#i don’t think anything’s beaten that high

[questionablepastries]

MAN, all this weekend proved to me is that if u need to be inebriated to the point that you’re incapacitated to “have fun” there is something truly fundamentally wrong w you

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: NSFW, dubcon, bathroom sex, bullying, overall just really filthy smut, virgin insert, virginity loss, somewhat dom reader, somewhat bully reader, somewhat yandere reader

♡ FEM reader

You look like one of those girls that never smiles. Like, if he were to take that empty seat next to you in the lecture hall, you’d scowl with stink eyes and then proceed to fully ignore him. Yeah, a real bitch. That's what you look like—scary. He bets all your socials are filled with the same picture—the same deadpanned pouty face over and over, every single one with hundreds of likes and comments saying “Wow, babe!” followed by a dozen emojis from besties and horny admirers. Selfies in the mirror, showing off skin in your tight tops and short skirts—similar to the outfit you’re wearing now. Captions saying, “You can look, but you could never touch.” Yeah, he bets you’re a real attention whore. And the worst part is that you’re not even overselling, either. You’re gorgeous—even with that sour look on your face, he’d pay cold, hard-earned cash in exchange for a pair of your worn panties.

Yeah, there’s no way he’d dare sit next to you. He’s already sweating bullets just thinking about it. Even though you’re one in a million similar girls who wouldn’t give him the time of day, he's still one in a million loser incels who would do anything for it. And that’s the cold reality.

Even if he’d like to get just a whiff of your sweet perfume, he can’t. The status quo forbids it. He’s afraid the jocks will smell fresh blood in the water the moment he does, then swarm him in a matter of seconds, circling before tearing him to shreds. They’d beat him to a pulp in the bathroom, smash his head in over the sink—piss in the toilet, then flush it down with his bloodied face—and he’d have to walk reeking of it all the way home.

So, no—he really can’t sit next to you. 

But no other seats are available, and the lecture is starting soon… 

Why did absolutely everyone decide to show up today?

Oh fuck it, this isn’t high school. College bullies surely don’t bother with petty cases like this, right? They’re all about their frat initiations and rivalries to have enough spare time to beat him up over improper seating. Oh, but what if you’re one of their girlfriends—you’ll tell on him, and then he’ll definitely be beaten up, maybe even killed.

No. He’s overthinking—like always. No one is that mean. If you don’t like him sitting there, you’ll just tell him. And he’ll move. No harm done. Right? He’s not sitting in the stairwell when there’s a perfectly good and empty seat right there, right? Is he?

Yes. Yes, he is. 

“Hey, if you’re looking for a seat, this one’s empty,” a sweet voice calls out over his inner monologue, making him clutch the strap of his bookbag tighter with a flinch of his entire rigid body—his eyes peeled as he looked around to try and find the source of the sound even though he knew where it had come from. It’s as if the possibility of your voice sounding like anything aside from a she-demon was out of the question. But no, it is you. 

But there’s no way you’re talking to him, so he looks around again—there must be someone else in need of the seat aside from him. But then, why are you looking right at him? Are you pulling some type of prank? Are you really that cruel? You’re probably filming him or something—live-streaming—the chat’s blaring with ew, what a creep and omg, uggo alert right about now. He should just go home before the jocks, along with the rest of the internet, can get him.

“Are you okay?” you ask—but no, he must be hearing you wrong—there’s just no way, even though you’re looking right at him. “I think it’s starting soon—you should probably sit.”

It’s as if his fight or flight response is broken because he does the exact opposite of either—as if on autopilot, sitting down in a rush against his better judgment.

The lecture starts shortly, solidifying his choice, but he can’t pay attention. No, he needs to keep his guard up. Any second now, someone’s going to do a drive-by and throw a milkshake at him or something vile of the like, and you’ll have filmed it all even though he can’t spot you holding a phone—and then the entire hall would burst into laughter at his expense.

“Pst—” A soft whisper comes from next to him, from between the gloss of your pretty lips. You smell like candy and fruit, and it makes his gut tighten—both from anxiety and something more shameful. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have a pen I could borrow? Mine’s all out’a ink.”

You give him an awkward smile, and he very nearly runs away. But no, he’s glued to the seat—with nervously wrecked hands shaking as he bends for his bag and unzips it, reaching for his pencil case painfully slow as if disarming some type of bomb. Redoing the same when he opens the case and rummages for a viable pen he could offer.

