard as he can stand it, desperate to make this tear the last.

It falls with a near silent splat against the nylon material he lays on.

The following little splats come in quick succession, seemingly a little louder as they fall one after the other.  Megumi chokes down the sobs to be sure no one else could catch wind of his breakdown.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

She momentarily glances up at him when he enters the room, only to scowl and turn away as soon as she recognizes it’s him.  Megumi fights the urge to roll his eyes, sliding the infirmary door shut and tucking his hands into his pockets as he approaches her.

“I’m not talking to you,”

Despite her sharp glare, he laughs at the ironic statement.

“I mean it.  I’m still mad at you,” She spits out, turning back to where she was stitching up the gash in her upper arm.  

It was a nasty thing to look at, and probably worse to patch up on her own, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten back from an assignment too late to request Shoko’s help- and reverse cursed technique.

“Seriously,” There’s more of a bite to her tone when she plunges the needle through the narrow end of the wound.  “Just go”  

She’s hissing and clenching her jaw before pulling the needle through and doing it again, trying to keep her stitches even.  It wasn’t the easiest task with her non-dominant hand, but she didn’t want to show an ounce of struggle.

“You sure talk a lot for not talking to me” Megumi hums, still coming closer, despite her warnings.

He earns himself another glare, but he ignores it, stepping up to where she’s sat on the edge of one of the paper-covered cots.  She flinches as though to lean away from him, and he raises a brow at her.

“You want sloppy stitches?” He asks pointedly, voice hushed and lacking any emotion.  “Fine by me, have it heal weird if that’s what you want” 

He starts to step away, and (y/n) huffs.  Her eyes shut and her shoulders slump, and he takes her nonverbal defeat as his cue to pluck the needle from her hand and get to work.  She wouldn’t say so out loud, but she knew his hand was steadier than hers anyways.

He works quickly and diligently.  His free hand placed gently around her arm to make sure it stays still as he stitches up the gnarly cut.  She tries not to react to how cold it is to the touch, but her muscles flinch when he first makes contact.

“Sorry” He mumbles without much thought, going for the fourth stitch.

“For what, exactly?” (y/n) mutters back with a furrow in her brow.  “For your freakishly cold hands? Or for letting me take this hit back there?” 

Megumi doesn’t respond right away, opting to keep his focus on his needlework.  This only annoys her further, and he can practically feel it radiating off of her.  He knew it was a matter of seconds before she blew up at him, she was probably just thinking through what she wanted to say when she screamed his head off.  He could tell her to shut up and stop acting so childish, but he doesn’t.

And he’s not totally sure why.  If this was Yuuji or Nobara in her place, he’d be telling them exactly where they’d gone wrong on that assignment, and to top it off walk them through how they needed to shape up before they took another one.  

But it’s not Yuuji or Nobara.  It’s (y/n).  And his mouth stays shut.

Truth was she wasn’t necessarily wrong.  He had technically let her take this hit from a Grade Two curse with a horrific set of claws.  But had he not sent her that way, then she would’ve wanted to tag team the Grade One with him.  And this particular Grade One had a gore streak in the deaths it had caused around Tokyo.  And on that fact alone, he took it on himself, and ordered (y/n) to take on the Grade Two.

“I mean seriously what the fuck was that? You think you get to boss me around just ‘cause you’ve been doing this a little longer?” 

And here she goes.  He braces himself mentally for whatever she was about to throw at him.

“Or is it something else? Hm? You needed the ego boost? Needed to feel like some kind of big strong man, Megumi?” Her eyes narrow at him but he doesn’t cast her a single glance.  His focus remains on the steady movements of stitching her up.  “Did it feel good to play hero? Did you feel good exorcizing that Grade One and laughing when I let a measly little Grade Two take me down-?”

“I wasn’t laughing” 

His voice is quieter than hers, and significantly calmer, but it still manages to shut her up.  For a moment, her expression is blank while she still stares at him, and he still keeps his eyes on his task.  

A lump forms in her throat, suddenly making it very hard to insult him.  It remains silent between them as Megumi finishes up the last stitch, finishing it off perfectly and dropping the bloody needle on the tray beside the cot.  The metallic thunk echos shortly, and then finally, he turns his attention towards her.

To his surprise, her eyes looked wet.  She couldn’t possibly be holding back tears.  Surely the stitches hurt, she wasn’t invincible, but she was strong, and never showed weakness.  Even when that curse had grabbed her by the arm and he feared it was going to rip it clean off her body, she hadn’t cried.  Screamed and swore, sure, but not a tear was shed the whole way back to campus.

“Think what you will,” He tells her, eyes flickering between hers curiously, wondering what it was that would make her tear up now.  “But I’m not so callous that I would take amusement in your pain,” 

She tries to swallow the lump in her throat, but it only burns more, and she hopes that he can’t see the emotion on her face, she hopes that she’s expressionless, cold, even.

“In fact, when I sent you after that curse, it was for the opposite reason.  I was trying to do you a favor” 

“A favor?” She repeats, intending to snap the words back at him, but her voice is strained by her burning throat, and instead she almost sounds… lost.  Megumi can’t quite put his finger on it.

He nods his head once in a short motion.

“Sorry you got hurt,” He says, and he means it, but his tone still lacks any sort of emotion.  He plans to keep it that way.  “Just didn’t want to see you get ripped to shreds by a Grade One” 

He doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t give her the chance to reply, or even fully react to that statement.  Instead he turns around and walks right back out of the infirmary, not so much of a nod in parting as he shuts the door behind him and leaves her completely alone.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When Megumi had found Yuuji after the incident in Shibuya, he’d ran to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, asking if he was alright and hugging him shortly out of the pure relief that someone was there, someone lived.  Even though Yuuji was in rough shape physically and mentally after everything, he was a person that Megumi could see and touch, and relief flooded through him like pure ecstasy.

“Nobara?” He’d asked, unable to finish the rest of the question.  He didn’t have to for Yuuji to understand.

Yuuji didn’t have to answer aloud for Megumi to understand.  His glossy eyes turned away, desperate for something else to catch his attention before he thought too hard about the fate their friend befell.

Megumi frowned, his throat going dry as he swallowed harshly.

He didn’t want to ask anymore questions.  He wanted to relish the lone fact that Yuuji, his best friend, was alive and standing in front of him.  He not only lived through the catastrophe but they’d reunited.  He wished he could hold onto that joy for just a moment longer.  But he couldn’t help himself from asking another burning question in his mind.

“A-and (y/n)?” He stammered out uncharacteristically.  His panic was evident in his wide eyes and tightening grip on Yuuji’s shoulders.  The pink haired boy looked back at him in alarm.  “She- she left Nanami’s team to come find you, did she?” He explained the situation poorly, not wanting to waste time talking if Yuuji had an answer for him. 

He doesn’t respond right away.

“Did she find you?” He asks again, his voice quieter as his features begin to fall.

His heart hammered in his chest in a way he’d never felt before.  A deep rooted fear he can’t recall ever having before, even as a toddler and fearing a monster under the bed didn’t hold up against the icy hot pins forcing their way through his bloodstream now.  His face felt hot as it went pale.  The back of his neck felt sweaty as a cool breeze hit it.  He was sure he was about to have a seizure, the panic was all too much.  The longer Yuuji didn’t give him an outright response, the worse the taste of bile in Megumi’s throat became.

“I did see her,” Yuuji finally mumbles out, dropping his eyes to his hands, which he held palms up and trembling before him.  “After Choso- the people that…” Yuuji coughs, the need to vomit suddenly pushing through his mind and throat.  “She was trying to exorcize them all,” 

He was struggling to explain what he recalled seeing that night.  It was all too brutal, and his mind was trying to push the trauma into a dark corner where he couldn’t think about it if he tried.  But this was important.  Megumi needed to know.

“She… she was crying,” Yuuji looked up at Megumi again, who furrowed his brows and shook his head.  “She knew they were still people deep down, like… Junpei” 

Megumi’s head shaking grew more rapid as he processed this all too slowly for his liking.

“And then?” He asked.  “And then what? Where’d she go? You got split up?” Question after question tumbled out of his mouth so quick his words began to slur together.

Yuuji wanted to cry just seeing him so worried sick, much less actually remember what happened.

“I… I didn’t see,” The pink haired boy admitted quietly, shame bringing his eyes downcast again.  “I’m sorry, Megumi.  W- we got separated.  But there… there were so many of them…” 

Megumi had stepped away, his hands falling from Yuuji’s shoulders, hanging heavy at his sides as he took a larger step back.  

“I tried to find her,” Yuuji’s voice cracked as he hoped to explain himself.  “Really I- I didn’t want to abandon her, I didn’t want to leave her there, not after everything she did to get to me- she- fuck- she probably saved my life showing up when she did!” 

He could register that Yuuji was still speaking, but Megumi could hardly make all of it out.  His vision was clouding over, and his entire body felt weak, as though he could collapse at any point.  He hadn’t even realized he was heaving until Yuuji, Maki, and Yuuta were crowded around him and helping him slowly down to the ground to calm him down.

He’d never had a panic attack before.

Finding out that (y/l/n) (y/n) had likely died along with countless others in Shibuya struck the first of several panic induced attacks.  Most of which he managed to keep hidden from the others, but some hit so hard and so suddenly that it was near impossible to work through it in private.

He’d been replaying Yuuji’s account of that night over and over in his head for days now, trying to find some sort of hope that she could’ve gotten out of that train station before all hell broke loose.  But with a hazy recollection and no other witnesses, it was hard to pretend that she made it out alive.

At first he’d spent time looking for signs of her as they traveled.  Any remains of camps he was sifting through, hoping to find that familiar necklace she always wore, or the shortsword she’d carried that night, something- anything that could point to a sign of her still being out there somewhere.

But now he barely lifted his head as he followed the group blindly, kicking at loose rubble and keeping a tight hold on his unraveling sleeping bag that was almost at the end of it’s lifespan.  There would be no use in holding onto a tattered rag of nylon.  

There wasn’t a chance he’d ever see her again.  His denial was beginning to fade, reality giving him a cold slap to the face to wake him up.  It was harsh.  It left him rough around the edges, literally and figuratively.  His facial features were sharper, and devoid of color.  His muscles were sore, only growing more so the longer he put off eating a proper meal.  If he kept this up he knew there would only be a few more sleepless nights until he didn’t stand back up in the morning.

And still, when he was offered a piece of food, he took a mere few bites before excusing himself to go lay on his ruined sleeping bag and stare at the sky.  

He cursed it when it was empty and dull.  He cursed it when it was full of twinkling stars and a bright moon.  It was never quite right.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Y’know any constellations?” 

Megumi startled upon hearing her tired voice creep up behind him.  When he turned to see her shuffling out of the doors in her bare feet and ducky-print pajama shorts and matching tee, he could almost laugh.  She was yawning, her eyes shut as she rubbed at them with the ball of her fist.  She looked like a child.

“It’s late” He muttered when she waddled up next to him sleepily.

“No shit,” She grumbles back with a roll of her eyes.  “So? Y’know any constellations or not?” 

Megumi wasn’t sure what exactly she was doing out here.  Had she heard him sneak out of his room to step out for fresh air? He’d left fifteen or so minutes ago.  If he’d woken her up, surely she would’ve followed him out here sooner than now.

Not to mention, she’d barely spoken to him since their last assignment together, and their sort-of argument in the infirmary.  The few times she had addressed him had only been out of courtesy to their present friends.  But even then, her eyes never quite met his, and her words were short.

“Actually, yeah,” Megumi hums thoughtfully.  “Tsumiki loved ‘em.  She used to show me when I was little” 

(y/n) nods, wrapping her arms around herself after realizing she wouldn’t relieve the ache in her eyes if she kept irritating them.  She lets out a soft sigh as she stands beside him, tilting her head back to glance across the sky.  She wasn’t sure of the last time she’d appreciated the stars.  It must have been when she was still a child.

Megumi clears his throat uncomfortably, before raising his hand to trace a pattern in the sky.

“Obviously that’s the Orion’s belt,” He says, before mapping out the rest of the hunter’s shape.  “The rest of Orion,” He mumbles, and he’s surprised when he glances down to see (y/n) carefully following his hand.  He wonders if she can see it the way he does, like the picture in the Astronomy book Tsumiki used to haul around.  Curious to see how interested she really was, he continued on to another constellation.  “That’s Ursa Major,” He says, tracing the shape out slowly to give her time to adjust to the image.  “And, uh, Ursa Minor is… there” He does the same for both bears.

(y/n) hums curiously, a small smile tugging at her lips in amusement.  She never would have guessed that Astronomy of all things was one of Megumi’s interests.

“Do you know what your star sign is?” He asks, dropping his hand and glancing down at her.  She raises a brow at him in surprise, slowly delivering her answer, half expecting him to come up short and sheepishly admit he didn’t know where that one was.

But he surprises her again, eyes darting around the sky for a matter of seconds before finding it in seconds and dragging his fingers along the main stars of her constellation with a great amount of ease.

“Alright, that’s pretty cool,” She finally confesses, shyly glancing up at him.  “You’re a pretty good brother for learning all of this” She tells him.

His attention is brought back down to her as soon as she says it, finding a soft smile on her face and a look in her eyes that he can’t quite decipher.  He thinks it’s akin to worry, perhaps empathy.  His eyes flicker between hers a few times as he tries to pinpoint exactly what it is.  She doesn’t shy away from his long silence accompanied by the eye contact that made her feel like she was an artifact under glass.  

It’s quiet for a while, until eventually Megumi looks back up at the sky again.  She wonders what brought him out here to begin with, but she doesn’t ask.  Instead, she clasps her hands together behind her back and admires the stars with him.

“What else can you show me?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

If it had been up to him, Megumi would’ve rather stayed behind at Jujutsu Tech to guard Tengen.  Maybe if he’d sat alone in the warping hallways of the school he could pass out from the mindfuckery of it all.  Then maybe, once Kenjaku arrived…

It doesn’t matter now.  Yuki and Choso had already decided they’d be the ones to stand guard.  He and Yuuji were already on their way to find Hakari, and there was no point in changing plans now.  Besides, he didn’t want to burden Yuuji any further than he was sure he already had.

“So, you’ve met this guy?”

Yuuji’s the first to speak, and Megumi doesn’t exactly have an answer.  He shrugs his shoulders and tilts his head side to side with a blank expression.

“Sort of.  I guess” 

Yuuji waits for further explanation, but after a few beats of silence, he realizes that Megumi isn’t going to explain what that means.

“Okay… well, do you think we can convince him to help us?” 

“Don’t know” Megumi replies.  

Yuuji frowns, and turns his gaze forward, fixing it straight ahead before slowly exhaling through his nose to ease his nerves.

Megumi glances at him out of his peripheral vision, and seeing his clear disappointment in his features, huffs out a breath and tries to explain himself.

“I met him for, like, a minute.  One time.  Before I was even enrolled at Jujutsu Tech,” He said.  

Yuuji turned towards his friend with a grin, eager to hear him opening up, or at least, trying to.  For once he keeps his mouth shut in the hopes that Megumi continues to talk.

“Gojo introduced me,” He went on.  “And I really don’t know if he’ll help us.  He’s a bit… eccentric” He mutters the last part with distaste.  

“Like Gojo?” Yuuji chuckles, and Megumi tilts his head from shoulder to shoulder once more.

“If Gojo had a gambling addiction so twisted it got him kicked out of school, then… maybe” 

Yuuji’s eyes widened, and he snapped his mouth shut before he could ask any other questions.  Megumi’s patience may have been thin- and perhaps nonexistent at this point- but he had a feeling that he should let his friend save up some energy for his social battery.  If Hakari is anything like Gojo, then he’d certainly need it.

When they stop to rest it’s not for long.  Yuuji gets Megumi to eat a bit more than usual, though not by much, he takes it as a good sign.  They rest just long enough to soothe the ache in their feet, but as soon as they’re moving again, the pain returns.  Neither one of them complained.

THe sun was just starting to set when they finally reached their destination.  Megumi stopped them both just on the perimeter of the territory.  An unsettling feeling spiking in his chest had his instincts telling him not to step any closer without a plan. 

Silently, he glances over to Yuuji, who’s already surveying the area.  He must have felt it, too.

“Cursed energy?” Yuuji mumbles, his brows furrowed as he meets Megumi’s hard stare.

The dark haired boy nods his head once in confirmation.

“Yeah,” He hums back.  “And a lot of it” 

It was impossible to ignore.  Cursed energy in great quantities had a natural buzz, like static electricity in the air.  This wasn’t that at all.  If Megumi closed his eyes and focused on it, he was sure he could feel the ground below him vibrating with thick waves of energy.

One thing was for sure, they were in the right place.  But whatever it was that was happening here put him on edge.

“Keep your guard up,” He muttered, stepping past the brush they’d been hiding behind and heading towards the building.  He tucked his hands into his pockets as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Yuuji was following.  “And your expectations low” He adds upon seeing the grin on his friend’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Arms up, Megumi!” 

Despite her offensive stance and the glow of cursed energy around her fists, (y/n’s) voice was full of pure delight.  Sometimes when Megumi would spar with her, he would be reminded of Maki.  He never understood why she never sought her out instead, surely the older sorcerer was a better match for her twisted delight with training.  Nonetheless, here he was on a Saturday, rolling his eyes as he raised his hands to keep his face behind his arms so that when she hit him she didn’t break anything.

(y/n) spoke as if she could read his thoughts.

“Skipping out on training doesn’t get you to Grade One, y’know,” She told him as they started circling.  “And if Yuuji can’t teach me Black Flash, I’ll have to learn it myself!” 

“Did you even ask Nanami?” Megumi grumbles, already knowing her answer.

She wasn’t one to ask for help.  Only ever requesting a training partner- or victim, as Nobara had once affectionately put it.

She didn’t give him an answer anyways, throwing a fist towards his exposed stomach, trying to apply her cursed energy at the last possible moment.  She not only didn’t succeed in using Black Flash, but she missed hitting him too, as he dodged with a graceful sidestep.

“If you’re so scared, why’d you say yes?” (y/n) asked, gearing up to find a weaker spot on him to aim for.

He doesn’t want to answer that, but she clearly isn’t going to make her attack until he gives her something, so he huffs.

“No one else would wake up at this hour on a weekend” He says lamely.  It feels like a lie when he says it, even though Megumi knows it’s the truth.  

It was seven in the morning, after all.  Yuuji and Nobara likely wouldn’t be awake for a few more hours.  If (y/n) needed a partner to train, her options were severely limited.

“Guess you’re right” She shrugs.

In the same motion she throws another punch at him, this time her cursed energy crackling in her hand, giving her some hope. But even though she landed a hit on his shoulder, it was still unsuccessful.

She groans loudly, to which Megumi scowls, seeing as he was the one that just got punched.  He rolls his shoulder to work out the ache before taking his defensive stance again, waiting for her to try again.

“You’re not in the right mindset” He points out.

She raises a brow at him.

“You wanna chase me around a bit?” She suggests, only half jokingly.  Megumi snorts, but stops himself before he could actually laugh at the idea.

“No,” He shakes his head.  “You should try something else” 

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” He huffs, annoyed for trying to walk her through a technique he’d never even used.  Still, he finds himself brainstorming another approach.  “Try psyching out,” He suggests, nodding his head as he thinks it through.  “It’d be more effective that way anyways.  If you’re using hand-to-hand with an opponent but don’t lead with it, you’ve got the element of surprise on your side, too,” 

(y/n) nods along with him, finding the advice to be surprisingly solid.

“So if you let them underestimate you, then catch them off guard, you’d probably be good as gold” He finished.

She beams at him as she raises her fists again, ready to take his advice out on him right away.

“Just remember you suggested it when I take you to the infirmary later” She teases.

Megumi smirks, widening his stance and raising his arms to protect his face again.

“You’ll still have to figure out the technique” He reminds, but the coy look on his face suggests that he had no doubt in his mind that she could master it in no time.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The inside of the building was so loud and rambunctious, it was downright overstimulating.  Megumi fought the urge to cover his ears as soon as they entered the premises.  Crowds of people swarmed multiple levels- he counted about six before getting distracted by all the pushing and shoving- and it was no secret what it was they were wildly rooting for.

“A fighting ring, huh?” Yuuji grinned, not out of delight for the sport, but surprise for the timing of a setting like this.  Did these people even know about the games?

“Great,” Megumi clicked his tongue bitterly as he surveyed the crowds with a furrow in his brow.  “Should’ve expected he’d pull some shit like this” He muttered too low for Yuuji to make out what he was grumbling about.

The squared ring where the current match was taking place wasn’t too far from where Yuuji and Megumi found themselves, but with all of the people in the way it made it difficult for them to see who was winning.  Too many arms in the air with money in their fists blocked the fight.  But it seemed whoever was up there was getting thrown around like a ragdoll.  The sound of a body rapidly being smacked against the rough mat or against the chains surrounding the ring were heard in quick succession.

However despite the sound of someone being brutalized, the match continued.  Neither of them have caught a glimpse of either combatant, but they knew it must’ve been an impressive lineup as it had been a few minutes of this now.

“Is this even legal?” Yuuji asked.  Megumi scoffed, although he wasn’t trying to deliver a rude response.

“Not even a little bit” He mutters back with a shake of his head.

Wordlessly, they decide they’re going to push through the horde of chanting people to get a better look at what was going on.  They pause in their shoving when a booming voice erupts from an intercom, the screech of an excited announcer sounding throughout the building and echoing across the concrete infrastructure.

“Place your final bets now!” He drawled every word out for dramatic effect.  “Will our resident Panda live to see another day?” 

Yuuji and Megumi locked eyes instantly, and without having to say a thing, began pushing and shoving forward again.  The sea of people cast them dirty looks and occasionally pushed back to scold them for their rude behavior, but they paid it no mind.

There could only be one Panda in that ring, right?

Sure enough when they got closer to the square, they could see the wide, furry expanse of a panda- The Panda’s- back.  His shoulders were trembling, not from pain or fear, but from the rambunctious laughter he let out.  He raised his paws, tilting his head back as his howl boomed.

Yuuji’s face brightened excitedly upon seeing their old friend.  Megumi couldn’t help but feel some relief as well.  Neither of them had considered the possibility of scattered sorcerers they knew being here.

