#do not have the energy to pick a fight on that post so i’m just venting here

[trombonechurchill]

Saw this post by @rimatsu and had to write a lil bucktommy ficlet about it (hope you don't mind!) cause I love them. Yes I'm currently in a work meeting while doing this don't ask.

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With Tommy, it’s always a little harder to get the problem out of him at first. He likes to skirt around the edges of the problem, checking the temperature of the water with little bits of small talk and jabs about how his family’s doing if Eddie tries to press in too quickly. It’s shockingly similar to how he fights too, so really Eddie shouldn’t be surprised.

Still, he feels like Tommy’s just sent him to the mat when he finally does lay what’s bothering him out, three beers in and a Dodgers game on the TV. 

“I think I want to marry him.”

Slowly, Eddie picks up a coaster and sets his beer on the coffee table. Tommy stares resolutely at the TV like he’s staring down a firing line.

“Okay,” Eddie says slowly, watching as Tommy slow curls forward, elbows on his knees, hands wrapped around the back of his head as he tugs at his own hair. “And you guys have been back together how long exactly?”

“Two months,” Tommy says glumly from where he’s trying to escape into his own shoes. 

“Right.” Eddie picks up his beer again and makes himself comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.

Buck was always more direct about a problem. He liked to latch onto things with the energy of a dog chasing a car, and tended to react with the same level of confusion any time he actually managed an answer on his own. Like the conclusion wasn’t real until he’d said it out loud a few times to someone to check how it felt.

 Eddie should probably know better than to not expect Buck to surprise him though.

“I bought a ring,” Buck says direly, sliding the box across the island with the same gravity as if he were handing Eddie a loaded gun.

“But Buck, we’ve just met,” Eddie says flatly. 

Buck throws a dishtowel at his head.

“I’m serious, Eddie, this- This is serious.” Buck motions again to the ring box on the counter, just in case Eddie missed it the first time he guesses.

“So the whole ‘we’re taking things slow this time’ thing…” Eddie starts. Buck throws his hands in the air.

“I know! I know I just.” Buck ducks his head and that smile, Buck’s ’Tommy Smile’. Well. Eddie can put up with a lot of stupid conversations  when he knows it ends with Buck or Tommy smiling like that.

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

ONYX STORM ⚡️⚡️⚡️

My thoughts below the cut! Spoilers galore. This is all from my first read through, so we’ll see what changes by the time I finish my second read. I’m still pretty jumbled up about the book (I am physically incapable of opening up goodreads and giving it a rating) and, frankly, I think my notes are going to reflect this! Also, this is thoughts for the WHOLE BOOK, so please don’t open the full post if you’re not done with the WHOLE BOOK.

I’m pasting my notes directly from the doc I took them on while reading , and adding extra post-read commentary when I feel the urge! Also this is your warning that I swear quite a bit in these! For they are candid.

ch1-10:

- i will say i thought the ch 2 epigraph was an inntinnsic clue but now im not so sure bc it’s not that rare it’s just that they kill everyone who has it ??? (commentary from future helena: this is about lilith…right?)

- tell me something, violence. why is it always you? 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

- what IS a soul. how can you take a soul apart piecemeal. why do you think he gave up part of his soul. who told you that. (CFFH: i stand by this. none of this makes any sense to me.)

- hmmmm no red post fingering! curious…very curious (CFFH: i still don’t know about this one dawg)

- the kiss beneath her ear after he helps her get dressed somebody sedate me

- god DOES garrick like imogen because mans does NOT act like it poor im (CFFH: I seriously cannot stop wondering when the hell Rebecca decided to make immrick canon because i LIKE the ship, but on my fw and if re reads it does not read like Garrick likes her, and I would say that holds true till the very end of the damn book)

- VIOLETTTTTTTT I LOVE HER she’s so fucking back (CFFH: violets characterization was my favorite thing about this book. i was really scared about xaden leaving because frankly rebecca writes violet best with him, but she held her own so much better than she has in the other two books. i always love her, but she was incredible here.)

- the bits about vi being a good duchess i Knew that was him saying he wanted to marry her (CFFH: this is an example of what i like to call RY’s “gotcha ass foreshadowing”)

- also i have always characterized fen in my head as loving the movement more than xaden i know what’s up

- i’m soooo excited about him being the duke this is so embarassing im pumping my fists

- did NOT see the samara field trip coming what the fuck

- EVEN HUNDREDS OF MILES AWAY HES STILL TSKING CARE OF EMD EKDNRNRNRN (CFFH: yeah.)

- hey guys what the fuck was that dream? did RY see the cat/violet shippers and get ideas

- WHAT THE FUCK. i saw NONE of this coming

- GARRICKS A WIND WIELDER ???? (CFFH: obviously did not age super well…however garrick was acting so sus here and his dialogue felt so off that i genuinely thought he was the traitor for a fat minute)

11-20

- WHETS RNRJRNRNRNRNRNRJEKEKKRRN

- IS THIS THE MARKED ONES SECOND SIGNET TNEORY (CFFH: can you tell i was a big fan of the marked ones second signet theory. also what’s xadens third signet then? also i feel like if EVERYONE has 2 vi will have 3! i have a theory explaining it below somewhere)

- WLSO DID XADEN FHCKINF KNOW (CFFH: they actually handled this really well i was so nervous they’d have the fight again)

- dude im like short circuiting sick to my stomach HES SOOOOOOO BOYFRIEND ? (CFFH: what on EARTH was this about?)

- well the fuck aware!!!!!!!!!

- i can’t breathe

- i need my inhaler

- LIAM WIELDINF ICE (CFFH: again, can you tell i was a big fan of the marked ones second signet theory? fun fact, i actually wanted to write it into ITHOIA but then i realized a. how much work it would be to concoct that many signets and b. i’d have to give xaden THREE, and decided to pick my battles. however i did brainstorm what signets had xaden energy for giving him a third one and immmmmm immmm having ideasssssss)

- YOURS X

- why do i agree with JFBs venin logic man

- god halden is her traumatic ex relationship goddddd (CFFH: i edited out most of my complaining, but i was super against the halden idea (per my predictions). this might get me cancelled, but it did feel fan service-y? to me? which is fine! fans deserve to be serviced! there are moments of this book in which i am the fan being serviced! but when it become clear RY was going in the halden direction, i was super stressed about how she’d handle it, and im thrilled she made him toxic. THRILLED.)

- SECOND KROVLAN UPRISING

- knowing miss yarros and her gotcha ass foreshadowing ridoc is going on that quest lmdao

- PRFOEOEKEENDJEJEN PROFESSOR RIORSON PROFESSOR RIOROSN (CFFH: not only do i stand by this, but i actually wanted to write teacher roleplay for kinktober and i didn’t bc i didn’t think the fandom would take a liking to it, but CLEARLY rebecca didn’t have those concerns)

- i am going to commit crimes against humanity your relationship did not just END SJEJEJEJENR R (CFFH: i’ve noticed miss yarros has begun to really lean on chapter cliffhangers, and frankly, it pisses me off. i understand she needs to get her bag with kindle unlimited and all, but it makes for a stressful reading experience imo. however, this one got me. this one got me SO bad i had to take a walk to calm down. i have been looking forward to professor riorson for MONTHS and i was convinced it was crashing and burning before my eyes. maybe this is why i shouldn’t read past 1 am. i know rebecca has given interviews and has said she needs there to be constant tension in their relationship or else there’s no story, and while i know what she means, THIS tension felt so manufactured to me. i also think she could pull off a war story with them just like …together. i believe in her. the story needs tension, but it doesn’t need to be between them like this, imho.)

- we live by the codex/i live by you 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫I AM YOURS AND YOU ARE MINE AND THERE’S NO LAW OR RULE IN THIS WORLD OR THE NEXT THAT CAN CHANGE THAT

- you know what we might get shadow sex in this book. we might. (CFFH: we do! and i think we can get more with asim!xaden)

- fun fact about me it took till my THIRD RE READ to see that xaden controls the shadows with his hands.

- there’s been like 3 indirect marriage references if my fucking empire of storms prediction was correct im going to scream (CFFH: so i actually didn’t get to scream because i was too busy MOURNING the lack of a RIORGAIL WEDDING.)

- PAPA SORRENGAIL HAS NAME AND ITS ASHER ?????

- ridocs blow job joke was funny i cackled

- papa sorrengail (im going to deadname him) i do love you man

- SHADOW HANDCUFFS OH MY GOS i had a seizure in my reading hammock

- he is my choice. that got me. that felt good.

- DRAAAAAAAAKE (CFFH: i may say this later, but alli (no tag bc she’s not done reading yet) made drake so sexy to me (and amy! also no tag) and i was kind of disappointed lmfao)

- vi rlly out here playing cousins or dating

21-30

- i loooooove him calling her love all the time

- it’s so crazy to me that he’s relaxed without magic but im glad! since i do think this is his ending over all

- helena bets time: the deal the krovlan rebels didn’t uphold was smth to do with the irids or the feather tails

- “xaden riorson is a lot of things, but happy usually isn’t one of them” hey man what the fuck

- this feels like a fever dream this is the dragon show christmas episode that isn’t relevant to the plot what do you mean they’re bonding over horses

- hey guys is this…capitalism?

- i can’t get over the isle kingdoms being kerch (CFFH: if you haven’t read six of crows this won’t make any sense, but if you have….)

- ARETIA IS THE SECOND MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I MVE EVER SEEN AND MY HOME IS THE FIRST (CFFH: he was ON ONE in this)

- maybe im toxic but he’s being so nice im so anxious about something going wrong 💀 like he stays in the isles or something jesus

- “even if we did, we can’t be in two places at once” + xaden acting weird ….. (CFFH: i want to say third signet but i don’t know)

- what the FUCK is going on with him like it’s really hot but it’s freaking me out

- IM GIVING DIPLOMACY A TRY NOT SURE ITS FOR ME THOUGH (CFFH: dare i say lilith parallel)

- HE WOULD HAVE IF HE’D MET HIM. knocked me on my ass.

- i have an idea i just dont like being wrong baby violet i need to give you a forehead kiss

- why is violets dad the grandpa from the inheritance games

- im going to bed fr fr now but my last minute prediction is that he marries vi to make her an aristocrat (this is wishful thinking) (also we don’t HAVE to rescue halden) (like it’s fine if we don’t)

- MY CONSORTTTTTTTT

- WHEN WOULD BE. can he propose for real. please. (CFFH: this is hurting my feelings)

- bro his LINES IN THIS ???? who do you swear fealty to/VIOLET

- he’s acting less sus…i did NOT like that epigraph abt “returning to his true nature” (CFFH: maybe im on something but idk if this was meant to reflecrt him draining the alloy or whatever it was orrrr if it was abt vi channeling somehow!)

- im almost worried he’s trying to marry her before he kills himself or something but he keeps telling her how selfish he is so maybe not (CFFH: close!)

- her EDS is also a lot better done this time around (CFFH: from a layman’s point of view, obviously, but her injuries were much more graphic, and her other symptoms were actually on page. i really appreciated this)

- oh my godddd sloane and dain.

- i feel like the bond fuckery is vi’s second signet ???? i ALSO feel like it’s sexy

- DAXTON

- PAPA SORRENGAIL HAS A MAIDEN NAME

- also bodhi TOTALLY has a second signet that little LIAR i wonder if he’s an inntinnsic too or smth.

- god imagine bodhi has resurrection

- im trying to be normal but i feel like its insane we’re just now learning where violets family is from idk!!!

- why is dain sweet in this idk also this happened earlier but vi’s dad teaching him languages FOR violet makes me want to cry

- im so fucking proud of violet holy crap

- is violet ??? unnbrian????

31-40

- FOREHEAD TAT LIKE THEOPHANIE!!!!

- violet absolutely can wield there im calling it rn shawty is MAGICAL (CFFH: i guess maybe it’s her touched by dunne ??? thing ??? and she’s somehow ??? half god ????)

- god xaden and dain love her so much

- why does rebecca never let me see xaden do her wraps for her i want to seeeeee

- they’re all in couple pairs so obviously dain and garrick are fucking next (CFFH: this was a joke but tbh…i could be convinced idk)

- god so timing wise DID papa sorrengail meet xaden’s mom !/!:!3&3’ejd (CFFH: i don’t think so ??? but maybe ???)

- not sure my thoughts on the name talia (CFFH: this is bc i picture my bestie Thalia Grace)

- the mommy issues are churning my stomach

- i loooooove aaric holy

- dude i totally thought ridoc was dead

- babe! this isn’t you!

- oh my god ?????? i was NOT expecting violet to give them the old kazzledazzle (CFFH: this is another six of crows reference in which Kaz uses someone’s child as leverage by implying that he’ll kill them, basically, except Kaz is on page morally gray. in THIS book violet is, but i don’t think she had been before now)

- this is genuinely honest to god NOT how i thought their relationship would go and it’s freaking me out

41-50

- you’re my soul JESUS what is he ON

- god poor andarna

- I KNEW HE WAS AN ARIES AND NOT A PICSES I KNEWWWW ITTTT

- she wrote him a letter 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

- i will say i’ve been wondering if the venin effects xaden experiences are more of a ptsd metaphor than anything

- is cuir trans bc i totes thought she was a woman

- ….it would be a shame to kill my last living relative….

- god the adaptations to the running landing mean so much to me im so proud of her

- violet baby i love you to pieces

- you do some of your best work on that throne 😭😭😭😭 (CFFH: the amount of callbacks in this book was very intriguing to me)

- WERE HOME VI ACT LIKE IT

- i was actually rlly against xaden telling anyone he was venin but it’s all gone surprisingly well

- if lindell and lewellen are xaden and liam’s gay foster dads….dont call don’t text

- shadow handcuffs………………..

- im a fan!

- god i did NOT expect that to be the route they took? with the sex ? (CFFH: i thought they were gonna handcuff XADEN. )

- she is absolutely having xaddys dreams but idk what the FUCK the cat one was

- IS XADENS THIRD SIGNET PROPHETIC DREAMS. (CFFH: im leaning towards venin mindfuckery but who knows)

51-end

- i am actually really enjoying tairn and adarna this read although id like a dragon punnet square

- violet is so venin. xaden IS power she says while she says SHE IS power mmmmm rebecca i know your secrets (CFFH: see yall after book 4 idk)

- hi who the fuck was the high priestess and why does it matter im so confused i can see the puzzle pieces and i am flipping the table

- also crack pot theory entered my head. if xaddy gets 3 signets then vi has to get 3 signets. tairn never says naolin he always says “the one who came before” what if…hear me out…somehow it was papa sorrengail???? and not naolin ??? at least not naolin the whole time so then she’s getting a third signet from tairn

- why the fuck did vi not listen to aaric in the first place mans clearly knows what he’s talking about (CFFH: #drama)

- okay is violet a demigod. is that what’s going on

- IS HER HAIR NOT ACTUALLY SILVER (CFFH: i feel like it has to be ????)

- okay wait im thinking about the dedication thing they said earlier -> lilith is sick -> they think fetus vi is going to die -> they ??? dedicate ??? her ??? to dunne ??? (CFFH: i still don’t know actually except she’s two and not a fetus? and it was just papa sorrengail. also i think they rode tairn there LMAO but maybe im insane)

- i cant get over garrick being a distance wielder i need to check on the immrick girlies (CFFH: immrick girlies i hope you’re well!!)

- god how are the irids involved in rsc ???

- i exist for tairn, but i live for xaden okay girl okayyyy

- god does she get to keep being an inntinnsic now ?????

- THRILLED about her sleeping in xadens clothes

- were past the break up stage he’s sooooo real i love him

- core. memory. (CFFH: this is the biggest sin rebecca’s committed anachronism wise my god)

- god DID they get secret married ????

- god when they said bring your brother and i thought she meant liam was being resurrected i actually started to enter cardiac arrest (CFFH: am i the only one 😔)

- is bodhi actually his secret brother and garrick knows and we don’t because what the fuck (CFFH: i guess it could just be vibes?)

- my heart is not in my chest cavity after the liam business

- COLONEL DAXTONS GUIDE TO EXCELLING IN THE SCRIBE QUADRANT!!!!!

- i knew that was how it was going to go purely from alli’s take the second they said they had mira i was like reciting the sitq ending (CFFH: obviously i was slightly wrong but still! this is controversial but the fact that she let everyone were close to (mira/ridoc) live and only killed off tertiary characters kind of undercut the experience for me idk!)

- oh my god dain and sloane 🥹

- come back to me/only ever you

- DUKE OF ANGST

- is garrick’s distance wielding how they dealt with the fuck ass trips to aretia that didn’t work with the timeline bc that’s brilliant actually god damnit

- the bullshit about being everywhere at once means something i can feel it

- RHIANNON?????

- cannot believe that line is feirge

- hi so fun fact i don’t think jm meant to read for this many hours straight i feel like im locked in a trance

- THE ONLY PERSON I TRULY LOVE ???? ABOUT QUINN??? IMOGEN ???

- what on earth is imogen’s second signet bc i don’t think that’s how fire wielding works ????

- i cannot believe the marked ones all have second signets what the ever loving fuck

- i feel like quinn’s death was just not that impactful however imogen saying her mom and sister will know who she is made me tear up jesus

This is where I stopped taking notes!! I’m SO confused about the ending. To be quite honest, I think I’ll reblog this with my thoughts on the ending after I’ve re read it, because I’m LOST. What did Xaden show Sgaeyl ???? Who turned venin with him, because I thought Bodhi but maybe Garrick but maybe both??? how DARE rebecca now show me the riorgail wedding ?/??2?3?3$33&:! WHO does he have a DEAL with???

misc thought that didn’t make it up there:

- i LOVE how she handled Sawyer’s amputation and rehab.

[therealtomboyfangirl]

The Security breach y/n’s

Sooooo I guess I should start doing head canon stuff I’m ganna start by starting my fnaf security breach story here. It’s a y/n story where hear y/n is different deal with it heh. So this post will be intro ducitng that I guess. They all do join at different time stamps of the pizza plex so note the when the pizza plex opens, before Bonnie’s decommission and after Bonnie decommission as time stamps of how long they have worked there. Also Represention HEH

Sun/moon’s y/n

Janitor (because sun and moon keep destroying janitor bots)

Punk morals

Has lots of tattoos and piercing and looks a bit out of place when they start working their

Gender fluid

Poly/pansexual/ demisexual

Does not understand kids and just treats them like tiny adults not really fully comfortable around them at the start but does warm up to them

always wears a bandana at work

Once their there for a good bit good-luck getting them to be fired they know to much

Their in a Toxic relationship when they start at the pizza plex

Newer staff, arrived after Bonnie decommission

Runs off of energy drinks

Monty’s y/n

Bisexual

Fem

Is strong enough to ligit throw Monty over her shoulder

Mommy issues

Has a strong will

Afraid of dark cramped spaces

Is very gentle with kids but doesn’t put up with shit from anyone

Has a fun little game of stepping on Monty’s tail at least once a day

Been around before Bonnie was decommissioned

Freddy’s y/ns

There are multiple (3 total)

Their all poly and pan or bi

1 fem (y/n #1)and 2 nonbinary (y/n #2&#3)

Freddy has so many due to him being the main star attraction

Y/n #1 is Freddy’s og handler

the leader of Freddy’s handlers.