When he hands it to you, he’s almost sure you plan to stab him with it. But you do no such thing.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver!” You cheer instead, beaming with a much brighter smile than before. “I owe you!”

His ears ring with your praise. Blushing beat red as he rips away from your gaze—still unable to focus on what the professor is preaching—not when from out of the corner of his eye, he can see you sucking on his pen like a lollypop—or something else not so innocent.

Oh, he’d been so wrong.

So, so, so very wrong.

You do smile. You smile a lot, actually. You just have one of those faces that rests bitchy. But still, bubbly airhead or not, a girl like you still shouldn't be seen with a loser like him. It’s social suicide. And still, you’re on your knees before him in a dirty little bathroom stall—the same dirty bathroom stall he feared getting a swirlie, scraping the walls with his nails to try and thwart his assailants—only, now clutching the walls for a much different reason, holding on for his mortal soul as you seek to suck it out of his fat throbbing cock.

You want to repay him—you’d said—for the pencil. He hadn't understood why you’d winked at him before you’d all but dragged him off and flung him inside the men’s bathroom, having his very life flash before his eyes.

You both make the sloppiest sounds as you make an utter mess on and of him, making him cry on all fronts—cock weeping with thick pearly beads of pre while his eyes well up with tears down his flushed face, all sweaty with panic and bliss. 

The moans springing from his chest are virginal and raw and sweet music to your ears, panting for you like a puppy—you’re sure they can hear him out in the hallway when passing by. One of his hands clasps itself on top of his mouth, holding tightly to keep it all within—eyes shut and brows cinched. And yet, he makes no effort to shove you off—hips left jerking and jittering in response to your refined technique where you take him deeply, all the way down to the base, hallowing your cheeks, throttling him with your throat as your tongue wipes his creamy slit clean.

It’s painfully clear he’s never experienced anything like it, but that’s what turns you on the most. Sick as you are, you could suck him dry and savor every drop of him, knowing you’re the first ever to get a taste. But no, by now, your pussy’s so soaked you feel yourself dripping past the soggy lace of your panties, running down your soft thighs in waste.

He’s misty-eyed when you pull off with an ever-cruel pop—a sick mix of relief and sorrow warping his chest, feeling conflicted by the pulse making him think he’s on the verge of a heart attack if you continue—and another strumming his cock, making him think he’s going to keel over and die if you leave him unfinished.

Even so, he’s in a state of complete shell shock as you mount him on top of the toilet seat he’s melting against. Chest heaving, watching you as you lift your skirt up and peal your slick underwear to the side for him to lay his bleary swiveled eyes on your bared and dripping pussy.

“I love nice guys like you—” you moan, pouring the honeyed words down his throat as you ghost his parted lips with your spit-slicked ones, straddling his lap and shimmying ever closer until your tits squish against his chest. “They make me so wet, I lose all self-control.” 

He gulps in your shadow, looking up at you for mercy—cock twitching painfully between your thighs as your wrap your hand around his base real snug, giving him a nice tug as you line him up with your needy heat—making him all but squeal beneath you.

Your other hand makes its way into his hair, braiding your fingers within the locks to hold him steady—gently pulling his head back while leering down at him like caught prey. Playing with him just so, teasing him with your words, all in your sultry voice, making his head spin hot with a fever, “You’ll be a good boy and fuck me, won’t you? Pretty please?”

His breaths are heavy and wet, coming out shaky with his instant answer, “Y-yes—” all weak in a pathetic whimper that almost has you cum too soon.

“You’re so nice~ thank you,” you croon against his lips, kissing him sloppily with your tongue in his mouth as you shift your hips and start lowering your sopping cunt down upon his seeking length, taking him in with greedy ease, eagerly gripping his soft cockhead like a toy in a claw machine.

“Fhu—fuck—” he stutters under his breath, whinging before planting his teeth into his lip to keep it at bay—feeling like putty beneath you, sweaty and heavy and dumb, eagerly wanting all which you sought to give him—only more flushed at your mean undertones as you play with him like food on a silver platter.

You sling your arms around his neck and push your chest harder against him, moaning all too brazenly, “Oh! Fuck yes—that’s so good,” you sing while slowly taking him in further. “A nice guy with a big bad bully’s dick is the best!” 

He whines in return as his inches get eaten—each devoured one by one until his tip kneads into the mouth of your womb.