They were close enough now that when Panda spoke, they could make out what he was saying.  The crowd around them was too busy screaming and chanting threatening cheers to care about what the fighters in the ring were saying to one another, but Yuuji and Megumi did their best to listen in.

“Just try not to knock me out this time!” Panda said through his laughter.

Was he throwing the fight? Megumi didn’t quite understand the context to this statement.

“Last time they didn’t bother to move me off the ring, I slept here all night!” Panda continued, his laughing ceasing as he took on an irritated tone.  “Ruined my back!” 

His opponent only laughed.  Something feminine and twisted, but undoubtedly genuine.

Megumi’s heart plummeted to his stomach.  He recognized that sound.

When Panda’s body was knocked back into the chains of the ring from a swift but heavy kick to the chest, his opponent was finally made visible.

A girl.  Not that girls couldn’t fight, but this particular girl had a cutthroat attitude when it came to fistfighting a bear.  It seemed every swing of her arms as she landed hit after hit on him grew faster in speed.  Half of her face was covered with a black mask, but the bloodied grin on her face was that of someone who believed they couldn’t possibly lose, no matter what beast of an opponent they might face.

Recognition flashed in Megumi’s face, making him go pale as he watched her strike two blows to Panda’s jaw so quickly it had to have given him whiplash, sending his furry head back and forth with such great force.

If Panda was throwing the fight, it didn’t really look like it.  He blocked a hit here and there with his massive paws, but she always seemed to move quicker to outsmart him.  Ducking and weaving around him with graceful feet and agile movements to keep herself from getting caught by him again.  Clearly she’d learned a lesson when he’d been throwing her around earlier.

When Panda did try to land a hit on her again, she grabbed his large wrist in one hand, still grinning as she used the momentum of his swing to swing herself forward and kick her feet into his chest.

The first from the right foot, directly against his ribcage, knocking all wind out of him.  

The crowd began to go wild, anticipating something Megumi hadn’t caught onto yet.

The second from the left foot, kicking lower against his stomach, making him curl over and heave.

But before he could catch his breath or clutch his stomach, she struck with her right foot again.  

The third and final blow came with a shock of blue energy, an abundant amount of cursed energy striking him in the chest so hard it sent him a few feet backwards, crashing into the chains and crumpling to the mat in a heap of black and white.

It was undoubtedly Black Flash.

She didn’t taunt him as the referee began his countdown before calling a knock out and declaring her a winner.  She didn’t strut around or try to rile up her fans in the crowd.  Not that she needed to, the people around Megumi and Yuuji were clawing at their own faces in astonishment from watching her take her opponent down with ease and showmanship.

And when the match was officially over and the announcer was hyping the crowd up for the next fight over the intercom, she slid out of the ring and left the area without so much as a wave.  It took a few minutes for Panda to get up, but eventually he was sauntering his way out of the ring too, waving to the few people who were his diehard fans and didn’t take his defeat tonight as anything more than some bad luck.

“Come on” Megumi beckoned Yuuji to follow him, his feet already moving as fast as they could take him through the mob, struggling to follow the exact direction that Panda and his opponent before him had gone.

Yuuji kept up fairly well, but Megumi wouldn’t have noticed.  He was driven forward by absolute panic, his heart racing in his chest with a feeling he’d thought he’d relinquished days ago when he’d tried to stop living in denial.

But he couldn’t get the image of that girl out of his mind.  She was so… he couldn’t get his hopes up.  Her laugh was so familiar he couldn’t have possibly mistaken it for someone else's… he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

“Yo! Panda!” 

Eventually the crowd thinned out enough that Yuuji tried using the power of his loud holler to get their friend’s attention.  Panda perked up immediately, spinning around and searching the crowd for the familiar voice.  It didn’t take long for his eyes to land on the waving boy with the unmistakable head of pink hair.  He grinned, and his ears twitched a bit as he turned completely and began to make his way towards the pair.

“Itadori!” He beams wider as he reaches them, as if they could have turned out to be figments of his imagination.  “Fushiguro!” 

He hugs them both at once before either could protest.

“I can’t believe you’re here! Did you come to see me fight?” He laughs at his own joke, shaking his head before they could even say anything.  “Really though, what are you doing here? It’s not as fun as it looks, y’know” 

“We’re looking to talk to Hakari-” 

“Who was that with you?” Megumi speaks up before Yuuji could begin his explanation.  

Yuuji turns to him with a confused look, which Panda shares for a moment, before he chuckles.

“She went down that way,” He said, pointing behind him in the direction he’d been heading.  “(y/n/n) always ditches fights fast.  Hates the crowd, I guess.  Not me, I love the-” 

“Wait, (y/n/n)?” Yuuji repeats the semi-familiar nickname, his jaw going slack and his eyes widening.

He turns to share a look with Megumi, but it seemed the raven haired boy was already processing just whose nickname that could’ve been.  His face was flushed so pale he looked sick.

“As in (y/n)-(y/n/n)?” Yuuji continues.

“Yeah,” Panda nods affirmatively, not understanding just how devastating his casual response was for the younger sorcerers in front of him.  “She’s-” 

“She’s alive?” Megumi finally speaks. 

His voice is hardly above a whisper, but the words are like a dropping bomb.  Clear, and unmistakable.

Panda blinks in shock, his features contorting in realization as he looks between his two friends.  He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t even know where to start.

So he nods his head, and turns to point down the corridor he’d been heading once more.

He gives them specific directions to where she’d been likely to go.  Megumi listens but doesn’t quite hear a thing he’s saying.  His heart is pounding in his ears, his body is going hot, and even once his feet are moving on their own accord- apparently having understood the directions just fine without his ears- he frets that he might break down into a panic attack if he’s not quick enough.  

The warning signs are there, the labored breaths, the hot and cold flashes in quick succession, his blurring vision- but he ignores all of it, racing through what was left of the crowd to slip into the near empty corridor.  Yuuji is hot on his tail as they dart through, eyes moving in all directions at every doorway and passerby, just to be sure that they wouldn’t miss her.

“(y/n)?” 

Her name leaves his mouth in a strangled choke of syllables, as though it were his first time speaking in months.  

She hadn’t been facing his direction, her hand still on the handle of the door she was about to open.  Her movements had been rushed, like she were hoping to sneak into the room and lock the door behind her as quickly as possible.

But now, as her hand stilled and a chill shot up her spine at the familiar voice, her movements were far too slow as she turned towards the owner of said voice.

Megumi and Yuuji are standing a few feet down the hall, their heavy footsteps having skid to a stop when they finally did see her.  She’s closer to them now than she had been in the ring, and although she still wore the mask, she was far more recognizable now.

Her hand trembles as she raises a hand to her head, pulling at the black material of her mask until it gives way, sliding off her head and pooling in the palm of her hand, revealing her face completely now.

Her eyes were wide as they moved between Yuuji and Megumi slowly, disbelief written in her features from the way her brows drew together, to the part in her lips but no words coming out, to the way her eyes began to water as they snapped back into reality and began to move closer to her.

“Megumi?” She drops his name in a mumble, barely audible even to herself, but seeing him here, right now, has her in such a state of shock that she could have believed Panda threw her around too rough and now she was experiencing delusions.

But then she’s moving too, her feet shuffling at first before picking up pace and running towards them once she’s close enough that she didn’t even need to.

“(y/n)!” Yuuji cheers when they’re huddled close together again.

“Yuuji!” She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tight, rocking back and forth in bliss upon seeing her beloved friend safe and before her now.

When they part, Megumi still hasn’t figured out what it is he should even say.  He doesn’t know where to start, doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and suddenly feels so anxious he worries he might throw up.  To his luck, (y/n) acts before he has to, and she’s giving him the same warm welcome.

Her arms are tight around his shoulders, and her fingers curl into the material at the back of his uniform jacket.  She gathers the fabric in her fists, making sure that he won’t pull away until she’s squeezed every bit of comfort out of his embrace as possible.

And to her surprise, he returns to affection with more force than she would’ve thought.  One arm around her waist, keeping her snug against his chest, the other laying upwards against her spine so that he could bury his hand in her hair and cradle her head close to him.  He’s shaking, she can feel it, and she pushes closer until her face is buried against his shoulder, hoping to ease his panic.

“We- I thought-” He gasps between struggling breaths, and she’s never heard him sound so broken.  He drops his head so his lips hover over her ear when he finds his voice again.  “I thought you were dead” 

Her heart spikes with an odd feeling, and she squeezes him a little harder before pulling back.

“Alive as ever” She says with a weak smile and an awkward shrug of her shoulders.

Megumi has to shove his hands into his pockets to hide their obvious trembling.  The rush of adrenaline in his system hadn’t quite worn off yet, and at this rate he wasn’t sure that it would.

“Well what happened?” Yuuji asked.  “How’d you end up here?”

She lets out a humorless chuckle before wincing.  

“It’s… it’s not an interesting story,” She explains, then beckons with her hand to have them follow her back to her door.  “Here, I sorta have my own space, if you want to come in I can tell you about it, and then you can tell me what you’re doing here, too” 

Yuuji begins a long winded rant right away.  He tells her all about meeting Yuuta and dying again, and despite Megumi sending him a dirty look for going into too much depth about the parts that didn’t matter as much, (y/n) was an attentive listener, taking in every detail and asking him questions, too.  A lot about Yuuta, seeing as she hadn’t crossed paths with him in months, it was good to know he was still out there and on their side.  Yuuji continued on about the culling games, and how they had come here originally looking for Hakari.

“But then we found you and Panda- hey wait, do you know Hakari?” Yuuji asked excitedly.  “Maybe you could talk to him for us-!” 

Her eyes widen with uncertainty, a nervous smile stretching over her lips as she shakes her head quickly.

“I- I don’t know about that,” She tells him.  “He doesn’t really come out much, I think I’ve seen him once since getting here.  I wasn’t exactly trying to get on his radar.  He doesn’t love those affiliated with Jujutsu Tech, you know” 

“What? Why! He must like you, your fight was very entertaining!” Yuuji gushes.  Megumi sends him another look that he ignores.  “And you mastered Black Flash! He’s got to be interested in- ow!” 

Megumi smacked his hand upside the back of Yuuji’s head, making sure this time that he didn’t miss the look he was giving him.  His displeasure wasn’t exactly subtle.  (y/n) laughed through her nose at the pair that hadn’t seemed to change too much in their time apart.

Besides the fact that Yuuji had a few more scars on his face.  And Megumi looked like he had lost a bit of weight.  Besides that, their demeanors hadn’t changed one bit.  For a second at a time, she could pretend things were normal again.

“Go find Panda and tell him our plan,” Megumi orders gruffly.  “See if he has any ideas on how to get Hakari to see us” 

“What? But-!” 

Megumi widened his eyes, silently telling Yuuji to go.  The pink haired boy huffed, but stood from his seat on the floor and shuffled towards the door.

“And keep a low profile!” Megumi called, only for Yuuji to wave him off nonchalantly before shutting the door behind him.

(y/n) chuckled when it was just the two of them, turning to face him again.

“So,” She breathes out a heavier exhale than she’d expected.  “How’s he really holding up?” 

“How you’d expect,” Megumi replies honestly.  “It was really rough for a while.  We all were… pretty messed up.  Still are, I guess” 

(y/n) frowns.

“Yeah,” She mumbles.  “Shibuya… was…” She drops her head before she could finish her thought.  There wasn’t a word strong enough to explain the devastation of the incident.

Megumi’s fingers begin to twitch, fiddling and locking together as he thought over what he wanted to say next.

“Look, before we…” He starts, but loses momentum quickly.  He clears his throat to try again.  “When I last saw you, I-” 

“It’s okay,” (y/n) cuts him off before he could say anything more.  The face he makes is uncertain, and she gives him a nod as she repeats herself.  “Really, Megumi, it’s okay.  It was just a fight, it didn’t mean anything” 

“But I-” He starts, only for her to shake her head again.  “But it did mean something” He argues.

“We fought a lot, Megumi,” (y/n) chuckles.  “Trust me, if I was holding onto resentment over every time we ever argued, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now” 

“No- not like that,” Megumi shakes his head.  “It meant something because you left and I- I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, (y/n),” His voice holds a grave tone that has her kind smile faltering and her brows pinching together as she watches him.  “Yuuji said he lost track of you when you were dealing with all the transfigured humans and- and then you were just gone” 

(y/n) blinks, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she realizes just how long it had been since they’d seen each other.  How long he must’ve carried around guilt and grief over her.  It makes her heart sink, and she shuffles forward on her knees to sit closer to him.

“I got dragged out of the train station pretty quick,” She tells him.  “There were so many of… them… and I knew that I was worrying Yuuji while exorcizing them.  Cause- cause it didn’t feel like exorcizing,” 

Megumi nods, recalling how Yuuji had told him she’d been crying during the whole ordeal, something quite out of character for her.  Even now as her eyes begin to tear up, the sight is alarming.

“It felt like… like killing,” She whispers.  “So I started leading them away and got outnumbered and got dragged out further.  By the time I… once they were all gone, I was out of it.  I must’ve passed out or something, because when I came to, Shibuya was… gone.  I tried finding you- I tried finding anyone-” She tries to catch her wording, but she’s not quick enough.  “But it was just rubble and dust.  It was nothing.  After a while of trying to find somewhere to land to… to rest and regain some strength, I found this place and Panda with it and I just… stayed.  It sort of started to feel like this is all that was left,” 

She lets out a shaky sigh, rubbing her clammy hands over her thighs to relieve some of the stress building up in her body.  It doesn’t do much, but she continues the action a few more times.

“You know, I didn’t necessarily think I’d ever see you again, either,” Her eyes are downcast as she speaks.  “For a while I wondered, um, if you’d show up here…” 

“Sorry it took so long,” Megumi replies quietly.  She lets out a short, watery chuckle.  “But we’re here now,” He adds, moving closer to her, until she looks up at him, surprised by the sudden close proximity.  Her eyes are wide as they flicker quickly over his face, trying to read his expression.

It was a new one for Megumi, one she’s not sure she’s ever seen on him before.  Except maybe the night in the infirmary, when he’d stitched up her arm.  Her face feels warm, and she can’t decide if it’s because of the memory, or if it’s because of how close he is to her.

“And I’m not going anywhere without you” He tells her.  His voice is low, but instinctively, she doesn’t feel a shroud of doubt in his words.

She blinks to try to rid the tears from her eyes, but after reliving the last week and a half, and reuniting with the people she’d been naively hoping were just missing and not gone was starting to get on top of her.  She’d spent quite some time shoving down bitter thoughts and choosing to stay in denial.  As long as she focused on her matches and made enough of an earning to have a place to crash, she tried to stay as blissfully ignorant as possible.

Still, there had been a few sleepless nights when she’d wander outside and try to find a few constellations in the sky, or when she’d lay wide awake and let the tip of her finger trace over the perfectly straight scar on her shoulder.

“Really?” 

The question comes out with a shaky breath.  She held no uncertainty in him, Megumi was a man who was always true to his word, but reality was beginning to settle in and the urge to hold on to him and never let go was growing stronger.

Megumi nods, clearly amused that she even had to ask.  It felt like the first time in a long time that a smile began to twitch on his lips, the muscle feeling awkward from underuse.  His eyes gleam as he reiterates his intentions.

“We’re not splitting up again,” He tells her, a weight hanging on to each word.  His eyes move between hers, and when she blinks, a tear sticks to her lashes.  “I’m not losing you again” He adds in a smaller voice.

A choked sound that almost sounded like a laugh comes out of her as she nods back at him, shaky and fast.  For once, agreeing with him completely.

To (y/n), there had always been something about Megumi that drew her to him.  He was easy to pick on, easy to tease and laugh at.  She found joy in their banter, even when it was less petty and more serious, there was a magnetic spark between them that she just couldn’t deny.  She’d tried to explore that feeling, before Shibuya.  But she’d never known how exactly to approach it, always becoming apprehensive of the foreign feeling.

Now, it felt so easy to jump into the unknown territory that she felt silly for never having worked up the courage to do so before.  The fear of losing someone she cared so much about was too great, and there was no time to waste.

Her tear dropped onto her cheek, the fat droplet rolling slowly across her skin until it dipped into the edge of her wobbly smile.  A few more followed shortly after, unable to be stopped no matter how hard she willed herself not to cry.

Just as she raised the back of her hand to hastily rub the wetness away, Megumi beat her to it, moving closer to her as both hands worked softly to catch each tear.  They were cold against the hot wet skin, just as she’d remembered, and she found herself shutting her eyes and leaning into how comforting they felt.  The tears didn’t stop, but she didn’t seem to be in any anguish.

“I’m not losing you again either,” She whispers, her fingers skimming over his wrist before she clasps her hand around it, making sure he doesn’t pull away just yet.  “I- I can’t” The words come out in a small whimper.

Megumi nods in understanding.  His thumbs swiping across her cheekbones, and softly under her eyes, trying to catch every last tear.

“I know,” He says softly, still nodding as his eyes wander her features, making sure there weren’t any lingering tears he’d missed.  “I know, and you won’t, ‘m not goin’ anywhere” 

When their eyes lock again, she’s overwhelmed by an influx of emotion.  An eagerness to have him back by her side, a desire to keep him there next to her and never let him go, to never let anything take him away again.

“Listen, ‘gumi, I-” She tries to put words to the feeling, wanting to explain to him that having him here with her was sending her heart into orbit, wanting to tell him that knowing he was alive and he was okay was the first time she’d felt happiness in what seemed like weeks.

But the words are too difficult.  They’re too big and they get caught in her throat.  Rather than try to force them out, she acts on it instead.

Megumi anticipates the movement before she leans forward, catching the way her eyes rapidly shift between his and his mouth.  He reciprocates the look, curious to see if it meant what he’d thought it did, but just as quickly as his eyes land on her parted lips, she’s shooting forward and pressing them against his.

It’s a rushed kiss at first, full of anxiety and grief that hadn’t fully been relieved yet.  It’s  messy lips and clashing teeth, but once they both realize that whatever this feeling was, it was reciprocated, they relaxed.

Megumi sighs through his nose as he cups her cheeks and keeps her close, kissing her a little more softly, a little more deliberate in his need to display to her just how much he’d missed her.  In turn, (y/n’s) hands rest against his shoulders, squeezing just firm enough that he could feel her there, without being too aggressive.

Kissing her like his life depended on it made him feel like everything could turn out alright now that she was with him again.  Now that he was sure she was here, feeling the heat in her cheeks, and her soft breaths against his cheek, Megumi thinks his life had depended on this.

Up until about an hour ago he’d been mentally checked out since Shibuya.  Seeing her again brought him back a sense of purpose he hadn’t even really noticed he’d been losing.

Her hands are gentle when they card into his hair, combing softly through the dark locks that seemed a little longer since the last time she’d seen him.  He sighed at the sensation, unintentionally breaking their kiss.

The tips of his hair tickle her skin as his forehead drops to rest against hers.  (y/n) lets out a soft, breathless giggle before opening her eyes.

He’s smiling at her.  So full of delight that his blue eyes seem to gleam, and they’re crinkled at their corners.  She can’t help but smile back at him, her heart full and her face warm, even with his cool hands still holding it.

Megumi moves then, fingers catching a loose strand of hair.  He twirls it thoughtfully for a moment before tucking it behind her ear carefully, and laying his palm across her cheek again.  His long fingers splay out, wanting to touch as much of her as he possibly can, just to keep sure that she really is in front of him.

“No more runnin’ off, alright?” He murmurs, the tip of his nose grazing hers.

Her hands latch behind his neck, her focus on his lips as she thinks about kissing him again.  They linger there for a moment before shyly meeting his gaze again.

“Don’t let me go again” 

He shakes his head, a silent vow to never do anything to push her away again, and even if he fails to keep her by his side, he swears he’d follow her, wherever she may go.

With his eyes falling shut he leans in again, lips grazing hers as he speaks.

“I won’t,” He murmurs, and then once more before he seals their lips again. “I won’t” 

She could never part from him again.  She loved him too much to even conceive the idea.  What was next to come would be difficult, she may not have known Hakari very well personally, but she knew enough to be anxious about approaching him.  He was a bit of a loose cannon.  However she was sure that with Megumi- and Yuuji and Panda of course- they would come up with the right plan of action to gain his help.

With needy hands and a needier heart she clings to him now, just to be sure that she could never look back and regret not holding onto him tight enough.  He does the same, dropping his hands to circle his arms around her waist and pull her in impossibly close to him.

Whatever it took, he’d keep hold of her for the rest of their lives.  Nothing could ever take her from him again as long as she was right there in his arms.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ i got you where i want you // you did it, i never // i’m falling for forever ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

[urprettylittlething]

Breeding Experiment

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x CursedKitty! Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Another part of CursedKitty universe! After a few very late nights and some glasses of wine I present to you a NSFW oneshot drabble thing where they fuck and want to breed Kitty :) I warn you this is my first time trying to seriously write some smut let alone a breeding kink so i apologise profusely in advance if this sucks, do let me know how it is <3 (and thank you to the lovely person to suggest breeding link <3) If you want to send in your own ideas for Kitty, my inbox is open! <3

summary - Gojo and Geto found out they can fuck you, can they breed you?

warnings - Dubcon/Noncon-ish? Kitty is having a pretty good time but they didnt ask for consent and she doesn’t really understand, female anatomy, they call Reader 'Kitty' and 'Experiment' a few times, cum, eating Kitty out, smut, breeding kink, vague Yandere vibes, they’re a little mean, (let me know if i need to add more please)

genre - Oneshot Drabble thing

wc - 1.3K

Edit - spelling and grammar fixed 09/10/23

Gojo was leaning back against his headboard, a few pillows stuffed underneath him. His legs were spread in front of him, knees bent so he could dig his feet into the mattress below him. Kitty was in his lap, her back resting against his hard chest. Her little tail was wound tight around her waist to keep it from getting crushed between the two of them.

The only thing she was wearing was a long and clean shirt, given to her by Satoru. She wasn’t wearing any underwear as him and Suguru deemed it unnecessary. She was for their eyes only so it didn't matter too much to them, and Kitty didn't seem to mind either. She looked similar to how the two of them first found her, but now she was cleaned, properly scrubbed and groomed to their satisfaction. 

Her Kitty ears were pressed flat against her hair as she pressed against Gojo. Each leg of hers had been hoisted up and over Gojos, keeping them hooked back and her pussy exposed. 