Headstrong and protective

A situationship that has never been official with Freddy since the first week of the plex being open

Very much mommy vibes

Has a kid

Y/n #2 was Bonnie’s og handler but got transferred to Freddy after Bonnie’s decommission (more info go to Bonnie’s y/n below)

Y/n #3 was Monty’s og handler

They were transferred over to Freddy after being physically hurt by Monty

Monty didn’t know how to handle his temper back then and always took it out on y/n which was the start of Freddy’s dislike for Monty (it does get repaired later on but wayyyy later on)

They have nightmares form that time but are always comforted by the other handlers and Freddy

Chica’s y/n

Bisexual

Ftm trans

He is very tall and strong and quite

He had an intimidating aura about him

Always wears the same leather jacket

Has had issues in the past (won’t put here so they can be surprises)

Amazing lesbian moms

Will punt a bitch

Can’t pick up on flirting

Hispanic and calls Chica chica as a term of endearment

Has a pet bird named Carino

Childhood friend with DJ’s y/n who got him this job

Post Bonnie decommission

Works out for fun

Runs off of energy drinks

Rides a motorcycle

Punk mindset

DJ music man’s y/n

Asexual

Nonbinary

Helped build the pizza plex

The head sound and electrical engineer

Has 3 master degrees all in engineering

The oldest out of all the y/n’s

Runs off of energy drinks

Has access to all the pizza plex servers and software and even helped write a lot of it

Is often in the dj’s area due to the custom speakers he has

Has a prosthetic leg

Orphan

Roxy’s y/n

Lesbian

Mtf trans

She is a get shit done type of person

She sasses back to Roxy which starts their friendship

Uses a cane as a mobility aid

Wears a lot of pink and red

Is one of the few people that can do Roxy’s hair

Post Bonnie decommission

Orphan

Runs an online blog exposing big corporations and politics stuff

Foxy’s y/n

Genderfluid

Pansexual

Used to work as a bouncer before the plex

Has a generally bubbling and kind personality

Has close to same physical strength at Monty’s y/n

They and Monty’s y/n often pull Monty and foxy away form fights

They are the only handler foxy has ever had

Post Bonnie decommission

Is a hugger

Plus sized

Is the easiest to get to cry

Bonnie’s y/n

Nonbinary

Bisexual

Is currently Freddy’s second handler Bonnie’s og handler

Was always nice to Bonnie and they had a situationship

Before Bonnie was decommission Bonnie pushed them away which they were suspicious of

They say Bonnie was decommissioned Bonnie trapped them in a closet

#sucial Bonnie

Bonus character : little Timmy

A little shit

Karen mom

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

like, refusing to put your grudges on hold in order to defeat actual satan is itself an act of pride, i think

[theshadowrealmitself]

Current thoughts: Scarecrow henchman who is super into scaring people and analyzing them and chemical stuff way more than Scarecrow himself and spends so many missions abandoning whatever they were supposed to be actually doing to go harass other henchmen

Anyways they have a huge crush on Henchman 11 (riddler henchman oc) and always say stuff like “only I’m allowed to traumatize them” and thinks of their relationship as enemies with unresolved romantic/sexual tension who’d do anything to “take the other person out” in both senses, but because of their crush they’re actually super sweet to Henchman 11 and at most they just tease H11 about their fear of needles, absolutely no one thinks of those two as enemies

Henchman 11 is someone in their early 20’s who can’t fight for shit and has no where near the level of intelligence that the Riddler has (they’re a lil bit smart but they’re definitely not a genius, more average with great pattern recognition and great at bullshitting), they’ve only survived as a henchman so far because hardly anyone notices they’re there, their main job is usually breaking into abandoned warehouses beforehand to make sure there’s tv’s and computers set up so that the Riddler can taunt Batman through them

Their job wouldn’t be so tough at all if it wasn’t for that really terrifying Scarecrow henchman who seems like they want to help? But then says stuff like “I wanna hear you scream” while taunting them with needles. it just makes their job harder.

[yelenasbraid]

good enough — joe burrow

summary — ‘we’re not good enough’ is starting to sound and feel like ‘i’m not good enough’ for joe

warnings — fem!reader, whole lotta angst, mentions of panic/not feeling great, takes place after the game against the eagles, lots of italics so sorry, maybe some ooc joe?? halfway proofread so don’t come for me.

note — i listened to the song j’s lullaby (darlin’ i’d wait for you) by delaney bailey and whewww it fueled the angst

ANOTHER FUMBLE RECOVERY. another turnover. another at-home loss. he couldn’t fight this game anymore, he couldn’t fight the refs, he couldn’t deny the very blatant fact that they weren’t good enough.

so he sat, watching jake perform the last moments of the game. he watched as they lost, the score 37-17. he knew the stakes coming into the game. the eagles were a prominent team, a good opponent. he was expecting a good game out of it, not a blowout.

the post-game press conference was going to be a nightmare.

what kept him sane as he walked in the tunnel wasn’t a thing or an event, it was a person. you. he knew you watched the entire thing, he knew you’d be upset, as was he. he also knew that if one person said the wrong thing he’d snap.

he just needed to see you. just for one second.

he walked into the tunnel, his head hanging as cameras flashed. he clenched his fists; they wanted a picture of this?

“joe,” he picked up his to the sound of your voice, and if he didn’t know better, he would have collapsed right then and there. he walked up to you, putting the rest of the energy he had into his getting to you. he gently wrapped his arms around you, inhaling your perfume, reveling in your warmth.

you pulled apart from him like gum from the concrete; he didn’t want to let you go. he didn’t want to go to the press conference and face the failures, his failures.

“don’t you dare go there,” you gently warned, your voice like a cool stream over a sore wound. your hands held his clenched fists, which eventually opened to envelop yours. you were right, but it was too late; he was already there.

“i’ll see you at home,” he swallowed. his eyes twitched, the glass beneath them shattering as he made eye contact with you. he took a breath; he was not going to lose it.

“i love you,” you reminded him, letting go of his hands.

“i love you,” he hummed, mustering up some energy to offer you a smile. to you, it just looked like a more relaxed expression. he trailed off, being whisked away by staffers. he gave you one last look before he disappeared to the locker rooms.

—

his drive home was silent. his hands wrung the steering wheel as the conference played over in his mind.

“we’re not good enough, we’re not good enough. we gotta get better,”

“we gotta take responsibility for how we’re playing individually,”

“i don’t think anybody was good enough today,”

the underlying message that the reporters didn’t catch, thankfully, was that he wasn’t good enough. he should have been better. it was all his fault.

you’d catch it though. he knew you saw through him the moment you saw him. he loved it about you, that he didn’t have to say anything for you to get him. it wasn’t always the case, but it was this time.

he pulled into the driveway, throwing the car into park and sitting there for a moment. he stared at the wall of the garage, losing himself in the defeat and disappointment of the night. he blinked, throwing himself out of whatever funk he was in, and shut the car off. his body ached, his head was heavy, and all he wanted to do was sleep. it was only 6 pm; going to bed now wouldn’t hurt right?

he grabbed his bag and walked up into the house. he opened the door to the smell of vanilla and woodsmoke, his eyes directed to a candle that was lit in the kitchen. he didn’t see you in the living room or the kitchen, and for a second he thought you’d left. he swallowed, nerves bubbling in his gut as he kicked his shoes off by the door.

“babe?” he called, his voice hoarse and scratchy. his expression relaxed as he heard you pad down the stairs, seeing you in sweats and a t-shirt.

“hey,” you smiled, coming off the stairs. you crossed your arms over your chest, watching as joe stood there. he didn’t know what to do, clearly this game proved that. he just wasn’t good enough. the voices from past recruiters filled his mind as he zoned out again, whispering sweet lies to him about his performance.

he’d never be good enough.

there’s always someone better.

he wasn’t even good enough for you.

his breath hitched as he focused on you, the world around him coming back into focus.

“what?” he cleared his throat, seeing the confused expression on your face.

“i asked if you were hungry,” you repeated. seeing him this dazed worried you, especially given the circumstances.

“don’t really have an appetite,” he responded, moving past you and towards the stairs. his emotions were a sour cocktail, and he was tired of it being the only thing settling in his stomach. he wanted you told hold him, to comfort him, but he also needed to figure out what exactly happened out there. his brain was leaning towards finding a solution, even if there was no use in the state he was in.

“i figured,” you hummed, letting him stroll past you up the stairs, “i’ll be here when you’re ready,” you added. you’d wait for him, all day every day. you’d let him go through his process, do his routine, and he’d come back to you. he always did.

joe paused on the stairs, something stopping him. he didn’t know what it was, maybe it was your voice in his head breaking through the noise, telling him to not shut you out. maybe it was your divine-like patience. you always made time for his moods and his failures. did he make time for you? amidst his struggles, did he ever take a second to make time for your moods and your struggles? was he being a good boyfriend?

“baby?”

“why are you still here?” he asked you, his tone sharp, despite him meaning to sound that way.

“what?” his tone caught you off guard, making you rapidly blink to help you process.

“you should leave,” he continued, “you…” he was panicking. why was he pushing you away? he needed you.

“what are you talking about?” your fear struck you, but you still fought yourself. he couldn’t mean what you thought he meant, right? you swallowed, watching as he battled himself. watching as his eyes avoided yours, as his fists unclenched and then clenched again. he was shaking too.

“you’re always here for me, when have i ever been there for you?” he asked, “i’m not a good boyfriend, i’m not a good quarterback,”

“joe, stop,” your voice stopped him, a stern expression reminding him much of his mother. while you were serious, there was undoubtedly a kind warmth behind your eyes. he panted, his eyes filling with hot tears.

as silence sat between you, joe’s breathing lessened. he walked back down the stairs, dropping his bag at the foot of them. he stood there, deflated, as you approached him. you took his face in your hands, feeling warm tears hit your fingers. your thumbs whisked them away, trying to give joe some semblance of comfort during a time where there wasn’t much of it.

joe wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. he pulled you in close, the weight on his chest lessening as he let you pull him in. he let your warmth take him over, spreading like a wildfire over his bones. he felt your fingers through his hair, your hands running down his back. you were the personification of comfort and safety, and he was trying so hard to drink it all in.

“you are not a bad boyfriend,” you hummed, and in response he squeezed you tighter, “you’re not a bad quarterback,” you added, running your hands down his back. he pulled away from you as tears fell from his eyes. he wiped them away with the palm of his hand.

“how?”

“do you remember that time i was followed by some guy? i called you, and without any hesitation you answered and came to help me,”

“that’s just what a boyfriend is supposed to do,”

“hold on, i’ve got more,” you patted his chest, “the time when my mom had a cancer scare. you left practice early every day to make sure not only that i was ok, but if i needed anything. the time i got promoted at work and you surprised me with my friends over for dinner. the time i was spiraling so badly after a bad encounter with someone at work you picked me up, made me a delicious dinner, and made sure i felt appreciated and loved,” you listed them off, and there were many more. you guys weren’t perfect, by any means, but he was enough. he’d always be enough.

“you’re a good quarterback. if you don’t want to look at the numbers, look at your heart. you have such a passion for these young guys, for the vets. you lead them well and confidently, you make sure they know they’re appreciated and give them their first game ball if necessary, like you did with andrei. but because none of us are perfect, we make mistakes, but it makes us better. it doesn’t define you as a person,” you continued. you watched the gears turn, and while it would take some time for joe to see that himself, he knew you were right. he knew what you were talking about, he saw what you saw, and it calmed the frayed nerves in his body.

“i don’t deserve you,” he whispered, “i really don’t,”

“you deserve the world, joe burrow,” you countered, giving him a soft smile. he gave you one back, sniffling.

“i’m sorry for telling you to leave, i just…i don’t know,”

“i know, just don’t push me away. i’m not here to make things worse for you, i hope you know that,” you allowed a laugh at your last words, making joe chuckle too.

“i know that,” he agreed.

“don’t push me away,” you repeat, resting your hand on his chest, it movie with the rise and fall of his chest.

“i won’t,”

“good,” you smiled, “now, i say it’s time for a comfort show,” you grinned, which made his face light up. the both of you walked over to the couch, sitting down on the plush white cushions. you settled a blanket across your lap, while joe grabbed a blanket of his own, laying his head in your lap.

“spongebob?” he turned his head up to look at you, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“sure thing, squidward,” you teased, kissing him on the nose. you turned it on, then nestling into your spot on the couch. you ran your fingers through joe’s hair, occasionally catching his neck before going back into his hair. joe melted into you, cuddling into your warmth and your safety. he watched the episode, giggling at a couple parts, but the most important thing is that he was with you. that you were the glue that held him together. the feeling of your hands in his hair sent prickles down his spine, and in a good and comforting way. every prickle sent warmth across his body, relaxing his taut muscles.

you bent down and kissed his temple.

“i love you, joe burrow,” you hummed.

“i love you more, y/n l/n,” he hummed back. it wasn’t too long before sleep bid him closer, and took over his body. he slumped into you, his soft breaths telling you he fell asleep. you kissed him again, smiling against his warm skin. he was safe and he was loved, and that’s all that mattered.

joey looked so sad after the game 🥺 hopefully this makes a bit better. ALSO! i do have a couple more fics lined up that might be released this week so STAY TUNED!! i just wanted to write an angsty fic ngl

tags: @wickedfun9 @joeyfranchise

[yapileon]

@TacklersCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 3

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader pt. 1 — pt. 2 2670w, it's kinda angsty, be warned<3 r gets nicknamed: "Diablilla" aka little devil in spanish as an endearment term "Skrulla" aka goofball/silly in norwegian for a mischievous child

17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femení fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?

You lean your head back against the metal locker, a smug smirk tugging at your lips. Your eyes meet Pina's and you can't help but choke back a snort. 

You had called the forward in the morning, asking her to come pick you up since you wouldn't be able to walk to training like you had done for the past years. 

"You owe it to me after that whole mess you started about my phone wallpaper yesterday," you huffed. While you weren't actually mad at Pina, you were sure as hell going to milk every favor you could out of her. 

"Sure," she agreed without even needing a reason. This team was a family. If you needed a ride and she could help you out, she would do it, no questions asked. 

“Do you have space in the trunk for…” you trailed off, unsure if you could trust her now. If she said no, then your plan would fail.

“Sí, Diablilla, now tell me the plan,” you could hear her chuckle through the phone like she had read your thoughts. And just like that, you became partners in crime.

The both of you arrived at the training centre giggling like children, clutching at each other's arms from how much you were laughing. You had underestimated how mischievous Pina could be for a good joke. Coming up with an ever better plan than the original, you both go straight to work. 

The locker room is slowly filling, everyone realizing what you had done, most people figuring out Pina was in on it too with the glances you kept exchanging. Hushed whispers were heard around the room, everyone waiting for Mapi to come in. Pina had a phone propped up to capture it all.

You were doom scrolling your fan account, posting some more memes when the door opened again. You knew she had to arrive soon, almost everyone else was here already. 

Silence. 

You looked up to see Mapi walking in, smiling and in a good mood like usual, with Ingrid trailing behind. You bite your jersey to hide a smile you can’t camouflage. 

Mapi stood frozen, looking at her locker. Something was occupying her chair. The cardboard cutout of her doing her lion pose you owned. Fake Mapi was flexing and showing her teeth like an animal ready to fight. She burst out laughing, wheezing and letting herself fall on a chair. 

It was the cue for the whole team to explode. Pina’s voice shot up, barely hearable over the laughing. “Say hi for Instagram, Mapi!” she was moving around so much you were sure the video wouldn’t even be good.

Alexia had been standing on the side of the room, an eyebrow raised, “Of course it’s you two.” she spoke, shaking her head disapprovingly. But even serious Alexia couldn’t hold back a smile. 

“I gotta admit kid, I didn’t think you’d actually bring it,” the centre back wheezed, wiping tears away from her eyes. 

The joyful energy was only made more electric by Ingrid, who leaned into the joke. Ingrid looked alternatively between Mapi sitting on the chair and the cardboard. She posed, mimicking being deep in thoughts. 

"Mmh, which one is my girlfriend?" she had said, grinning. 

“Pina! Get this on the video!” you shouted, gesturing to whatever was about to happen, the woman happily nodded. 

She slid down next to the cardboard, throwing her arm around the fake Mapi "This one!" she exclaimed, sending everyone toppling over.

Mapi gave her a shocked look, still laughing. "Oh I see how it goes, everyone prefers that pale copy now" she feigned annoyance. Ingrid kissed the cheek of the cardboard while Mapi pouted, voice shaky as she added, “what does she have that I don’t?”

“This one doesn’t argue when I’m right.” Ingrid answered, the Norwegian might have become your favourite person in the world right now. The look on the Spaniard’s face was priceless, you could have rolled on the floor.

"El León stole the spotlight!" it was Jana who had chimed in. She was next to Pina and Patri, all three of them waving for you to get closer. You jumped to their side, hovering over Jana’s shoulder to look at the phone. 

They had posted the video seconds ago on the main Barcelona account and it was already shaking up the internet. As the team calmed down and finished getting ready, thousands of comments popped up, requesting more videos. So the four of you obliged. 

You posed Mapi and the cutout next to each other taking a picture and doing a poll in the story, which read “Which is the better Mapi?” You knew social media, you knew how to bring in numbers. 

Jana and Patri took the fake Mapi to the field while Pina and you ran to get some footballs. Both of you laughed when the cardboard had deflected a shot, still careful to keep it intact as you wanted to bring it back home safely. You all screamed “AND SHE DOES IT AGAIN, SAVING THE DAY!” zooming on it and then on Mapi, who watched with the biggest smile on her face. Mapi grabbed the phone to take selfies with the cutout. Everything was posted on the account, this would be the first thing fans ever got to see from you, and you weren’t disappointed. This was a masterpiece of an introduction to the world. 

In this moment, the bond that you had with this team felt invincible. Feeling more alive than you ever had previously. For some minutes, before Pina had arrived to pick you up, you had doubted. Maybe they wouldn’t find it funny, maybe it would make them realize how childish you really were. But even the older, more mature players had laughed at your banter. Pina had treated you like a little sister, Mapi and Ingrid played along. There was a warmth in their teasing that made you feel at home. 

So much so that you didn’t even try to argue with Alexia when she clapped, asking for everyone’s attention. “Everybody calm down, training now, chaos later.” she said firmly. 

When she saw you grinning, she approached, “Yes even you, Diablilla” she joked, ruffling your hair. “Show us what you can do, besides being a trickster.”

So you hopped off, starting to stretch, warming up your muscles. This left you some time to reflect on the whole situation. You inhaled deeply. The first training session that you had had with the team had gone well, but you were aware it was a chill one, to ease you in the team. Pere had warned you today would be “intense”, as he had said exactly. You felt ready for what they were about to throw at you. You could feel yourself getting more focused, though you were still up for a good joke if the opportunity was there. The team was currently doing sprints to activate their body before doing drills and scrimmages. 