Sighing happily, you kiss his cheek and put your lips right at his ear with another wanton whimper, “You fill me up so so good.” Roosting on the size, thighs resting flush against his, feeling all giddy as it stretches you out oh-so-nicely. “Such a good toy-cock for me,” keening at the way it twitches inside you, pulsing in response to your tight walls, clenching it in ways it’s never before felt.

His eyes are already rolling back into his skull once you start lolling your hips—riding him, but keeping him deep at all times—lifting just enough for it to pull out only a little before sinking back down, making it settle into that perfect needy little spot inside you that makes your whole body shiver in delight.

“Mmh,” You suck his ear lobe, releasing it with a soft bite, before smiling down at him and his sweat-pilled expression. Cooing at him, “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

He can’t even answer with words anymore, only giving a dumb mewl as he nods his head. But, of course, you’re already well aware.

“Mmh—” your eyes gleam with delight, giving his lap a mean ride, leaving him all but breathless, before asking, “D’you like it, virgin boy? ‘You like my pussy? Like the way it milks your chubby cock for your cum?”

He nods again, even more eagerly this time—looking downright pathetic in every sense of the word.

“Do you want to?” you offer to his desperation, feeling as though he’s falling apart at your fingertips, needing you to hold him together. “I’ll let you since you’re such a sweet guy—” you tease while clenching his cock, making it impossible to want anything else no matter the consequence. “In exchange for a favor, of course.”

He couldn’t care less what the favor was—way beyond willing to pay any price you ask of him as he finally makes a move and grabs your hips with a strength you hadn’t thought he had the balls to perform, planting you down firmly and holding you with such need as his hips jitter and stutter—resting his cheek on your shoulder in drool and tears with a lovesick groan leaving him as he fills your pussy up with his creamy spend.

His whole body shakes—spasming in cute little aftershocks as he clutches onto your body, hugging you tightly.

You respond in kind, cuddling him and kissing the top of his head. “That was so warm and filling—what a good boy—you did so well,” you murmur ever-sweetly while petting his head, combing through his sweaty locks with your long glitter-pink nails—keeping your voice saccharine. “Did you enjoy yourself, hm? Your first time cumming in pussy instead of your dirty ol’ sock?”

You pick his face up—cupping his sloppy jaw in both palms—his eyes half-mast and glazed as you nose-kiss him with a smile on your face.

“You loved it, didn’t you? Silly virgin boy…”

Your cunt tingles at the sight of him—wrecked beauty, sweaty and undone. You feel his cock unswell inside you and decide to lift off and release him—letting it flop out and splat on his tummy in a puddle of slick.

“Look,” you fuss, holding his face in direction of it. “You made such a pretty mess—isn’t it lovely?”

Your pussy is left glistening and puffy, still wanting and waiting for its final hurrah. Your breath turns headier and so does your voice, now with a new darkness to it as  you whisper, “Time for that favor, sweet boy.” 

He blinks dumbly, impossibly hopeless, wrapped so tightly around your pinky it’s pitiful. Of course, you take advantage—guiding his head to level with your cunt. 

“Open wide, tongue out flat.”

He obeys wordlessly. And oh god it makes your gut stir viscously—watching his tongue loll free between parted lips.

Your voice flares with bliss at the sight, shy of unhinged, as you giggle breathily, “That’s right—taste the pretty mess you made.”

He’s pushed face-first, trapped between your thighs with his jaw like an open cup beneath you, tonguing the mixed slick from your slit and slurping it all up without shame.

And fuck—it feels so good, you lose even more of your mind while tugging him even closer—all but pulling him off the toilet seat, making him kneel down on the floor instead. And still, he makes no effort to escape, but the opposite—seeking to go deeper into your cunt, crying into you as he laps up every last drop of yours and his arousal—making your thighs quake around him, grinding down against his mouth, onto his eager tongue, having it pet your clit over and over until you also come to the same sudden stumbling halt.

“Yes—yes! Oh, fuck! I’m gonna—it’s coming—”

And there it goes, ripping along your loins, surging from your lower belly. With both your hands tangled harshly in his hair, he’s not going anywhere, lips locked with yours as it starts pouring.

You’re squirting on him—hot and hard—on his tongue, inside his mouth, down his throat, in his belly. You’re squirting on him and he’s drinking it, he realizes—but even so, he isn’t able to stop. Instead, he unwinds his jaw even wider, digs his tongue deeper, and accepts every drop of the warm stream as it drenches his face and splashes down his collar and shoulders, utterly soaking his shirt, making in see-through as it clings to his chest like a second skin.