‘She’s such a dumb little thing.’ Gojo thought to himself. There she was, squirming against him, trying to close her legs. Not even thinking of just lifting her legs up so she could close them. No matter, it made his job so much easier of keeping her upper half restrained. 

He had wrapped his hands around her wrists and kept them tucked against her own chest. ‘And what a tease too.’ All of Kittys squirming had riled him up, getting him hot and bothered the longer she unintentionally grinded her ass against his hard cock. 

Suguru on the other hand had been between her legs for just over twenty minutes now. Eating her out like it was his last meal while she mewled, gasped and cried against Gojo. 

If Gojo was being completely honest, he didn't expect him and Suguru to take it this far. But they couldn't help their naturally curious nature.

Especially after the first bath they had been forced to give her. The both of them had quickly figured out just how little she knew, or understood for that matter. Rendering her useless to do most things by herself when she didn't understand them. 

Anyway, it was only natural for their eyes to wander, allowing themselves to take in the full image of her nude self. 

It shocked them a little to see just how much she resembled a human girl. She was equipped with full anatomy (atleast to their eyes on the outside), except the ears and tail of course. So it was only natural, the curious human nature of them, to think about whether… well… whether she worked or not. 

It had been around two weeks since then and in Gojos opinion he would say the two of them had held out pretty well, given his inability to be patient most times. But alas, here they were now.

Suguru groaned from where he was slurping Kitty’s juices from between her legs. “From all the curses I’ve had to swallow, she has to be the sweetest.”

Gojo gave a huff in response, a tad salty that he didn't get to go first, but it's whatever. The view he had been blessed with almost made up for it anyway. 

And of course poor Kitty seemed overwhelmed already, her chest heaving, body hot and sweaty, her ears flattened and twitching against her head and eyes half lidded. Her pouty mouth open, gasping and mewling incoherent noises at the pleasure Sugurus tongue was forcing her to experience for the first time. 

Every flick against the sensitive little nub causes her hips to jerk, mewling even louder. Every wiggle of his tongue inside her caused her to squirm even harder against Gojo as she cried out. 

“Poor thing,” Gojo murmurs, “I doubt she even understands what we're doing to her. Atleast shes enjoying it.” 

Suguru finally pulls his face away from her pussy, rising up to kneel on his legs from between hers. His mouth and chin were covered in Kittys juices. He starts pulling off his clothing, using his shirt to wipe around his mouth. 

As he was pulling off his last article of clothing, Kitty was starting to squirm again. Making little noises and whines that neither of the two really understood, not quite understanding why the stimulation had all of a sudden stopped. 

They had quickly figured out that she couldn't communicate with them in any language. Tugging at their shirts and whining at them to indicate she needed something. Although they had learned that she could understand them, to a certain extent. 

Gojo hushed her and leaned down to press gentle kisses against her exposed neck. “Shh.. Calm down Kitty. Suguru is going to take real good care of you now.” She seemed to calm a little at that. 

Suguru leaned forward, now on his knees between them. With Kittys forcibly spread legs, courtesy of Gojo, on either side of him it allowed him to place his hands on the flesh of her thighs. The tip of his throbbing cock now poking and teasing at her little hole. 

“Should be nice and easy, Kitty. Nice and wet, such a good girl for us, huh?” Suguru said, beginning to push his way into her tight hole, loosened up a little from his tongue. Kitty’s walls fluttered and pulsed around him while he bowed his head and groaned. 

“God, for a curse this pussy is tight. Warm too.” He muttered as he inched himself further into her heat. 

“Bet she could take both of us. Such a dirty little kitty we have on our hands, enjoying Sugurus cock so much, aren't you?” Gojo teased as she mewled and moaned and pawed at them. Her head was tilted back and resting against his shoulder, a small dribble of drool escaping down the side of her mouth. He couldn't blame her, after all, she had bigger priorities to worry about right now. 

“Could fill this pussy up so well. Breed her like the bitch she is.” Suguru groaned, furrowing his brows as he began pumping in and out of her tight walls. 

“You think we could breed her?” Gojo perked up a little in interest. The thought was certainly entertaining given the throbbing in his pants. 

“If we stuff her full enough, probably.” He grunted in response. Beginning to thrust his hips into Kittys even harder. Wet, slapping sounds filled the room they were in, almost louder than the little curse situated in Gojos arms. 

She began to pant and whine, droplets of tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she squinted, her tongue poking out from between her lips. They both could take a good guess as to what was about to happen. 

Suguru began to fuck into her even harder while Gojo reached down with one hand, the other keeping a hold of her wrists, to flick and rub and pinch at her little clit poking out from all the pleasure.

Kitty screeched and cried as her ears trembled and her tail shuddered from where it was wrapped tightly around her. Her orgasm overwhelmed her, causing her pussy to tighten and gush with even more juices. Making the sounds from between them sound even wetter.

Suguru threw his head back, groaning as he emptied his load deep inside her as Gojo leaned down to whisper into her ear.

“We're going to breed you, you’d want that right? Have your tummy round and full with our child, all for you to look after. Stuffed full with our cum, our perfect little experiment, huh?” His fingers are still rubbing and circling the throbbing nub, making her cry and tremble and squirt more of her juices.

He only stopped when Suguru had recovered and began pulling himself out of Kitty’s fluttering walls. Both pausing to stare at the way his cum oozed out from her little pussy.

Kitty’s eyes fluttered while her ears relaxed against her hair, closing her eyes in bliss and seemingly exhausted. 

Suguru and Gojo looked up at each other after a moment of silence between them and what had just occurred before he spoke up.

“Come on Kitty, my turn.”

[satosuguswife]

HIS SISTER | PROLOGUE

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Series Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue

Pairing:

Poly!SatoSugu x Toji'sSister!OC

Summary:

A story about Tenka Zenin, the little sister of the man dubbed as the “Sorcerer Killer'' - Toji Fushiguro. Just like Toji, she is also blessed, or cursed based on how the Zenin clan sees it, with heavenly restriction.

Content:

Toji sibling fluff to angst, No SatoSugu yet, The Zenin clan being shit

Word Count:

2,059 words

A/n: feel free to request AUs for this through the asks :> if you want to be tagged for this story just leave a comment or ask

━━━━━━━━━━

Ten years after Toji Zenin was born, came a little girl. She was named Tenka - meaning heaven and flower. The clan hoped she would be better than her brother but to their disappointment, it was another failure. The Zenin clan all thought that except one - her brother. While the rest of the clan looked at her as another stain to their name, her brother saw otherwise.

At first, Toji just pitied the pile of flesh that was unfortunately born into the vile clan. But when he held her for the very first time, it was also the first time Tenka ever opened her eyes. Toji feared that she would cry the second she saw him but to his surprise, she giggled as she reached out her dainty little hands to him. It was at that moment that Toji saw her as his light.

Life was not kind to the two siblings as they suffered from the constant berating insults of their own clansmen and the disappointed stares of their parents. Although that did not matter as long as they had each other by their side. Unbeknownst to them, their time together would be cut short on his 14th birthday.

———

"Aniki!" The 4-year-old girl shouted as she ran into her brother's arms. "Look! I made you a flower crown made from the Azlea flowers that grew in the gardens for your birthday!" Tenka beamed at her older brother, proud of the gift she made him. Toji chuckled at his sister, grateful that she remembered his birthday. It wasn’t common for him to be noticed but that was one thing Tenka never failed to do; after all, they were each others’ world.

They walked through the clan grounds as Tenka babbled to Toji about random stuff she thought of. The sun soon set and painted the sky with hues of gold. Toji stopped by the stairs and sat on them while they watched the sunset.

"Aniki? What's your wish?"

Toji's eyes widened. No one has ever asked him what he wished for on his birthday or even any day. For once in his life, someone bothered to know what he wanted. He softly patted his sister's head and spoke. "I wish to see you happy and safe Tenten." Silence swept the air as the siblings didn't bother to speak a single word and enjoyed the peace, but little did they know it would soon be ripped away from them.

———

The eerie silence cuts through the night as an unknown man spoke with the head of the Zenin Clan - the father of Toji and Tenka.

“We’ll pay you any amount you want. All we need is the kid with the heavenly restriction.” 

“You can have the girl. She has no use for us anyways.”

The two men shook hands and sealed the deal that would forever change the lives of the two siblings for the rest of their life.

“Let go! Help me! Aniki! Please let go of me!” The cries of the young girl were left unheard as she was dragged away from the place she called home by men she knew nothing about. Marks of blood were left with every step she took from her wounded feet. Tenka struggled and tugged her arm, trying to break free from their grasp but it was all rendered useless.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the estate, Toji lay restless on his bed. ‘Why do I feel like something is wrong…’ he thought. He tossed and turned but to no avail, he still felt wide awake. Minutes passed until he finally decided to take a walk and see if Tenka was awake. It was not out of the ordinary for Toji to feel sleepless at night, which is why he brushed his suspicions aside. Unfortunately, he was sorely mistaken.

The moment he reached Tenka’s room, he realized then and there that he should have trusted his instincts the moment he had it. The room was a mess - the picture frame that held a picture of Toji and Tenka was now shattered on the floor with blood staining it. It seemed as if someone stepped on the broken shards of glass. Having seen this, Toji was now in a panic.

‘What happened?’

‘Where is Tenka?’

‘Is she safe?’

All these questions swirled inside the mind of the 14-year-old boy. Toji never feared anything - not his clan, not his brother, and not even his father, but for the first time in his life, he was terrified. He ran out of the room shouting his sister’s name, not caring whether or not he was bothering the people in the estate. He searched for hours but he never found her. He knew that his last resort in finding his sister was asking his father. He knocked on his father’s study and to his surprise, he was still awake.

“Come in.” a gruff voice came from behind the door.

Toji never liked his father and neither did Tenka but unlike her, Toji never hid his hatred for the man. The two glared at each other the moment Toji stepped in the room. Toji wasted no time and asked. “Where is Tenka?” Their father sipped on his tea, simply glared through his cup. Toji, irritated by his actions, jogged to his father and slammed his hands on the desk. “Answer me old man! Where the hell is Tenka?!” The older man set his cup down and stood up. “I sold her. She was useless anyways.” He spoke as if the girl that was sold off wasn’t his daughter.

Toji stood there in disbelief. He looked at the man before him with pure resentment. “Well? I answered your question, now leave.” The man dismissed his son without even taking a glance at him. Toji left with a heavy heart. If only he listened to that voice in his head, and now he is forced to live a life without the one and only person he cared for.

———

Screams and cries echoed through the room as men strapped down Tenka on a table. She thrashed as much as she could to try and escape her bindings but this all stopped once she felt a painful sting across her cheeks. Her hair was grabbed, forcibly turning her head toward her captor.

"Stop thrashing around little girl. You will never escape, for you will be my little secret weapon"

Tenka could only stare through her tears in horror at the madman who cackled about all the experiments he would do on her. All to form the deadliest human weapon in his disposal.She suddenly felt something pierce her neck and a groggy feeling washed over her body. No longer able to feel her limbs, Tenka had no choice but to slip into the inky void of unconsciousness.

For several years, Tenka was stuck in an endless cycle of suffering just so that she could be the perfect human weapon. The sorcerers that held her captive saw potential in a child that had heavenly restriction, especially one that had no cursed energy at all, because everything comes with a price. The price for having no cursed energy is heightened physical attributes. The group of sorcerers thought that the Zenin clan was stupid for ignoring the children that could open up new opportunities for them.

For days on end, they put Tenka into experiments that would leave her wishing to be in the arms of death. Dosing her with different kinds of poisons so that she could build immunity against it, grueling hours of harsh training that left her with large cuts and bruises, and even going so far as to give her meals that could rival the taste of wet rags covered in vomit. 

———

It has been 9 years since Tenka was taken from her clan’s estate and it felt like she had gone through all the 9 rings of hell during those years. Until one day, it seemed as if the gods finally heard her prayers for the past years because they at last brought someone to get her out of the hellhole.

It happened after Tenka had gone through the day’s experiments. As she laid unmoving on the cold floor of her cell, she heard shouts and screams from outside her cell door. “Someone has breached the facility, all security personnel are requested at the ground level immediately!” Tenka heard a guy shout through the intercom. Tenka’s eyes widened to this information. She dragged her battered body near her door and started slamming her fist against the metal. She called out for help, shouting for someone to save her amidst the chaos, despite her dry throat already screaming for her to stop.

Suddenly the door opened and all hope in Tenka’s eyes faded as it was the man in charge of her experiments that stood in front of her. He grabbed her by the collar and lifted her up, a sadistic grin plastered on his face. “You really think you can escape me little girl?”. The man cackled as he threw her to the ground and looked down at her. “You will never leave this place until I’m done perfecting you! Never–!”. His words were cut short as a blunt side of a katana hit the back of his head knocking him out cold. 

Tenka looked in fear, unsure whether he had good intentions or not,  at the man that stood before her with katana in hand. He looked as if he was in his late 30’s. He had black hair with gray eyes and was dressed in a black button up paired with black slacks. He crouched down and reached out to her, only to pull away once Tenka flinched. “Hey kid, let’s get you home hm?” He smiled while reaching her hand out to her. Tenka, once hearing this, immediately hugged him and cried in her arms - thinking she was finally saved.

The man could only look at her in pity after seeing her current state. The man walked through the facility, removing anything in his path just to make sure he brought this kid out of the building and into safety.

———

The middle aged man didn’t bother on reporting first to the higher ups about his mission. Making it his first priority to get home and take care of the girl. The moment he opened the door to his home, he was greeted by a gasp. His wife stood there in shock to see her husband carrying a wounded girl. She immediately rushed to them and ushered them in. “Oh my god! Is she alright? Are you injured?”. The man nodded. “I’m fine dear, but the girl… Can you help her?” He asked his wife, looking down at the child in his arms. The wife nodded and went to get supplies to help the young girl. The man walked to their spare room and laid the girl on the bed. He sat on a chair by the bedside, waiting for the woman to come in. The woman came rushing in and immediately tended to the girl. 

After tending the last of Tenka’s wounds, the woman sat and tried to talk to her husband on what happened to his mission. “Honey… What happened? Where did the girl come from?” she looked at him in concern as she put her hand on his thigh.

"I just found her there… they were keeping her – experimenting on her. Based on the files I got in their lab, it seems she has been there for 9 years, my love.." The man spoke in a sullen tone as pity paints over his wife's face. He gently but firmly held his wife's hand and looked her in the eyes. "Love.. you can say no to this but… is it okay for you to let us adopt her? This can also be a way for us to finally have the kid we always wanted…" His wife only smiled. "I'm fine with that, my love." The two looked at Tenka with a smile, ready to take care of her as if she was their own.

From that day forward, Tenka's life finally changed for the better. No longer will she wake up to the horrendous cycle she called life for the last 9 years as she was now with the two people who would bring her unconditional love and happiness.

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Series Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue

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Taglist:

@cdej6

[goddess-in-heaven-and-hell]

The F-Word (BR) - A Gwynriel One-Shot for Gwynrielweeks2024

@gwynrielweeksofficial My first of two contributions to this years Gwynriel weeks, yay!

Thread: After Azriel accidentially hurt Gwyn in training, his apparent lack of care makes her question the true depth of their friendship.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: faint swearing, miscommunication

“I will kill him.”

Healing salve was applied generously to Gwyn’s throbbing wrist. The overwhelming smell of peppermint and oak bark put her frayed nerves at ease, and she was finally able to relax into the soft cushions despite the flash of pain that racked up her arm and into her shoulder.

“I will rip out every hair on his head one by one.”

A bandage snaked its way around her wrist, the gentle but firm hand guiding it nearly shaking with anger.

“I will plunge his oh-so-dangerous knife in his oh-so-dangerous head and see if he’ll still have enough bravado to hurt you then.” Nesta continued to wrap the bandage around and around Gwyn’s wrist and secured it with a pin as she continued to mutter unintelligible curses with venom in her voice. Like an over-protective ghoul squatting in the attic.

The priestess snorted, testing the stability of the wrap by flicking her arm back and forth cautiously. “You know he didn’t do it on purpose. I don’t think he even noticed what happened.”

Nesta levelled a stare at her that would have sent lesser females running. “And why would that be? What could possibly have happened for Azriel to not notice he sprained your wrist during training?”

Gwyn averted her gaze, lest Nesta see the faint smile that stole itself on her lips. “Maybe because I pretended it didn’t happen?”

The female kneeling before her rolled her eyes dramatically and got up to discard the medical items.

“It was my fault anyways”, Gwyn stated quickly, trying to calm down her best friend, “I didn’t warm up properly. No wonder my wrist couldn’t handle his weight without preparation.”

What a white lie that was…

Nesta scoffed, clearly not in the least convinced of Azriel’s innocence. “He is your instructor. He should know better. Especially when its just the two of you. The bat doesn’t have any reason to not dedicate every ounce of his attention to you when you train in the evenings.”

It was true that Azriel technically just had one trainee during their nightly sessions. The extra attention he paid her was only one of the many perks. But also the reason for her downfall.

“Let it go, Nes. It’s no big deal. Give it five days and it’ll be as good as new.”, Gwyn murmured, absentmindedly testing the bandage. Thankfully, Az had only rendered her non-dominant hand useless. Maybe he didn’t even have to know and she could ask Cassian to focus on leg training tomorrow morning-

“Five days where you can’t lift a shield, let alone weights. Not to mention having to slow down your library work.”, Nesta retorted seriously while observing Gwyn with a hawk’s eye.

Gwyn sighed, letting her head fall back on the couch. There was no denying it, was there? It went against every fiber of her being, but she needed to tell Azriel and Cassian that she sustained an injury during training.

Her ego will have to take the hit.

It wasn’t that injuring herself was so difficult for her to handle, it was more so how it happened that brought a wave of heat to her cheeks.

Because she did in fact warm up properly. Mother, the incident happened during the last ten minutes of training, every muscle – wrist included – had been ready for combat.

So how was she supposed to tell everyone that she was too busy losing herself in Azriel’s eyes to pay attention?

“I’ll tell Cassian tonight and he’ll relay it to Az.”, Nesta decided, clearly taking Gwyn’s lack of argument for permission.

The priestess nodded, heaving herself out of the comfy cushion and bidding Nesta goodbye.

As she lay in her dorm room a few hours later, cradling her injured wrist close to her chest, she debated whether or not skipping tomorrow’s training would be worth the trouble.

Nesta didn’t wait for Cassian to come home.

No, as soon as she heard the door down the hall clicking shut gently, she was out of her chair and on her way to kick some Illyrian ass. Even if that ass had more than a few inches on her.

“Az, may I come in?”, she shouted through the door while simultaneously knocking. The Shadowsinger probably sensed her agitation and opened after a few heartbeats, still in his leathers and eying her with a wary gaze.

“Nesta.”, he greeted her, stepping aside to let her in when noticing her expression. The male was smart enough to sense when her anger was directed at him.

She stormed into his room, turning around to a confused looking Azriel.

“Care to take a guess why I’m here?”, Nesta asked, her voice dangerously low.

Azriel had the decency to look mildly concerned. After thinking it through, he concluded to not have done anything wrong and wordlessly shook his head in her direction.

“Something to do with Gwyn in training?”, she prompted, angling her head.

Azriel crossed his hands before his chest, leaning back against the door. “With Berdara? Do you mean tonight or another day?”

“Tonight.”, Nesta replied, “During hand-to-hand-combat.”

She could have sworn a little blush crept into his cheeks, but it might have been there from the start. She was too agitated to care. “Nes, I seriously have no idea what you are talking about. Did I do something wrong?”

Nesta let out a long-suffering sigh. Honestly, didn’t his job entail paying attention to details? “You managed sprained her wrist during training. She came to me just an hour ago to have it set and bandaged.”

Silence ensured.

She expected her words to have some effect on him. After all, the two of them seemed quite close. But the pure horror that slowly took over every feature of his was another thing.

“I did what?”, Azriel whispered, body taunt with shock.

“She says it’ll probably heal in a few days. But she obviously shouldn’t do any training – morning or night – in the meantime. I wanted you to know that, just in case she shows up tomorrow pretending it didn’t happen.”, Nesta added, trying to calm him down again. She’d wanted him to grovel a bit, but now he seemed dangerously close to suffering an aneurism. “She’d rather have kept it a secret and suffer through her exercises than telling you. So I did.”

If it was possible, Azriel looked even more crestfallen at that. A low curse escaped him, and Nesta took that as her cue to leave.

As she approached the door, she paused to put a hand on his arm. “I didn’t tell you to make you feel bad.” Well, maybe a little bit. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. She’ll live. And you are both fools for how you acted.”

Azriel nodded, but it was so absent-minded that Nesta turned to leave him to his thoughts, bidding him goodnight quietly.

His reaction left her wondering, though. Had she been too harsh? If it got Gwyn a heartfelt apology and maybe some sweets to make it up to her, it might not have been too much. But the Mother knew Azriel was an overthinker. She only hoped that, whatever was going on between them for Gwyn not to admit to an injury would soon be mended.

She did it. She skipped training.

Throughout the whole day, Gwyn felt rotten to the core. She had never abandoned her responsibilities, at the very least not without explaining herself properly. Nesta had probably informed the two Illyrians by now, and the other priestesses had noticed the glaringly white bandage, but still – it felt so wrong to sit on all these weird feelings towards Azriel, to not talk to him as regularly as she used to.

It felt like abandoning him.

And only the Gods and Gwyn new how that made the already confusing and borderline frightening emotions she harbored towards him more complicated.

She realized it was wholly her fault. She should have admitted to the injury right away, blaming a loose stone on the ground, or an errand shadow or anything for her mess-up. But no. As soon as his arms had wrapped around hers from behind, as soon as she twisted her head to meet his gaze, she was lost. Utterly and hopelessly caught up in whatever daydream it was that took over her mind at that moment. And she didn’t have the capacity to free herself as he sent her tumbling down, painfully bending her wrist in the process.

She’d laughed it off, turning her back to him to stabilize and feel out the injury, all while joking that ‘at least he bested her once this entire session’. When she faced him again, he’d looked away too quickly for his eyes to linger on her form and suggested a water break.

Gwyn couldn’t pinpoint exactly when her feelings for him had taken such a turn. When their nightly talks or training sessions became a little less accidental, but rather more and more anticipated. She only knew that one morning, when her alarm allowed her a few more minutes to slumber in bed, her mind had drifted to him.