Caro groaned after the last set, “Why do we even do this?” She was clutching her sides, trying to find her breath again.

‘So we can outrun the refs when they try to card us.” you mumbled, sprints weren’t your favorite exercise either. 

Except it seemed you did not say this as low as you intended. You looked up to see most of the team staring at you. Most veterans seemed shocked, the younger players not so much. In the corner of your eyes you could see Jana and Salma holding in a chuckle. 

“What?” you remarked, in disbelief, blush creeping onto your cheeks. Alright, it’s true that it wasn’t very smart of you to admit you were prone to getting cards so much you had to learn how to run away from the refs. 

“Dios mío!” Alexia exclaimed, putting her hand on her forehead, “Irene! You’re going to teach Cariño how to behave, sí?” she added with a sigh. 

“Not fair! Why is Caro even complaining,” you were interrupted by Irene trying to drag you away, but you persisted, “like she didn’t run at 32 km/h during the 2023 world cup?” you grumbled. 

Caro raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a proud expression. “You’re a fan now? I thought you only liked defenders.” she replied, voice full of playfulness. 

“I keep myself updated on statistics.” you attempted to say, trailing off knowing the team would, once again, never let you live that down. 

Salma came up next to you, “So you know statistics on everyone here?” she smirked, barking out a laugh when your eyes widened in horror. 

“Sorry! Can’t hear you I’m too far away getting ready for the drills,” you walked off with Irene, miming not being able to hear. 

“This isn’t over Diablilla!” screamed Vicky, “we’ll get all your fangirl secrets out of you later.” 

Oh, Vicky, if only you knew. 

As you made your way next to the other defenders, you let out a breath. Determination taking over your cheeky eyes, you touched the tip of both of your boots with your fingers. The last of your rituals, this meant the game was on. 

You threw yourself in all the tasks the coach had you do. While your inexperience showed on certain drills, your will to do well still pleased the team. In some ways, having spent so many years studying everything about that team helped you on the pitch. You could guess where Alexia would try to do a backward pass, or where Aitana’s ball control might be more problematic to intercept. You tried your best to mirror Mapi, bending your knee lows, trying to push attackers on the side you wanted. An interception you made earned you a wide grin from Mapi while Ingrid had her thumbs up toward the sky to congratulate you. A shy smile creeped on your lips.

You were putting up a solid fight, having done a few successful tackles during a particularly difficult scrimmage. Maybe it’s how you ended up messing up so bad. The confidence rushed through you when you decided to slide tackle Caro. She was doing a solo run, and you were feeling mixed, split between not wanting to lose if she scored an equalizer and wanting praises from your teammates. It was childish, really. Almost shameful. You weren’t here to be praised, you were here to work. But she was running, and you were shoulder to shoulder with her. It felt like the right timing, so you slid. The adrenaline rush was so strong that you didn’t use your brain enough. You knew she was a master at feints, but still for a second you thought you had it. 

You sensed the wet grass brushing against your skin, until the grass was replaced with a training cone you collided with. You froze, your whole body burning, watching in horror as Caro continued her run, chipping the ball over Cata, making her team come up to 2-2. And that was your fault, if you had accessed the situation for longer, you wouldn’t have dived head first into an unnecessary tackle.

Ingrid jogged over to you, “You alright, Skrulla?” reaching her hands to help you stand up. If your ears weren’t ringing so bad from the shame and confusion, you would have asked the Norwegian what it meant. 

You shrugged, wiping the grass from your shorts in embarrassment. 

You knew you didn’t do a good job hiding it when the green eyed woman added, “At least it wasn’t my back this time?” She was smiling brightly at you, so you forced out a laugh, the emotions stuck in your throat. 

You shook your head, going back into position. Any positive feeling from your earlier exploit long gone. You tried to brush it off, but you were so frustrated with yourself and still had half the session to go through. So you pushed yourself more, hoping to erase the bad memory. 

It didn’t work though. By the time training finished, you were exhausted. Letting yourself flop on the ground, you clutched at your chest in pain. Little by little your abilities on the pitch had faded away, each pass connecting less and less, your timing getting worse. Everyone could see it, and some of your teammates gave you questioning looks. You couldn’t deal with the attention on you, so you jumped up and made a beeline for the lockers. 

You showered quicker than you thought possible, but by the time you were done, multiples of your teammates were around you. The buzzing of the room annoyed you more than it ever had previously. 

You look up to see Ingrid and Mapi whispering, throwing glances at you. So, like the child you are, you grabbed your cardboard cutout and fled. Waving off a very confused Pina who thought she’d drive you back home. 

As you walk, you can’t help but feel increasingly stupid. You know you shouldn't be nearly as bothered with that tackle as you currently were. It was so stupid. But it was so badly timed and you were ashamed about it. Sure your teammates were nice to you, and you all laughed together, but with that awful move you had just pulled? There was no way they'd ever trust you on the field. How could they trust you if you couldn't even slide tackle an opponent? Why would Pere give you any minutes if you messed up so bad when there was no pressure on you. 

By the time you reached your dorm, you could feel tears rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wiped them with your sleeve, throwing yourself on your bed.  

That was the down side of your brain. The obsession over football, that one singular process who made you apart from other players but was also your downfall. The way you’d obsess over every single one of your flaws, needing to perfect them all. Needing to have as much information on players. You’d drive yourself crazy and sleep deprived watching footage until the birds would sing outside, signaling you it was early morning. It wasn’t healthy. But it was all you knew.

You had grown up with coaches who had screamed at you that the difference between an amateur and a pro was when they stopped their drills. An amateur does it right once and stops, a pro keeps going until they can’t get it wrong. So you just kept pushing. In some way, you hoped your brain would ease off having finally made the first team. It hadn’t.

You rolled over, looking at the fake Mapi, still deep in thoughts. Your eye caught sight of a black mark on it, making you jump in a hurry. Had you damaged it while walking back home? Or when Pina and you were using it for shooting practice? Frowning, you leaned closer trying to figure out what had happened. 

You gasped when you saw it.

You have the potential to be one of the greatest.

— Mapi 

You let the tip of your fingers brush over the writing. Your idol hadn’t only signed the cardboard without you even asking, she had written this. You felt a tug at your heartstring, and promised yourself to thank her profusely tomorrow. 

For now, the only thing you could do was calm down. You inhaled deeply, feeling the rise of your ribcage, and exhaled softly, trying to release any tensions in your body. Maybe it was fine, maybe nobody would be mad at you, maybe you’d be able to fix it during the next training. 

You needed a distraction, so you pulled out your phone to check the latest post from your fan account.

TacklerCulers

tacklerculers: Did you know? Attackers that trip in front of Mapi León are actually just nervous to be close to her.

barcafan11: @TacklersCulers Are you going to talk about the new signing we saw on the official barça page today?

alex1aa: I’m really disappointed, Barça does not need a clown.

b0nmat12: I hope she’s just a social media person and not a player, otherwise we’re doomed for the Champions League.

Your stomach twisted when you saw the comments. You threw the phone at the wall and buried yourself into the blanket on your bed. The weight of failure still crushing your chest.

pt. 4

[dearreader]

k so i made this poll awhile ago to answer my question on if people would rather spend a date with a swiftie or an anti-swiftie (someone who hates her and devotes their life to hating on her). i mentioned i didn’t have the spoons to handle it being longer than a day and know it was going to be biased as it would start in my circle and would work it’s way out, so i wanted to do a longer poll when i had the energy to handle a week long poll like that. (i’m assuming when i post this, as i’m pre making it, i’ll be in recovery from my nose surgery since i’ll be stuck at home a week so i’ll have more time to monitor and look at the tags)

so nows the time, but i’m going to addendum the question a bit:

*some extra things that came up on the original poll i didn’t elaborate on fully that i want to make clear:

- you don’t get a say in what type of swiftie you get. assume that you’re going to be spending the evening with someone who massively loves her and her music and wants to discuss it. they’ll talk about songs, their favorite lines and meanings, symbolism behind the reputation album, etc.

- YOU MUST TALK ABOUT TAYLOR SWIFT. even if it’s the anti-swiftie you must talk about her. i understand the sentiment people made on her not coming up, and that’s valid, but that’s not the question i’m asking. YOU HAVE TO SPEND THE EVENING WITH SOMEONE WHOS GOING TO TALK ABOUT TAYLOR SWIFT NONSTOP, WILL IT BE THE LOVER OR HATER?

- im just trying to gather a general consensus on this and want to get data from a lot of people which means this is going to end up on people’s blogs who probably hate swifties and are annoyed by them. that’s okay as that’s the point of my question. but if you’re going to go off in the tags about how much you hate her or hate swifties and be an asshole about it im blocking you. you can just simple say “i hate her/i hate swifties” and don’t need to elaborate. you don’t need to sit in the tags going off on how much you hate her and trying to “defend” yourself from swifties. i just want an answer to the question.

- ALSO, this is not an open poll to go harass anyone in general. if you are a swiftie and see an hater in the tags and wanna fight DON’T FUCKING DO IT. just block and go read/watch your favorite media and think of blorbos kissing or whatever, but DO NOT SEND HATE OR HARASS ANYONE.

the hypothesis im trying to prove is that people in general would much rather spend an evening with someone that is going to talk about something they love all night vs someone who will spend the evening talking about something they hate. i want to gather as much data as possible to get a good consensus and if you go and be an asshole to someone because of their tags on this poll, either side of the swiftie to anti-swiftie spectrum, your disproving the point. if you see tags you don’t like just simply block and carry on. understand? k good.

- in general this is not meant to be a very serious or heavy question. it’s meant to just let me pick people’s brains and see what they’d want to do. i just want to get my results and go. just vote, drop your opinion in the tags, and go.

- also, this last part is silly and not at all related to my data, but since i’m forcing you on a dinner date i’ll at least let you pick the restaurant and food you have. so if you could also say what restaurant/food choice you’d want and what you’d want to order i’d love to hear it. sky’s the limit here. go nutz or even very specific on what you’d want to eat. i am trying to learn to cook and don’t know a lot of recipes or different food types, so i’m hoping this will give me a bigger idea of what food is out there to make. (this question is not meant to be a way to stick it to anyone or for you to go “i’ll go to a shitty ass restaurant and take a swiftie/anti-swiftie and make them eat garbage 🤪”, it’s just a fun question to give people something positive to add to the poll if they want. AGAIN IF YOUR GOING TO BE AN ASSHOLE ILL BLOCK YOU.)

- i’m going to be annoying and ask that you reblog for a wider sample size and such, if you don’t want to that’s fine, but i’m going to be polite and ask you nicely.

that should be everything, thank you for reading my long ass list and voting in this poll. i hope you have a good day and such.

[moon1833]

OBSESSED- Yuuta Okkotsu

“I’m sorry, I tried to be patient.”

Inc: Female reader, reader is a jujitsu sorcerer, obsessive Yuuta, mildly yandere Yuuta, reader is lowkey just as insane, smut, 18+ characters, p in v, beach sex, post resurrection sex, biting, mentions of blood

There was something so deeply different about Yuuta Okkotsu. Maybe it was how his very existence changed your entire knowledge of jujitsu sorcery, or how he carried the second most intense cursed energy you've felt in your life, you weren't sure. Maybe it had something to do with his pretty doe eyes.

When you first met Okkotsu when you were seventeen, you would've thought he was too delicate for this world. He was a sweet boy, he didn't look you in the eyes for a month when he first arrived at Jujitsu High. He baked for his classmates, and he makes you come to his dorm if he's unfortunate enough to find a bug of any sort in his room.

As you got to know him, you noticed something else, something heroic. Besides that, there was something almost deviant deep within him.

That was why you believed he would become one of the greatest sorcerers of your time; he was crazy.

It wasn't so obvious at first. Okkotsu wasn't flashy or loud, even if the cursed spirit practically leeching off of him was so powerful it was almost headache inducing.

The first time you knew he was utterly batshit, was about a year after you had met him.

Being a grade one sorcerer meant you went on almost every mission with him, not that you minded in the slightest. In this particular mission, you were coming off of a leg injury, and you probably shouldn't have been cleared as early as you had been.

There was still a small limp in your steps and your mind was a bit foggy. That, along with your minor crush on the boy beside you had completely distracted you from the giant curse breaking through the ground beneath you, catching you in your grasp.

You hardly had time to recognize it, one second you were peacefully admiring Yuuta's side profile, not a trace of cursed energy that didn't belong to you or his around you, and the next there was a thick hand grasping you to it's chest, mumbling a soft "mine, mine, mine" as it dragged you away.

In your defense, this was definitely not the second grade curse you were sent out to exercise. Even at the time, your senses told you so. You hardly had a moment to register a plan to escape the curses hold before its grip loosens, and you're falling to the ground.

The winds knocked from your lungs, but you jump to your feet quickly, ready to fight the curse before it could get to Yuuta. Instead, you're met with the sight of a limp body, chunky purple blood pouring from what looked like its head was.

It was a rat. A giant, furry, ten-foot tall rat.

To the left of it stood Yuuta, panting while facing away from you. From your position, you could see his katana drawn, blood leaking from its blade. You’re confused for a moment, Rika hadn’t been let out at all, so how could he possibly have moved that quickly?

He turns to you, the sickly innocent smile on his face that you know so well not even twitching. Your eyes flickered to his hand, only now taking notice of the fat head he's grasping by the scalp.

Yuuta always smiled at you when he saw you. Not a cheap one, either. Always, and eager, molar showing, bright grin that felt out of place in your world.

This one was a bit different. There was a small darkness lingering in his dimples, almost playfully. Like it was amusing to him that something thought it could just take you like that.

He threw the head to the side, jogging up to you to check if you were okay. His hand flew to your torso, grazing your stomach. Only then did you realized you had been bleeding there, the rat-curse's nails must've dug past your shirt and into your skin when it grabbed you.

Still, his hands on your bare torso made your heartbeat pick up, especially when his touch was so gentle.

He flushed when he realized, and your mind almost felt numb with how fast his emotions had changed in the last two minutes. It almost made you forget about how his cute, fragile persona melted away into something so sinister.

If you were any more sane than Yuuta, you would've been afraid. If you were any more sane, you wouldn't of replayed how his head tilted, how a little blood made it's way onto his face, how his knuckles tightened around the mangled head in his hands. If you were any more sane, you wouldn't have finger-fucked yourself the moment you got back to your dorm.

But, the truth was, there were no sane sorcerers, and you were no exception.

The second time you bore witness to Yuuta loosing complete control was about a full year later.

A lot had changed, but him being your mission partner didn’t. You two were taking on a curse that would usually be left to Gojo, but instead ended up in your hands.

You studied the limited information in front of you, drowning out the crowd of people on the train. Yuuta sat next to you, pretending to read the document over your shoulder while he breathed in your scent.

The case had sent you to the edge of Tokyo, seven people had gone missing under suspicion circumstances from a nearby beach.

You had theorized with Gojo about what it could be, but he was even less help than expected. It didn’t help that it was almost midnight, and you hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours.

Yuuta must’ve sensed your drowsiness, because he took the document from your grasp, a glint of concern on his expression.

“Get some rest, we still have another hour and a half before we get there.” His voice is so clear against your ears it almost jolts you awake. Instead, you nod, letting your head lay against the seat.

When your eyes flutter close, Yuuta feels a new sense of protection overwhelming him. You trusted him enough to put yourself in a position of complete vulnerability. He widens his legs slightly, a small glare looking over the crowd.

The train hits a curve, and your head lolls uncontrollably to the side. Gently, Yuuta places his shoulder under your temple. Gladly, you nuzzle your face into him, finding a comfortable position before drifting off again.

For the next 87 minutes, he did not take his eyes off of you.

-

You yawned stepping away from the tracks, half aware of your grip on Yuuta’s sleeve. He seemed happy leading you out of the station like this, and you were too tired to object.

When the cold air hits you, there’s a slight regret in your choice of clothing. The jacket you had over your long sleeve button down did less than you had anticipated, and even your thickest tights weren’t doing much under your skirt. You were going to be freezing when you got to the water.

The sand made your balance a little wobbly as you walked, the night sky reflecting sharply against the ocean waves.

Even with the coldness racking through you, the lingering cursed energy was stronger. Whatever was here was definitely at least a grade one.

Starting your investigation, you began walking down the coast while trying to keep your skirt from drifting up.

“It’s in the ocean.” You conceded, calling back over your shoulder.

In the dark, you can see Yuuta narrow his eyes in thought. “Let’s check out the dock.”

You nod in agreement, falling into step with him. The dock went about 100 feet past the shore, but it was old and creaky.

With each step, you felt closer and closer to the curse, using your technique to form a throwing knife and letting it rest in your palm.

Suddenly, the energy increases so dramatically it almost knocks the breath out of you, and thunder cracked above your head.

You summon another knife, coming into stance as something emerges from the water. It’s hard to tell in the darkness, and for a moment you thought it was a lump of stretched out skin.

Normally, you’d like more time to assess the situation, especially when you can hardly see what you’re throwing at, but you had figured out already if the curse got you or Yuuta in the water you’d be in trouble.

You weren’t sure, but the lightening above you probably had something to do with the curse, and no bodies had been recovered.

You threw the knife, aiming to take off one of its limbs. You succeeded, the appendage falling off completely in a sickly sound.

You didn’t have time to congratulate yourself, because by the time you had realized you had hit the curse, the arm had grown back.

Behind you, the dock ripped open, a plank of wood hitting you in the back. Another arm had crashed through, a giant hole pushing you and Yuuta. He called out your name, but the blood was rushing to your ears so violently you almost couldn’t hear him.

“I’m okay!” You shouted, but before you could add anything else, something wrapped around your feet and dragged you upside down. Instead of fearing for your life, you were thankful you wore shorts under your skirt.

Now that you were practically face to face with the curse, you realized it was a giant fucking octopus. It had one eye, but it was completely black and didn’t reflect light at all. Its skin was an inky black, and it’s numerous tentacles stretched it’s rot-like scent further towards you.

From behind you, you could hear Yuuta scaling its side, his katana making repeated contact with its flesh.

You thrashed around, throwing more knives while trying to aim for its eye. The curse only seemed mildly aggravated, another tentacle wrapping around your torso and trailing up your throat.

Your head was pulsing, and your arms were pinned to your side. You could only use your technique with your hands, so your only option was to cut off its limb and fall into the electrically charged water, or let it choke you to death.

So, basically, die either way.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Yuuta jump, landing his katana in its iris and using his weight to drag it down.

The curse screamed, and that was the last thing you heard before your body slammed into the water.

You were right, the water was fucking cold. Not only, but you felt like you had fallen onto concrete, and the tentacle was still clasped around you.

You tried to pry it off, but it only constricted. You held onto hope that somehow Yuuta would get to you, since he had obviously killed the curse before you hit the water. It was dark, completely black and you couldn’t see your own body when you looked down.

Even as you sunk deeper and deeper, you didn’t doubt for a moment you would die. You couldn’t, Yuuta wouldn’t let you.

When your vision begins to fade and your legs feel blurry, the thought is only an echo in your mind.