You’ve closed your eyes and thrown your head back, basking in every last little twitch of your body as you relieve yourself all over his face.

Finally, after a moment, you let go of his hair and step back—feeling refreshed and happy with your work—seeing the poor loser sit before the toilet, all drenched and exhausted with his limp cock spent and messy, looking like a beautiful wreck.

You smile, pulling your panties back in place, and you skirt down again before unlocking the stall and opening the door, only looking back at him for a moment, tapping your nail at a few matching pink scribbles written on the wall. “Here’s my number and address if you wanna have more fun." And then you leave, just like that. "Bye-bye~”

♡ BNHA – Amajiki, Deku, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Yuuta, Choso, Nanami ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Kenma ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ BLLK – Isagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Sakura, Nirei

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

@whump-a-saurus I’ve started writing a series called Oasis which is based on the cult beliefs I was raised with as a Jehovah’s Witness. It’s in my blog description.

Also if you want to write RAMCOA (which I did not experience); please defer to those who actually have experienced it. It exists and those cult survivors seem to get talked over a lot. So accurately portraying it in fiction is a must.

i feel like i never see enough cult whump on tumblr, even though it’s like so perfect for ruining ocs lives

like,

1. multiple whumpee’s, which means more trauma (sharing is caring). some people don’t like to write multiple whumpee’s and that’s ok, but think about it this way, the more whumpee’s you make, the more characters you have to kill off

2. have you ever READ the things that cults do to their victims?? it’s SO fucked up. the brainwashing, the shaming, the guilt.

3. potential religion theming. and god, do i LOVE writing religious trauma. i love the “obsession and devotion even though it’s destroying them” shit so much.

4. who doesn’t love a good charismatic whumper?? who’s gaslighting and manipulating every single person they talk too. they got everyone wrapped around their finger.

i would write this myself but i’m actually really bad at writing so i’m not going too, but if i inspired anyone please tag me. i’m desperate.

[steddieas-shegoes]

i wanna make your heartbeat run like roller coasters

for @subeddieweek day one with the prompts manhandling and accidental subspace

rated e | 3,520 words | please check ao3 for tags

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Eddie gets pushed against a lot of lockers.

It’s rarely accidental.

It’s always painful.

He doesn’t exactly have a lot of meat on his bones. Every hit leaves a bruise.

So when Steve fucking Harrington does his own dirty work for once, even though he graduated the way Eddie was supposed to, it’s just a bit embarrassing that it doesn’t hurt. It feels…kinda like he should be on his knees.

Which is really not something he wanted to think about when Steve’s got a hand on his shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise, and something like fear in his eyes. Why is he scared?

“Did you sell weed to Robin?” he asked, teeth clenched.

Jesus fucking Christ. Steve’s got himself a band nerd girlfriend. How the hell did that happen?

“No, I sold to her friend. She waited by the treeline talking to herself the entire time.”

Eddie could hear his own voice shaking, but he wouldn’t back down. Black eyes were kinda metal weren’t they?

“Which friend?”

“Dude, I don’t even know. Someone else in band.”

The hand on his shoulder tightened and he barely bit back a whimper.

Steve’s eyes were very pretty this close. They were pretty from far away, too. Honestly, having Steve this close was probably rewiring something already broken in his brain. Having Steve’s hand on him like this was making his brain do somersaults trying to stay focused.

And then his hand was gone.

Eddie breathed in, breathed out.

“Sorry. I-” Steve shook his hands out and backed away. “Sorry.”

Eddie ignored whatever the fuck was happening in his stomach. It shouldn’t be happening so it isn’t, simple as that.

“Maybe you should ask your girlfriend if you’re so worried about her buying drugs.” Eddie should learn to shut his mouth at some point. “I only sell to the people who come to me first.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I remember.” Steve wiped his hand down his face. “Sorry again.”

Eddie looked him up and down, taking in the fact that he was genuinely apologizing. No one ever apologized for knocking him around, not even when it was on accident.

“You good?” He eventually asked.

“Yeah. Just, she’s been through a lot. I didn’t really want her to get pressured into buying something,” Steve sighed. “Has she come out of the band room yet? I’m supposed to bring her to work.”

“Uh, yeah man, everyone left an hour ago.”

Eddie watched Steve’s face fall as he checked his watch and must’ve realized the time.