And it continued to do so until now.

She sincerely hoped she would get a grip on herself, or she’d completely ruin their friendship.

If Azriel didn’t manage to do it first.

Days after the accident, Gwyn’s wrist still too sore for training, the Shadowsinger remained as silent as death. No note, no impromptu lunch visits. Gwyn even trekked up the stairs one night, hoping to catch him waiting for her on the roof of the house. But it was Gwyn who ended up waiting for hours in the cold, without any luck. Not even Nesta had a message to relay on his behalf when they met for their weekly reading night.

It left a sour feeling in her stomach. Friends were supposed to take equal interest in each other. And Nesta assured her she informed Az of her injury. What was keeping him back, then?

Another long day of work passed and Gwyn returned from evening service, walking into the dimly lit hall that contained some of the priestess’s dormitories.

And stopping dead in her tracks when she beheld the massive bouquet of flowers that adorned her doorstep.

Peonies and tulips, lilac and lavender in the most beautiful hues of white and purple made the whole hall smell like spring. With measured steps, Gwyn crouched down to retrieve the card attached to the crown of the bouquet. The handwriting itself made her heart flutter with excitement.

Dear Gwyn,

please accept this as the first of many apologies to come for by behavior in training and afterwards. I hope you are feeling better.

Your friend (?) Azriel

The priestess’s brows scrunched in confusion. She appreciated the gesture, but something in his message bothered her. She read it again, and again, gaze snagging on his signature. And just like that, with as small of a symbol as that question mark, Gwyn’s smile was whiped clean off her face, her heart plummeting into her stomach.

Her friend. The word in itself should have been enough to elicit a little happy dance. Because that was what Azriel was to her, and so much more. It was a first step, the first time she heard him reciprocating the feeling.

But the question mark put the virtual nail in the coffin of her affection.

He either thought so little of their friendship he thought it breaking at the slightest mishap, or, and Gwyn’s lungs fought for air at the thought, he didn’t really consider them friends.

And it made sense. She never heard him say it. They never let a few days pass without seeing each other, but it took him a whole week to ask for her? Mother, she didn’t even know if he came willingly to their nightly training, or if he was ordered to – keeping an eye on the unstable female he had to save and making sure she didn’t crumble under pressure.

On some nights, she had poured out her heart to him and he had listened, comforted her, just as she had on nights where his own façade revealed the hurt and shame he carried around.

It couldn’t have been a lie, could it?

Gwyn’s thoughts spiraled, feelings of being unworthy of his affection eagerly feeding on her uncertainty. Until she was sure: he only sent flowers because he accidentally hurt one of the frail and traumatized priestesses and felt bad about it. Clearly not because they were friends.

Gwyn picked up the flowers and, trying to steady her breathing, brought them into her room where they found a place on her nightstand. Unfocussed eyes remained on the flowers while she debated whether she should cry or fight that overgrown bat – it only took a second to decide.

The priestess stormed out of the library, Azriel’s handwritten card fighting for breath in her fist.

She mulled it over as she took the stairs to the house proper two at a time, how he could negate their relationship with one simple message. Had she been so mistaken in his kindness, his interest? Had he seen their time together as an obligation, rather than a blooming friendship?

It agitated and confused her to no end. And as she finally arrived in the training ring, eyes already pinpointing the swirl of shadows with Azriel in their midst, she was positively furious.

“Azriel!”, she shouted across the ring, eating up the space between them in no time. She pointed her finger at him in accusation, her other hand grinding his message for her to mush.

The Shadowsinger turned, his expression morphing from wary to concerned in a split second. “Gwyn? What’s wrong? Do you need a healer?”

He actually had the nerve to step towards her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders as he ran his eyes over her form. Trying to detect whatever it was that made her upset.

“Don’t you touch me!”, she snapped, and his arms dropped to his side immediately. “You forfeited your right to that.”

Azriel gaped at her, but nodded nonetheless. Massive wings behind him folded together tightly as he braced himself for her.

If anything, his actions made Gwyn even more angry. She came to pick a fight, not for him to roll over. So, the priestess stepped into his personal space again and pushed at his chest until he stumbled backwards.

It was petty, and unfair, and nothing like her usual self. But seeing the little slither of hurt flashing on his face made it worth it. She pushed again, ignoring the stab of pain emanating from her wrist as it collided with mountains of muscle.

“You are a coward!” Push. “You don’t deserve my friendship!” Push.

If Gwyn’s late high priestess could have seen her now, she’d have washed her mouth out with soap to negate the curse words leaving it.

But she didn’t care. The pain flooding her heart at his apparent betrayal was too much to deal with on her own. It needed an outlet.

After enduring another minute of her assault, Azriel saw his opening. He caught both of Gwyn’s wrists in his hands, stopping her dead in her tracks, and cradled them to his chest.

“Gwyn.”, his voice turned pleading and soft, “please stop, you’ll hurt yourself.”

And as the tenor of his beautiful, stupid voice reached her ear, all fight evaporated. With heavy breathing, she returned his stare. Somehow, even in the depts of hurt, the only thought her head could muster was how she had missed him the past week.

“I’m sorry.”, he whispered, his thumbs stroking up and down her hostage-held hands, “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice it. You truly deserve better than that.”

Gwyn didn’t find words for him, frozen in time as she stood before him, her chest nearly touching his armor. She didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. But an apology sounded about right.

“I was so caught up in my own head that night.”, he continued softly, his voice trying to soothe her into tranquility, “But I realize it’s not an excuse. I should have checked on you after that fall. Gwyn, I’m so sorry I failed you. It will never happen again.”

Gwyn’s eyes hardened. She stepped away from him, forcing Azriel to release her.

“I don’t care you hurt me in training.”, her voice turned cold. “I don’t care if you didn’t check up on me. What I care about is this.”

She flung the crumpled piece of paper at his feet.

Azriel’s eyes widened for a split second before he picked the message off the dirty floor, trying to straighten out the paper. He stared at it for a long time. Enough for Gwyn’s anger to subside, until only resignation was left.

She knew he was about to apologize again. But he’d never understand where she was coming from. Mother, she’d confused herself with the onslaught of feelings the little piece of paper elicited. So she spared him the mental effort.

“You don’t think we’re friends, do you?”

The silence that ensured was deafening.

“I mean”, Gwyn started, her eyes focusing on a stone on the ground, “it’s completely fine if you don’t think so. After all, we’ve been seeing each other only for a few months, and I know you have a hard time making friends. But I thought-“

With all the courage she had left, Gwyn lifted her eyes to him again. If she wanted his honesty, she needed to give it in return. “I have seen you as my friend for the longest time now. You are the person I can rant to with all the stupid, miniscule facts I read about daily. I feel like I can tell you about my hopes and dreams and don’t be judged. You make me stronger, even challenge me to dream bigger.”

She breathed in deeply, trying her hardest to keep her emotions at bay. “And until tonight, I hoped the same would be true for you. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that you keep me company because you have to, not because you want to.”

There it was, all her thoughts and deepest fears spread out before him as cohesively as possible. Minus the crush of course, Gwyn could only take so much heartache in a day.

Azriel gaped at her, as unmoving as stone, his message stretched taunt between his fingers.

And even though his voice remained quiet, the hurt in it carried all the way to Gwyn to bury straight into her heart.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Now it was Gwyn’s turn to gape at him. With each second passing, Azriel looked more and more agitated, his eyes pinning her to the spot.

“What did I do for you to come to that conclusion?”, he began pacing before her, each and every one of his next words a punch in the gut, “Was it the time I poured my heart out to you with feelings not even my brothers are privy to? Or was it when we spent nearly a whole night in each other’s arms when I can’t remember the last time I hugged someone that wasn’t family? Maybe it was that particular day when I nearly threw a temper-tantrum because you couldn’t make it to a session and I needed to see you so badly?”

He stopped in his tracks, hazel eyes so open and vulnerable that Gwyn had to swallow. “Or was it the night when I literally sprained your wrist and didn’t notice because your eyes are so gods-damn blue that I got distracted?”

Not even trying to process that last admission, Gwyn remembered all the instances he talked about. She’d considered them accidental at the time. That he was so stressed from work he took it out on the next-best person. But it slowly dawned on her that Azriel wasn’t the type to just dump his emotions on the next-best.

“You put a question mark.”, she tried weekly, suddenly feeling very small before him, “On the message, I mean. And you waited to contact me for a whole week.”

Even in the dark, Gwyn could actually see the vein in his neck pulsing with anger. He held his emotions at bay as he answered tough, his voice taunt. “Nesta came to me the night you got injured. She informed me of what I did and voiced her concern that you’d likely show up in training, pretending nothing happened. And the only logical conclusion I drew from that was that you clearly don’t trust me. I must have done something for you to keep an injury that I caused a secret. So forgive me if I didn’t think you considered me a friend, that I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

Well, that actually made a whole lot of sense.

Blood rushed into her cheeks. How did she let her emotions get away with her like that?

“Oh Mother”, she mumbled, her hands fumbling her hair out of her face as she tried to come up with a way to salvage this. “I misunderstood.”

“Clearly.”, the Shadowsinger deadpanned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He observed her for a moment, his own emotions seemingly calming down. “So why on earth would you think I spend time with you out of-what? Obligation?”

With a deep, heartfelt sigh, Gwyn let herself sink on the nearby rock. The adrenaline that had been running amok in her body had left her to fend for herself, apparently. Even if it got her into this situation.

“I honestly don’t know. I guess I didn’t think you’d actually like me as a person, or as someone you could consider close to you. The fact that you were the one to save me that night in Sangravah doesn’t help this feeling either.”, she chuckled humorlessly, wringing her hands together for support, “I tend to think people see nothing in me but my trauma. That I need to be catered for specially, handled with care. I never wanted that.”

Azriel slowly stepped before her, kneeling down right before her spot on the rock. “And when have I ever handled you with more care than necessary?”

He pointedly glanced at her bandaged wrist and Gwyn couldn’t help but laugh. The admission did something within her, lightening the heavy feeling in her chest. He has always been real with her, holding her accountable, giving her his honesty. “That’s true. I know you designed the obstacle courses last year especially to vex me.”

The sheepish grin Azriel showed her was enough to get her stomach to do a little flip. “Worked like a charm, too.”

The priestess had to bite her lip to keep from smiling too hard. She remembered how she’d taken personal affront to the difficulty of those obstacles, and how she spent every waking minute planning how to best them – and in turn wipe the smug look Azriel liked to sport at that time off his stupidly handsome face.

The lightheartedness of the situation vanished, though, as she remembered how she spoke to him a few minutes ago. She’d pushed him for Cauldron’s sake.

“Azriel, I’m so sorry for coming at you like that, for screaming at you. You didn’t deserve that.”, she admitted, searching his face for any sign of anger. But she only found sympathy.

“It’s okay. You overacted a little today, but I didn’t react at all when it mattered. I’d say we’re even.”, he reached out his hands for her to take, resting them palms up on her knees. She complied, loving the warmth of his skin and the attention he showered her with.

“I agree. Let’s never talk about this again?”

Azriel nodded once, before lowering his head to press a light kiss on both of her knuckles, one after the other. His gaze snagged on her still lightly bandaged wrist. Pulling her hand closer, he kissed it too, his lips lingering on the gauze until Gwyn could feel the heat of them right through her skin. Her heart fluttered so loudly at the gesture she was sure he must have heard it.

So she blurted out the next best thing she could think of. That she couldn’t stop thinking about since he’d said it, actually.

“My eyes are teal.”

Azriel just watched her, a slow smile spreading on his lips as he took her in. As if he had nothing but time, as if he didn’t feel this overwhelming urge to shoot up and run from this situation. The bastard surely enjoyed her squirming.

“I know. But you didn’t seem to pay enough attention to the way I acted around you – and I wanted to make sure you do, from now on.”, he pulled her up with him as he stood to his impressive height. She would be paying attention now, that much was clear.

“Friends?”, Gwyn asked, not releasing him just yet. Their fingers must have found a way to interlace autonomously in the past few seconds and she savored the feeling of them a little longer.

“Friends.”, the Shadowsinger replied. But his face betrayed his even voice. Gwyn couldn’t quite put a finger on what happened, what change between them.

She only had this nagging feeling that more than friendship shone from his face as he bid her goodnight.

And she that she was well and truly in love.

[tonkatsubowl]

false love iii.

jing yuan x fem!reader

nsfw themes (cursing and stuff i think. mentions of domestic abuse and self harm. mentions of suicide. no, jing yuan aint hurting u bb girl). read at your own risk. english isn’t my first language, so please don’t mind the grammatical errors. (っ◞‸◟ c)

⪩ arranged marriage. the reader and jing yuan have an arranged marriage and she is stuck, disliking every moment of it, until…

TERM DIRECTORY ◖y/n: your name ◖e/c: eye color ◖h/c: hair color ◖l/n: last name

requested tags ➽ @mythicalamphitrite @20forty9

part one. / part two. / part four. / part five. / part six. / part seven.

"⸻wait, how much did he say he was going to pay us?"

"almost an entire fortune. enough for me to bed many women, to purchase a few homes..."

"c'mon, man. be specific. like how many credits?"

"eh. a million."

"wh⸻...a...a-a million!? you're crazy!? just to sell this girl off or even kill her?"

"i wasn't gonna plan on killing her...yet. i was planning on having my own fun with her. then i was gonna carry out the murder. he said he wanted her head or something."

"eh, i don't blame you for the fun part. she's got a good lookin' body. beautiful too. but you sure you can lop her head off?"

"c'mon, it's just a head you gotta lop off."

"damn, dude, sounds like you did this shit before..."

two voices. two unfamiliar voices. two voices that belonged to men that you didn't recognize at all. you were unable to really see anything, nor did you have the ability to speak. but you were listening quietly.

you were blindfolded and a cloth was wrapped over your mouth. your hands were tied behind your back, rendering you useless to do anything. you didn't know where you were at, but you had woken up from a deep slumber. as you listened, you took notes in your head...

selling you...murder. assaulting you. then being paid by a man of great fortune. you were scared, definitely. but you were not surprised by the doom you were facing at this very moment. you were expecting to face some sort of monstrosity in your life one way or another. now here you are.

"she still asleep over there?" you hear one of the voices say.

you hear one of them turn, the shuffle of their clothing was a clear indication for it. "yeah. seems so. the drug you gave her is a hard ass one, huh?"

"yeah, it should knock her out for a while."

"man, take off the blindfold off of her. i wanna see what she actually looks like."

that's when you froze in place, hearing them come closer to you as their footsteps approached you. you held your breath, feeling their measly large hands come forward to remove the blindfold that concealed your beautiful eyes. then, upon the removal of the fabric, you saw the world again... though you didn't know where you were at, really. you saw two men. both of them were dressed in casual attire, and it was scarily enough that they looked like average xianzhou citizens. but the look on their eyes revealed nothing but pure cruelty and evil intent.

"oh, you are awake." one of them cooed to you as he purred. his disgusting hand lifting towards your chin, raising your head with the curl of his index finger. "morning, beautiful." his raunchy breath hit your face, and how badly you wanted to smack him across the face with a brick. but you couldn't.

the drug had caused you to become weak, but for some reason...there was something stirring inside of you. something telling you not to give up, despite the troubles and dangers that lead you upon this path.

"we're gonna have some fun soon, beautiful," the stranger licked his lips, his breath reeking of heavy liquor and cigarettes. "your little daddy paid us to get rid of you."

your father...paid them?

your eyes were dull, solemn...lifeless and dead. it was as though you were an empty doll with no soul residing within yourself. unfortunately, you were used to this sort of...treatment. being used, hit...why haven't you just died yet? you weren't surprised, either.

...but this feeling inside of you...it still continued to stir. something about this situation...something about you. something that you felt within was blossoming.

...no. i don't want to die like this. i don't want to die. not when i just now became free.

it was like the thought of jing yuan had snapped you back to reality, your eyes now glimmering with some sort of ray of hope. your eyes brightened, as though gaining hope once more. you hear jing yuan's voice repeating back in your head, as though reminding you of your new purpose in life. your new freedom, the freedom that you deserved.

"i want to make it known to you that i want you to live comfortably here and freely. my home is now your home, y/n."

"alright, little lady. lemme just," the criminal extended both hands, his fingers grabby at your clothing, "get rid of this little piece of thing and we'll have some⸻"

gaining momentum in your legs, you force yourself up, headbutting into the man's head. you hit directly at his nose, causing blood to sputter from his nostrils and for him to stumble back.

"you little⸻you little bitch!"

his ally extended a hand towards you, grabbing you by the chin. this was mistake on his end, considering he basically let loose of the cloth that went around your mouth. using this as an opportunity, you bit at his hand, teeth biting and digging into his flesh. the taste of his own blood in your mouth... suddenly, you had a burst of energy inside of you.

you can't die.

you can't die here. not when you had a future with jing yuan to live for, now! this freedom, this...

"garg⸻! you bitch!" retracting his arm back, one of the criminals retrieved a knife from himself. "we're gonna teach you a fuckin' lesson now, you cunt!"

your eyes froze, lingering on the knife...but you can't just freeze in fear, anymore. it was time for you to run. that was when you bolted off in the opposite direction, your hands still tied around your back. your heart was aching, racing, your eyes were wide. you never felt this much energy in your legs before. never had you ever felt this unfamiliar burst of energy that allowed you to...want to live.

jing yuan...was this your doing? where were you?

unfortunately, you felt yourself fall when a heavy weight was shifted upon you, crushing you against the pavement of the ground. you cried in pain as you fell, feeling one of the bones in your shoulder breaking. you panicked, looking to the side, seeing the criminal's wide face and the blood that oozed from his nose.

"damn right we're gonna teach you a fucking lesson." that was when he grabbed the back of your clothing.

"stop⸻!" you shut your eyes tightly, embracing the worst of it all...

...until⸻

"gyaaa!" the sound of blood and flesh being torn had filled your ears instead. you felt the weight from your back basically relief itself from your body. you heard a loud 'thud!', and your eyes slowly open...

you were shaking. you were breathing uncontrollably. you couldn't think. you were panicking. your mind was on fight or flight mode.

"what the...the general!?" you hear one of the criminals say in the background, then some noises in regards to conflict.

"fuck⸻fuck! you little⸻" the sound of ice piercing into one's flesh were bliss to your ears, but you were unable to process anything at this very moment.

your eyes came to a soft close, and your body was carefully scooped into a pair of strong arms. you were breathing, and the voice of your familiar husband was murmured into your ear,

"i'm sorry for taking so long, y/n. you're safe now."

you were losing the sense of your surroundings. you barely felt his nose nuzzle into your cranium as he held you close to his chest.

then, another set of footsteps...lighter ones. these footsteps stop at your side, introducing yanqing's voice. "general! they're ready to be taken in custody, however one of them is..."

"that's fine," jing yuan replied, "being taken in prisoner is too much of a blessing for them. killing them, granting them death is something that wouldn't even be enough for them. they deserve a fate much more cruel than just imprisonment and death. i pray that the aeons will punish them further."

"...i see. hm. how is lady y/n doing? her shoulder... it's..."

"she's alive and well, besides her shoulder," jing yuan said, "yanqing. prepare the infirmary immediately."

"yes sir."

you were exhausted, incredibly so. everything on your body hurt, especially your shoulder. it felt like something was burning, something was on fire—but once your adrenaline had died out, the rest of your body began to hurt... and god, this was the price for survival, wasn't it?

pain in your body was almost unbearable. but luckily, it died out immediately when you had opened your eyes... there were nurses nearby working their best to recover you. one nurse in particular was speaking to you in a soothing voice, but you couldn't make out the words. the others were changing your bandages, and the others were bringing you a wet towel, placing it over your head.

"....—fever. she........ feve—"

... huh? who had a fever?

oh, that's when you realized that the nurses were talking about you. that was the moment when everything had hit you immediately.

you were struggling to breathe. your body felt hot. yet, you were so cold. you were practically shivering under the blankets. luckily enough, you were in safe and good hands.

your vision was still a blur as you were still waking up. you recognized a familiar, ash-blonde—silver male approaching you.

... jing yuan?

you were too exhausted to even try to focus. your eyes came to a close again, forcing you to rest once more...

"how is she?" yanqing asked jing yuan as he walked up towards his general's side, his eyes peeling towards your sleeping body.

"y/n's well. it seems she's caught a fever, as well. i feel terrible for this situation, truth to be told..."

"i cant... exactly blame you for feeling that, general. you both were recently wed, and now..."

jing yuan looked towards his lieutenant, "mm. how was the interrogation?"

"well, he was afraid enough to reveal the truth to why y/n was captured. according to his testimony, y/n's father had paid them to sell her away, or to get rid of her entirely. he admitted that his friend was going to... well, bed her."

there was a sour look on jing yuan's face.

"...her father... selling her? but the marriage practically allowed her to be away from her family. why did he want to hire these men to kill her?"

yanqing shook his head. "that, i am unsure, sir. i had asked him the same question, and he did not know. there was no lie to his words during the interrogation. a man who fears for his life would never lie."

jing yuan was silent. "... yanqing. please remain by her side closely when i cannot be around her physically. something about this situation irks me, and i have no choice but to interrogate this matter... discreetly."

yanqing nods, kneeling respectfully. "yes, general."

[tickly-tufts]

Mistletoe Mischief

@hexalianrebel-blackfeathers ik im late for christmas... so early happy new year instead! 🎉

an "ao3 author curse" event turned @squealing-santa into a struggle for me, but i couldn't leave you giftless, so i hope you enjoy!

—

Gwen & Miles had 10 seconds to gloat before their spider-senses kicked in. They locked eyes with Hobie, then with each other, before tearing off in opposite directions.

Hobie shook himself, flinging off bits of paint, before chasing after Gwen first. The red & green combo canister had likely come from Miles, but the white glitter had Gwen written all over it. She was agile, but so was he, and though she knew the general layout of the Spider Society, he’d given Miguel migraines with the routes he’d uncovered. Gwen managed to evade him for a grand total of 3 minutes before he had her webbed to a wall.

“Hobie…” Gwen began warningly, though they both knew she’d been neutralized as a threat. 