Yuuta won’t let you die. And he doesn’t.

Not when he finally grasps you, ripping the tentacle around you into shreds with his bare hands. Not when he holds you while he swims towards the surface, ignoring how cold your flesh is. Not when you resurface, and you’re not breathing.

Yuuta’s acting before he’s thinking. He could use his reversed cursed technique, but that wouldn’t do anything about the water in your lungs. Your lips are blue. Yuuta’s beginning to panic.

He starts doing compressions, not stopping when he feels your rib break, or when he remembers how unreliable cpr is outside of a hospital.

He doesn’t stop because eventually, your upper body lurches forward, and water falls from your mouth.

His arms are around you in a second, and you momentarily think the octopus curse is still wrapped around you with how tightly he’s holding you.

Yuuta is warm, and you’re freezing. You cling to him, your body trembling as the early signs of hypothermia begin to start.

He pulls away, holding your face in his hands. There’s a look of concern you’ve seen him wear thousands of times, but it’s more crazed. More wild. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you, but instead be begins to heal you.

Immediately, you stop shaking, heat flooding from your face down your spine. Yuuta has used his reversed cursed technique on you more times than you can count, claiming he didn’t want to give Shoko any more work, but you never got use to how intimate it felt.

Your jacket is long removed, and your shirt is sticking to your skin. You can see your bra through the thin material, and you’re a little embarrassed when you catch his eyes lingering.

Yuuta’s in a similar state as you. His white tee shirt was soaked, and his hair was sticking to his face. You felt his forehead with your palm, frowning in concern at his temperature.

His eyes changed. God, only you would be worried about him when moments ago your heart had stopped.

Only now did he notice his position, how close your lips were to his. He couldn’t take it. That thing almost got you before he could even make you his.

“Yuu, what is it?” It was a simple question, with a complicated answer, but the nickname pushed him over the edge.

He ducks his head closer to you, breaking the distance. He felt your lips moments ago, but they were frigid and lifeless. Now, you kissed him back with such fever it would’ve knocked him off balance if he wasn’t already sitting.

He’s climbing on top of you before he can register it, and your back hits the sand. You moan into his mouth in encouragement, shifting your hips up to meet his.

“Fuck, I can’t wait.” He whimpers into your neck. “Please let me fuck you, please.”

You nod before he finishes his sentence, muttering a broken ‘god yes’ that’s interrupted by your own moan as he attaches his lips to your neck.

He keeps licking at your collarbones and you’re withering under him. You’re unsure if it has something to do with his reversal technique, but everything feels too good.

You drag his hand to your clit, forcing him to palm you through your shorts. He slides them off, cursing as they stick to your legs before diving back down, shoving your panties to the side to feel you.

His fingers are long, and they’re surprisingly soft, even with his callouses. He rubs at your clit, dragging down to collect your slick before repeating his slow circles.

Subconsciously, you grind yourself onto his hand, eager for more friction.

“I’m sorry, I tried to be patient.” He mumbles against your shoulder before thrusting his middle finger into you.

A rough groan leaves your throat, and you attach your lips to Yuuta’s neck in effort to muffle your sounds. You bit down on his skin a little too harshly, drawing a small bit of blood. Instead of wincing in pain, he whimpered into you in wild excitement, pushing his jugular closer to your incisors.

He’s finger fucking you harshly, your pussy sucking him in loudly, drowning out the crashing of the waves a few feet from you.

“Gonna cum- shit.” You try to warn, but your orgasm reaches you closer than you anticipated. Yuuta fucks you through it, your legs trembling and chest heaving.

You’re still recovering when you hear him slide his pants off, pressing kisses to your face when he lines himself up against you. He pushes your legs over his shoulders, slipping into you so easily it makes you gasp for air.

He thrusts into you slowly, each time inching into you more and more. Water falls from his hair and drips onto your face in between each stroke, and you’re singing his name.

“Love you.” He kisses your forehead. “I love you so much. I can’t loose you. I won’t. You’re everything to me.”

His words are soft, but sudden, laced with a near obsessive tone that makes you squeeze down on his dick even harder.

“I love you so much, Yuu.” He plants one last kiss to your lips before pounding so harshly into you it forces you deeper into the sand.

He keeps his pace, fucking you at an animalistic speed. His eyes are crazed, wide and focused while trying to study how your body responds to him. His lips quiver, stuttering out strings of curses that tells you he’s completely gone already, and he’s not stopping any time soon.

He cums in you, but he doesn’t let that stop him, continuing to rut into you even as he overstimulates himself. “Gonna fill you up. Fuck-I can’t stop.”

“Need it!” You cry, heavy tears falling from your cheeks. Yuuta notices immediately, licking them without a second thought.

He keeps fucking his cum into you, not stopping at the second load, or the third. Only until he behind to shoot blanks does he slow, holding your body gently as he pulls out.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?” His head is fuzzy.

“No, no.” You brush his hair out of his eyes. “Was so good, Yuuta.”

He collapses on top of you, and you draw circles on his back. You smile, watching the stars in the sky for a moment before speaking.

“How are we going to get back to campus?”

“Uh,” Yuuta thinks aloud, propping his head up. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll call Gojo.” He nuzzles his head back into your chest.

“Okay.” You giggle, kissing his head. Yuuta Okokotsu was insane, but so were you.

[lasanya539]

tuck your head under the covers

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @remedyturtles)

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Prompt: Insomniac Leo - visiting various brothers when unable to sleep, or managing to fall asleep and his brothers doing anything to PRESERVE that sleep Word Count: 4635

Posted on AO3!

---

The first time it happens, Mikey doesn’t make a big deal out of it. 

It’s four in the morning on a Monday, and he’s thirsty, so he gets up from his train car and walks to the kitchen. Only to find Leo sitting at the table, with a lollipop in his mouth and a Jupiter Jim comic in his hands, legs rested on the surface, humming a tune under his breath.

“Leo?” Mikey mumbles drowsily, rubbing at his eyes. “Bro, what are you doing?”

Leo startles in surprise, and sits up, shooting him a guilty look. “Mikes!” He exclaims, voice pitched low. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no.” He flaps his hand, grabbing a glass. “I was thirsty, wanted water. Why are you awake right now?”

“Eh, you know, same old, same old. Couldn’t sleep.”

Mikey hums, taking a languid sip. His tired eyes catch a giant mug on the table, black as tar coffee peeking from the bottom, a pack of pink Starbursts with wrappers, and what looks like the crumbled remains of the pecan pie April’s mom had lovingly gifted them. If he was a little more awake, he’d be a lot more pissed about that, but for now he just sighs and stretches. 

“Did you at least try to sleep?” He asks, knowing the answer. 

“Yeah, of course.” Leo replies easily enough, turning away to flip another page. “But that’s the problem with insomnia, my friend, it kinda makes the ‘fall asleep’ thing not happen.”

Hm, not good enough. Mikey waddles over closer, physically pushing his brother’s head up so he can study him. Leo’s eyes are just barely bloodshot, cheeks hollower than he’d like to see on him.

“Can I help you?” He asks, bemused. 

“When was the last time you slept?” 

“Somewhere in the evening, I got a cat nap in. Don’t worry, Mikey, you’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep.” He retorts around a yawn. He plops down in a chair next to him, picking up an uneaten Starburst and chomping on it. Leo tsks at that, but he ignores him, folding his arms and resting his head comfortably. 

“You just brushed your teeth and are supposed to be asleep, why are you still here?”

“Moral support.” 

“Moral support from what? I – okay,” Leo stands up, all big brother voice. “C’mon, up.”

Mikey whines, not having enough energy to fight as Leo physically picks him up and throws him over the shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Grk–?” He chokes out in surprise, when the hell did he get so strong?

“Nope, don’t wanna hear it. This is what happens when you don’t listen to me.”

Leo plants him on the bathroom floor, and pointedly stares at him as Mikey brushes, having to actually count each stroke on the rows of teeth under the scrutiny instead of a quick wash. As soon as he rinses his mouth, Leo picks him up again.

“You realize I have feet.” He said, flopping his limbs in defeat and letting himself be carried lifelessly.

“You think I don’t know you were planning on dragging more ass by suggesting a movie night or something? I’ve taught you all my tricks, I know how your brain works.”

Mikey tries to keep in his smile at how well his brother can read him, and gasps dramatically. “Language! I’ll tell on you to Raphie.”

“If you make it to morning asleep like a good turtle, I’ll tell Raphie, how about that?”

Mikey gets tossed on his bed, the springs creaking under his weight. His favorite quilt is thrown over him, and his stuffed crocodile is tucked in between his shoulder and neck, just how he likes it. The warmth immediately makes him even drowsier, but he blinks up at Leo and invitingly opens his arms.

“Sleep?” He suggests, making the motion of scooting over to make room for him.

A few seconds, but Leo eventually sighs, far too susceptible to the prospect of little brother cuddles. He sticks his freezing feet into the tangle of limbs, making him hiss, but settles in comfortably on his pillow. Arms wind around him and squeeze affectionately.

“Better?” Mikey asks. 

Leo hums on top of his head. “Yep, thanks Angelo. You can pass out now.”

It doesn’t take very long for him to do so. Unfortunately for him, when he does wake up to his 9 A.M. alarm, the side of the bed is cold and the corner of the pillow undented. Outside, he sees Leo casually do the crossword puzzle with Dad with a newly filled mug of coffee in his hand, looking like sleep never graced him at all. Mikey sighs, but sets to making breakfast.

–

The second time it happens, Donnie is pulled out of his whirlwind of thoughts by a single hand on his shoulder. 

Naturally, he jumps, not having expected that contact when he’s working in his lab alone, smack-dab in the middle of the night. He’s too scientific and logic-driven to ever assume the existence of ghosts (which are different from spirits, thank you very much Michael), but the sudden touch makes him doubt that fact for a second.

Leo backs up with his hands up apologetically, and Donnie realizes with some amount of mortification he actually hissed at him. The mortification lasts for all of two seconds before he scowls at his twin with all the irritation in the world as he turns off his loud music. 

“What the hell do you want?” He groans at Leo, rubbing his sore eyes. 

“Just checking in.” Leo says, sounding normal enough, though Donnie picks up a strange note in his voice. He peeks at him between his fingers and catches his eyes look up from his torso just in time.

Looking down, he sees his other hand gripped into a fist, sharp claws extended, held right to the middle of his chest. Shit, he was scratching at his plastron again, the dull ache finally registering in his brain. 

It’s a nasty habit he’s had since he was very young, all the complicated feelings of the big, bad world too much for him to handle. His family has been trying for years to help him work through his emotions instead of immediately resorting to this, but apparently all the effort goes to shit the second it gets to debugging, the devil’s favorite method of torture. Donnie turns away, embarrassed but not willing to admit it. 

Leo thankfully doesn’t make a big deal out of it, and flops onto the back of his chair, resting his head at the top. “What are you working on?”

“Setting up face identification in the scanners in the Hidden City.” Donnie replies tiredly. “The mystic orbs they use as cameras are advanced enough to pick up magical signatures, but somehow not enough to track facial features of their various species of mutants and Yōkai. So, I’m doing it for them.”

Leo snorts. “Wow, how altruistic of you.” He leans in further, presumably to try to read the strange symbols that make up their programming language, before Donnie swats at his face. 

“Stop, you’re ruining my concentration.” 

“Shut up.” He swats back. Annoying

Donnie’s eyes flick over to the corner of the monitor, looking at the time. Wonderful, it’s another night of no sleep for his insomniac twin brother. 

He sighs. “I’m assuming getting bored to death from Papa’s speech on the various opera singers of the 20th century somehow didn’t lure you to sleep?”

“What, are you telling me you don’t care about the 1950s Maria Callas and Renata Tebaldi drama about their different vocal techniques? It’s the hottest tea from that side of the century, Don-Don, I’m disappointed in you.” He dodges the swat from him this time.

Donnie turns up to look at him, noticing his brother’s heavy eyelids blinking over his sharp eyes, far too awake for someone who hasn’t slept in Gaga knows how long. He’s wearing his soft blue hoodie, the big one that he makes sure is always washed with the rose scent beads for the comforting smell. 

“Is there anything specific that is keeping you up?” He asks, worried. 

“Nah, not really. Unless you count my dumb brain as a whole, nope.”

“Don’t call yourself dumb.” Donnie says, practiced. He stands up and stretches, hearing some impressive cracks from his neck that Leo whistles at.

“Is there anything I can say that will make you try to sleep again?” 

“Probably not, if I’m being honest.”

“Okay, then.” He doesn’t argue. If there’s one thing he knows about his twin is that badgering him about his sleep intake, no matter how worrying, is the best way to get completely shut out by him. And as annoying as he finds Leo on a day-to-day basis, he’s rather fond of the time he gets to spend with him in the middle of the night when it's just the two of them, the disaster twins. “Do you wanna play some Mario Kart instead?”

Leo brightens up. “Snacks?”

“Of course we’ll have snacks. I may be crazy, but I’m not a heathen.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, you’re a civilized demon-possessed genius, right?”

“Exactly right, my dear brother.”

The twins grab enough popcorn and candy from the pantry to send a tiny child into a coma, but as soon as Leo’s hand moves to the coffee machine, Donnie whacks it with a box of Nerds. “Dude, ow?”

“No more caffeine.” He says sternly.

“Oho, that is rich coming from you—”

“Yeah, well, deal with it. Otherwise I’m switching the kitchen permanently to decaf and making myself a secret password protected machine with the good coffee, the extra dark-roasted one.” That shuts Leo up fast. 

They play and bicker loudly in the soundproof lab, up until the wee hours of the morning. Eventually, Donnie falls asleep with the controller in his hand, only to wake up in the afternoon and find himself resting on the cot with his favorite blanket, battle shell and mask off. His sleepless twin nowhere to be found. 

–

The third time it happens, Raph is having a nightmare about the Krang. 

It’s par for the course, really. In the morning, he happens to overhear one of Mikey’s favorite YouTubers talk about their grief over their late friend who was lost to the bubblegum aliens, so he spends the most of the day in a haze, keeping to himself in the dojo, training, and eating his dinner alone while reading news articles about the reconstruction in New York to repair the damage from their fight. 

One trigger after another. So it’s no surprise that his dreams are filled with sick pink flesh and yellow eyes, tentacles worming over his body, digging into his brain, sadistic voices of the hive mind overpowering his screams, the feel of a lithe figure in his clutch, nails scratching onto his hand as he tightens his grip on his victim, his brother—

The part that’s surprising, however, is the other presence in his room, comforting, safe. Soft words spoken over his whimpers, warm hands smoothing over his shell as he regains consciousness. “Deep breaths, big bro, you’re okay, you’re safe, I promise you. Try to breathe, please.”

He breathes, turning away from the damp pillow, lifting his head up by his elbows to blink the sleep away. Blood pools back into his body, bones creaking in protest. All four limbs, whole, green, normal. 

Raph takes in one deep breath, and lets it out with meditative precision. His vision finally clears. Leo is sitting on the corner of his bed, hands anxiously rubbing together but giving him space to get up on his own. Worried eyes ticking over his face before latching onto his, relieved. 

“Hiya, Raphie.” He says with remarkable poise. “Okay?”

Raph slowly scoots up to sit properly, picking up one of his stuffed bears and hugging him. Embarrassment keeps him from meeting Leo’s eyes, burying his face in the soft fake fur. “Mhm.”

A hand gently strokes his leg, a comforting, involuntary motion. “Long day?”

“...You could say that.” He agrees. He clears his throat. “What time is it?”

“Just after 2.” Leo squeezes his knee. “Do you want me to wake Dad?”

Raph scoffs. “What is Dad going to do in the middle of the night? Let him sleep.” 

“Okay, how about the other guys? We could turtle pile.”

He shakes his head before Leo finishes. “No, no, it’s not important, Leo. Let them all sleep.”

“It is important.” He replies sharply, and Raph blinks up at him. Leo’s sporting his own version of a Raph Chasm, eye-ridges pulled together in a gut-wrenching frown, lips turned down. “You are important.”

A lump rises in his throat, but he swallows it down. He’s had enough of Leo stubbornly insisting that he stop dismissing his own emotions over the years, so he says nothing, instead lifting up an arm. Leo immediately snuggles in next to him, shell fitting perfectly under his arm. 

The tension falls off his frame as his little brother wiggles to get comfortable. Raph sighs, the dregs of his nightmare-fueled dread seeping away with Leo right next to him, the scent of roses in his nose. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He offers. 

“Pizza Supreme, no.” Raph snorts, making Leo huff. 

“Okay.” He agrees easily. Then, “Oh, I almost forgot!”

From the pocket of his hoodie he pulls out his phone, tapping at it for a couple of seconds before holding out the camera. “Snap streak.”

Raph snorts again but obliges his younger brother, putting on some version of a smile as he takes the picture, adding a bunch of unicorn emojis in the corner before showing it to him for approval. 

He takes the phone, but immediately frowns, zooming in to study Leo’s face. Even though he’s grinning, the exhaustion is practically radiating off him. The red stripes under his eyes are marred with purple bags, eyes squinting with the effort of staying up. He looks like he’s about to pass out almost any second.

Raph sends off the streak, and starts arranging the pillows and stuffed animals around him to make space for two sleeping turtles. He pulls his blanket over Leo’s head, which he, of course, shoves back. “What are you doing?”

“Tucking you in.” He informs him, dragging him down. “We’re going to sleep for a very long time.”

“Sure, Raphie, whatever you say.” Leo says too easily, and he immediately calls bullshit. 

“No, we’re really going to sleep. No more pretending.” He glares at him with one eye open. “Promise?”

Leo hesitates, but then forcibly relaxes himself, nuzzling closer. “I’ll try, promise.”

As good as he’s going to get, Raph thinks. He squeezes his brother tight enough for him to wheeze and laugh, wishing him goodnight and eventually falling asleep, nightmares far away. When he wakes up, Leo is on the floor next to the bed, face illuminated by the glow of his phone screen, playing a game of chess. The eye bags seem heavier than ever. 

–

The fourth time it happens, April is trying to catch up on physics homework. 

It’s actually ridiculous how she, a journalism major, has to study physics at all, even as a gen-ed. She’s a sophomore now, for god’s sake, she’s supposed to be interning at CNN and MSNBC, or at least spearheading some kind of journaling initiative with a bunch of her classmates. But no, Eastlaird is forcing her to calculate angular momentum and torque for a homework that is apparently not due on Monday, but in the morning on Friday, which is tomorrow. Or more accurately, today, she thinks, warily eyeing the clock on the table that reads 3:35 A.M.

She has maybe one more problem left before she can finally get some sleep, and hopefully get to stay over at the lair for the weekend. She hasn’t seen her boys and her Pops in over a month, and the joy of destroying Donnie in the Just Dance competition of their lives is the only motivation getting her through this. 

April sighs and stretches, cracking her back, before she hears a notification from her phone. Picking it up she sees, ‘nardo💙 sent an Instagram reel.’

She sits up in surprise. Why the hell is this idiot awake? And why is he sending her Instagram reels of all things?

‘awake???’ she texts back, worried. ‘why??’