“Shit. Okay. I must’ve lost track of time.”

Steve looked pitiful. Eddie’s seen dogs in alleys who looked less beaten down and neglected than Steve currently did.

“I can help you find her?” Eddie offered for some unknown reason.

Well, he knew the reason, but he was choosing to ignore it.

“She’s probably already at work. It’s my day off so I ended up getting distracted with something and didn’t realize it was so late,” Steve admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “Thanks, though.”

Wayne liked to tell Eddie he was too nice to undeserving people. Lord knows he gave his dad too many chances and got let down every time. He even tried to be friends with Tommy Hagan in middle school because he could sense something was going on with Tommy’s dad much like his own.

But Eddie liked to remind Wayne that Eddie is often considered undeserving and he took him in and gave him multiple chances regardless.

“You wanna smoke?” Eddie asked, despite knowing he barely has anything left after the long week of midterms for students. His busiest times of year were right before school breaks, midterms, finals, and graduation weekend. He usually stocked up, but with Rick being in prison again, he had to try to stretch what he had out.

“Uh…smoke what?”

“Weed.” Then it hit Eddie that maybe Steve was into harder stuff. But he hadn’t ever even bought from him in high school. Tommy had, Carol had, almost everyone at his parties had, but Steve never did. “I have regular old cigs too if you prefer.”

“Yeah, man, cool,” Steve sighed with relief.

“I got a spot behind the cafeteria if you wanna…”

“Sure, yep, let’s go,” Steve nodded, gesturing towards the double doors that led outside to the cafeteria and auditorium buildings.

As they walked, Eddie’s mind raced with thoughts of being alone with Steve, Steve’s arm brushing against his, Steve pushing him against the wall of the cafeteria, of Eddie dropping to his knees and unbuttoning Steve’s pants and-

“I’m really sorry about what happened back there.”

Steve’s voice shook him from his thoughts, but his dick didn’t quite get the memo. When did he even start getting hard?

“No worries, dude.” His face scrunched in disgust at calling Steve dude. What was next, the bro pat on the back? A fist bump? “Kinda jealous of how protective you are of your girlfriend.”

Okay, actually, what the fuck? Eddie needed to shut his fucking face, right the fuck now.

“She’s not my girlfriend, but uh, I don’t think you’re really her type either,” Steve gave him a look, one Eddie knew well and one he couldn’t quite believe he was seeing on Steve’s face right now.

“Right, right.” Eddie wouldn’t make him say it, especially if it was actually the look he thought it was, but maybe he could offer a little something in return. “Yeah, she’s not really my type either.”

Steve stopped just before they reached the hidden area behind the dumpster and picnic table for staff to smoke.

“Really?” Steve’s eyes were wide. “So you’re more into…someone like…me?”

Eddie was actually leaking into his goddamn boxers. Why was he getting turned on just talking to Steve?

“That would be one way of saying it,” Eddie said. Still easy enough to back out of it, at least. Could just say he likes women who wear polos and use more hairspray than Melvald’s has ever carried at any given time.

“Huh,” Steve continued walking to the picnic table, sitting on top of it and kicking some dirt off the bench by his legs for Eddie to sit. “So those rumors were true?”

“That depends on if I’m gonna make it back home to my very loving uncle if I say yes.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Obviously, I’m not gonna judge you about it when my best friend is-” He cut himself off and Eddie had to give him major credit. The Steve he used to know never would’ve cared if he outed someone, or at least never would have realized that was wrong. He coughed and then looked down at the bench. “You gonna sit?”

Eddie sat down on the bench, extremely close to Steve’s legs. Almost touching. Was that heat coming from his body or was Eddie just extremely warm?

“Did you actually wanna smoke or did you just wanna get out of the hall?” Steve asked after another minute of awkward silence.

“We can smoke.” Eddie reached into his pocket, hating how tight his jeans were in the front, and grabbed his lighter. His pack of cigarettes were usually stored in his van because he rarely smoked them, but luckily he’d brought them with him all week to sneak smokes between classes. He pulled one out and handed it to Steve.

He started to light his own when Steve leaned down, his face right next to Eddie’s, breath hot on his neck.

“You aren’t gonna light it for me?”

Eddie whimpered.

He would deny it a million times over if anyone asked. He almost had himself believing he imagined it.

But Steve laughed and backed away, pulling out his own lighter and giving Eddie a second to catch his breath.