“Gwendy,” Hobie answered with ease, reviewing his immediate options. It took no time at all to spot the mistletoe above them, close enough to justify Hobie's next course of action. “How’s about we just kiss n’ make up?” 

Gwen stared at him with open suspicion.

—

Miles could’ve escaped with his invisibility, but the itch of curiosity was near-impossible to resist. Figuring he'd be hidden even with Hobie on the prowl, it wasn’t long before he went in search of Gwen. 

He heard her before he actually saw her, freezing when he realized she wasn’t alone. Hobie loomed over her, blocking Miles’ view, murmuring too softly for Miles to make out the words.

Gwen’s response, though, was much more audible.

“Nonono, Hobie, don’t you dare- Eheheep!” she squeaked when he leaned in. Was he… kissing her? Miles could see mistletoe. Although, if he was, Gwen sounded strangely giddy.

Curiosity ultimately triumphed over caution (yet again), making Miles crawl closer to get a clearer view... and that was when Hobie’s web trap snagged him, bursting open the second Miles nudged it with his knee. “WAH!” he yelped before he could contain it, though the noise hardly mattered when he was already doomed. His invisibility flickered out, rendered useless by the webbing wrapped around at least half his body.

“Was about time you joined the party," Hobie said as he swung from Gwen to Miles. They were only a few feet apart, just the right distance to exchange nervous looks. Hobie eyed Miles meaningfully, then glanced back at Gwen, contemplating. He let the moment drag out, intentionally silent, until Miles inevitably cracked.

“Just g-get on with it!”

Hobie obliged with a smile. He brushed aside some stray webs, yanked Miles' shirt up, then blew the most devastating of raspberries.

Naturally, Miles shrieked.

He should’ve worn his suit. It would’ve saved him from the absolute worst of Hobie’s onslaught. However, he’d actually dressed normally for once, dropping into HQ with his costume in his bag. Knowing Hobie, he should’ve tried changing before he went looking for Gwen. It was way too late to have regrets, though, as Hobie blew another raspberry right above his navel.

“WahaHAHAIT! WAHAHAIT! I’M SOHOHORREHEHEE!”

“Apologizin’ already? Bit undignified, innit?” Hobie tapped his fingers against Miles’ stomach as he spoke, keeping Miles nervously giggly. “You got me good, and you should be proud ‘a that… Should’ve come up with an escape plan, though.”

Gwen couldn’t stop herself from huffing incredulously, instantly bringing Hobie’s attention back to her. Her eyes widened when he swung back over, moving her hood and tugging at the collar of her suit. “Don’t think I forgot about you,” he smirked as he resumed his earlier course of action. Gwen barely had a second to stammer before Hobie blew a raspberry against the side of her neck.

Later, Gwen would deny squealing, but the three of them all knew what they’d heard. Squealing became giggling when Hobie switched to tickly kisses, fulfilling the mistletoe tradition in his own way.

“Yohohou’re the wohohorst!” Gwen accused. “Ahahand yohohou’re gehehetting pahaint on my suhuhuit!” It was true. Red and green had transferred onto white, complete with bits of Gwen’s chosen glitter.

Hobie grinned, embracing Gwen before he switched to her other side. She tried (and failed) to kick him through layers of webbing as he spread even more of the Christmas paint.

When he nibbled at her neck, she let out a curse before dissolving into laughter. “Mihihiles, dohoho sohohomething!” she demanded when it became too much.

Miles, who’d wisely kept quiet until then, startled like a deer in headlights. Hobie turned to him like a shark scenting blood. “That’s right! Thanks for the reminder, luv.”

Gwen seemed more relieved than guilty as Hobie left her for Miles again, and Miles couldn’t help but suspect she’d intentionally directed Hobie his way. However, he didn’t have long to speculate before Hobie was lifting his shirt again, this time peppering his belly with kisses. 

“Holiday traditions include you, too,” he winked.

Miles couldn’t decide whether or not he was grateful about the fact they were in such a secluded part of the Society. On the bright side, no other spider-people would witness their embarrassment. On the flip side, though, there was no one to rescue them.

Did he and Gwen bring it on themselves? Yeah, sure, but how could they resist? It was always a challenge to catch Hobie off guard, and the opportunity for a prank had been too perfect.

Meanwhile, Gwen was questioning their decision. Maybe they should’ve learned from Pavitr and Margo. The pair had been invited to join in on Hobie’s 'gift,' but both had simply wished them luck.

Of course, their luck had never been reliable. It came with being a spider-person. She winced sympathetically when Miles screeched, enduring another raspberry, accompanied by side-squeezes.

“Hohohow muhuch lohohonger?!” Miles asked when he could breathe again. His civilian clothes, too, had been stained with glittery paint, and he knew it’d take forever to wash out.

"How long's it gonna take to clean this outta my hair?" Hobie gestured at his recolored wicks.

Gwen realized they were definitely screwed when Miles let out a fearful whimper.

[vamphorica]

mattmello week vi: daily rituals

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: Death Note (Anime & Manga)

Relationship: Matt | Mail Jeevas/Mello | Mihael Keehl

Characters: Matt | Mail Jeevas, Mello | Mihael Keehl

Additional Tags: Diary/Journal, Routine, Surveillance, Childhood Memories, Rituals, POV Mello | Mihael Keehl, Unhappy Ending, Canon Compliant, Religion

Word Count: 3,127

Series: Part 6 of MattMello Week 2024 | @mattmelloweek

Summary: A day in the life of Matt and Mello, towards the end.

────────────────────────────

But I always knew that in the end no one was coming to save me / So I just prayed and I keep praying and praying and praying – ‘Sun Bleached Flies’, Ethel Cain

────────────────────────────

5.49am

I wake up.

Since arriving in Japan, I haven’t been sleeping particularly well. I have always been an early riser, but as I rub the sleep from my eyes I cannot deny the crushing fatigue that a four hour sleep has cursed unto me. My mind is restless as what I assume to be dreams are instead insistent thoughts that will eventually force me back to the reality of the world before I am ready. I cannot imagine that I will be heading back to the States any time soon, but the reminder of those deep sleeps that would leave me feeling refreshed seem distant and strange, now that I often find myself rising before the sun.

I struggle out of Matt’s tight embrace, carelessly throwing his arms away as I shift out of bed. When we were younger, and had taken to the habit of sleeping in the same bed, I used to lie awake for hours in the morning, worried that I would wake him up, but it didn’t take long before I realised that he remains dead to the world once he does fall asleep, and no amount of movement on my part would return him to consciousness. He did complain about waking up to an empty bed several times, but as it became clear that he would have to sacrifice his general habit to arise at noon, we came to the conclusion that I will never be lying next to him when he does wake up. Sitting up, I turn around to look at him, and notice the twat has slept in his goggles, again. I pull them off his head, prompting a small – but oblivious – grunt.

6.11am

I have a quick shower and shave my face, a slight sprinkling of stubble I had never expected to arrive now emerging in a lazy, useless way. With half my face burnt to fuck, any possible desire I may have had to grow it out is now rendered impossible, and it feels like a chore to run the razor over my chin.

Matt’s energy drinks are waiting for me in the fridge, and I decide one will be sufficient for breakfast this morning. I take a can with me to what can only be described as our living room, although we haven’t exactly gone all out with the furnishings. A sofa and an armchair sit jauntily before a small coffee table piled with wires and laptops in a mess that if I didn’t have five thousand things higher on my list of priorities, I would sort out immediately. Matt has more time than I do, but seems perfectly content with this pile of shit now spilling over the floor, so I guess I too will work around it. I retrieve my laptop and set it on my lap, popping open the tab of the drink and taking an indulgent swig. I feel more awake now than I will for the rest of the day, so I need to take advantage of my heightened energy to analyse the transcripts from Yagami and Takada’s conversation in the hotel that I typed up last night, and try to follow up the lead Halle provided to me pertaining to Near’s progress with the investigation. She is never explicit with what the SPK is up to, reminding me that she’s not on either of our sides, but she lets enough slip that I am relatively confident she is putting more faith in me than her supposed boss.

I put on my headphones and get to work.

10.17am

I take a break. There is only so much I can put myself through of Yagami’s nauseating sweet talk and Takada’s conservative, yet highly flattered, responses. Initially, I thought she was genuinely impressed by his charisma, believing the son of a bitch in his oozing compliments and flirtations, but I now have reason to believe she is putting on just as much of a performance, noting how perfect their dialogue appears to be. It is like listening to an episode from one of those romance shows that middle aged women seem to flock to as a means to escape the dull mundanity of their loveless marriages. The conversations have to be scripted and, on one occasion when Matt edited the audio to isolate the background noise, it became clear that the sound of a pen against paper could be heard faintly as they threw words like ‘darling’ and ‘sweetheart’ at each other for hours on end.

I think of Matt and I, the way we talk to each other. Maybe there is something to be said with gay relationships being more complex, but even with all his ‘babe’s and softly whispered ‘Mihael’s, I believe there is something more intentional and less gratuitous about the whole affair. Light speaks to women as if they are only a gentle word away from falling at his feet to kiss them, and maybe it is the arrogance that pisses me off more so than the language itself. It has never been that simple between myself and Matt, we have exchanged as many cruel insults at one another as we have terms of endearment, but I prefer the challenge of reality to this smarmy expectation of loyalty that he possesses.

Chocolate is always within reach, and I idly slide a hand beneath the surface of the table to retrieve a bar from the large box I had shipped over. I haven’t exactly had the time to go taste testing what Japan has to offer, and while I don’t doubt it has a myriad of decent options, I need the reassurance of familiarity in my habits, so I threw money at a website that imported Cadbury’s. I believe it is a necessary expense.

I hear the bed creaking in the other room, and feel an urge to go stare at Matt, which I promptly find myself doing. As I expected, he is still asleep, the pillow I used now a substitute in his clingy arms. I flip open my phone and take a picture, cursing the shutter sound that Japanese phones have built in to avoid perverts taking photos beneath schoolgirls’ skirts. I should really be given the right to take pictures of my conked out boyfriend whenever I damn please, but other than a slight twitch in his fingers, there is no reason to think that I disturbed him, so I leave him be, reminding myself that I hardly have another moment to spare fucking about anyway. There is more work to be done.

12.02pm

I am graced by Matt’s presence. He appears in the doorway wearing nothing but a large t-shirt and underwear, adopting the mannerisms of a small child ready to inform me that he has thrown up. It will take him about an hour before he can hold an intelligible conversation with me, but I nod at him nevertheless to indicate I am aware he has made it through the night, and the entire morning as well.

I let him wander around the flat, my headphones doing very little to muffle his heavy footing as he roots for something edible in the cupboards. I have been trying to get past the SPK firewall with Halle’s cryptic prompts but with Matt now awake, I will get him to sort it out this afternoon.

“We have no food.” Matt announces from the kitchen, knowing that I’m not going to give him any chocolate. He would have to be on the brink of starvation before I even considered being so generous. Did I mention how expensive it was getting it flown over here from the UK? It alerts me to my own hunger, however, and I close my laptop and tell him to go out and grab us sandwiches, or something. He comes back into view, looking lost.

Fine. I will come with him.

1.07pm

The nearest convenience store is just short of ten minutes from the apartment, and once Matt has dressed himself and had a go at brushing his teeth for all of ten seconds, we are out of the door and walking down the street. The neighbourhood we are currently residing in is practically empty during the day, and as useful as that can be, it makes me feel distant and secluded in comparison to the places I have lived before. I have done well in the company of others, more so than many in the House can attest to. While I think Matt is happy enough to hang by my side without much fuss, I do yearn for the crowds, the business of human beings going about their lives. This small residential strip feels almost unused, too pristine to deal with people in any genuine manner. I suppose most people feel the need to perform now; one mistake can cost you your life. Some don’t have the luxury of opting for innocence in a Kira dominated world, and I feel confronted by the discomfort of privilege here.

The cashier at the store recognises us – of course she does, we are two foreigners and the fuck-off scar is not my most discreet feature. Then again, I fear Matt and I have never cared much for subtlety. We return the greeting she enthusiastically ejects and stare at rows of freshly made sandwiches that look slightly artificial in their packaging. Matt picks up a couple, staring at them before returning them to the shelf. I ask him what he wants, and he grunts unhelpfully. I can hardly chastise him for being picky. The House failed us in many ways but was compellingly successful in its ability to make each and every one of us exceptionally picky eaters. I tell Matt to hurry up and choose something, because my hunger is beginning to manifest into irritation and I want to return to the flat as soon as possible.

I grab a salad, and after about a minute, Matt settles on an egg sandwich. Brilliant. I snatch it out of his hand and go pay for them, before shoving him back out into the bright winter day.

2.29pm

Back at the flat, we have picked at our lunch to an extent with which we feel satisfied and Matt is chatting away about nothing in particular, but I don’t mind because I like hearing him talk, even if it is bullshit that I am not remotely interested in. I have managed to gauge that he is explaining some technical aspect of one of his new DS games, which allows me to hum in response every so often to indicate that I do care and that I just so happen to be working at the same time. I don’t know how he believes I am focusing on what he is saying when he knows I can only concentrate in absolute silence, but the morning was lonely without him so I seem able to forgo work for the sake of his rambling explanations.

2.34pm

It is time to get back to work.

I direct Matt to the extent of my attempt in breaching the SPK security system myself, and he gives it a look over before telling me he can get it done within the hour. What this really means is that he will get it done in about three hours, not because he isn’t exceptionally quick at what he does, but his ability to maintain attention is nonexistent. His gaming consoles sit on the table like a tempting siren, and as much as I would like to chuck them in the bedroom so he can dedicate his full concentration to the task at hand, I have a sense that he will strop, which will only make him work slower to spite me. It is far better to let him get distracted every fifteen minutes and make progress than to have him actively slow us down.

Relationships are about compromise, I remind myself diligently, and God only knows that I compromise with Matt more often than not.

In the meantime, I begin writing out a detailed summary of my findings so far in my notebook. I have taken to using it to try and make sense of the information I have collected so I can begin creating some sort of plan. Although I know it is part of the job, I have grown increasingly tired of sitting around taking notes and my need to do something more substantial is gnawing at me incessantly. I can lay low to gather intelligence, or to speculate about certain circumstances that I have high reason to believe are occurring, but without taking action, it feels like yet another House assignment, all theory and no initiative. I don’t think Near has some kind of bombshell on his system that I would need in order to advance my own investigation, but if I can get an insight into what conclusions he is coming to, I can begin making the appropriate moves to get ahead of him. Being in Japan while he is still in the States is certainly advantageous.

7.56pm

Matt tells me that the breach is taking him longer than he expected, and that he is going out for a smoke break. I have reason to believe him if only because he has reached for his DS just twice in the past few hours. I hear the front door close behind him and underline ‘fake notebook’ twice before sitting back and letting my focus drift momentarily as the tiredness once again catches up to me. I know realistically I won’t be in bed until the early hours again, but the thoughts that swim around my mind feel, at times, overwhelming. I know that without a solid lead, I am still condemned to these days of running through plans again and again while we are continuously losing time.

My phone rings. It is Halle. I imagine she is calling to mention that they have been alerted to an attempted security breach, so I pick up without thinking much about it at all.

8.04pm

I don’t notice Matt immediately. Instead I hold my head in my hands, staring at the floor. There is no point detailing the specificities of what Halle explained to me on the phone, because I suppose I had always suspected that I might receive such a call. In a sense, it was what I had been wanting to hear, really, an invitation to action. Just enough information to let me know that I need to do something now, because I will never have the chance to do so again. Even she sounded concerned, and quite honestly, I have never heard her tone waver when she so effortlessly manages to convey calmness, even with a gun barrel against the back of her head.

The question is not whether I will intervene – that is a given – but rather, how I will. Oddly, a sense of clarity silences my mind in consideration of the conclusiveness of what the next, and final, act is for me to pursue. There is no way I will manage to conduct a plan that is as flawless as I would like it to be, and I will have to put a lot of faith in these theories I have constructed. I only have a matter of days to make my move, after all.

I hear Matt say my name. He is standing in the doorway, again. He holds the cigarette carton in one hand, and the other supports him as he leans on the doorframe. I don’t know how long he has been standing there.

“Are you alright?”

I can’t tell him tonight. Maybe I can figure out a way of not telling him at all, to try and keep him in the dark about what is to come. I am concerned that as I make these plans, he will work out what I am doing, or worse yet, I will realise that I require his assistance in some capacity, meaning that I will have to drag him into this shitshow.

I smile, and tell him I’m just tired. He doesn’t appear to believe me, and I don’t expect him to, but he knows better than to try to get me to confess how I am really feeling. He trusts that I will tell him eventually. Sometimes I do.

11.39pm

Matt admits that he is struggling to break into the system, and I say that it is late, so he can try again tomorrow. Honestly, it is not that important anymore. An hour ago, he crawled from his armchair, dragging his laptop over to lean against me as he worked, awkwardly forcing my body to accommodate for his. I snap my notebook shut before he has a chance to glance at my notes. The notes I have written are vague and incoherent, an unhappy mess of ideas for pulling off a final victory that has no real guarantee of success no matter how hard I try to develop it. I instead watch as he types furiously on his keyboard, green text shooting across the black screen, and error messages popping up every few seconds in response. He doesn’t seem as defeated or frustrated as I imagine I would be, but the small sighs indicate that the intrigue of the challenge no longer compels him.

He sets aside his laptop, before twisting his body so that he lies on top of me. It is not long before we are fucking, a familiar night time routine that we often engage in at a much later hour than this, but we have both accepted that the day has come to an end and we are all over one another, resorting to those same techniques we employ every night to hit that pinnacle of pleasure that only we can trust ourselves to deliver. I allow my mind to drift away, focusing only on the intensity of our love for one another, giving myself over to it like a man possessed. We fall into each other’s arms, and it is only through Matt’s weak suggestion that we manage to drag ourselves to the bedroom.

2.00am

I wake up, terrified.

I scramble out of bed, dropping to the floor and grab my rosary from the pile of clothes tossed in the corner. Weaving it around my fingers, I clasp my hands together and prop my elbows up on the mattress, hardly able to see beyond my pale hands in the darkness.

I begin to pray.

[sendpseuds]

12 days until Christmas

"I can't believe she dated that asshole," Anakin mumbles into his glass before tossing his head back and draining the contents, so deep into the spiral that he barely winces at the caustic burn creeping down his throat, "I can't believe I fucking punched him."

Definitely not his finest moment.

Anakin's glass is filled almost as quickly as it was emptied, eager to ease several different types of pain, struggling to steady his left hand as he pours himself another heavy measure, his right rendered useless by the kitchen towel haphazardly securing a ziplock bag full of freezer-burnt ice to his throbbing knuckles.

He'd marched home from the bar in huff, hurt and angry and struggling to remember where it had all gone so wrong, spilling the details of the disastrous night to the cheerful Christmas elf sitting on his TV stand the moment he stumbled through the threshold of his apartment, desperate to vent his every thought, impulse, and emotion to a friendly face who wouldn't try to dissect his psyche, regardless of whether or not that friendly face belonged to an actual human.

Now, alone in his sad post-grad apartment, he's drunker than he had been doing shots with Ahsoka and Rex on his twenty-first birthday and he's feeling worse about punching Padme's handsy ex than he had when he got home.

"She's gonna break up with me."

He'd realized his mistake the moment he saw Padme's face.

She had looked so—

Angry.

Upset.

Scared.

"It's fine," Anakin hisses through his teeth, taking another ill-advised sip of cheap spiced liquor, his jaw tight and eyes unfocused, "Better she leave now than die, I guess."

The words are biting and bitter on his tongue and when he turns to see Obi-Wan watching him patiently, Anakin feels a horrible wave of grief and guilt wash over him like an ice bath.

"I don't think I've actually told you yet, have I?" Anakin asks nonsensically to a stuffed children's toy, his throat tightening in anticipation of what's to follow as if his body is rejecting the words before he's even spoken them.

He doesn't want to say it.

He never does.

It never gets any easier.

But Obi-Wan deserves to know.

"Mom died."

Anakin shivers.

"Three years this February."

Vision blurred with rum and remorse, Anakin imagines for a moment that Obi-Wan's cheerful smirk looks almost impossibly sad and it's hard not to believe that a creation so special might mourn his maker.

"Fuck," Anakin curses, ice and injury forgotten as he buries his face in his hands, shaking his head like he can shake every bad memory from his mind, "I left you in that box for almost three years."

At the moment, Anakin is two drinks too deep to realize he's been hiding from Her. Hiding from her memory. Hiding from her art. His mother died and he packed away all the brightest parts of her— too broken to see anything but his own pain in the things she made with her entire soul.

"I'm sorry," Anakin chokes, finding himself on the floor, crawling toward Obi-Wan on his knees and pulling the little stuffed elf to his chest, "I'm so sorry."

It feels good and bad at the same time.

Easier to cry over an imaginary elf than his actual life falling apart.

Again.

"Were you lonely without me?" he asks, his insecurity wrapping around every slurred syllable, "I've been so lonely."

It takes several moments to realize his mistake.

"Was," he corrects, "I was lonely, I— Padme is amazing, she—"

It takes another few moments to remember why his hand has a heartbeat.

"Fuck, she's gonna break up with me."

She won't.

She won't break up with him because when Anakin Skywalker drags himself out of bed at the ass crack of dawn despite his crippling hangover to bring her an I'm Sorry croissant and chai, she will let him into her apartment.

She will hear his apology.

She will melt when he smiles.

She will forgive him.

She probably shouldn't.

But she will.

[ao3]

[ichi--go]

loml

pairing: ichigo/rukia [post-686 compliant] summary: and if I die, let the last thing my eyes gaze upon be her. Let my last breath be her scent. Let my last words be her name. Let my eyes close with her face embedded in my mind. Let me be in her arms. (the thirteen division's captains, it seems, are cursed.) notes: you know how it was acknowledged in the manga that Rukia's abilities are dangerous even for her to use? ...yeah. I wrote this in 2 hours after listening to loml by taylor swift and crying because of how incredibly sad the lyrics are. AO3 link

...

If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary. What we thought was for all time was momentary.

...

...

Captain Kuchiki was dying.

Those were the only truths Isane, now captain of the 4th, delivered to Renji and Ichika that day they'd found her. 

She has the same disease as her sister, many whispered. Captain Kuchiki's beloved wife lived five short years with the illness before succumbing to it. She's going the same path as her.