Seen immediately, typing. ‘YOU awake why??’

‘homework’

‘yuck get away from me’

April picks at her bottom lip, watching the clock on her desk tick. If Leo’s awake at four in the morning, he hasn’t slept all night. She considers texting one of her other brothers to force him to sleep, but hopefully they would all be in bed by now, Donnie included. 

‘how much coffee did you have in the evening’

‘...’

‘Leo.’

‘okok four cups’

‘nardo you gotta be kidding me’. April rubs at her face, sighing. Leo knows better than to lie to his big sister, so he’s definitely telling her the truth, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Four whole cups of coffee?

‘did you try melatonin? helps me sleep a lot better nowadays’

‘apes do u even know me, obv melatonin doesn’t work on us’

‘damn’ 

‘ur taking it tho?? don’t take too much, not good for u’

‘yeah dum-dum, no sleep is not good for YOU have you thought about that?’

No response. Two minutes later, a funny reel. 

She huffs frustratedly, thinking, before finally deciding to call him on FaceTime, setting the phone against a textbook.

The face that greets her is so fucking worrying that April gapes, not responding to Leo’s raspy greeting. His eyes are completely bloodshot, face gaunt, red stripes practically completely purple now. 

“You look like shit.” She says, uncharacteristically blunt. Maybe the lack of sleep and physics is getting to her. How the hell does Donnie do this all the time?

Leo scowls, putting the phone down so all she sees is the dark ceiling of the kitchen. “If you just called me to insult me, I’m hanging up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She raises a hand in surrender, pulling her notebook closer and picking up her pencil. “Science is turning my brain to soup, I lost my speaking filter. You’re still very pretty.”

A second, and Leo’s face comes back into view. “Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” She nods, smiling as Leo grins, as brightly as he can with fatigue coming off him in waves. “What are you up to?”

“This guy on YouTube is reviewing the older JJ movies, it’s a four hour long video. And I have Sour Patch Kids, so I’m happy.”

April bites back the hundreds of worried comments she comes up with, deciding to think a little more tactically. She doesn’t want to piss him off again, so telling him to sleep or pointing out his eye-bags is off the table. 

“You wanna hear about my homework? It’s so difficult and horrible, I hate it.”

“I respect your degree, I do, Apes, but how hard can journalism homework even be?”

“It’s physics, man, that’s the thing. I’m going to jump out of my window.” She groans, equations swimming behind her eyelids. “I’m like ninety percent sure if I tried explaining this to you I could bore you to sleep.”

Leo chuckles, but there’s something tired and morose in it. “I wouldn’t take that bet.”

She blinks at the bitter tone of his voice, but doesn’t call him out on it. There’s a lost look in his eyes as he stares off to the side, chewing slowly on his candy. Her big sister instinct rears its head immediately at that.

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” April assures him, deciding fuck it, opening up Chegg to find the answer to this last question so she can finish this as fast as possible. “I’ll be done in fifteen minutes. Why don’t you tell me what this random guy has to say about Pluto Vacation IV, and I’ll tell you how valid that is.”

By the time the sun rises, and Leo hangs up to go help Mikey make breakfast, April has turned in not only physics, but has finished all of the rest of her homework. She starts to pack, a plan ready in her mind.

–

They don’t let it happen a fifth time. 

Leo sighs, letting his head fall onto his bed, hiding his eyes from the fairy lights in his room. Normally, they look so pretty and aesthetic, but ever since this new bout of insomnia hit him, a lot of things have been bothering him more than usual. And he’s currently too exhausted to get up and turn it off on his own. 

He groans, reaching for his phone, because what else is he going to do? His brain is too tired for anything other than mindless scrolling, and if Raph asks him to train today he might just burst into tears. The time reads 12 P.M., a very productive time of day for the majority of planet Earth. The minority includes him apparently, as he pulls up one of his old blankets over his head, and settles in for an afternoon of TikTok.

The door to his train car opens quietly. Leo blinks, emerging from his nest to look up. 

Mikey stands at the doorway, sunshine smile on display. He sees his eyes scan his face, and the sunshine dims a bit, but he still says excitedly, “Hi, Lee! April just got back, we’re doing a sleepover!”

“Oh – oh yay!” His delayed response throws his act off a little. Don’t get him wrong, he is so happy his sister is back, it’s just he’d really rather not do a sleepover tonight where he has to spend another eight hours pretending to be asleep next to his peacefully resting siblings. “That’s great, I’ll be right there.”

Mikey nods but doesn’t leave, so Leo has to go through the excruciating process of forcing himself up and out of the room with a performative smile painted on his face. Mikey hooks his elbow with his, walking in step with him to the living room. 

He finds Raph and April talking, a bag carelessly dropped next to her feet. She catches sight of him and grins immediately, raising her arms. Leo can see the conscious effort it takes for her to not linger on his eye bags, he’s been needing a lot of that too lately.

“Hi, Apes.” He mumbles into her shoulder as she tightly squeezes him.

“Hi, Leo.” She replies warmly. “Missed you so much.”

A large hand rests on his shell, and he looks up to see Raph smile down at him. “Wanna join in on the hug fest, Raphie?”

“Ha, don’t worry, there’s gonna be plenty to go around in the sleepover soon.” He chuckles. 

“Soon?” Leo asks, and Raph points a thumb to the entrance. Leo turns around to see Donnie and Mikey walk in with a bunch of blankets and pillows in their arms. One of the spider limbs in Donnie’s battle shell is holding Raph’s largest teddy bear, the other holding his blue hoodie he couldn’t find in the morning. 

“We’re doing a sleepover now? It’s literally noon.”

“We’ve hit critical condition.” Donnie informs him primly, dropping the blankets in the middle of the floor. “You’ve been awake for too long.”

His mood sours immediately. He knows, okay? He’s aware that not sleeping for days at a time isn’t healthy, and he knows he looks like shit, but people don’t have to keep commenting on it. 

“Don’t pout.” Mikey wheedles into his side, giving him another squeeze. “We’re gonna help, I promise.”

“Right.” Leo says, disbelief clear in his voice, before something rose-scented smacks him in the face. “Hey!”

“You’re welcome.” Donnie responds, starting to move the furniture to make enough room for the blanket fort. “Your favorite hoodie, freshly washed with softener and your scent beads.”

Leo pulls it over his head, the familiar comforting smell easing some of his tension, the soft texture making him feel like he’s being swallowed whole. “Thanks.” He says quietly, hoping they can’t hear the croak in his voice. 

Donnie pauses in his ministrations for a millisecond before getting back to work with more gusto, him and Mikey setting up an impressive fort that could withstand five siblings. While Leo watches them, Raph taps him on his shoulder, and he’s offered a cup of freshly made chamomile and lavender tea, steam curling on top. The thoughtfulness almost makes him cry as he gives him a wobbly smile in return, taking a sip. It’s the perfect temperature, splash of milk and sweetened with honey, just how he likes it. 

He feels April at his back, gently untying the knot of his mask, carefully folding it and walking to his room to put it away. She comes back with his fuzzy Christmas socks.

“You guys.” Leo tries, feeling emotionally wrung out and sore. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up.” Three turtles reply in unison, breaking out into chuckles. Raph guides him to the center of the fort, making him sit down and rest on the biggest pillow. He finishes his tea as Mikey puts the teddy bear under his other arm and April puts the socks on him, brain too fuzzy to protest. 

He jolts out of his fog when he feels something pressing down on him. He looks up to see Donnie tuck him in under his purple weighted blanket, the one he uses on his bad days. He’s awash with the clean scent of roses, as tears fill up in Leo’s eyes unbidden. He tries to blink them back. “Don…”

“Hush.” Donnie replies, quietly, and Leo sees the lights in the room have been dimmed, his other siblings wearing their pajamas and getting ready to pile. “Stop using your brain. It’s sleeping time now.”

“Wow, I never thought there’d be a day when Hamato Donatello would actually tell me to ‘stop using my brain’.” He croaks out.

Leo prepares for the obligatory joke about him not having a brain in the first place, but Donnie just gives him an amused look in return, speaking softly but matter-of-factly, “Your brain is hurting my twin. So stop using it.”

A ball of emotion lodges in his throat that keeps him from speaking out loud, so he just nods. He gets a head pat for his troubles that he’s too emotional to block away.

Eventually, Donnie lies down next to him, their arms pressed together. Mikey nestles into a ball on his other side, snuggling close. Raph settles behind their heads, turning to his side and curling around them all protectively. April throws her feet over their legs, playfully kicking him in the shin. 

Leo chokes on a laugh, tears soundlessly rolling onto the pillow. This has been one of the longest weeks of his life, hours in the middle of the night spent staring mindlessly at the ceiling, into the middle distance, into the New York skyline. The darkness seeping into his body, harsh, cold. A high pitched hum in his ears, heaviness in his eyes.

Right now though, he feels warm and loved and exhausted beyond belief. But not alone. Never alone. 

“Thanks, guys.” He finally whispers. 

Donnie gently bonks his head with his own, affection clear in the action. Mikey presses a loud kiss onto his bicep. “You’re welcome, big bro.”

Raph strokes his head. “Sleep, Leo.”

“We love you, Nardo.” April says, nudging his foot. “We got you.”

Leo smiles. He trusts them, they got him. He closes his eyes and pulls on his night mask. The demons of the night don’t stand a chance against the warm glow of his family. He finally falls asleep. 

[dusterbishop]

i hear you call my name (and it feels like home)

summary. || three timelines, you have watched remy lebeau die. you didn't believe you would earn a fourth chance to save him until you find a variant with no memory of his past, lost in a void of existence.

pairing. || gambit x f!reader (past relationship with current enemies-to-lovers)

count. || 6.4k

notes. || posted on ao3 here. warning for character death and violence. this is the end! thank you all for the lovely words of support, it means so much that you all loved this duo as much as i do. i have ideas of oneshots for the future, but for now, i leave you all with this!

part one. || part two. || part three. || part four.

Your ears are ringing.

Awareness floods you in slow, uneven strokes. You can hear the roar of battle buzzing through the fog in your mind, guttural screams of pain cutting through in sharp starbursts. There’s a staff in your right hand, and you spasm your grip on it, testing its weight.

It is Remy’s.

Once, that staff had been too heavy for you to properly swing around. He had watched you practice with a pained grimace for a week before he surprised you with your own to train with. The two of you were nothing more than colleagues at that point, simply two mismatched X-Men crossing paths by sheer fate. Until he had handed you your own staff, its weight balanced with delicate perfection in the palm of your hand, and showed you how to use it.

You had never told him that you only used the staff because you could see it in every timeline, a slow conversion of your fighting style across lifetimes. Not every life you lived shared Remy, but his influence still lingered at the edges, seeping in like ink. Fighting with a staff, learning to pick locks, using sleight of hand to swap items from timelines with ease. It was all an extension of your life with Remy. Just echoes, over and over, spreading out in rippling waves.

Echoes, which could never replace the thrill that sparks your attention when a blazing playing card whizzes past your ear. There’s a muffled explosion as the card makes contact with the enemy swinging for your head, and you gracefully sidestep the half-dead man that staggers into a collapsed pile at your feet.

“Watch where you goin’, mon coeur,” Gambit calls. Another whistling hum of kinetic energy, another flash of blazing purple as he throws another card and cuts down another blank faced enemy. The base that Nova commands has a strangely illusive layout, and the war-starved bodies seem like an endless, writhing thing to overcome.

Time is a limited resource, after all. You can taste it just as surely as the blood in the back of your mouth.

“Maybe I’m too distracted watching something else,” you call back. You don’t take the time to see the expression on his face, but you hear his delighted laugh before he starts slinging explosives again. It’s easy to fall into battle. Even easier while you’re wearing your old suit, and the fabric is soft and well-worn just as you remember it. The clothes you wore in the Void were fine for travel, but you felt strangely out of place last night watching Remy adjusting his coat for the upcoming battle.

You are one of the X-Men, technically. It’s been more than a lifetime since you felt like one, but you know their colors and their mission. The suit always did feel more like a formality. There is nothing that could prevent you from fighting for people who cannot protect themselves. Everyone else only has one life, and you have an infinity of them. The gold and blue of your suit is meant to inspire hope for the people you are defending, not to boast about your position, and yet Remy had stuttered mid-sentence when he turned to see you suddenly dressed in your original suit, prepared for battle.

Been a’while since Gambit seen you wit’ those colors. Though, Gambit t’inks you look better out of ‘em, too...

“Pot callin’ the kettle black,” Gambit says. He’s closer, now, as if magnetized to the orbit of your battleground. You smash the skull of a man trying to catch a cheapshot to Gambit’s ribs, and Gambit slips an explosive card into the pocket of the man’s coat for good measure. Briefly, his hand catches the curve of your elbow, brushing his fingers over the pulse-point. Even through the sleeve of your suit, you can almost feel the heat of his skin, searing bone-deep.

“Just calling it as I see it, Cajun,” you say. It doesn’t sound as breathless as you feel. Gambit still has that infuriatingly pleased look on his face, though, so you give him a half-hearted shove with a raised brow. “Save the world, remember?”

“Mais la, all bluff no play,” he complains. “S’il vous plait, mon coeur —”

Time slips.

One moment, you take the chance to catch your breath, falling all-too-easy to the lure of sparring with Remy. The next moment, you’re on the ground. There’s blood beneath you, pooling under your head, dripping from your nose and down to the hard-packed soil.

“Remy,” you choke out. Your ears are ringing with echoes of voices, though you assume it’s across timelines based on the range of emotions. You can hear crying as soul-wrenching as fresh grief, and laughing as bright as bells. It’s like picking up a landline and hearing a conversation you’re only privy to as a passing voyeur.

You blink away some of the dirt and sweat stinging your eyes. You’re still on the ground. Something weighty and warm is settled over your back, tucked into the curve of your sides. The scent of smoke and cologne curls around you as familiar as the back of your hand.

Remy draped his coat over you. You spit a wad of bloodied saliva onto the ground, grimacing at the dark thickness. How long have you been out? You don’t remember charging up to leave the timeline.

Even worse, you don’t remember going anywhere. Time may change around you, but your mind keeps itself sharp with a constant awareness. Even when you would travel time in your sleep, you knew you were moving based on the pressure changing in the air. There had been no pressure change, this time. Only standing with Gambit, teasing him in the way that blazed adrenaline through your veins. Then, it is you laying on the ground, curled up underneath his coat, tasting blood.

You blink again. You think you’re shivering, or maybe you’re trembling, because you aren’t cold. That hazy, all-consuming fever pulses across your skin in waves, burning across your every nerve. It takes effort to turn your head just a fraction, searching the scattered battlefield. You’re still in Nova’s compound. You can see Blade and Elektra distracting any enemy seeking the weaker prey, luring them away from where you lay.

It had taken two more days before you and Gambit had met back up with the resistance. Initially, you had been wary of the strange collection of mutants, reflecting their own suspicion of you back like a mirror image. Yet they had seemed relieved that Gambit was back unharmed.

Now, far past the initial skepticism of your arrival, they treat you with the same consideration they give Gambit.

Though Gambit is… the same, and yet he’s more. The way he fights is far different than the way he did during the days when you both worked with the X-Men. He doesn’t linger near the boundaries of the fight anymore. You used to breathe easier knowing he had been prowling the edges of a fight with his cards at the ready, always protecting your back.

Now, when he fights in the Void, he storms the battlefield as a raging violet-blaze tempest. You find him easily through the crowded clusters of skirmishes, his staff humming with kinetic charge. He wields a handful of cards with careful scarcity, and you know it’s because you have his coat draped over you, holding all of his extra ammo.

He is going to get himself killed.

That thought propels you into motion. Your arms tremble as you push yourself to sit up, the back of your mouth filling with blood and nauseating saliva. It hurts to breathe. It feels like there is a shard of glass lodged in your ribs, cutting up your insides. The only blood you can sense is the slow drip from your lips, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t damage you can’t see yet. Something in your being is dismantling in slow, even strokes, cast adrift from the timelines and stranded in the Void.

One of Nova’s henchmen gets too close to Remy and sideswipes him. The soft-muted grunt of pain from Remy sends a chilling lance of fear through your gut, though before you can move, Remy is already turning and taking down the enemy with a swift twirl of his staff.

They are going to kill him if you don’t get him out. You know it, and it hurts so much to move, but you push yourself to your feet with a strangled whine of frustration. Of all the times for your body to fail you, it has to be now, when Remy is exposed to an entire base of people trying to kill him.

His coat is a familiar weight over your shoulders, but that doesn’t quell the violent shiver that runs through you. Neither does it stop the sudden rush of dizzying pain, or the way you have to hunch over and spit out blood onto the dirt. No time. You don’t have any time.

“Remy,” you call out. You fumble to wipe away the blood dripping down your chin just as he turns at the sound of your voice, his face bright with relief. He doesn’t notice the blood. He moves quickly through the battlefield nonetheless, wrapping an arm over the shuddering arch of your shoulders.

“ Mon coeur,” he says, and he must see something in your face that makes him hesitate. “Enjoy your nap, chér ?”

You suck in a sharp breath. It’s always ‘chér ’ when he doesn’t know which version you are.

“Still with you, LeBeau,” you tell him. Your hand reaches up to cradle the curve of his jaw. He’s buzzing with energy beneath your touch, but it’s the simmering fire in his eyes as he gazes back at you that makes you feel set alight.

“Wanna play?” He says softly. One arm is still slung protectively over your back, but he uses his free hand to fasten his coat tighter over your shoulders, his hand lingering at the vulnerable curve of your throat. “I deal you in, mon coeur.”

You’re reluctant to let him go, so you pull him in and press a chaste kiss to his mouth. You don’t let him go deeper than that so he doesn’t taste the blood, even if there’s a savage wanting in your gut to sink deep into his embrace and never resurface. It’s not fair, you think, that you finally found him only to lose him all over again.

“Deal me in, Cajun,” you whisper to him. His fingers drop from the hollow of your collarbone to the seam of his coat sleeve, drawing a card. He flickers it between his fingers to show you his dealt hand — the ace of hearts — before it disappears into the nothingness of time. You let Remy press another kiss to your mouth, and you have to close your eyes to fight back the burn of tears. Even with your eyes closed, you can hear the hoarseness in his voice when he pulls back.

"You an' me, chér, couple'a aces, non?" 

You have to turn your head to hide a sad smile. "A matched pair."

Like that, the two of you separate. He goes into the fray of battle, the air whirring violently with charged energy, and you step back into the shadow, pulling your ace of hearts from the timeline. You have caught nothing but glimpses of Nova since you arrived, but you can feel her presence at the edges of your mind, probing for weakness. 

So you look weak. It’s easy to slouch against the wall, your breathing coming in labored pants, the sleeve of your X-Men suit streaked red with the blood you keep wiping from your chin. Hurt prey is weaker, after all. You know what she must see when she sees you so far from Remy’s orbit: an injured fawn ripened for the kill.

“Don’ ya leave now, the fun just startin’,” Remy laughs. He sweeps his staff in a wide arc, warding off the enemies crowding closer to his position, but he only has eyes for you. He’s watching you, and you know the moment she arrives by the way his eyes harden with venomous hatred.