What the fuck was that? Did Steve know he was making Eddie’s brain flatline?

He watched Steve take a long drag out of the corner of his eye, his mind shuffling between ‘what if he fucked me right here?’ and ‘get the hell away before your dick pops a hole in your jeans.’

Steve’s lips were so pink, and looked so soft, and just wet enough from licking his lips before taking the next drag, and Eddie was really going through it right now.

He’d gone through his Steve Harrington phase just like everyone else, thought it was over when he graduated. Had avoided the mall all summer when he heard he was working at Scoops so he didn’t have to see him in those tiny blue shorts. Had even gone so far as to avoid being around when the kids were being picked up from Hellfire because Dustin mentioned Steve was his ride.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Except for Eddie’s imagination was impressive, and his late night thoughts turned into very vivid scenes of Steve working him to the edge and making him beg, or pushing him against a locker and making him take his cock with barely any prep, or-

“Dude, anyone ever tell you you’re kinda space-y?” Steve’s voice once again lifted him from his thoughts, though he felt a bit hazy.

“Think I’m comin’ down with something,” Eddie squeaked out. All he was coming down with was a sickness deep in his chest: Harrington Heart-itis.

“Did you hit your head?” Steve sounded concerned now, setting his cigarette in the ashtray left on the table and moving so he had one leg on either side of Eddie. His fingers landed in Eddie’s hair, pulling his head closer and inspecting it for injury. “I didn’t think anything but your shoulders hit, but maybe-”

“No,” Eddie gulped. He should pull away. “Didn’t hit my head.”

Steve’s fingers tightened, not quite painfully, but enough of a bite to it that Eddie whimpered. Again.

Steve’s grip loosened, but his fingers stayed buried in his curls, and Eddie felt pressure guiding him to rest against Steve’s thigh.

“You eat today?” Steve asked, though his voice sounded kinda far away, like he was above the surface of the water and Eddie was sitting at the bottom of a pool looking up at the sun. “Eddie?”

“Hm?” Eddie blinked up at Steve. “I ate.”

“When?” Steve’s hand was cupping his cheek. “Lunch?”

“Mmm, no,” Eddie shook his head, blinked. “Breakfast? Cereal.”

Steve cursed under his breath.

He was so pretty. Had he been told how pretty he was? Surely when Nancy was with him, she told him.

Even if Robin liked women, she had to at least notice how pretty he was, right?

Steve’s sharp intake of breath somewhat centered Eddie.

“I’m gonna drive you home, okay?” Steve whispered, leaning down so his face was only inches away.

Eddie could kiss him. It would be the easiest thing in the world to lift his head the final two inches to make their lips meet.

“Eddie, eyes open,” Steve’s fingers tightened again, gaining Eddie’s full attention. “Should I call someone? Are you dynamic or something?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed. What did that even mean?

“Like the sugar thing?” Steve continued.

“Diabetic?” Eddie still felt a little hazy, but he was starting to come back to it with Steve’s hand migrating from his hair to his shoulder. “No, my sugar’s fine.”

“I’ve got some soda in my car. I can drive you home and then bring you to school in the morning. You probably shouldn’t drive like…this.”

It all came crashing down when Eddie realized how vulnerable he’d just been, how he’d actually lost track of time, not sure exactly how long he’d been sitting between Steve’s legs with his hands in his hair before he started coming back to earth. He stood up, maybe a bit too quickly, rocking a bit before finding his balance.

“Woah, take it easy.” Steve held his hands out, grasped his biceps to hold him steady. “You were pretty far out of it. Don’t rush it.”

How fucking embarrassing.

Eddie had only gone down that far one time with someone and they got freaked out when he was giggling and couldn’t walk on his own because his legs felt like jelly. But that had been on purpose. This was- Steve didn’t– Jesus Christ.

“I’m fine now.” Eddie was not fine. He knew what would happen if he left right now. Aftercare was a major part of this whether Steve was prepared for it or not. “Just, um, walk me to my van.”

Steve looked like a kicked puppy, but Eddie didn’t have the time to explain all of this to him.

Steve Harrington didn’t know how much of a freak Eddie was even if he did know he was gay. There’s no way Steve participated in any type of BDSM with the many girls he slept with in high school.

There was absolutely no fuckin’ way Nancy Wheeler let herself get tied to a bed and get fucked by Steve.

He shook his head at the thought.

“I’d feel a lot better if you let me drive you. I promise we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Steve sighed. “I just don’t know if you should drive when you went down so hard.”