They'd found her in her office. She didn't come home that evening, which was normal- she was often working late- but not this late. The moment they'd opened the door they knew something was wrong, the very air itself was icy and bone biting. Frost coated the floors and the walls, and there she was, laying on the floor practically encased in ice herself. Renji had hacked away at it desperately to get her out until his fingertips were bloody, while Ichika shouted and forcefully pulled her mother from frost.

She won't live long, Isane's voice sorrowful and low. Renji couldn't even hear her words, there was just ringing in his ears. Ichika clung to his arm, as if she might faint from the reality. Byakuya could only listen as the 4th's captain informed him of the plain cold truth. Hours, if she is lucky. She already has blood stasis and now her reiatsu is working against her, not with. It's clashing with her illness, dropping her temperature out of her control. Her blood won't circulate fast enough, and now it's freezing in her veins. How can she bear it?

The illness was fatal. Her future was sealed.

It made Rukia delirious. She woke up in the night, pale and sweating, her violet eyes confused. She didn't seem to recognize Renji, swatted his hand away when he tried to lay her back, fearing upsetting her would harm her more.

"Where am I?" she sobbed, and it was as if Ichika were invisible as she knelt next to her, telling her that she was safe, she was home.

"This isn't my home," she wept. Her hand was frail and cold in Ichika's, who kissed her mother's tearstained temple. "Please take me home."

"What do you mean? You are home, mother," Ichika whispered, and Rukia shook her head frantically.

"Nii-sama," she cried until her already frail voice was hoarse. "Where is Nii-sama?"

That night they moved her home. To the Kuchiki manor. 

"This is her home! She must remember it.. how can she forget?" Renji was insistent against it.

"Its not about us, dad!" Ichika's voice uncharacteristically raised against her father, who'd always been her hero. "This is about her! Making her comfortable, in her last.." her voice faded then at the reality of her own words, and her brown eyes flooded with tears again.

For Byakuya, it was as if he'd fallen into a cyclical nightmare. His sister had never looked so fragile, skin pale and thin as paper, he could see her veins, lips reddish as if bruising, breaths shallow. She did not eat, and could not rise. There were cracks forming in Shirayuki's pristine metal blade. He was rendered useless once again; no amount of power, money, or name could reverse the clock to save the most important woman in his life. He could only kneel next to her, his hand stroking her hair in the moments her eyes opened and she saw him.

"Nii-sama," she whispered, a weak smile on her face. "Where's my baby?"

"She's safe, Rukia." he said back gently, and he did not need to glance at his niece's face to know she was fighting back tears. "She's asleep. Do not worry."

"She's beautiful," Rukia's eyes closed again. "Did you see her?"

"I did. She is perfect."

"Her name... Ichika.. after.."

She drifted from consciousness again. Byakuya's steely eyes fell to Renji, who was kneeling in silence on her other side, just watching her with a desperate expression. They both stepped out, leaving Rukia's watch to Ichika.

"You must inform him." Byakuya said curtly.

Renji's expression was confused. "Who?"

Byakuya's face didn't change. "You know who."

Renji looked away. Then he nodded. "..Captain. Will you.."

Ten minutes later, Byakuya stepped into the world of the living for the first time in decades. The door opened before he could knock or ring the bell; his reiatsu had been sensed the minute the doors of the senkaimon opened for him.

"Byakuya??" Ichigo's eyes held worry, and grew fearful at the pain Byakuya could not hide in his face. "What are you doing here?"

"My sister," he responded plainly, "Is dying."

Ichigo stared at him like he'd been slapped across the face, breathless, eyes wide.

His brows knitted as his hands retrieved his substitute badge from his pocket, forcing his soul from his body. It collapsed right there on the path, and he did not give it a glance before charging through the still open gates behind Byakuya.

Byakuya did not turn to acknowledge when Orihime came to the door, calling his name in confusion as she knelt to pull Ichigo's body inside the house. It wasn't important to tell her. He needed to back and be there with his sister. That was what was important.

Instead he simply followed in silence as Ichigo stormed into the Kuchiki manor, following Rukia's reiatsu. It was indeed fluctuating painfully, sometimes so weak it was a whisper, sometimes so strong it could knock the breath out of him. The closer they got, the colder the air became, until he was right outside the bedroom door and was shivering, his breath visible.

Byakuya went inside, then returned with Renji, Isane, and Ichika- who saw him and cried, her hands grabbing his arm as she wept, "Uncle,"

He could only put a shaking hand on her head in comfort, staring at her in disbelief. He hadn't seen Ichika in years; she was 20 now, almost as tall as her father.

It couldn't be real.. it couldn't be happening. 

The back of his neck burned despite the cold, his heart thundering and skipping beats painfully, his throat so tight he could not get words out of he tried.

"It will be cold," Isane's voice had been quiet as she draped a blanket over his shoulders gently. "Her reiatsu cannot be stabilized. I know yours is layered with hers.. it's possible it may affect you more."

He barely heard her. His head was swimming. Buzzing. Empty. Burning.

Isane opened the door for him, and he took trembling steps inside. 

There was an iron brazier in the room, fire crackling and burning within. But he couldn't feel any warmth from it... it was as if it held no heat at all. There was nothing else in the room except for a densely layered futon... and her.

He stopped in the middle of the room. His stomach twisted in fear. He couldn't dare to get closer. To look at her. To see her and know, that everything he'd been told was true. Slowly he approached, his eyes unable to tear away from the sight as he stopped at her side and sank to his knees slowly.

She was pale as a ghost, breathing so shallow he could barely hear it. There were layers of blankets over her, but they did nothing. There were ice crystals on her face, creeping down her neck. Her inky, knee length locks splayed over her pillow onto the wooden floors, ice crystals dotted within like stars on the blackest night.

He sat there in silence, trembling. Wide eyes stared at her, unable to accept it. 

"Ichigo.."

Her eyes opened just barely. Her eyes were glassy and violet, ice shards clinging to her thick black lashes.

Was he losing his mind?

Slowly, her hand slid from under the blankets. Her fingertips were covered in ice and frigid, pale and cold as his trembling hand grasped it gently, as if it would break if he applied the slightest pressure. The warmth from his hand did absolutely nothing; the ice coating her fingertips crept onto his, freezing her hand to his.

"Ichigo.." she said again in a pained whisper, for even speaking hurt. He curled over her, struggling to keep the tears in his eyes from falling on her as he let out shuddery breaths.

"Rukia..?"

"I love you," she whispered, and he couldn't hold back the sob in his throat. He clung to her and kissed her hair and her face, sobbing as he did. "I'm sorry."

"Rukia," he wept, his tears falling and freezing on her skin, "Don't do this. Don't leave me."

"Don't cry," she whispered. He clung to her even harder.

"I love you," he sobbed, his fingers twisting in her hair, desperate to hold on to her.

She didn't respond. She wouldn't again.

53 days later, he was dead, too. Takotsubo cardiomyopathy, they whispered. His cold fingers still clutched that substitute badge, as if hoping he would hear her voice through it once more.

...

Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire Your arson's match your somber eyes And I'll still see it until I die You're the loss of my life.

[cyborg-franky]

SUPER MEGA IMPORTANT QUESTION:

Who is ticklish in the one piece universe???

And WHERE is ticklish????

(Thank you so much!!! How are you doing?? Lots of hugs and love!!!)

I am okay <3 I had boba and the world is a good place once more. I hope you are okay too and hugs back <3 I hope you enjoy my dumb headcanons!

Ace This little shit is ticklish all over, especially his armpits and tummy. Like ticklish to the point he wheezes and runs out of breath. He always hides the fact he's ticklish. He doesn't mind a tickle fight but he feels embarrassed when people know he is. Sometimes prone to catching on fire where he can't contain himself, be warned.

Marco Only his neck, like around the front and back. No one ever thinks he is so he's never had to bring it up in conversation but if you get him just right on the neck with a gentle touch or a kiss he folds in on himself and makes a 'gack' squawking sound.

Izou He is but if you find where he's ticklish and try and tickle him it's the last thing you'll ever do.

Deuce His back, neck, ribs, and if you tickle him he will cry or whine about it for weeks.

Zoro He has ticklish feet but I'd be wary if I was you, his knee jerk reaction is to punch someone who is tickling him because he hates how it feels.

Nami Ticklish back and tummy but just like Izou and Zoro she will make you pay. Sanji Tummy is his weak spot, he lets out the most delighted giggles when you tickle him but he will be cursing you out as it happens, it renders him useless, just flops around like a fish. Usopp ALL OVER, If you look at him too long with the intention of tickling him he gets all flinchy and wriggly and whines out a stoooooop before you even touch him. Brook Well, not really, he just likes to pretend he is and when he see's you tickling someone else he'll ask for a tickle fight too <3

Luffy Another all over tickle bitch who laughs loudly and flails around with tears in his eyes. He loves to be tickled however and will roll around and pretend he doesn't want it but if you stop he'll pout.

Sabo He's not ticklish because he has no soul [just like me] but if you find that one tiny place behind his knee he'll murder you [just like me]

Kid Behind his ears, brush hair back or adjust something and he'll act like you just shot him in the heart and he'll hiss and huff and snap at you with a blush across his cheeks.

Killer KNEES, I know this sounds odd but just put your hand on his knee cap and gently move your fingers and he does a wiggle and a gasp, slapping your hand off.

Law He'd sooner die then let anyone know, ever. A secret he'll take to his grave. Shachi and Penguin know and will tell you for a price [the price is an icecream or something shiny] Corazon His tummy, good luck getting to it though, he'd be on to you as soon as you got out a ladder and placed it against him to climb up and tickle. But if you do manage to get to his tummy, blow raspberries and hear the big strong marine undercover spy laugh like he's an 8 year old.

[whimsicalwordsmith53-library]

Disney Villainous (The Right Path Isn’t Always Straight)

INTRO/PROLOGUE

Summary:

For months, the Disney Villains have been suffering under a sudden curse. Some assumed it casted by none other than Mickey Mouse to keep them in line. But others believed it must have been someone else below them to do them in. Their powers are heavily restricted and cannot harm park visitors or others in the park or else they suffer the curse’s punishment if they do. Even their sidekicks have been punished to render them useless to the villains they serve for. One day, a woman stumbles across Oogie’s Lair in the Nightmare Before Christmas part of the park. She discovers the horrible truth that they’ve kept secret and is reluctant to help. Can she undo the curse while helping Oogie at the same time? Stay and read to find out. :)

Word Count: N/A

Character Count: N/A

Reading Time: N/A

Speaking Time: N/A

————————————————————-

"The history of villains is much more entertaining than that of heroes, because monsters are not born, they are created. They do not emerge from emptiness or darkness of their own accord, but are shaped by circumstances, by the wounds of the world around them. They reflect the depths of human pain, rejection, loneliness, misunderstanding. A hero is defined by his acts of bravery, but a villain is the result of a heart that was once pure and ended up corrupted. Monsters, in their tragedy, show us what could happen to us all, if the world were to turn its back on us." - A summary on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

————————————————————-

The story begins as an unknown figure (You, dear reader) facing in the first point of view, walking through a drafty, dark and gloomy place. It’s not any ordinary place that You have known, unfortunately it’s The Underworld. Hades’ domain that You have accidentally stumbled into and found Your way inside the God’s palace. As You roam the halls of dark open corridors at every turn, the palace felt like a labyrinth as You walked until You stumbled into a wide open room. A living room.

Despite knowing where You are. The strong crackling blue fire in an onyx stone fireplace seemed peaceful. The Greek styled furniture with some gothic hints decorated the space with luxurious couches, love seats and lounge chairs. A coffin shaped coffee table with a marble black counter with blue cracks was a few feet away from the fireplace in the center of the room. Underneath said coffee table is a large square rug in pomegranate red.

In one of the lounge chairs sat Hades himself, donning his usual chiton as his blue flaming hair flicked calmly with smoke billowing below at his feet and across the smooth cobblestone floor. His posture seems calm as his focus was on a book in one of his hands. And then within a second when You entered the room, his eyes averted at You and he closed the book calmly.

“Well, I’d never thought to see the day when a mere mortal nonchalantly enters *my* domain as if it’s their own house,” Hades speaks in a calm, polite voice as his attention was now on You. And he seemed rather amused as the God has a soft smile. “Now, butterscotch, tell me how You managed to bypass Cerberus without him treating You like a living chew toy?”

Well, You explain how You got there. Even though You can’t hear the sound of Your own vocals speaking as You talked but Hades seemed to hear You. His face shifted from his soft amused look to one of concern and initiative when You finished Your story. And You noticed his hair had small streaks of yellow and orange.

“I see, so You didn’t enter through *that* way,” Hades says with slight frustration, his suave tone sounded grumbling. “I keep telling the boys to make sure that they lock any exits from the Underworld, but apparently I have to make them check every exit now to keep any other mortals from entering my domain and making me look unprofessional.” Then lets out a groan of frustration and runs a hand over his face.

“But hey, while You’re here, You could just hang out with me for a while,” his smooth talk, polite, can-do attitude returned as he stood up and the book floated over to a bookshelf behind You by the entryway. Putting itself back in its slot.

You spoke again, not hearing the sound of Your own voice but whatever You said seemed to annoy the God further and his hair turned mostly red. “What do You mean You want to leave!?!? You just got here and You want to go back!?!?”

He paused as You talked more. His hair turned yellow and Hades’ pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand that the surface world is Your home. I’m not trying to kidnap You or prevent You from leaving. But would it *kill* You mortals to spend time with a lonely deity who just wants some lively company who isn’t already, ya know, *dead*?”

You look at Hades, then down at the love seat beside You that was facing towards the God on the other side of the coffee table, then back at Hades. You reluctantly sat on the love seat which made Hades smirk, seeing You have decided to stay as his hair was back to blue.

“See, it’s not so bad here, isn’t it?” Hades asks as he summons a tea set. He handed You a teacup on a coaster with some kind of liquid inside. The cup and coaster has blue flames on a black background with white skulls in the flames. The handle has a gold finish. The teapot sitting on top of a pomegranate red pot holder on the coffee table has the same design as the cups.

“Relax, it’s not poisoned or laced with anything,” Hades reassured You as he takes a sip from his own cup. So You sip from it as well. You could taste the tea flavor with something fruity in it.

You then spoke to the God again, and in return, he gave You a “poker faced” annoyed look in return but his flames didn’t shift. “Okay, let me just give this to You straight, just because I am evil doesn’t mean it defines me as a whole, nor am I evil *all* the time. I can be *nice* if I want to be, including towards mortals on a whim. So *excuse me* for being so hospitable towards You, unless You want me to throw You in the Styx.”

You gave no response in return.

“That’s what I thought,” Hades says sounding satisfied and resumes drinking his tea. “But You know, the villainous life isn’t always black and white like many want You to believe. That someone who is evil is deemed untrustworthy or a monster, and those who associate themselves with us are also considered as one. Not denying it’s true completely but there are those that are evil who also have a sense of heart. Like me.” Then Hades snapped his fingers as if he had remembered something with a perked up grin on his face.

“Which reminds me of a story,” Hades continues as he sounds chipper. Summoning a book into his hand. “You mortals like stories, right?” You eagerly nod. “Good! And it’s even better since this is a *true* story that I was there to witness. Let me tell You a tale of self discovery, tragedy, envy, and deception.”

Hades faces the book towards You, showing You the pages as it starts to glow.

“But to start, let me take You back in time when the royal four were little children.”

————————————————————-

*March 2004*

The scene pans in through a glass balcony double door into a large children’s bedroom. Inside is a circular room divided into four sections with bookshelves with books and toys and another door made of wood on the opposite side. The walls are a pastel light blue, maybe robin egg blue.

When entering through the door, the top left corner has a bed with vibrant white bed frame, a symbol on the bed frame of a water drop, with ocean blue blankets draped over the mattress. The bookshelf is decorated with marine animal plushies and books of marine biology, oceanography,u and phycology.

The top left also has a bed with a white bed frame with a symbol of a candle fire. The bed’s mattress draped in red blankets and a bookshelf with chunks of obsidian and rubies as well as diamonds and garnets. Books of astronomy, astrophysics, gemology, and mineralogy.

The bottom left also has a bed with a white bed frame with a symbol of a flower. The bed’s mattress draped in green blankets and a bookshelf with potted plants of flowers. Books of botany, horticulture, and ethnobotany.

The bottom right also has a bed with a white bed frame with a symbol of a tornado. The bed’s mattress draped in light blue blankets and a bookshelf with potted plants of flowers. Books of climatology, atmospheric science, aerology, and cloud physics.

Inside the bedroom has four children, but three of them has lively playful energy running through their veins as adrenaline was high.

On the red bed, a little girl with brown hair and eyes wearing purple and red pajamas was reading a book with a relaxed posture: Beauty and the Beast.

The other children were blonde with blue eyes, two girls and one boy. But the boy had a more dirtier blonde color than the other two. The boy wore light blue pajamas with cloud Mickey prints. One of the girls wore grass green glasses with floral print green pajamas. She was sword fighting the boy on her bed, they were both standing on it with wooden swords in their hands. The other girl had blue pajamas with pink sea shell prints. She has a plastic pink and blue trident and joins the “fight”. The three were laughing while the brunette rolled her eyes unamused while reading her book as the others played.

“Take this! And that!” The girl in glasses exclaimed playfully. “You’re no match for me, Jamie!”

“And you’re no match for me, Rachel!” The boy retorted back. The playful rivalry in their eyes as they bantered back and forth. Then the other girl gently jabs Jamie in the back with her plastic trident.

“Trident attack!” She exclaims and Jamie playfully falls to his defeat. “Well done, Kairi!” Rachel celebrates and the girls gleefully high five.

Then they heard the wooden door open and immediately they fled to their beds while carrying their weapons. Kairi to the blue one while Rachel went to the green and light blue bed.

What entered the room were two elderly men. Both wore blue wizard robes and pointed hats. Yet one was shorter than the other. The short one has white long hair and a beard with small circular spectacles sitting on his face. The other’s robes were a darker blue with long dark grey hair and a beard. The short wizard came off as a “cool grandpa figure” while the other a “stern uncle” figure.

They were Merlin and Yen Sid.

“Settle down, children,” Yen’s voice rumbled with calm authority as his eyes glazed over each of them. “You’ve had an excellent school day and your grades have been on par, therefore, you’ve earned your story before bedtime.”

The blondes seemed excited, smiling as they take in a short gasp.

“The Little Mermaid!” Kairi says eagerly.

“The Nightmare Before Christmas!” Rachel inputs.

“Or! Or! Aladdin! Or Peter Pan!” Jamie giggles.

As they said their inputs, the brunette had her hand raised the whole time after Yen Sid declared their bedtime story. But she wasn’t unacknowledged by the wizards.

“Yes, Princess Isabel, what story would you like Merlin to read?” Yen says calmly as she appreciates her patience and politeness even when not in class.

“Can you read us a new story?” The brunette child, Isabel, asks politely as she puts her book away. “I’ve heard every story multiple times that they have became memorized.”

“I do know a new story,” Merlin confesses softly yet unsurely. “It’s not relatively new, but…” then he looks at Yen Sid who gives Merlin a reassuring soft nod in acceptance.

“I think they’re ready for *that* story,” Merlin says with acceptance. “They’re ready to know.”

All four kids now looked amused as wonder came over their eyes. Merlin smiles from their wondering curiosity, summoning a chair to sit on to tell his story.

“Let me tell you a true story about The Beginning of the Magic Kingdom and The Beginning of your grandfather’s legacy,” Merlin begins as the four children gave their attention. “The story begins of the childhood of The First King of Imagination; Walt Elias Disney.”

He began his tale as Yen Sid dimmed the bedroom lights and Merlin told the story with his magic. The imagery seen looks like it was animated with water paint. Merlin showed a tired schoolboy in ragged clothes with a sketchbook and pencil in hand. The vision was painted in black and white but the sketchbook glows in gold.

“Once Upon a Time, long ago, in a world similar of our own, there lived a boy who had a dream. A dream of imagination, magic, creativity and laughter,” Merlin starts as the boy was seen drawing in a sketchbook. “He made cartoons from his young imagination, characters that someday he hoped people will soon love.”

Merlin still showed the same boy but now he was seen getting older as an adult as he drew. Showing the passage of time with a smooth wave of his hand. The black and white started changing to vibrant bright colors.

“As the boy grew up into a man. His dream was shared and loved everywhere. He became successful in the gift of what he gave to the world; that dreams can become real.” This time, the man was talking to a group of people in a meeting, showing them his cartoons and drawings, telling them his ideas and sharing his creative knowledge. The group of people smiled and applauded from what they saw.

“Then he had a family of his own; a wife, two daughters, and two sons.”

More time was seen passing and the man was seen with an adult female at his side, his Queen. Two little girls standing by their parents’ legs, standing with a cartoon rabbit in blue shorts and a cartoon mouse in red shorts and white gloves by their sides. They looked happy and were smiling.

“Eventually the man decided to build a castle and a village for him, his family and his creations since he is the king of his own successful kingdom.”

Then the passing of time was shown again as the man and woman got older. The two little girls grew up and the rabbit was gone. Time continues showing how successful and famous this man became. Then more familiar faces was seen; Snow White, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty, before a castle was shown being built up from the grounds.

Time continues passing until it slows down. The bright colors became gloomy and depressed. The woman, the now grown up little girls and the cartoon mouse stood beside a coffin at a funeral. Their heads hung in sadness as they mourned and wept.

“Decades passed and tragic struck, the king sadly passed away,” Merlin continues, looking remorseful at the image included Yen Sid. Then Merlin added himself and Yen Sid to the memory. “And his brother took over the kingdom that he built.” Then an image of a new man was seen and comforted his mourning widowed sister-in-law.

The present children saw Merlin’s eyes watering with tears while Yen Sid takes his hat off as to pay respects and retribution towards his deceased king.

“But from the many tears of fond memories from those that have mourned the king. Either from his family or the fans that have adored his art. A new creation gave light to the kingdoms; seven sparkling magic jewels; The jewels of Arcoiris.” Merlin’s voice cracked but his warmth never caved.

The image changed, the bright colors returning, showing the warmth of love from many hearts combined with the tears of memories from those who knew his name. That magic created seven diamond cut gems, each of the colors of the rainbow; red, orange, yellow, green, blue, cyan, and purple. They sparkled with magic and radiance as they appeared before the Queen and her children. They admired the jewels in awe.