“Indeed,” Nova says. Her presence is a sudden, harsh strike to your mind. You have to grit your teeth to muffle your shocked gasp. Her hand is lax around your throat, but you are all too aware of the hand gently caressing the back of your skull. You can hear the smile in her voice when she whispers in your ear, “I’ve never seen something like you.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” you say. The air whirs in quiet contention around you,  but you’re more focused on the card still clutched in your hand. Come on, come on...

“You’re a little wanderer, aren’t you,” she muses. She runs her fingers through the locks of your hair with gentle fingertips, and it takes all of your self control not to spasm and jolt out of her touch. You clench your empty hands tightly, instead, and try not to stare at Remy when he suddenly tucks his hand into a tight fist, purple light buzzing ravenously through the tight clench of his fingers.

“What are you doing running with the swamp rats, hm?” Nova strokes your head again. “You don’t seem like one of their merry band of misfits.”

Remy makes an indignant sound at that, and just as Nova looks to him, the light in his hand dies to nothingness.

“His name is Gambit,” you say. The playing card in your hand whirs with pitched fervor. Almost there. “Make sure you remember that.”

Time condenses to your will, and you’re looking right at Remy when the ace of hearts detonates, rippling a shockwave through you and Nova. Kinetic energy consumes you in a wildfire, burning through the flesh of your body with fervent hunger. You see the ache of distraught cross his face, and then there is only the movement of timelines shifting in place, carrying you through lifetimes, blurring the world around you into a wash of muddled watercolors.

When you blink, the world rights itself.

When you breathe in, settling back into a body escaped unharmed, you see Remy fall.

“No!” You shout. Or perhaps it is a whisper. Or perhaps it is spread across every timeline, every particle of your being spread thin and calling out in pained fury. You aren’t sure of anything except the way Remy twists, losing grip of his staff, and collapsing to the ground.

A wordless scream of rage tears through you. You can hear its echo filling the air as you yank time into a heel, drawing yourself across the expanse of the field in moments. You aren’t sure where the others are, or if Nova truly perished in the kinetic explosion as you intended. All you can see is Remy, lying in motionless rigor, and the man that took the shot that put him down.

Time scrambles in your mind, but you reach your destination faster than the man can draw his weapon at you. Your hands take his head in a vice grip, the tips of your gloved fingers digging harshly into his dirt-streaked skin.

“How dare you,” you snarl. If you had the chance, you would tear him through time until he disintegrated. You break his neck instead, the sickening crack of his bone fading from your attention the moment you feel his body slip from your grasp. You don’t manipulate time to fall to your knees by Remy’s side, but the space between movements is a blur you don’t care to investigate.

“Remy,” you half-sob. You reach out and grasp his shoulder, turning him over onto his back, and nearly sob again in relief when you see him squinting back at you with dazed annoyance.

“Lucky strike,” he mutters. Your hand flutters down to brush against his side, your heart seizing at the grimace on his face. The warmth of blood against your fingers spreads a numbness through your gut. You only press your hand firmly to the wound, gritting your teeth against the roaring fury building in your throat.

“What happened to ‘the house always wins’?” You snap at him instead. The blood is sticky and warm, and it won’t be staunched by the pressure of your hand alone. He’s going to bleed out.

“Raising the bet,” Remy grunts. There’s a sheen of sweat across his brow, but it’s the ashen pallor of his skin that makes your chest tighten with panic. God, you’re going to lose him.

“I hate you,” you whisper. You hate the Void. You hate Nova, and her violent-driven henchmen. You hate yourself, most of all, for doing this to him. For not being able to do more.

“Tha’ sounds more like love than hate, mon coeur.”

“Just playing the odds,” you bite out. He blinks at you, sluggish, and you realize exactly what you have to do. It’s the only thing you can do for him. You draw your hand back from his side and try not to gag on the smell of it permeating the air. There’s a steady puddle beneath him, soaking the knees of your suit, but you hardly feel it. You can’t feel anything at all, in fact.

Just that whirring buzz of time, and the slowly approaching footsteps of Cassandra Nova coming up behind you.

“Go ahead, Remy,” you breathe. The timeline whirs to life beneath your palms, a composed symphony to the crackling buzz of kinetic energy. You cup his face, thumbs smoothing away the dust beneath his blackened eyes, and you will him to live.

He reaches up to try and catch your wrists. There’s that furrow in his brow, again, like he’s preparing to curse you out for this. He’s a pulsing livewire of humming energy in your hands, simmering with an explosive potential. If he stays here, he will be nothing more than a husk. Dying like a goddamn hero, slaughtered like a martyr upon the altar, just to give you the chance to take down Nova.

So you imagine him at your apartment, in your bed, instead. Tucked under the blankets, his hair mussed from sleep. Figaro curled up on his chest, purring his strange rattling hum, the other two boys stretched out beside him. The world is quiet, and safe. Nothing is there to hurt him.

The timeline sings in your hands. You want to kiss him, but you don’t. Kissing him will feel like goodbye, and you don’t think you could bear the thought of it, not right now. Not before you finish taking down Nova.

Your gaze locks with his. You can see the moment he realizes that you aren’t going with him. The annoyance at being forced to take the retreat cracks out of his expression with sharp, desperate panic. His hands nearly catch you at the wrist, his fingertips brushing against the sleeve of your coat, but then he’s gone. You stare down at the dirt where he once was, fighting to keep your breathing steady. He’s safe.

At least, you tell yourself, one of you made it home.

Yet it still feels like a gaping wound in your side. You betrayed him to save him.

“Touching,” Nova remarks. You can’t bring yourself to move. You’re still kneeling in the remains of Remy’s blood when she strikes you.

The world flickers in and out of focus, spinning in rampant circles. Distantly, you’re aware of your legs kicking weakly in the air, your hands scrabbling desperately at your throat to ease the choking grip she has you in. Except she isn’t touching you, not with her hands.

No, she’s standing just out of arm's reach, smiling like a sphynx.

“I have seen so many variants,” she says idly. You’re choking on nothing, fighting the headache rending through your temples. “There’s been some Jean Grays, a few Rogues. More than a few Gambits. Many, many Deadpools.”

“And yet,” she continues. “I have never found more than one of you.”

The release of the grip she has on your throat makes you gasp out a cry, sucking in air with deep, hoarse wheezing. You hardly feel the impact of your body collapsing to the ground, too relieved in the taste of air. You rub at your throat with shaking fingers, trying to erase the feeling of her grip crushing your windpipe.

“That isn’t the strangest part, however.”

You know where this is going. You close your eyes.

“I could feel you,” she shifts closer to you, but you don’t have the energy to flinch and create distance between the two of you. “In your mind, you are nothing but fragments.”

“Wayfarer,” you whisper. It comes out in a croak, but you are far beyond caring. “I am everywhere and everything.”

“Broken,” she agrees. You open your eyes at that. She looks vindicated, as if admitting your ability has only made you weaker. You suppose, hunched over and wheezing, you don’t look as threatening as you used to during your X-Men days. You must look like nothing but bleeding prey.

Good, you think. You smile at her with bloodied teeth. “Broken things are meant to hurt, you know.”

Like shuffling a deck of cards, you let time flutter through your hands, staggering into a timeline version of yourself where you can breathe without choking. Your body follows the commands of your mind with elegant obedience.

Your hands meet their mark, and latch onto Nova tight enough to turn your knuckles pale. The pair of playing cards pressed against each of your palms sizzle with hunger where they make contact with her body.

Pain lances through your skull, exploding into brilliant light behind your eyes. You think your hands are still clutching onto Nova, but you cannot feel them. The world is bright violet, time shuffling with a charged whir. The kinetic energy ripples down your hands in great, staggering waves, a faint prickle of pain among the agony of time rendering itself apart around you.

Nova is screaming. Distantly, you feel her hands pulling at you, yanking at the lapels of Remy’s coat, hitting your face. She must be trying to delve into your mind. She cannot catch you, though. You are plummeting through every timeline, shuffling from one version of yourself to the next, then the next, then the next. Over and over. Over, and over, and over.

Shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

You think you let go of her.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

No, it’s not your hands that have let go. Your arms are shuddering through time, but your hands keep locked onto her, holding her steady, burning violet. You haven’t let her go, but your body is being torn into pieces.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

Nova isn’t screaming anymore.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

You are.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

You can’t hear it over the roaring of time rushing through you, but you can feel your throat blazing, screaming through every timeline, every version of yourself. This must be what dying feels like. It is infinite across all time. There is no other way out.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

Her body dissolves with slow tendrils of violet light creeping beneath the exposed flesh, tracing whirls with the lines of her veins and arteries. It consumes her from the inside, spreading out with a meticulous, parasitic intensity.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

Remy’s power consumes you, too. You see the light creep up your wrists, then your arms, then your shoulders. You can feel its warmth down to your bones. It almost feels, strangely, like it’s him hugging you. It feels like it did last night, tangled in his arms beneath the sheets, your ear pressed to his chest to listen to the rhythm of his heart.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

You wonder, distantly, if his power is trying to keep your body together. The charge of kinetic energy is concentrated in your hands, but you can still feel the heat of it pooling in the pit of your stomach and scorching the back of your mouth. Remy had been dismissive when you asked him what it felt like to charge something, though you figure he had been exasperated by your own explanation of your ability. You doubt he would have known what it felt like to be torn asunder with only the kinetic lightning crackling through him.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

You think about Remy, for a moment. You think about the apartment that you both signed the lease on, furnished with a thief’s eye of luxury, cluttered with the little bits of memorabilia and creature comforts you curated over the years. You think about the cats that Remy dotes on, your own cats by marriage, all curled up in their favorite spots around the two of you. You think about the couch that you had teased Remy about for the price, only for him to turn around and gloat about the amount of naps you took on it. You think about the movie nights with you two intertwined on that couch, the cats pressed into your sides, the room dim-lit and safe.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

You think about how you would like to do that, again. To be able to sit on the couch with your husband and watch a movie. To be with Remy, and not be caught in this web of unraveling agony.

— shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull, shuffle, draw, pull — 

Like a loose thread, you unravel.

Shuffle.

It starts in your hands, with your fingertips, and it spreads from there.

Draw.

Your eyesight goes last.

Pull.

You see Remy in every lifetime, looking at you, his outline glimmering with that kinetic violet light. His mouth is moving. It almost looks like your name.

Shuffle…

Nothing comes to your mind. Everything comes into pitch black.

Shuffle…

Your hands are empty.

Shuffle…

Time is empty, now absent when it once was vast. You had been infinite, once. Like time, you had been endless.

Shuffle…

You had been lost before you knew what it felt like to be seen. You could never be sure what timeline was originally yours before you switched them. Even the smallest of details could escape your attention if you weren’t looking for it. At a certain point, you realized you had to choose a life to claim as yours and stop wandering. Even a Wayfarer needed an anchor to call home for when it was time to rest.

Draw.

You had wandered for a long time. Years, perhaps, though your physical bodies changed shape and form in ways you couldn’t predict. The face in the mirror had never been home, anyway. There were too many genetic variables to each timeline to preserve the way you looked. Your body was merely a temporary housing for your time-stepping mind. A body was not an anchor. It was simply a tool to be used and discarded.

Pull.

An anchor needs to be constant. It needs to be something that will not retreat when time grows teeth and begins to hurt. It needs to be loyal to the cause. It needs to be kind, deep down, even if the surface is skin-deep careless. It needs to make you feel safe.

It’s… warm. Soft.

You bury your face deeper into the pillow with a long, blissful sigh. You will never regret insisting that you splurge and spend the extra money on a memory foam mattress. It feels like floating in the clouds.

A soft, questioning mmrph rumbles next to your ear. It’s your only warning before a small, wet nose presses to your temple. You know it’s Oliver by the way he starts to knead at the pillow next to your head, purring a roaring chorus. There’s another weight on your legs, pinning them down, and a third is nestled into your side. Remy must be up, already, if they’re all stuck to you for warmth.

“Did your father abandon us again, boys?” You mumble sleepily. Oliver purrs louder at the sound of your voice. You can feel the weight on your legs shift, no doubt being that it’s Lucifer standing up to stretch before he starts to walk up the length of your body. He’s purring, too, though he resettles on the spot between your shoulder blades, the hum of his purr radiating across your back. Figaro doesn’t grace you with an acknowledgement, but neither does he unfurl himself from his spot next to your side.

Warm, soft, and safely nestled amongst your cats. It’s nearly heaven. You end up half-dozing back off, lulled to sleep by the purring next to your ear. You feel like you haven’t slept in a lifetime.

You don’t hear the door open, though you know something is wrong by the way Figaro leaps to attention and Oliver’s purr stutters to a stop.

When you open your eyes, it’s half-lit by the morning sun. It must be closer to noon than the time that you usually wake to train. Any trace of lingering sleep drifts away when the bedroom door creeps open with its usual squall of hinges.

You smile and twist to look over your shoulder, dislodging Lucifer despite his soft sound of discontent, and yawn, “Morning. I think.”

Remy is posed in the doorway. Your next words die in your throat as you see the look on his face, the staff still gripped tightly in his hand. He’s dressed in his usual armor, not his civilian clothing like you expected. His hair is longer, tied back carelessly from his face, flyaway strands curling around his temples. His eyes are near-black, both through his irises and the dark shadows collecting beneath them.

He looks like he has spent years surviving an apocalypse.

“Jesus, Remy,” you breathe. You’re sitting up in an instant, one hand out reaching towards him. His armor is dust-streaked and worn from battle. “Are you hurt?”

“Where’d you go, chér?” He rasps. His face is still utterly, terrifyingly still. You have never seen him at the brink of collapse like this, before. He looks like he wants to step further in the room, his hand twitching with a nervous tic of adrenaline, but he stays stock-still. Waiting for you.

“Nowhere,” you say softly. “I’ve been in bed with the boys, love.”

You have to resist the urge to spring out of bed and run your hands along his body to look for any sign of injury. You aren’t entirely sure what’s gotten into him, but if he’s hallucinating or delirious, you should probably reach out to the other X-Men. Maybe the professor would know why Remy’s in full gear and looking battle-worn at this hour. Why would he go without waking you first?

Remy wavers. He looks heartsick. “Don’ lie t’me, chér.”

“Never,” you agree. You offer the spot next to you in bed with a half-pleading, half-alluring gesture. “Come here. You look like hell, Remy.”

“You…” he starts, then stops. Abruptly, he drops his staff with a rattling thud. Within three strides, he’s in your arms, melting into your embrace. You clutch at him just as fiercely, burying your nose into the crown of his hair. He smells like smoke and dust, but there’s no indication of blood and pain. He simply sags in your grip, his breathing quick and unsteady against your collarbone. His fingers curl weakly into the back of your nightshirt, as if that’s all the strength he can muster.

He’s mumbling, even with his face pressed tightly to the curve of your throat, but you can’t make out much more than your name, over and over.

“Shh, Remy, I’m right here with you,” you whisper against his crown. With a free hand, you reach up to pull out the elastic band holding up his hair, letting it fall in uneven waves. When was the last time he took care of himself? Your Remy loved to indulge in fine-smelling soaps and lavish hair routines, surrounding himself in a luxury he earned himself. His appearance was just as much armor as his coat was. You had never been fooled by his demeanor: his weapon of charm was just as sharply honed as his weapon of playing cards.

Yet it’s the length of his hair that sours the back of your throat with nausea. You run your fingers through it, slowly massaging his scalp in the way that makes him pliant and sleepy. It’s not that you haven’t seen Remy with long hair before; it’s simply the fact that you haven’t seen him with long hair in years. Just last night, his hair had been just long enough to curl at the nape of his neck. You had run your fingers through it and mentioned a haircut, and he had been a deadweight in your lap, humming sleepily in acknowledgement.

You swallow thickly. Either this is not the same Remy you went to sleep next to the night before… or you are missing time.

“You should take a bath, love,” you murmur, gently scratching his scalp. You can feel smudged wetness on the collar of your nightshirt from tears, though he hasn’t made a sound other than a few deep, unsteady breaths. Back when you first got together during missions, the shower was the first place you two could unwind and start to sort through your fading adrenaline rush.

He pulls back from your embrace, just a little, and every word of encouragement dies in your throat at the look on his face. Rage. Betrayal.

Heartbreak.

“You been gon’ awhile, chér,” he says. It’s not an accusation, but there’s a simmering anger beneath that matter-of-fact tone. It’s always ‘chér’ when he doesn’t know which version you are. His eyes burn through you, intent on stripping you raw. You wonder what answers he could possibly expect from you. If it’s answers he wants at all, or rather an apology.

You have to offer him something.

“I —”

“Gambit go lookin’ for you,” he laughs, mirthless. “Got him spending two years lookin’ and you jus’ show up in bed. Like nothin’ happen.”

Two years. There’s a small itch in the back of your mind, like the whisper of a memory raking its claws down your back. There had been an unraveling. Utter destruction. Then it had been you here, you waking up in bed as if nothing had happened.

You blink back at him, struck speechless. You don’t have to offer a word, though, because there’s true anger in his eyes, now.

“I go to de Void,” he says. “I t’ink that’s what it was. Nothin’ left there. Dere’s no life around, hein? Mais, non, not even my wife, only the dead. Ev’rybody dead.”

 His eyes close as if he can ward away the images tormenting his memories. You’re grateful that he can’t see the way your face crumples at that. He went back for you. He had survived the wound, and he found a way back to come for you.

And he had found nothing but death.

“You’re such an idiot,” you choke out. His eyes snap open at that, but you merely cup his face in your hands and draw him in to bump your forehead against his, sucking in a shuddering breath. He is warm and alive under your touch. You didn’t think you could touch him like this again when Nova had been standing above you, prepared to tear you in shreds. “I sent you ahead, but I was coming with you.”

“We stay together,” he tells you. There’s a strain in his voice just as painful as yours, but the way he reaches up to swipe away a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb is careful. As if he’s marveling that he has the chance to touch you at all. “Mais la, don’ tell Gambit he wrote up those vows for nothin’, Mrs. LeBeau.”

“Matched pair,” you whisper back.

“Couple’a aces,” he agrees, and he kisses you just as gently as he wiped away your tears, as if you have all the time in the world.

[identifying-cars-in-posts]

A long overdue update:

Hi everyone. Long time no see. I literally have not opened Tumblr since the last time I posted here. Hope everyone is doing ok. Figured I owed y’all an apology and explanation for kinda just vanishing.

First, I did in fact get a car! It’s a 2015 Nissan Versa Note. I don’t particularly like it but a friend gave me a deal on it that I couldn’t turn down. Once my life stabilizes I’m probably going to sell it and buy an old truck, maybe a 70s Ford. I’d love a little sports car or a land yacht but rear wheel drive is a bit impractical for brutal New England winters, and the Jeep really put me in Old American Truck Mode. But yes I have a car now!