“You have no idea what even happened,” Eddie argued, pacing back and forth. “I can drive. I just need to walk it off.”

“You don’t walk off subspace.”

Eddie froze. Steve was standing right in front of him now, concern in his big, stupid, adorable eyes.

“How do you even know about subspace?” Eddie whispered.

“I slept with half the high school and two guys in Indy. I know what subspace is, Eds.”

Eddie must still be in space. Or maybe another galaxy.

“Sorry, did you just say you slept with two guys in Indy?” Has Steve seriously fucked more guys than Eddie has? Eddie, the resident gay man of Hawkins, has only been with one man in his entire life and Steve has apparently slept with two?

“Well, I wasn’t gonna sleep with two men in Hawkins!” Steve threw his hands up before putting them on his hips. “I hit up a gay bar and didn’t realize it doubled as a BDSM club until I was already in it and then a nice guy showed me the ropes. Literally. There were ropes involved.”

Eddie snorted. Steve was pretty and funny. Great. Just what he needed.

“I have a quick recovery, so I’ll be fine to drive home,” Eddie tried, though even he could hear his voice still shaking.

“No one is that quick,” Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a hug. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Not like that.”

“We should probably talk about it.”

The last thing Eddie wanted to do was talk about how someone playing with his hair and moving his head around while showing the bare minimum of care was enough to send him into subspace, but he had a feeling Steve wasn’t gonna give up easily.

“Fine. What should we talk about? How no one ever touches me gently so the moment someone did, I slipped? How I’ve been avoiding seeing you anywhere in public because I knew it would make my crush come back full force? Oh, I know!” Eddie laughed hysterically as he pulled away. “Let’s talk about how I still think about you in your stupid basketball shorts when I’m fucking myself on four fingers, which is never enough because I can never reach the spot I need to. Or how I once cut out your yearbook photo to keep for jerking off material because my mags weren’t enough. Could even talk about how earlier I wanted you to put your leg between mine so I could rub off on you. Or maybe the weather if you’d prefer that.”

Eddie was panting, could feel the heat on his face rising as he realized everything he’d just said, admitted, to Steve.

He’d never said any of that out loud. Shit, he’d barely said most of it in his own head.

Steve’s arms were pulling him in and Eddie let himself have it, let himself feel small for just a moment. If Steve wasn’t completely disgusted by what he said, then he would at least accept this offering of kindness for now.

They stayed like that for a while, long enough that Eddie started to wonder if he could just live here, right in Steve’s arms.

“It’s looking a little cloudy,” Steve said quietly, hands still rubbing Eddie’s back slowly.

“What?” Eddie still felt a little out of it, but that was entirely out of left field.

“You said we could talk about the weather.”

Eddie snorted. “Oh my God, you’re so-” Eddie looked up at Steve, who was smiling down at him. He felt off-kilter, being the object of that particular Steve look. “Stupid.”

It was fond, probably too fond for someone who needed to protect himself from whatever the hell was happening. He needed to shut this down.

“It’s been mentioned,” Steve’s eyes flickered down to Eddie’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “You good to head out?”

Eddie started to nod, but stopped.

This was his only chance. He wasn’t dumb enough to think he’d ever be alone with Steve again. If he was gonna kick start a spiral over feelings, he might as well go all out.

He stood at his full height, almost eye level with Steve, and leaned in.

The kiss was not even close to perfect. In fact, as far as kisses go, it was probably in the bottom three for Steve. Eddie chose not to think about how he screwed it all up.

But once the initial shock wore off, and Eddie put his teeth away, Steve’s hand cupped Eddie’s cheek and he licked past his lips.

Leave it to Steve to turn this around, make it something worth the risk.

Their lips moved in sync, both of them deepening the kiss without making it too wet, too filthy for a public space.

It was, dare he say, romantic.

Most kisses Eddie had managed to have were dirty and rough, hidden away in dark bars and alleyways, not exactly prime teen romance.

Of course Steve was good at this, of course he made Eddie melt against him, and of course Eddie was going to start writing hearts around Steve’s name in his notebook as if they were high school sweethearts.

When they pulled apart, it took him a minute to open his eyes. How stereotypical.

Steve was already looking at him, softer than he probably deserved.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Eddie breathed out.

“It’s been mentioned.” Steve’s lips turned up in a smirk before he pulled away completely. “Let’s go.”