“With this new gift, the Queen created a parallel Dimension to the parks born from the love of her husband, his creations, and his kingdom. The Dimension we call, Disneytopia.”

The image shows the woman creating a gateway using the loving warmth and memory of her husband. Merlin and Yen smiles seeing their Queen create something wonderful in their tale. The present children believed that their deceased grandmother was very loving, caring and passionate towards her husband’s creations.

“The king’s second born son, the mouse, watched over these jewels to preserve the memory of his father and to make sure that they are protected.”

The mouse was now seen encasing the jewels behind a glass display case in the castle with them well protected from any harm that others will want to use them for their own desires. The mouse sighs in relief with a satisfied expression. Then walks away.

“Everything remained at peace… until one day…” Merlin continues before the colors became eerie. His tone changed as if retelling a ghost story. “The creations started to rebel! It was The Day of Chaos!” The present children then gasped in fear as Merlin continued. “The villains uprised against the kingdom, wanting to take the jewels for themselves, as well as to claim the ingdom for themselves.”

The watercolor painting then changed to a detailed drawing. An image of many villains in a circle, reaching out for the jewels far from their grasp: Maleficent, Hades, Jafar, Captain Hook, Scar, Professor Ratigan, Queen Grimhilde, and Ursula. All with looks of determination and spite of wanting such power for themselves.

“In a desperate act,” Merlin then sounded hopeful, “the son had no choice but to let the jewels be scattered across the kingdom that his father had built. To protect the legacy of what was left behind and to keep the kingdom safe from the power going into the wrong hands.”

It then shows Mickey in his sorcerer outfit breaking the case and lets the jewels scatter over Disneytopia. The jewels flying through the skies.

“The villains still rebelled against the kingdom, but the jewels have remained unfound since their scatter. Overtime, as decades passed, the jewels had became lost and forgotten. Hiding within the kingdom in their own protection. Waiting to be found once again and to be reunited once more,” Merlin concludes the story as the magic figures disappear.

“And since that faithful day, we have made sure that none of the villains could reach you to use against The Magic Kingdom,” Yen Sid continues. “That’s why all your studying, your learning, is important to defend yourself against them as future rulers. And as long as you stay within the Orb’s protective boundaries, no villain with the darkest of shadows will reach you.”

Merlin nods as he stood up and the chair disappears. “Yes,” he agrees, “you four are the future faces. The adopted children of King Mickey and Queen Minnie. You will be strong, proud defenders. And when you get older, the Kingdom will rely on you to protect it, and as long as you stay together, the forces of evil will never stand a chance.”

The blonde children seemed in awe and eager for their futures. Whereas Isabel didn’t seem so thrilled as her siblings but had a meek smile.

“We’ll make you proud, uncle Yen Sid!” Kairi beams happily.

“We will never let you down!” Rachel adds.

“And we’ll work hard for our kingdom!” Jamie cheers.

Isabel was then unsure what to say. So she shrugs. “What they said.”

Merlin and Yen Sid were pleased with their responses. “Just don’t work too hard, little ones. A steady life must have a steady mind,” Yen Sid advises philosophically. “You four are still young. Enjoy your youth while you still have it.”

“Goodnight children, tomorrow you have a busy day ahead of you,” Merlin adds and the wizards left. Turning off the lights and the night lights illuminates the room.

“Did you hear that? Protectors! Defenders!” Rachel says eagerly. “I can’t wait already!”

“Me too! I can’t wait to be strong and powerful to show the sea witch who’s truly a boss!” Kairi beams happily.

“And I want to challenge Jafar to a sorcerer’s duel!” Jamie laughs. “He’ll cower and hide in his genie lamp, showing him how untouchable I am and Agrabah isn’t his to take.”

“Y-yeah,” Isabel says, sounding positive to hide her hesitation. “There’s no fight we cannot lose to.”

“You’re right!” Rachel agrees with her. “We’ll never lose! With the four of us together, we’ll make mommy and daddy proud.”

“We need to go to bed first, our dreams will come later,” Kairi then yawns as she gets under her blanket. “Goodnight you three.”

“Goodnight!” The others say and go under their blankets to sleep. But hours passed and Isabel couldn’t sleep. Her siblings were soon sound asleep and unaware. Uncertainty gnaws at her belly as a frown was across her face. Isabel then gets out of bed and tip toes to the balcony door, seeing the two bright stars side by side with a bright full moon. She decides to make a wish. Her hands in prayer. She quickly looks at her siblings in hopes they’re still asleep before wishing her prayer towards the heavens.

“Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might. Have this wish I wish tonight,” Isabel whispers. “I wish someday the villains will know true happiness, love, and kindness just like I give my family. I hope someday the heroes and villains will make amends and be happy with each other because no one deserves to be misunderstood or unloved.”

But before she walks to her bed, she swore she saw a shadow on the full moon move across it before disappearing. Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. So, she goes back to her bed.

“Years passed,” Hades continues to narrate. “And the four children grew up.”

The story changed to show a scene of Rachel as a teenager. She was in Halloween Town with Jack Skellington and Sally. Growing more pumpkins with the gift of Earth.

The scene changed again and teenage Kairi is swimming with Ariel as both of them as a mermaid.

The scene changed again and a teenage Jamie is in an aero race with Aladdin on the magic carpet and Peter Pan. His gift of air allows him to fly through the currents.

Finally a teenage Isabel is seen alone amongst a grass field with puffy white dandelions as she lays on her belly across the grass. Unlike her siblings, she didn’t smile. She plucks one of the dandelions while feeling solemn, then she began to sing.

“I want much more than this provincial life. I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell. And for once it might be grand. To have someone understand. I want so much more than they've got planned,” as she watched the seeds on the dandelion blow into the wind.

Hades narrative voice chuckled in amusement. “Little did she know what fate has in store for her.”

————————————————————-

TBC June 2025.

Holy fking sht!

I have started this story originally years ago but never finished it due to depression from my stubborn ex, life consuming me and not feeling satisfied with it. But years later, I began rewriting this days ago on Christmas and finished the story today because I’m bored waiting on a very delayed flight back home. I’m gonna write the remaining chapters as well, and edit this later, but the remaining chapters won’t release until June so ya’ll aren’t waiting too long for each chapter individually.

It’s 10:40 PM as I’m writing this and my plane has been 5+ hours behind on schedule due to weather conditions. I feel like I’m playing the worst game of musical chairs waiting for my flight.

Now don’t mind me while I go insane from listening Christmas music at an airport. 😭🔫

Khristmas Ko-fi Please?: https://ko-fi.com/whimsicalwordsmith53.

@cosmiconix @gavillain @seaslugfanclub @whimsi-clown @freaky-frankhie @assortedvillainvault @samkrampus

[borathae]

↳ Index [Chapter 33 - Avenir]

• Avenir (French, future)

Warnings: Yoongs & OC are the only couple ever, he tells her about the vampirism cure, they have a really deep & honest conversation afterwards, Jimin is a sweetie in this chapter

Wordcount: 7.6k

a/n: fjadsfjasjfas 

“___ I have to talk to you.” 

“Oh no. Oh god, what happened?”

“Hm?”

“You, you addressed me by name and told me that you need to talk. That’s basically double bad.”

“No, I actually need to talk to you.”

“Okay?”

“Just”, he intertwines his fingers with yours, “come with me please.”

“Yoongi, you’re scaring me. Did I do something?”

“No love, you didn’t. I did.”

“You did?”

Yoongi nods his head, closing the door to the secret study behind him. It is located upstairs behind a bookshelf and up until recently, you had no idea that it even existed. You only found out about it because you caught Taehyung and Yoongi disappearing inside it and you followed them. They stared at you as if you were a ghost and then babbled all about how it was too dangerous for you to be here.

“What are we doing here? I thought I wasn’t allowed in here because of the curses and stuff.”

“I lied. Partially. I was keeping something from you. You still shouldn’t touch anything.”

“Okay, sounds very confusing”, you murmur, studying his face.

“Just-”, he stops talking and sits down in front of the desk, pulling you on top of his lap instead.

“Oh? That’s comfortable”, you say, rubbing his shoulder softly. You are sitting on him sideways, feeling very safe that way.

“Mhm”, he agrees but looks anxious.

“What’s the matter, love? What’s so secretive that you couldn’t tell me until now?” you ask him, caressing his cheek. 

He leans into the touch, placing his hands on your hips safely. 

“I have to tell you something, which I kept from you. I, I thought that it would be best if I did, but I need your advice.”

“Okay, talk to me.”

“___, I found a cure for vampirism.”

Yoongi almost tears up when your touch stops and soon retreats. So you are disappointed in him. He fucked it up. He is so sure of it.

“You found a cure for vampirism?” you make sure with your eyes widened in bafflement.

He nods his head.

“When? How? Where?”

“Back at Meredith’s place. She had one of Nilrem’s spell books and on its last page it contained a spell for removing vampirism from a person.”

“Nilrem? Isn’t he your former teacher? The one who created the curse in the first place?”

“Yes. I think he wanted to reverse it and I think that is why he created the spell.”

“Well, that is phew”, you breathe out loudly, “a lot to take in. Why did you keep it from me? You know that you could have told me.”

“Because I was scared.”

“Scared? Scared of what?”

“Of your reaction.”

“Really? But it’s awesome news. We could use it on Namjoon and render him useless. It’s great news.”

“Yes”, he whispers in awe, “yes, this is exactly what I was thinking as well…wait, you aren’t against it?”

“Why should I be? I think it’s a great idea. Who knows, maybe Namjoon manages to escape his prison and then all the effort would have been for nothing. We can’t kill him either, so stealing his powers is the best solution. He’ll be rendered harmless and even if he escapes, he won’t be able to do much damage.” 

“Yes, this is exactly what I was thinking. I- holy shit.”

“What?” you laugh softly.

“You actually understand. I, I was so scared that you wouldn’t and that you’d call me cruel for even thinking that.”

You smile, finally cupping his cheek again, “No. You doofus, next time tell me immediately instead of boggling your little mind with what I could think”, you tell him, caressing his temple, “we’re a team, remember?”

“Yes, I. Fuck, I’m not used to it”, he confesses, “I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner. I know I should stop being such a brooding loner, but I’m just not used to…having…someone to share stuff like this with.”

“It’s okay. I think the brooding loner vibe is kinda hot.”

Yoongi scoffs and chuckles, cocking his right eyebrow up.

“Hot?” he says.

You turn on his lap, now facing him completely with your legs tangling on each side of his hips. You hook your arms behind his head.

“Mhm-hm yeah, hot. Makes me wanna push your buttons until you break and show me where you like it”, you say in a raspy voice, dancing your fingers up and down his neck all whilst giving him a seductive little smirk.

He tilts his head back slightly, revealing his neck to your eyes.

So pretty and pale and so empty. You move closer, dragging your tongue up his neck before placing a needy kiss to his jawline. His breath hitches in his throat, his thighs press together instantly.

“Like this”, you breathe.

“Mhhm”, he hums, nodding his head in understanding.

“And like this. Do you like that?” you coo, kissing your way up to his ear.

“Yeah”, he sighs, letting his head tilt back as his eyes fall closed. He exhales shakily as your lips dance over his ear, making the softest of sounds when you bite down gently. 

He visibly shivers, rubbing his thighs together for just a second. 

“Princess…” his voice is breathy.

“Yes love? Do you like it? Mhm?” you ask him, trailing your kisses down to his neck. Just slightly behind his ear, right where he shivers the most as a result. 

“There is more”, he gets out.

“Yeah? Show me”, you encourage him, giving his thighs a little grind.

His hands touch your hips, holding them safely.

“I meant the spell”, he says, lifting his head with a heavy heart. He almost whines when your lips leave his neck, giving your hips a soft squeeze of desperation. 

Your eyes lock. 

“As much as I would love to let you push my buttons, I have to tell you more.”

“Yes okay, tell me.”

“Okay so, uhm”, he lowers his gaze even before he starts talking, “I could…I uhm….if it works on Namjoon and doesn’t kill him, I could use it…on…myself.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t even make a sound. And Yoongi feels like throwing up, which is quite ironic given how his vampire body can’t throw up, but in this moment he feels sick in anxiety. 

He lifts his gaze shyly, meeting your shocked eyes. 

“Please say something”, he whispers, making himself smaller.

“Why would you use it on yourself?”

“I, I don’t know.”

“You can’t”, you press out with a trembling lower lip. 

“Don’t cry please”, he begs, reaching out to caress your lip.

You move away, wrapping your fingers around his wrists.

“Yoongi, what the hell? Why would you even consider this?”

“I don’t know, I just…I’m sorry, please forget it.”

“No. No, I can’t. Not when you tell me something like that.”

Yoongi looks to the side. 

“Yoongi”, you shake his wrists softly, “my love, talk to me.”

“I just. I just thought that maybe we could have it.”

“Have what?”

“The thing we had in my memories”, he says, locking his gaze on yours. His eyes are slightly glassy. 

“The thing we had?”

“When I had a pulse and we kissed that, that deeply because we knew that our days were numbered and we shared one lifetime. Just one lifetime together. You and I.”

“Oh Yoongi”, you whisper, cupping his face.

He closes his eyes, leans into your touch before he turns his head and nuzzles his nose into your palm. A soft kiss follows, tender and filled with love.

“I understand what you mean. It must be exhausting to have so many lifetimes behind you and to never find peace.”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, whimpering softly. 

“But Yoongi, don’t you want to spend a little more time with me?”

At that he opens his eyes, looking at you with held breath.

“I want to know how it is to be a vampire”, you confess, “I want to be like you and live longer than humans and, and when that day comes, I want to know that I will have you by my side until forever.”

“Why would you give up your life? I don’t understand why you would want to live longer than you need to.”

“Because I just…growing old is scary. We’ll live with the knowledge that one day we won’t see each other anymore. What if you take the cure and then you’ll die before me? Then I’d be heartbroken.”

He lets out a quick laugh, “and I should accept when you die before me?”

You shake your head, “that’s why I’ll turn into a vampire when the time is right, so you won’t lose me and I can keep this sexy body.”

Yoongi tries and fails not to laugh. 

“You’re always sexy. I’d want you even if we’re both old and grey.”

You snicker, squishing his cheeks softly.

“I know. I’d want you too”, you say. You begin combing your fingers through his hair, painting tranquillity on his features.

“But no more talk about giving up your powers. At least not until we captured Namjoon. You need to keep your powers to fight him and keep us safe. Yeah?” you make sure. 

“Yeah I guess…” Yoongi murmurs and lowers his head.

“Tell me. What’s still on your mind?”

“I just want to”, he pulls you closer so he could hide his face in your chest, “I want to know that I have an option. Not being able to die no matter what you try, sounds like a dream at first, but when you”, his voice begins trembling, “when you lose everyone you love over and over again until loss becomes a fucking routine and when you see people finally finding peace through death over and over again while you have to get through everything even if it hurts so much you don’t want to go on anymore, you realise that not being able to die is a curse.”

“I understand”, your voice carries immense comfort for him, “I really understand why you feel that way. And I get it. Even if I became a vampire and most death becomes harmless to me, I could still end it by ripping my heart out. So in a way I still have a safe switch, but you don’t.”

“Yeah.”

“So I understand why you’re so happy about this supposed cure and I’m really happy for you too because I want you to have the option to find peace”, you speak with unconditional love in your voice, caressing his cheek and temple the entire time, “I know how much you had to suffer in the past and I really don’t want you to think that I want to take this chance at peace from you, but Yoongi let’s not use it so hastily.”

You tilt his head up.

“We don’t know what it does. Maybe it kills you instantly or maybe it kills you painfully. Or maybe you don’t die, but live your life in pain. Maybe your life catches up on you and you die in a few days, you know like in the movies when an old witch gets defeated and then becomes a million years old.”

He scoffs, “I don’t think that this would happen.”

“But if it does? Then you’d be a wrinkly old witch before turning into dust and I don’t want this fate for you.”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes at you fondly. You giggle, giving his nose a soft tap.

“So let’s use it on Namjoon first and see how and if it works. And if it does and it is safe, then we can keep it in the back of our heads for darker days.”

You wipe the tears from his lashes.

“I’m not asking you to give it up. Hell, I’m happy for you that you finally found something that could finally bring you peace, but Yoongi I refuse to believe that living with me doesn’t bring you peace.”

“It does”, he says without hesitation.

“See?” you smile, “your life isn’t as dark and lonely anymore as it once was. You have me now and you know damn well, that I want to work my ass off to make living worthwhile for you.”

“You do”, no hesitation, “you make it worthwhile.”

“Well, that’s good to hear”, you caress his cheek with so much tenderness that Yoongi does everything in his power not to close his eyes. He can’t. Not yet. Not when looking into your love-filled, beautiful eyes brings him so much reassurance that whatever he may say, he can count on you. 

“Please don’t work so much for me”, he whispers.

“What do you mean?”

“You shouldn’t work for me. So much. Don’t do it. I don’t want to be of so much work.”

“Who says that I don’t love doing it? Yoongi it’s not work, I love showing you nice things. It’s not exhausting and you’re not exhausting.”

“But what if you. What if you grow tired of it? Or, or me? Then we’ll have eternity hating each other.”

“Well, do you want to hate me at some point?”

“No”, he says immediately, shaking his head, “I could never hate you. I don’t want to.”

“Then rest assured that I feel the same.”

He flusters, looking to the side.

“I won’t ever grow tired of you, my love”, you say softly, tracing the slope of his nose and forehead, “I told you, you are the most exciting person in my life. And I mean it, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“You too”, he presses out. He cups your face and pulls you close so your foreheads rest against each other, “you’re the best goddamn fucking thing.”

You chuckle at his harsh way of saying it, melting on the spot.

“You’re so cute. I’m so happy that I am. Yoongi give me a kiss.”

He leans in without hesitation, kissing you softly. His thumb is caressing your cheek as he does while your own is touching his temple.

Yoongi breaks the kiss after a moment, rubbing his nose against yours.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

“For what?”

“For bringing all of this up. I’m so unfair for burdening you with my shit.”

“It’s only a burden if it was forced upon me. My love, I choose to carry your worries. You don’t burden me.”

“Ah god”, he presses out, squeezing your head, “god, fuck”, he grunts then whimpers softly, “why are you so good?”

“At what?”

“At functioning?”

“I don’t think I’m that good, I just try to live.”

“I can’t do it. Any of it. I can’t be emotional or honest. It’s, it’s so hard.”

“Yoongi, you’ve been sharing your feelings with me for the last twenty minutes. You’re better at it than you may think.”

His breathing slows down, his hands finally stop squeezing your head. 

You chuckle softly and tilt your head to kiss his forehead. The breath Yoongi lets out sounds as if he just shed a million pounds of trouble with it.

“I don’t want to die”, he confesses.

“Mhm”, you kiss his forehead a second time.

“I really don’t want to die. Not when I have you. And, and I want to enjoy life with you.”

You smile, kissing his forehead a third time.

“Me too Yoongi.”

“But I just…I want to know that if I wanted to, I could…die. That’s all I wanted for three millennia. To know that I can also end.”

“I understand, this is totally valid and you are allowed to know that. This is why we will test it out on Namjoon first and then watch what it does. And if it is safe?” you tilt his head up, “well, then you can finally rest assured that shall the day ever come where you don’t want to anymore, you can finally close your eyes for good, but for now”, you reach for his eyes.

Yoongi closes them and sighs when you run your thumbs over his lids softly.

“For now I want to look at those pretty eyes for a long, long time.”

Yoongi opens his eyes, blushing slightly.

“You’re so cheesy”, he mumbles.

“I know”, you snicker.

Yoongi lets a pretty smile wash over his face. He places his hands on your waist, caressing you softly.

“Thank you”, he says, “you always know what to say.”

“Of course”, you assure him, pinching his rosy cheek, “we’re a team.”

“Yeah, we’re a team”, he says, smiling brighter.

He sighs in relief and drops his head against your chest.

“Fuck, I’m so exhausted now”, he confesses and chuckles, “talking about your feelings is tiring.”

You laugh, ruffling his hair, “yeah right? But you did it and that’s great. I’m proud of you, Yoongi Boongie.”

“Mhm”, he nuzzles, “princess, god I wanna sleep”, he laughs, “can I nap just like this?”

“But that’s uncomfortable. Let’s go somewhere we can lie down.”

“But walking”, he whines, making you laugh. 

“Fine, you doofus then let’s nap on this terrible chair”, you say, snickering.

Yoongi lifts his head because he wants to see your smile. He beams up at you so much that his eyes turn into pretty, little crescent moons.

You reach out with your tender hands and cup his face, caressing his cheeks as the sound of your sweet giggle makes Yoongi fall even more for you.

“Why are you laughing?” he asks, hoping that the answer is a good one.

“No reason, I’m just happy”, you answer him, painting the goofiest grin on his pretty face.

“Me too”, he says, rubbing your back, “give me a kiss, my princess.”

You giggle and give him a big smooch. You pull back, let him chase you and smooch him again, basking in the lazy yet oh so happy chuckles and the soft sighs of approval he lets out. One more time because it is so much fun.

“Stop pulling away”, Yoongi complains in a whine.

“I’m not, just try harder”, you tease him.

Yoongi pulls you closer rather roughly, making you squeak and laugh.

“Don’t make me actually try”, he warns.

“Or what?”

“I’ll kiss you until you’re sick of it.”

“Oh no, that sounds terrible. How could you?” you gasp dramatically.

Yoongi smiles lazily, hooking his fingers behind your neck.

“Com’ere”, he whispers, “lemme kiss.”

You let him pull you closer, sighing happily when your lips finally touch.

“Ahem.”

Yoongi breaks the kiss. You both look to your side where someone so loudly cleared their throat.

Hoseok is gawking at you with big eyes.

“We uh..got news of…okay very off topic, but that’s how you guys are in private?”

“What do you want Hoseok?” Yoongi says, having his public voice back on.

“You guys are disgusting in private. Eww you are so whipped”, Hoseok teases, pointing his finger at you as he laughs loudly.

“Are you twelve?” Yoongi hisses with his cheeks burning up in embarrassment.