Second, unfortunately this is an official notice of hiatus. When I last posted saying I was taking some time off it was because I had just had an incredibly stressful move and did not have the energy to keep this blog up. I figured I’d take some time to get settled in, relax, and then pick this back up after a week or two, but the last month has been really rough - the short version is one of the people I was living with turned out to be a pretty horrendous human being who managed to get everybody living in the house essentially kicked out via sheer drama. Within a month and a half. It’s a long story but tl:dr if you quite literally slander a property manager with heavy unfounded accusations of horrible crimes, they’ll probably bail from the whole situation. And since they’re gone the landlord has to hand ownership of everything over to a company that’s forcing everyone still here to vacate. I’m now fighting to not have to live in aforementioned Nissan Versa through the aforementioned brutal New England winter. On top of that, I’m a retail manager so we’re going into our busiest most stressful season, so that’s been an extra level of exhaustion.

So what does that mean for this blog? Well, as I said, I’m officially going on indefinite hiatus, as are the projects I was working on in relation, including the reference website. I’m really sorry, I’m just way too stressed and dealing with way too much. If I could, I would just hand off administrative power to someone else, but this is a sideblog so I can’t hand off login credentials without also giving access to my main/personal account. It’s my biggest regret of this account, but when I started it I never expected it to blow up the way it did back in September - I had no reason to expect to need it to be its own entirely separate blog. I love what I was doing here and I thought that it might even be a nice distraction from everything going on, but the upkeep required with this blog is just more than I can deal with right now. I hope that things settle down soon and that I can genuinely come back here and enjoy what I was doing, but I just need literally anything to level out in my real life and to not be in 100% survival mode, because at the moment I literally do not have the energy to pour into this.

Anyway. Sorry for the long post, I’m not good at not being overly verbose. I’m really sorry for kind of abandoning this project, and I hope I can get back to it relatively soon, it just might be a while.

In the mean time, I hope those of y’all who I turned onto cars as a potential hobby find some other good outlets! I highly recommend Donut Media’s series “Up to Speed” on YouTube, as well as the channels Regular Car Reviews, Doug DeMuro, Garbage Time, and Aging Wheels. All great YouTube channels that are both informative and very approachable and fun.

Godspeed and much love. Hope to see y’all soon

- Identifying Cars in Posts admin ❤️

[kakiastro]

Chilled Astrology Observations

Hey y’all! You good? I’m sorry I’ve been MIA lately, I needed a break from everything for a while. While I’m still taking a break, I will start to post more content back up. I’ll be doing schedule post instead of mostly live ones.

So this a chilled post, so sit back and relax. These are just observation so if it don’t resonates then let it fly.

Libra Placements

-I believe the reason why libras has a hard time making decision’s is because they can see all sides to things. They have the ability to see the perspective of different point views and find them validated. So what happens, they struggle to pick a side because both sides have a point. They need to lean into their sister sign energy Aries and make a concrete decision. Now it may not be the right decision but you picked one based off of what you think is fair and just. Why do you think so many judges have libra or heavy Venus energy in their chart.

-I feel like Libras is more of a socialite than Leo’s. Leo’s are good with people due to their warm nature but libras are just naturally charming to everyone they meet. Everyone knows them but in the same breath, they can create a lot of enemies. Libras are sweet but don’t underestimate them, they can quickly turn into their sister Aries real quick. That passive aggressive energy is scary chile

Capricorn Placements

-most Capricorns but particularly Capricorn risings definitely has had a Mars type of upbringing. They have an Aries 4h so that’s where the Mars energy is coming from. It’s like the line from Sophia from the Color Purple “All my life I had to fight” because they have. Risings in particular had to learn what it means to be independent at a young age. It’s also weird because even though they were independent at a young age, they were heavily restricted. This is why so many of them are considered late bloomers because as they get older, the more freedom they have. Once they start having financial and physical freedom is when it starts to look up for them. Their 30s is when their lives actually start for the better. Aquarius is one sign over which rules their 2h of money.

-Capricorn Suns go through this but there’s a little different process. Most of their restriction growing up was trying to figure out who they are in the world. They may have looked up to lots of elders like grandparents. Much of their identity was created by the elders they looked up too. This is why Caps have “old person” energy about them because that’s who they looked up to as children. Cap Suns growing up may have a small view of the world until they start to see the world and have a spiritual awakening. This usually happens around 23-25ish, heavy on 24. 24 is considered your 1h protection year. It’s also your Jupiter return so trying to figure out who they are in this world

Pisces placements

-I’m probably about to make a few Scorpio placements mad but I feel like Pisces people are way more mysterious than Scorpios. Every Scorpio person I’ve met were actually very bubbly and open. They just naturally have this intense energy but they’re not scary people at all! Now Pisces, it’s like trying to understand the depths of the ocean lol. Y’all are hella mysterious and brooding. Pisces, I swear y’all live different lives everyday😅. Pisces moons and risings are the hardest to read for me.

Synastry

-Moon/Chiron, so if you have this aspect with anyone, you all trigger and heal each other. The Moon person soothe the Chiron person wounds. It’s like when our moms hold us after we get hurt “it’s gonna be alright hunny” type of energy. The Chiron person feels validated but also feel open with sharing those wounds to the moon person. Now the Chiron person can trigger the moon person to work on their own healing. Chíron brings up the things the moon person has repressed that needs to be healed. Depending on the person, if the moon is open to healing and working on themselves, then this can really be a beautiful aspect. If not, then the moon person can lash out emotionally and it can cause riff in the connection.

-Sun/Moon, this is one of my favorite aspects! The Sun person sees the emotional needs of the moon. The moon person sees the Sun for the beautiful person they are. The luminaries see each other because they light each others world. How beautiful is that🥹

Sagittarius placements

- sag people, y’all need to take breaks from the world. I noticed sag people can really feel the weight of the world on their shoulders to the point it messes up your psyche (Scorpio 12h). Sag is ruled by Jupiter which rules over world affairs. It also rules over mass media. I’m not telling you to completely shut the world out but take breaks and ground yourself.

[pitchprowler27]

Hearts On The Sidelines: Part 2

Ellie had been thinking about her encounter with the Arsenal captain for the better part of the previous day. She just can’t wrap her head around the whole situation. What are the odds that the woman in front of her that collapsed was Leah’s mom. What were the odds that Leah would flirt with HER. Ellie knows she’s an attractive woman. She may be small but the Army did wonders for her body, minus the miscellaneous scars. Just the thought of someone so attractive and well put together as The Leah Williamson finding her attractive is crazy. 

Ellie, having a rare spare moment at work, is actually on Leah’s Instagram. If you were to ask her she was just admiring the posts and the woman. If you were to ask Bobby, Ellie was full blown lurking. Was it such a bad thing that she was looking? Theres nothing wrong with looking if you ask Ellie. 

“Ells please tell me you are not drooling over her instagram again.” He asks over her shoulder “You are ridiculous! You aren’t evening following her.” 

Ellie instantly starts blushing and locks her phone “It would be weird to follow her!”

“Oh yes the woman who gets hundreds of followers each day would be so appalled if the woman who helped her mom followed her on Instagram. That’s my bad” He flops down next to her and steals her phone making Ellie gasp and trying to reach for it back. “There is been done. You’re welcome” He tosses her phone back to her. 

“What did you do!” Ellie looks at her phone and sees that he followed Leah for her. This shouldn’t unnerve her as much as it does. Ellie has literally stitched people up under heavy gun fire but following an attractive girl on Instagram, that seemed like an impossible feat. She’s always been awkward and shy outside of her craft. Growing up talking to girls, especially attractive ones, has always made her brain turn to mush. Bobby always teases her about her inability to talk to attractive woman. 

Before they could continue their conversation any further their station tones dropped. It was game time. The two quickly got into gear and were ready to take the call. There was something so peaceful in the chaos that Ellie was addicted to. If you asked her to explain the feeling she had on these high stakes high risk calls she wouldn’t be able to explain it. From the outside looking in they would never understand and from the inside looking out she could never explain. 

———————————————————————————————————————

By the time their shift ended Ellie was depleted of energy both physically and mentally. While she enjoyed the chaos it did take a lot out of her. She was getting changed in the locker room when she finally looked at her phone for the first time in hours. She felt her heart sink to her stomach and her heart rate pick up. There was an instagram notification : leahwilliamsonn requesting to follow her. 

“Bobby!!!” Ellie screamed for her friend who came rushing looking for a threat. When Ellie presented him her phone he rolled his eyes. 

“Girl, I know you that you know that you cannot scream like that for something like this” 

“This is important!!”

“It did not warrant a scream like that and you know better.” He looked at her sternly. Screaming like that meant a threat was near. Ellie did feel guilty about it after the initial shock wore off. She should’ve known it would’ve activated flight or fight for him. Its been trained and beaten into them. 

“I’m sorry you’re right but this is big!” 

“Let me see.” He takes the phone and looks at the request. He takes a long stare at her and hits accept making her jump for her phone. “You’ll thank me for this later babe, trust me”

As the two were walking out to their respective calls Ellie feels her phone vibrate and its another instagram notification. A DM from the Arsenal captain in question. 

Leah: Hey pretty girl I was wondering when you were going to accept my request.

Ellie immediately does not know what to do. She looks to her friend with a helpless look that is screaming “help me”. Bobby just grabs her phone with a friendly eye roll, looks at the message and then back to Ellie with a “are you kidding me” look. 

“Ellie you’re ridiculous. You are a grown woman, she isn’t even here what are you scared for? Just talk to her, I’m going home. Its been a long day and I have faith in you. I love you” He drops a kiss to the top of her head and gets in his car to head home. Ellie sits in hers for a moment to think about what to say. She didn’t want to seem too eager but didn’t want to have her waiting for a response. There were so many “what ifs” that scared her. 

Ellie: Hey, sorry I was kind of surprised. 

Ellie: I mean I was working so I couldn’t answer right away and was also surprised

Ellie: I was just busy

Ellie: Sorry for the rant. 

Ellie wants to throw her phone out the window. Why is she like this. Why couldn’t she just respond and be normal. No, she had to go and make it weird. Sometimes she wished she could carry her confidence from work into her personal life. No matter how hard she tried she would always be painfully awkward. 

Leah: No worries pretty girl, I just wanted to say thank you again for taking such great care of my mom. 

Ellie: Of course, not a problem. Its my job you know? Work never ends. 

Leah: Will I see you at the next Arsenal game? 

Ellie: Maybe?

Ellie: I mean I dont know I dont really watch soccer so I dont know your schedule. 

Ellie: Football, I mean football. I dont watch football. 

Ellie: Whens you game? 

Again, Ellie wants to scream or hit her head off the steering wheel. Her face is flushed with embarrassment and she’s thanking her lucky stars that Leah or Bobby isn’t here to see her like this. 

Leah: Next weekend we play Manchester City at 7. 

Ellie: I work :/ so I wont be able to make the whole game. 

Leah: That’s a shame but I guess saving lives is more important then cheering me on. I’ll be looking for you if you do decide to come. 

Ellie: I’ll try not to disappoint you

Leah: I doubt you could beautiful. 

————————————————————————————————————

Ellie makes Bobby rush from work to the game and he was 100% supportive of this endeavor. His shy little buddy trying to impress a girl, hell yeah he was down for it. They didn’t get a chance to shower or really change. Both is tactical pants and a plain black shirt they wore under their uniform. When Ellie got to the box office they told her that her tickets have been upgraded much to Ellie’s confusion. 

“Maybe your girlfriend hooked us up”

“Stop! She is not my girlfriend dont start” 

The two made their way to their new seats which were center of the field a few rows back. Ellie isn’t sure what God she has to thank for this but she is loving it. She’s close to the field and that means she is able to really look at the players, more specifically Leah. She isn’t noticed at first but when she is Leah sends her a signature smirk before getting back into the game. 

The two friends enjoyed the game and each others company. By the time full time hit Ellie was exhausted and dead on her feet. It was a long day at work and then to rush here didn’t help her. She was getting ready to leave with Bobby when she heard her name being called. 

“Ellie wait!” When she turned to see who was calling her name she shouldn’t have been surprised with was Leah jogging over to her. “Come here!” She motioned for her to walk to the railing that separated the seats from the field. By the time she made it down Leah was leaning on the rail looking up at Ellie. 

“Hey good game girl!” Bobby broke the silence that was quickly starting to build because Ellie wasn’t saying anything. 

“Thank you, did you enjoy it?” Leah was talking to both of them but looking at Ellie. 

To her credit she was pretty composed until she made eye contact with Leah. She immediately started to blush “Yeah it was nice. These seats are cool…like we were so close we could see everyone.” 

“Anyone in particular you were looking at?” Leah asked with her smirk. 

“Uh I mean everyone looked nice but you know…” Ellie stammered out trying her best to be smooth. 

“Oh I dont know what do you mean Ellie?” Bobby asked in a faux confused voice. Ellie hit him in the stomach muttering out a “stop it”. 

“Yeah pretty girl what do you mean?” Leah was feeding into this and enjoying that Ellie was a blushing mess. 

“You weren’t horrible to look at.” 

“Wasn’t horrible to look at…I’ll take it pretty girl.” Leah gave her a soft smile before stepping back. “You want to come out on the field?” 

Just as Ellie was about to decline Bobby jumped at the opportunity to go onto the pitch especially if it meant helping Ellie out. He gracefully hopped the railing with ease. Ellie was looking for an easier way to get down or maybe the world would take it easy on her, open up and swallow her whole. 

“Come on pretty girl I got you” Ellie blushed even more as both Leah and Bobby helped her over the rail. She mumbled out a quiet thank you and continue to enjoy her conversation with Leah. It was fascinating to her how easy going Leah was. On the pitch she commanded everyones attention and off the pitch it was the same. She did it like second nature to her. 

“You’ll have to excuse her awkwardness. She can’t help it, trust me I’ve tried but she’s hopeless. She’s served overseas as a medic but can’t handle a pretty blonde in front of her.” 

Ellie’s eyes got huge at what bobby just said to her crush. Just as Ellie was about to say something Leah cut her off, “Oh I don’t mind at all. I think its cute and if a pretty girl like Ellie gets flustered around me then I consider that a win.” 

“Oh.” Ellie responses making Leah laugh even though that wasn’t her intention. 

“That’s all you got to say pretty girl? No a woman of many words” 

“I just…you know” 

Leah gives her a soft smile making Ellie’s knees go weak. Okay, maybe she’s happy that the world didn’t open up and swallow her whole, especially if Leah is looking at her like that. 

“Are you going to stay for the fireworks?” 

Ellie and Bobby both look at each other with unease. Loud noises followed by intense brightness, no their thing since they’ve gotten home. Not that she would admit that right now. She thinks she could suffer through it if it meant Leah would look at her like that again. She was going to say yes but she could feel the start of her hands shaking. She made fists and hid them behind her back. “You know, they aren’t my thing but thank you” Ellie declines feeling her pulse quicken at the thought of not getting out of their in time. 

Leah doesn’t miss a beat and assures her that its okay. Out of nowhere she takes her jersey off leaving Ellie forgetting her anxiety. Leah is saying something and holding it out to her. When Ellie doesn’t respond Leah repeats herself again. “Take my jersey so next time you have something to wear.” 

Ellie just silently takes it from her hands trying not to stare at Leah’s toned body. “Uh…okay” again, she makes Leah laugh with her few words. 

“Until next time pretty girl"

[yourstru1y4ever]

June 21, 2018: No Guarantees

Pairing: (eventual) Satoru Gojo x F!Reader Content: canon-compliant, canonical character death, we got some fluff, some angst, slow burn, Reader is Yuji's Aunt, Gojo refers to Reader as Sweets Word Count: 4.2k Thicker Than Water Masterlist | Next Chapter >>

A/N: ah finally, the first chapter. . . it's not perfect but I wanted to finally post it after it's been sitting in my drafts for the last few months. Be sure to like, reblog and comment! Hopefully I'll be posting the next chapter in a week~

“I’m going to be late again! Shit, I really am dead this time.”

Words are powerful within Jujutsu society. Sorcerers with cursed speech can use their words to curse others easily, but everyone can forget that curses can be born from human emotion. 

“Can’t you see I’m doing this to protect you?”

Humans know that their words can hurt others, be used to stab others in the back, double down on a lie. But those non-sorcerers will never understand how their words can manifest, and fester into something that they could never imagine.

“Not even death will stop my love for you.”

It’s important for Jujutsu sorcerers to remember that their words also can be just as powerful as anyone else's words.

“Focus! Don’t miss the shot!!”

It’s something you have to remind yourself constantly because your family is cursed enough as it is.

. . . “You’re a strong kid, so try to help others.”

The sun brightens up the small hospital room, spreading its warmth. He hates when it gets like this. His eyes crack open slightly and immediately glares at the woman who opened the blinds. Once the blinds are fully open you turn and look at him, a teasing smile on your face.

“Hey old man! Glad to see you’re still kicking.”

He grumbles, “Shouldn’t you be at that school in Tokyo?”

You hum, contemplating. Walking over to the sink in his small room you grab a glass of water. 

“I should be, however my students and I are about to go on a mission.” You hand the water to him, he takes it begrudgingly. 

“Is that what you call your little wilderness retreats?” He says after having a small sip of water. 

“You know they’re more than just 'wilderness retreats' old man.” He looks up at you as you straighten your posture. 

He scoffs, “They’re dangerous, that's what they are! And don’t call me old man, you really should respect your elders.” 

You shake your head at him, rolling your eyes. Still as stubborn as ever, you think.

“Either way, old man, I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be gone for the next few weeks or so.” You walk around the space, tidying up the room from the last time you visited. “I’m monitoring my students so that they can grow as sorcerers.”

He coughs and you stop. He waves his hand, dismissing your concern and takes another drink of water, “I don’t care about what you do with your life-”

“Just don’t involve Yuji into jujutsu, I know Wasuke.” You walk over to the window and grab the flowers out of the vase that Yuji brought over from the other day. Wasuke opens his eyes a bit more now and notices the small frown on your face.

“It’s for his safety,” He grumbles, setting his water down.

“I know,” you look down at the wilted flowers, picking at some of the darkened petals. Ever since Yuji was born it was agreed upon by Wasuke and your sister that you and her would not use your cursed techniques around him. 

While Jin and Wasuke were somewhat aware of curses, they couldn’t see them let alone fight them. They only had an awareness of cursed energy, having an unsettling feeling creep up their spine, a feeling of death, the urge to run to save your own life while you still could.

As you’ve gotten older and had joint custody of Yuji, that agreement your sister made with Wasuke extended to you. You only agreed to his terms when you realized that Yuji couldn’t see curses or wield cursed energy. 

Since the day you held Yuji in your arms as a child you swore to protect him no matter what and despite only being 16 when you gained custody of him you did what you thought was right.

You sigh, “Aren’t your nurses supposed to check in with you?” You look at the clock in the room, “Like now-ish?”

Wasuke hummed, “They’re probably just yapping to each other about useless things.”

“Yapping?” You snicker.

He bristles, “That’s what those nurses do!” He crosses his arms and you can barely contain a laugh from how grumpy he looks. He gives you a sharp glare and you start chuckling, “Such a grouch as always. Never change.”

A quiet knock brings your attention to the nurse standing in the doorway, covering one end of the phone.

“Excuse me, Mr. Itadori, you have a call.” The nurse steps inside the room as you wave at her while smiling.

She smiles back before returning her attention to Wasuke getting closer to his bed, “It’s your grandson again, asking if you want him to bring-”

He starts yelling at the nurse, “Leave me alone! Tell him not to come here! He should go to his club!!” He attempts to snatch the phone out of her hands, “Go to his club!!”

“Damn old man! Always asking for respect and yet not even respecting those who take care of you,” You run to help the nurse deal with Wasuke but she just hands you the phone.

“I’ve got this, don’t worry,” She winks at you. You shake your head and bring the phone up to your ear.

“Yuji?”

“Oh hi Auntie!” You can sense his smile coming from his voice.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for school, young man?” You jokingly ask.

“I am! I am! I’m just doing my usual call with Grandpa. Speaking of which you rarely visit him, what’s the occasion?”

“I’m going on a school trip with my students for a few weeks. I just wanted to give him a heads up,” Wasuke was finally relaxed enough for the nurse to start taking his vitals. “And I’m now giving you that same heads up.”

“Gotcha! I hope the trip goes well for you guys!”

“Thanks hon,” A small twinge of anxiety manifests in your chest as you notice a small frown on the nurse's face. 

“And I know I say this all the time but make sure to call me immediately if anything happens. I’ll come over,” You snap your fingers, “like that.”

“Don’t worry Auntie! We’ll be fine.” You grimace at his assurance. Maybe you should talk to Yaga about moving the trip to next week. “I’ll make sure to keep my visits up with Grandpa.”

You try your best to not sound worried, “Alright Yuji, I’ll talk to you later. At this rate you will be late for your classes.”

“I know, I know! I’ll see ya later Auntie! Love ya-” And the line goes dead. As you bring the phone down from your ear the nurse walks up to you. You notice the grave look on her face and you try to not think too much about it.

“Miss, if I may, can we step outside and speak for a moment?”

You hand her back the phone. Shit. Maybe you will call Yaga.

“Of course, I need to head out anyway.” You give her a smile to try to relieve some of the tension. You glance over at Wasuke who has his eyes closed but his arms still crossed. 

“Hey old man, I’m gonna head out now,” He gives you a squinted glare, “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, like die. alright?”

The nurse steps out of the room waiting for you outside. He keeps your gaze, “Hmph, no guarantees.”

It was your turn to glare right back, your voice firm, “Wasuke.”

He turns to face towards the window. Your shoulders deflate and you try your best to brush off your anxiety. As you start to walk outside he calls out your name. You stop just outside the door frame.

“Take care of Yuji when I’m gone,” He mutters, still not looking at you. 

Before you leave you look back at him and smile, “You know I always do.”

You step out of the room and you feel like you’re able to breathe again. It’ll be okay, you try to reassure yourself, he’s just being his usual grouchy, asshole self-

“His lung cancer is worsening.” The nurse spits out.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry miss-” The girl begins to ramble and none of her words reach your ears. Your eyes glaze over and you nod along to whatever she’s telling you at this point. At least his death won’t be from a curse, you thank whatever God granted this to happen. You focus on your breathing and try to pay attention to what the nurse is saying.

“-in a stable condition right now, but I’m not sure for how much longer.”

“Well if he uses his call button then you’ll know,” You try to joke, she doesn’t smile.

“We’ll give you a call if anything happens,” And you nod your head and you try to think of what to do next. Your movements out of the hospital are mechanical and don’t feel right. Your legs are moving on their own and the sinking feeling in your chest hasn’t left yet. With a blink of your eyes you go from outside the hospital to standing on a train platform waiting for the next train into Tokyo.

Come on focus, you reason with yourself. There’s no need to get worked up now when nothing has happened. Once the train arrives you walk on to the nearest car doors that open and miss the two individuals who get off a few cars ahead of you, but one of them looks over at you. 

The small smile that graces his lips is unmistakable and the smile turns into a smirk. His student keeps walking away so he’s unable to call out to you with a snarky remark. He’ll have to save it once he recovers that cursed object the Elders keep hounding him about.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

“You can’t be serious Sensei!” 

“Bonito flakes!!”

“We don’t need you to chaperone us, we’ll just leave on our own!”

“Guys!!” You wave your arms and your three students settle down. . . barely.

Panda is the one to break the silence first, “Why are you canceling our mission? Aren’t those second grade curses still in Sakata?”

“Salmon” Inumaki nods in agreement.

“I’m not canceling your mission outright, it’s just-”

Maki speaks up, “We don’t need your supervision. We’ve gone on missions by ourselves before. Why do you need to come?”

“Due to the sightings of multiple second grade curses in one area I need to at least supervise.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “While I know you all are used to working together, I suggested to Yaga that-”

“You suggested?!” Maki gawks, “You’re worse than Gojo sometimes.”

Your eyes widen and you go slack-jawed. She did not just-

“Tu-na!’ 

“Maki!”

“I’m just saying! We’re strong enough to take care of ourselves, don’t you guys agree?”

“I do, but Maki you can’t just say that about Sensei! She’s nothing like Gojo.”

“And thank God for that.” You mutter and Inumaki smiles. 

“I just don’t see why she needs to watch us all of a sudden.”

“Is it a crime to see how my students are progressing? I want to see the improvement myself.” You cross your arms and straighten your stance trying to regain control. 

Maki pushes the hilt of her naginata on the ground in frustration. A small puff of dust is swept up into the air. 

“You can’t see it during our sparring practices?” Maki’s eyes meet yours in a fiery gaze, your eyes don’t leave hers. Damn her stare is intense!

“I can, but watching you fight a curse in real time is different than in practice. . . you all know that much.” Panda and Inumaki nod their heads in agreement, Maki looks away with disdain. 

You place a hand on Maki’s shoulder and she looks up at your calm expression, “I want to make sure you’re implementing the techniques I’m teaching you in practice. If they aren’t working then we’ll try something different.”

“I had to go on three different missions with Hakari and Hoshi before I figured out what type of combat worked best for them. It’s important to not be reliant on one type of fighting, it becomes a weakness if you can’t defend yourself another way. That’s why I want to oversee your mission.”

Maki still doesn’t look pleased but with the way her eyes softened you can tell she accepted your answer. 

“So how long are we waiting?” She asks.

“We’re leaving tomorrow rather than tonight,”

Panda smiles, “Oh that’s nothing! I thought we weren’t going on that mission for a few months.”

“Mustard leaf?”

“Oh it’s nothing really,” you lie but when you see the side eye that Inumaki, Panda, and Maki give you you sigh in defeat. It’s been a long enough day and you can already feel the headache coming on.

“Alright, if you must know, a family member of mine is about to pass and I want to make sure my nephew is in a good spot before we head off on the mission.”

A bird call breaks through the silence as you start to move away from the training grounds. The evening sun is slowly setting, giving reprieve from the heat of the day. 

It was rare for you to mention your family to anyone at Jujutsu High, only Yaga knew about them and even then he barely knew anything. The three students look at each other trying to search for what to say next.

Panda quietly speaks up, “You have a nephew?”

“I do,” A smile creeps onto your face as you remember your call with him earlier.

“I guess he can’t see curses then?”

“As always, you are correct Maki. He’s just. . .” you stop walking and look up trying to find the right word, “. . .human.”

A harsh tone rings out disrupting the tranquil calm. 

“Excuse me for a moment,” You hold your hand out to the three apologetically as you bring your phone up to your ear. You move away from your students walking out of their earshot but you can hear whispers of what they’re saying.

“Do you think-?” Panda starts.

“It’s possible.” Maki finishes, the three of them try their best to overhear what the conversation is.

You take a quick breath to calm your nerves as you answer the call, “Hello?”

“Hey you actually picked up for once!” You gotta be fucking kidding me-

“Gojo?” you ask exasperated.

“Did you miss me? Admit it, you missed me~” his voice sings out.

You roll your eyes, “Hardly, why are you calling me?”

“Can’t I just talk to you without needing a reason?”

“No Gojo.”

“Ugh you’re no fun like this!” What did he just-? Wait, don't engage, it will only raise your blood pressure. You can hear the bustling street sounds from his end of the call.

“Aren’t you supposed to be retrieving that cursed object? You wouldn’t shut up about it at last night’s meeting.”

“I sent Megumi to retrieve it for me, although now that you mention it.” You overhear Gojo talking to a street vendor before talking to you, “It has been a while since I’ve seen him, I better call to make sure he’s okay.”

“Glad I can help you with that.” You speak with little enthusiasm. 

“Buuuuuuuut I’ll call him in a bit,” You can hear his smile, “For now I’m talking to you Sweets.”

“Satoru-” you warn.

“Which flavor of kikufuku did you want again?” He interrupts.

“What?” He can’t be serious.

“Flavor, Sweets,” Annoyed with having to repeat himself, “Which did you want?”

He is serious. Panda and Inumaki are slowly creeping closer towards you trying to be as quiet as possible but they’re failing. You’ll work on stealth training when you all get back from the mission. You take a few more steps away from them and you hear a frustrated groan out of Panda.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and mutter, “You need to get that cursed object dumbass, not sending Megumi to do your job and getting kikufuku!”

“I just wanted to be sure-” A ringtone interrupts his voice. Finally a chance to get off this call.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Your voice drips mockingly, “Someone more important is calling,”

“Wait- more important? Who’s calling you-?!”

You hang up his call without answering his question and bring your phone up with the new call, “Hello?”

“Hello is this-?”

You recognize the sound of her voice- “Yes this is she.”

“Hello Miss, I’m one of the nurses here at Sugisawa Hospital and I just wanted to call to inform you that Wasuke Itadori has passed.”

The silence that fills the air is deafening, which is surprising considering the call you just had with Gojo. Your head hangs low as a sad smile forms on your face.

“I see,” your brow furrows and wonder if Yuji was there when it happened?

“Yes, he actually was the one to alert us of it happening,” did you just say that outloud? 

“He’s even filling out some of the paperwork on your behalf as of this moment.” 

Inumaki points, “Tuna, tuna.” Panda and Maki turn to see you walking back towards them, determined.

“Yes, I understand. Thank you for the call, I’ll be on the next train to Sendai in just a few moments.” You hang up the call and look at your students. They’ve never seen this side of you. There’s a fire behind your eyes, face stern as you pocket your phone in your pocket.. 

“I’ll see you all later tomorrow when I’ll meet you on the train to Sakata. Your train is going to leave in the morning, I’ll get on at Sendai.” You tell them voice unwavering. They nod their heads and notice the small trail of cursed energy starting to build from your legs. 

“We’re sorry for your loss, Sensei.” Panda says and you smile.

“Don’t be, at least he had an honorable death.” And before they could say goodbye you’re gone.

Flashes of greenery pass by as you sprint through Japan. It’s been about a year since you’ve had to travel this long of a distance using your technique. It’s worth it to get more stamina and test your limits. 

With your technique you’re able to manipulate your own blood stream. By manipulating your blood you’re able to greatly increase the amount of oxygen your body needs for your blood cells. It’s something you learned when you were first using your technique.

With this you’re able to run much faster than any human possibly could, and that’s even without using cursed energy. You remember Gojo taking you to see some X-Men movie and he pointed to Quicksilver saying “Hey that’s just like you! Except you know he’s better cuz he doesn’t have to use cursed energy to get even faster he’s just that fast alrea-”. You punched him for that. 

The distance is starting to get to you though. After 40 minutes you reach Sendai and you’re out of your reserve of stored cursed energy. Gasping for breath, you run towards the hospital and go up the stairs to the level they kept Wasuke on. The floor is practically deserted and feels very liminal. The hum of the hospital lights and a nurse typing on a computer are the only things you can hear. 

“Pardon me,” You walk up to the nurse at the front desk, “I was told that there might be some paperwork to fill out. I’m Wasuke Itadori’s daughter-in-law.”

The nurse looks up at you and smiles. You try your best to smile back but something feels wrong; like there’s a curse nearby but you can’t feel any cursed energy. Maybe it’s the totem they use at the hospital.

“I remember seeing you here earlier today, I am sorry for your loss. Wasuke was a good man.”

You want to laugh but instead say, “Grumpy as all hell though.”

“True,” The nurse looks back at her computer and types. “So looking through the records here there’s just one thing Yuji didn’t fill out.”

“Only one?”

“Yes, do you happen to know how Mr. Itadori wanted his body to be. . .” She trails off and looks at her computer to avoid your gaze. These weren’t easy conversations to have and you can understand why she didn’t want to ask Yuji this question.

You nod solemnly, “Cremation please.”

She nods back and types it into the system, “I just need your signature.”

You sign for it and the nurse gives you one more smile, “Perfect, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” You turn to leave but quickly turn back to the nurse, “I meant to ask when I first came in, but do you happen to know where Yuji is?”

The nurse thinks for a moment, her face scrunched up in concentration. 

“If I remember correctly,” She looks at you, “Yuji was talking to someone who was wearing something similar to you; he mentioned something about curses and Yuji’s club then they left.”

Anxiety builds in your chest, so you were feeling cursed energy earlier. You need to focus.

“Thank you,” You barely say as you rush out the door. Once you get outside you start heading towards the direction of Yuji’s school or at least you think you’re heading in the right direction. You only visit during holidays and even then you’re sometimes held up due to missions.

Focus, you try your best to find a trail from the cursed object. It’s faint but it’s strong enough to follow. You imbue your run with cursed energy and make it to his school in record time. 

The school reeks of death- You can sense Fushiguro and three humans inside so as you near the gate you just hop over it, adrenaline now taking over. 

A protective sense washes over you and your cursed energy increases. You travel up the stairs skipping over every other step trying to sense where specifically these curses were. Making it to the fourth floor you can overhear, “NUE!” before the curse crashes through the walls, going outside.

You run towards the rubble and try to look out the gaping hole the curse made but you can’t see outside.

“Help-” You barely hear it due to the commotion just a few feet away from you but you see two of Yuji’s classmates, one unconscious and the other fighting to stay awake on the ground.

“I got you, don't worry.” You pick them up the best you can without causing more harm, “What are your names?”

“Setsuko Sasaki and he’s-” She chokes out a sob.

“He’s gonna be alright, focus on your breath.” You tell Sasaki and she tries her best.

“He’s Takashi Iguchi-” Sasaki whimpers before- THUMP! “You idiot-!” 

You need to get them out of here now and kill the curse that Fushiguro is dealing with.

“Alright Sasaki, I’m going to take you both to the hospital. I need you to close your eyes for me alright. It’ll only take me a minute.”

She barely nods her head and once her eyes are closed you instantly sprint them both back to the hospital you were at a mere 5 minutes ago. 

You wish you had the time to stay and make sure they would be okay but as soon as a couple nurses take them from your arms you tell them the kid’s names and you sprint back to the school.

I’m not gonna make it-

The second you return to the school, the strong cursed energy presence is gone but there’s two sources of energy coming from the school Fushiguro and. . . ? Confused, you work your way back up to where the curse broke through the wall. You can suddenly feel Gojo’s presence but that still doesn’t explain the other cursed energy output you feel. CRASH!

You step outside of the gaping hole and run up towards Fushiguro who’s holding a bag.

“Fushiguro!” As you run towards him, you notice he doesn’t seem to realize you're there. You look up towards the ongoing fight and you pale.

. . . Sukana? But-?

“Ah Sweets! I was wondering when you would show up,” Gojo says while fighting Sukana with ease. You feel like you’re going to throw up. Gojo punches Sukana away from where you and Fushiguro are. Once Sukana gains his footing he starts running towards you all.

“You Jujutsu sorcerers are always such a pain in the ass in any era!” Sukana yells out as he uses his cursed energy to destroy the ground you’re standing on. You close your eyes to brace for impact but you never feel it. As the dust settles Gojo has his hand up using his Infinity to keep you all safe. The last thing you hear is Gojo counting to 10. 

Sukana stands frozen in place and his eyes close. His head bobs right back up and you really are going to throw up. You feel like you’re underwater and can’t breathe. This cannot be happening-

“Auntie? What are you doing here-?” Gojo puts his fingers up to Yuji’s head and knocks him out.

Before Gojo could question what Yuji just said, you suddenly drop to your knees, tears welling up in your eyes.

Yuji is Sukana’s vessel. You. . .

failed.

[slafastri28]

Hold On To Love - OP81

Note: In case you haven't figured out I'm an Oscar girly, but anyway I really writing these song-based ones and there will definitely be more than one posted tonight.

It was an off week and you two were fighting, having the feeling you would be sleeping in your apartment alone it didn’t feel right that you weren’t speaking. Oscar took his frustration out on you as he tried not to show emotion when he was in the paddock but as soon as you were alone it all came out. This week had been especially rough, getting hate from the media for something that wasn’t his fault. You listened and tried to help him the best you could, try to calm him down but he said he needed to be alone. Usually it ended in Oscar taking a deep breaths and listening to what you said, but this one ended worse. You felt it wasn’t fair he was yelling at you when all you were trying to do was help and after it had been accepted previously it wasn’t this time. He rushed out of your shared apartment at the end of the argument.

Everything had become so complex that day, and there you were that night laying in bed without him by your side, missing him, almost crying. You had your headphones in listening to your song, scrolling through photos feeling lost without him. You felt the tears beginning to stream down your face. You were holding on to love looking at all the memories. You were so glad you had someone as understanding and caring ask Oscar in your life and now you were scared he would be gone.

“I miss you,” you whispered into your phone through sobbing. You felt awful, everything was awful, you were sinking, you were lost, you needed him to come pick you up. You were curled up in a ball wiping your tears in the dark still staring at the photos of you and Oscar, gently running your thumb over his face on your found. You were interrupted by a crack of light peeking through the door. You jolted up quickly trying to pull yourself together, as you saw the door begin to open.

“Oscar,” you breathed heavily. He turned on the lamp next to you before joining you in bed. You could see the stains on his face from tears and the redness in his eyes. He had been as lost and helpless and lonely as you were. You could tell he truly felt awful.

“Oh, Y/N, I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things to you,” he opened his arms for you to embrace. You pulled him so tight to you not letting go.

“I’m just so glad you’re back,” you cried. You kissed him all over, he matched your energy peppering you with kisses.

“I missed you,” he sighed, “and I really am so sorry, I just-” you cut him off pressing your lips to his.

“I forgive you darling,” you smiled before your lips met his once more, “next time just think more okay, it’s not your fault, I know you were angry,” you said in between kisses.

“I know, and I always appreciate your help,” he said, “even if I don’t show it, but I will now,” he smirked. You two fell into the bed gazing into each other’s eyes with the light of your lamp shining on his face. The face you had been waiting for this whole day was finally here loving you tenderly, making you happy in all of your favorite ways.

You two layed in bed staring at the ceiling with smiles on your faces, you played with his hair as he lay there peacefully on your chest.

“I love you, don’t you ever forget that,” he said rolling over to face you. You ran your fingers gently through the waves in his hair as he rubbed his thumb across your cheek.

“I love you too,” you said kissing his forehead before he turned back to his side falling to sleep.