Hoseok snickers, “sorry, sorry I just had to say something. Goddamn, I won’t forget that ever again. You guys chasing each other like two love drunk idiots.”

“Hobi come on, get to the point”, you say with fondness in your voice.

“Ah yeah the point”, Hoseok stops laughing, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes, “the point is that you guys are two nerds. Hah!”

You can’t help but snicker. You must give it to him. He is a complete idiot.

“Hoseok”, Yoongi grumbles, “get to the point.”

“Okay, okay yeah sorry I just had to make one more joke”, he says and straightens his back, “I feel awful for being the reason for breaking up you guys’ cute yet very major nerd moment date, but we got a call from Fredrick.”

“What does he want?”

“His informants heard rumours of Namjoon not far from here. It’s just an hour drive and if we drive now, we could surprise him.”

You and Yoongi exchange a look.

“Holy fuck, that’s great news”, you say.

“It’s incredible news”, Yoongi stands up with you in his arms, sitting you down on the table, “I have to go.”

“I know, I’ll prepare the ingredients for the, you know, spell in case you’re successful.”

“Understood. Don’t touch anything you don’t know the purpose of, it could be dangerous.”

“I won’t. Good luck, love.”

He nods his head and breaks away from you.

“Let’s go”, he says to Hoseok and places his hand on his upper back in a brotherly tap.

“I really hope that we’re successful. Honestly I miss knowing that I can have a chill day without Namjoon appearing outta nowhere”, Hoseok says, opening the door for Yoongi.

The latter turns in the doorway, locking eyes with you. You give him a reassuring smile.

“Hyung? Are you not coming?” Hoseok asks him when he doesn’t budge.

Within a second Yoongi is by your side again.

“What-”, you can’t finish your question when Yoongi cups your face and pulls you into a deep kiss. The kind of kiss that steals your breath away and which leaves you dizzy once he pulls back.

“I love you”, Yoongi whispers, gazing at you as if it was the last time he will ever lay eyes upon you.

“I…love you too”, you breathe, feeling oh so flabbergasted.

And with that Yoongi finally breaks away and hurries outside. He gives you one last look over his shoulder and disappears.

With your heart racing in your chest, you look at Hoseok for just a second. He is grinning.

“Nerds”, he says, closing the door afterwards.

So now you are alone. You touch your lips. They still tingle from Yoongi’s kiss. Next your cheeks, which he held oh so safely. His touch still lingers on your skin like a warm reminder of good moments.

“Well damn”, you murmur, touching your chest where your heart is racing unbearably, “you’ve really got it bad, don’t you ___?”

“What are you doing?”

It has been around twenty minutes since the others left and you are still hunching over the book, looking at pictures because you realised that you can’t read the language it is written in. You lift your head upon hearing someone call out for you.

Jimin is standing in the doorway, wearing a full set of clothes for once. His hair is down, making his face appear younger and his cheeks softer. He does that often these days. Show himself in cozy attire. Good. You hope that he can only have comfortable days from now on.

“I could ask you the same thing. Shouldn’t you be with the others?”

“No, I’m not risking anything. You will not see this handsome face”, he points at his own face, “anywhere near Namjoon until the day he is behind bars and I can throw rotten eggs at him.”

You snort, “sounds like a good plan, do tell me when you plan on doing it, I’ll join you.”

“Will do”, he says, studying you from head to toe afterwards, “what are you seriously doing though? Isn’t that Yoongi’s spell book?”

“Yeah, I realised that I can’t read it, so now I’m looking at pictures.”

“Hm.”

Jimin pushes himself off the doorway and struts to you. He sits down on the desk, looking into the book.

“Huh”, he says.

“What is it? Can you read it?”

“Would you look at that? This is beyond interesting”, he murmurs as his eyes dance over the letters.

“What is it?”

“I have no fucking clue what that says”, Jimin says and snickers.

“Idiot”, you hiss, hitting his knee softly, “I thought that you could read it.”

“Nah honey”, he says, leaning back on his hands, “I may be old, but that language has more than two millennia on me, I have no idea what it says. The pictures look pretty though.”

You roll your eyes, “very helpful.”

He shrugs his shoulders and gives you a boyish grin.

“So what are you going to do now? Look at pictures all night long?” he asks.

“Yeah? Maybe I can find something that will help us.”

“I doubt it.”

“Thanks?”

“Not your brain, just that this book is any useful.”

“Thanks again? Did you just admit that I’m intelligent?”

“I never claimed the opposite. You have brain, which kinda annoyed me back in the day.”

You scoff, “well, thank you.”

He rolls his eyes, “you are welcome. Don’t act too flattered though.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

He scoffs then chuckles, looking at you with a sort of friendliness in his gaze. He jumps off the table, strutting to the bookshelves behind you. You turn with the chair, watching him.

“There’s so many books I have no interest in ever reading here”, he murmurs.

“Do you not like reading?”

“Not really? It was always kind of pointless to me.”

“Well, then you haven’t found the right books yet.”

“Really?” he asks and snorts.

“Mh-hm”, you nod your head, “reading is fun. You can broaden your knowledge on stuff, lose yourself in different worlds or find similarities to your own life in sentences or characters.”

“Yeah, I see it, but I don’t need it. Sorry, hun.”

“Fine, whatever. I’m telling you, there will come a day where you will find joy in it.”

“Oh, I do find joy in it.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Back in the day, I loved reading Tae’s plays. He always has the most thrilling ideas.”

“Plays, you say? How come he never talks about his plays?”

“I think Namjoon forced him to give it up. He doesn’t talk about it, not even to me, but Namjoon has a liking for ruining people’s hobbies.”

“Well, that’s just terrible.”

“Yeah, he’s an asshole.”

“Did he ruin something for you too?”

“Other than my entire life? Sure, there’s lots of stuff he ruined for me.”

“Do you want to share them with me?”

“Ew”, he scrunches his nose up, “ew, why do you care for that? What are you doing?”

“Tzt”, you roll your eyes, “idiot, am I not allowed to ask my friend what his hobbies are?”

“Eww, I’m your friend?”

“Well now you aren’t anymore, you weirdo.”

Jimin touches the side of his neck, averting his gaze to the shelf in shyness. You click your tongue, turning with your chair afterwards.

You managed to flip two pages of Yoongi’s spell book when Jimin speaks again.

“Taehyung and I wrote a ballet once.”

You lift your head, listening to him with your back turned to him. You feel that if you looked at him, he would retreat back into his shell again.

“It was the best story he ever thought of and he wanted me to be the danseur noble. So I created the dance while he thought of the story and then together we worked on the music.”

You have to smile. It is rather sweet to imagine the both of them creating melodies together.

“It took us three years to finish, but then…”, Jimin becomes quieter in his speech, “…Namjoon interrupted our casting. He killed everyone in the room and broke my legs before he shattered Taehyung’s hands. He told us to remember our places and then afterwards Tae and I stopped wanting to perform the ballet.”

“Well fuck”, you press out, “I should have expected such an outcome and yet each time you tell me what this fucker did, I am surprised.” You turn with your chair. “I’m sorry Jimin, that must have been awful.”

“I was used to it, I guess”, he looks to the side in embarrassment, “at least I tell myself that. It makes it easier.”

“I can imagine.”

He takes a deep breath, releasing it in a chuckle afterwards.

“What are you doing to me? Are you some sort of witch? Why do you always make me open up about my feelings when we’re talking?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I just seem trustworthy”, you joke, making him laugh.

“Yeah maybe.”

He steps closer and for a moment you think that he might reach out and pat your shoulder. But he doesn’t, instead he turns his back to you.

“Either way, I’m leaving you to your stuff”, he says, leaving the secret study in quick steps.

Except that he doesn’t really. Just ten minutes later and he is back with tea and biscuits.

“You’re back already?” you ask him.

“I just figured that, I don’t know, you always drink when you’re like reading and stuff. I don’t know”, he places the tray on the table next to you, “here.”

There is one cup on the tray. You never realised that Jimin watched you read or that he watched you long enough to realise that you always drink tea when you do.

“Thank you, Jimin wow. That’s so nice of you.”

“Yes, I know”, he says, shimmying from one foot to the other. It seems that he is waiting for something.

“Why don’t you grab that chair over there and join me for a cup? Maybe we could look for clues together.”

“Sure, if you want to”, he tries to sound nonchalant, but it’s not really helping when he pulls out a cup from the pocket of his hoodie as if he was just waiting for you to invite him. He places it on the tray without making eye contact, then hurries to grab the chair by the window.

He places it next to you, sitting down with one foot standing on the chair and the other resting on the pillowy seat. You prepare a cup for the both of you.

“Do you want some cream in yours?” you ask him.

“Yes, that’d be nice. Thanks.”

He drinks it without looking at you, setting it down. He clears his throat.

“Good. I made it just right.”

“You really did. It’s very rich in flavour”, you say, turning your attention back to the book.

Jimin watches you for a moment, fumbling with the biscuit in his hand. It is covering his fingers in crumbs and the greasy residue of butter.

“Are you educated in witchcraft?” he asks.

“Me? No, I have no idea. You?”

“Just the basics. I picked up a few things when I was living with the witches in Paris.”

“I see. Well, then you know more than me. Although, I do know many spells that could kill you guys.”

“Why?” he gasps.

“I learned them back when we started hunting Namjoon. I thought that they might come in handy.”

“Sounds logical. You creep.”

“Hey”, you nudge his leg, “be careful I could just snap my finger and turn you into a frog.”

He snorts, “sure, I’d like to see you try. You’re human remember?”

“I know. Boring, am I right?”

“I think it’s kinda cool. I always wanted to be human.”

“That seems to be a shared topic tonight”, you mumble.

“What?”

“Nothing, I was just mumbling nonsense”, you dismiss him, drinking some tea, “but enough about that. We have spells to find.”

“What are we looking for anyways?”

“I don’t know, something that could stop Namjoon.”

“Ripping off his head will stop him for a while. Easy.”

You chuckle, “sure. If we can get close enough to him to do that.”

“Yoongi will. He’s stronger than Namjoon.”

“Really?”

“Well, at least a little. That’s what he told me. It’s because he’s a Gluttonous Ripper and Namjoon’s just a Glutton. And I think he was also like the first ever vampire so he’s older too. You know. The strength adds up. Yoongi’s like unstoppable basically.”

“It makes sense. Maybe that’s why Namjoon hasn’t tried to attack us yet. Or why he never tried to actively eliminate Yoongi.”

“That, but also Namjoon is hated way more than Yoongi and barely has people helping him. Yoongi would just have to snap his fingers and people would want to help. Namjoon not so much. Even if the old grumps likes to pretend that everyone hates him just as much, they really don’t.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I do. The community knows what he did for us. As do the witches and werewolves. They’re not blind to all the sacrifices he made. Trust me, I talk to a lot people. Why do you think I’m still alive?”

“Thea?”

“Yeah, besides her. It’s because I always pulled the I’m friends with Min Yoongi card when I got myself into trouble.”

“You’re such a sneaky bastard”, you say, stifling a laugh.

“A sneaky bastard, who knew how to survive”, he says with a lifted finger.

“True that, I can’t deny it.”

Jimin smiles and you retort it.

The air feels comfortable between you and him. It’s a nice feeling to experience.

“Now, let’s actually get this started”, he says and stands up. He places his hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I’ll check the shelves.”

“Good idea. I’ll check the rest of the book.”

You spent the next hour in silence. It is a comfortable silence. It is the kind of silence, you thought to never be able to share with Jimin. You like that you can however. It is better to spend time with him that way, instead of always wanting to rip each others’ heads off.

The both of you finish the tea in the time of silence. You get another cup and more biscuits as well. He thanks you for it and then returns to rummaging around the piles of books.

The can has been significantly emptied when Jimin officially returns to the table, placing a book on top of it. He sits down again, reaching for his cup of tea.

“What’s that?” you ask him.

“A spellbook, it’s in Latin”, he says, crossing his legs nonchalantly, “maybe you could like it.”

“That’s a good find. Thank you, Jimin.”

“Sure, no biggie.”

He watches you for a moment, finding it peculiar that you furrow your brows when you concentrate. He isn’t judging it, he just finds it funny because it makes you look angry at the book. He eats one of the biscuits and sips on his tea.

“Anything interesting yet?” he asks.

“No, just Latin I’m too dumb to understand”, you murmur, reaching for your cup without looking.

Jimin pushes it to you so you wouldn’t miss it, handing you a piece of biscuit seconds later. You accept it absentmindedly, dunking it into your tea and forgetting it right there.

“Geez, take the cookie out, you’re drowning it”, Jimin says, pulling your hand away.

“Huh? Oh dear, I totally didn’t notice that.”

“I couldn’t tell at all. Ew, soggy biscuit.”

“It’s good stuff, don’t judge it”, you say, eating it most deliciously.

“If you say so”, he murmurs, scrunching his nose up.

“You go look for another book, instead of judging me.”

“I’m not judging you, on the contrary.”

You turn with your chair.

“Really? What’s that supposed to mean.”

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Nothing really. Do you think the others have reached Namjoon by now?”

You check your watch.

“It’s been more than hour. They should have arrived by now. Let’s hope that they’re okay.”

“They’re definitely fine. They all know how to fight and they have Yoongi.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m still really worried.”

“Why?”

“What if someone gets hurt?”

“Then they’ll heal. Don’t worry.”

You sigh in defeat, “I guess. Gosh, I always get so worried when they leave to fight. I should stop that, it’s not like they can get hurt. And Yoongi will keep them safe.”

Jimin nods his head, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Exactly, he’ll keep them safe.”

He stands up again and returns to the bookshelf. He wouldn’t tell you, but he enjoys today’s evening. Your scent doesn’t annoy him anymore and your heartbeat doesn’t make him angry anymore. As a matter of fact, he finds the sounds of it rather relaxing. Just as he finds the sounds of you flipping the pages or setting your cup of tea down relaxing.

He also wouldn’t tell you that ever since he swore to be better for Tae, he turned his emotions back on. Because admitting that would mean that he would also have to admit that you were right. Feeling is nice if you are surrounded by good people. It is just incredibly hard to accept that he was indeed surrounded by good people these days. The thought of Namjoon still lingers in the back of his mind and sometimes he catches himself in the act of being rude to someone without even wanting to.

He tries very hard not to this evening, because you have been so nice to him. You let him hang out with Taehyung and you show no signs of disgust over their bond. You talk to him nicely even after all the awful shit he pulled with you. And you called him your friend.

Jimin sneaks a glance at you. You have one leg pulled on the chair, hunching terribly.

He smiles.

You are the second person after Taehyung to call him a friend. It feels nice to be called a friend for once. Enemy sounds so familiar, but leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Friend sounds unfamiliar, but leaves sweetness behind. He likes it a lot and he hopes that he can hear it a lot from now on, because he wants to be friends with you and the others.

“Jimin, look.”

“Yeah? Found something?”

He takes the space behind you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders. It makes you sneak a glance up at him because of the unfamiliarity of it. He doesn’t seem to notice, looking at the book. So you don’t call him out on it, turning your attention to the book instead.

“It’s a spell about magical barriers. It says you need sorbus aucuparia to keep mythical creatures out.”

“Okay? And now for dummies please.”

“Mountain ash. It says that you have to grind up the bark of it and then sprinkle it on your threshold whilst repeating these words.”

“Sounds a little like nonsense to me. I never heard of mountain ash being able to stop us.”

“I mean, in theory every good piece of wood is able to stop you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, good god”, he says and squeezes your shoulders.

You snicker.

“Tzt, just keep looking”, he says, abandoning your shoulders for the sake of finding something interesting.

The second can of tea gets emptied by you and him. The plate of biscuits soon is empty as well. Jimin finds two more books, which you now read on the sofa in the sitting room next to the kitchen. The one with the red satin sofas and huge marble statues of Alpha in each corner of the room. Taehyung made them over the span of ten years. Namjoon’s statue was covered by a heavy piece of fabric these days. Jimin reads too, resting on the sofa with his legs dangling over the headrest and his head almost falling off the edge.

Every now and then, the sounds of pages flipping cuts through the silence.

“Urgh boring”, Jimin breaks said silence with a loud groan.

“What?” you ask, lowering your book.

“Reading is so boring. Can’t we do something else?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Just anything other than reading. Let’s watch a movie.”

“Sure, with what television?”

Jimin drops his head over the edge of the sofa, scanning his eyes over the upside down room.

“Urgh, uncool. Why do we not own a TV? What’s wrong with us? We have to buy one soon, it’s ridiculous. We’re living as if we’re still in 1834. Urgh, I’m so bored”, he whines with a huge pout on his lips.

“Just read your book”, you say with amusement lacing your voice.

Jimin lifts his head and drops it on the sofa in a weird angle.

“Let’s go to the movies together.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, duh.”

“What if the others come back in the meantime?”

“We’ll just leave a note or something.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on ___, don’t be so boring.”

“I don’t know”, you whine, “I kind of want to be here when they return so we can make sure that they’re all okay.”

“They’re going to be fine. They have Yoongi, remember?”

You roll your eyes, “you can’t convince me that easily.”

“Urgh ___”, Jimin whines, “come on, let’s go to the movies.”

“Let’s just wait for a little, maybe they���ll come back soon.”

“___!” someone screams your name.

“See? As I told you.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, “fine, you win this round.”

“___!” Jungkook is screaming.

“I’m here!” you call out, hurrying out of the sitting room.  

“___!” his voice is breaking at the end.

“Kook! I’m here!” you tell him, making it easier for him to find you by running to where he calls out from.

You collide with him on the hallway.

“___”, he presses out with tears streaming down his face.

“Jungkook holy fuck, what’s wrong?”

“___ we captured Namjoon.”

“What? You captured him? Holy shit, Jungkook this is awesome”, you laugh, falling around his neck.

Jungkook sobs, squeezing you so tightly that you can barely breathe.

“Kook, careful your strength”, you warn him in a chuckle.

“___ I’m sorry”, he chokes out.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re all happy here. So where is he? Where are the others?”

“Oh god”, Jungkook presses out and sobs loudly next to you.

“Gosh Kook, stop crying you’ll make me cry too”, you say, wrapping your arm around his waist.

That is when it happens. Namjoon sets foot into the estate, guided by Hoseok and Seokjin and with the Unbreakable Shackles around his wrists. The guys are covered in the remnants of the fight, carrying a grim expression on their face. Namjoon lifts his head and locks eyes with you and Jimin. His lips curl into a menacing smile.

He laughs.

He laughs loudly and happily and as if he won.

“What the fuck?” you say, eyeing him with shock.

“Fuck yes. I knew you fucking pigs weren’t dead”, Namjoon says and laughs louder, throwing his head back, “oh life’s fucking great. I’m going to rip you to shreds, Park Jimin.”

Jimin is hiding behind you and Jungkook, entire body trembling in fear. He is even grabbing a piece of your jumper, twisting it with shaking fingers.

“Stop hiding, little piglet. Oh, I’m going to fucking hurt you”, he growls.

Jimin whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shut up, you cunt”, you spit, making yourself bigger in front of him. Namjoon’s black eyes flit to you.

He growls demonically, “come here little one, if you’re brave enough. Nobody’s going to protect you now”, he challenges you, snapping at you with bared fangs.

“What the hell is his problem?” you murmur, cocking your eyebrow up in judgement.

“___, I’m so sorry”, Jungkook presses out, whimpering painfully.

It only makes Namjoon laugh harder.

“Shut the fuck up”, Hoseok hisses, pushing Namjoon roughly “fuck, you’re giving me a headache.”

They pass by you. Namjoon rips himself free of Hoseok’s grasp, jumping at you instantly. Not that he can actually reach you, Seokjin catches him by his hair before he can, tugging him back roughly. But Namjoon fights him, he fights him to the point that all the tugging on his hair contorts his face into a grimace of distorted sanity. He is dripping black saliva from his sharp fangs, staring at you with obsidian eyes.

“You lost”, he growls and laughs, “you fucking lost.”

“Tzt”, you scoff, “says the one who is currently rendered useless. Look around you Namjoon, you are the one who lost.”

“Hah!” Namjoon exclaims loudly and laughs.

The sound of it twists your stomach in disgusted fear.

“Shut up”, Seokjin hisses, finally managing to tug him away, “walk. Asshole.”

“I may be useless right now!” Namjoon screams, “but you are the one who lost everything! I fucking won!”

“He’s crazy”, you murmur, turning to Jungkook, “what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“___ he-”, Jungkook whimpers, “cursed wood.”

“What?”

“He keeps healing and, and not healing. And- oh god.”

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung and Emma stumble into the estate and in their middle Yoongi is fighting and writhing in their arms. His skin is grey and in his mouth a cloth is stuck so he wouldn’t bite his own teeth out.

“Yoongi?” you gasp, running to his side, “holy fuck, what happened?”

“___, he had cursed wood. Namjoon he, he knew that we were coming. He, he had cursed wood grinded up and hit Yoongi with it. And, and he i-inhaled it an-and it’s, it’s- oh god”, Jungkook can’t finish his sentence as sobs rip through him.

“What?”

“Argh!” Yoongi screams up and fights himself free from Taehyung’ and Emma’s grasps. He falls to the ground, convulsing painfully. The cloth falls out of his mouth.

Yoongi screams. He screams like you have never heard a man scream before. Black blood gushes from his mouth and nose, muffling his screams all while he is choking on them.

“Yoongi?” you press out, “holy fuck, what is happening? Yoongi?”

The blood is streaming out of his eyes as well, turning his vision dark. His screams become muffled by the blood, his fingers reach for you.

“Oh god, it’s okay. Hey, it’s okay. I’m here”, you promise him and hold his hand.

Yoongi shatters it. He didn’t want it to happen, but he is in too much pain to have control. It hurts like you have never ached before and yet you can’t let go. You squeeze him right back, crying under the pain and the worry.

“Make it stop”, he begs and coughs for air, “it hurts, please”, he begs, convulsing again and again and again until the convulsing stops.

His hands stops squeezing you, his body stops twitching.

“Yoongi?”

You touch his face.

“Yoongi? Hey, Yoongi?”

You shake him.

“Yoongi?”

You shake him again.

“My love?”

The panic twists your stomach.

“Yoongi, wake up please. Please wake up.”

His hand slips out of your grasp.

“Yoongi! Please wake up! Yoongi! Please! Why aren’t you waking up?! Yoongi!”