They walked back through the school, stopping at Eddie’s locker to grab one of his textbooks as if he actually would use it. By now, he didn’t really need the textbooks to get his work done. And he was actually committed to getting it done this time around.

They were quiet as they continued out to the parking lot, only a few cars belonging to teachers left, maybe a few students stuck here for football or basketball practice. Steve’s car was towards the back, but Eddie’s was almost all the way in the grass field by the main road. It was less risky leaving it further away, less likely that anyone would slash the tires or key the side.

“You’re sure you can drive?” Steve asked as they stood outside his car.

“Yeah. Only five minutes to the trailer. It’ll be fine.” Eddie shrugged like it was nothing, but he was actually a little worried the kiss set him too off balance to focus on the road. Fuck the subspace, Steve’s lips were like discovering a new galaxy.

“Can I call you later? To check on you?” Steve seemed hesitant to ask.

“Uh, yeah? Do you…have my number?”

Steve shook his head, opening the door to his car and reaching into the glovebox to find a pen and an old receipt. As Eddie wrote down the number to the trailer, he thought about how much worse this would be tomorrow, how shitty it would be to have had this absolutely out of this world experience with the one person he never thought he could and then be left with scraps for the rest of his life.

“You uh, you don’t have to call, man. Don’t feel pressured. My uncle will be home so it’s not like I’ll be alone.”

Steve took the paper and pen back, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket and throwing the pen back into the car.

“I’m gonna call.” Steve moved a piece of Eddie’s hair from in front of his face. “You got a phone in your room?”

“No, but the one we have reaches to the bathroom?” Why the hell did he need one in his room?

“Good. Need you to be alone.”

“Steve, what the hell does that mean?”

“How else am I supposed to tell you what I wanna do to you?”

Well, fuck.

Day two: ao3 | tumblr

[misscherry-26]

I saw you were taking requests for Bellamy Blake and I haddd to send one in!! Could you please write a lil spice fic, where they’re in the woods and get in a fight or sum n he js suddenly kissss her. Thank you twin!!

Unspoken Feelings

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Author's Note: Hi!!! Thank you so much for this!! My first request for Bellamy Blake. Oh the things I felt while working on this...👀 By the way I had to make a few changes, this is my most polished draft, haha. I'm so excited to share it, though I don't know how good I did with the spicy. I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting. ❤️

There could be grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language.

He really thinks he’s the leader, the king of the earth. Self-centered egoist of a man. He can go fuck himself. You think as you walk through the woods in search of the plant that Clarke needs for Finn, who was attached by the grounder that kidnapped Octavia.

They managed to get him to the ship, but now he was struggling for his life. The problem was that the knife he was stabbed with was infected. Bellamy and his group got the grounder and tortured him to get information. Of course he refused to give it, that until Octavia threatened him to harm herself with the poisoned knife. Finn would live, but Clark needed more medicinal plants for him.

But of course, Bellamy Blake had to give his ultimatum that no one would leave the camp, no after realizing that you aren’t the only survivors of earth. He could care less about saving people, but you for sure didn’t. You don’t know Finn completely but, he deserves to live.

Since the ship landed on Earth, You and Bellamy have been at each other’s throat every single moment. It’s like you are locked in a never-ending battle, a constant clash of wills. Every decision he makes seems to deliberately oppose yours, every step he takes is a challenge to your very presence. He thrives in the chaos, you can see it in the way he strides trough camp, shoulders squared, head held high, daring anyone to question him. His motto—whatever the hell we want—rings in your ears like a taunt, a reckless mantra you can’t ignore. He embodies it with every decision, with every command he gives without caring for the consequences.

When he encouraged the others to rip off their bracelets, you felt the sting of frustration burning through your veins. To him it was a bold declaration of independence from the Ark, but to you, it was a hasty move to those above thinking Earth wasn’t livable.

And then, there was the Grounder. The way he’d dragged the man into camp, beaten and bloodied, as if his very existence was a crime that needed punishing. You left the room when he ordered the torture, convinced that brute force was the only answer. The look in his eyes then—cold, calculating, determined—was a look that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

He’s always there, hiding on the edges of your vision, challenging you. It’s infuriating, the way he dismisses anything resembling compromise or collaboration as weakness, how he scoffs at your attempts to hold onto something resembling order or morality.

Yet, there’s something in his attitude —something in the way he glances at you, a flicker of underdetermination, a tension that thrums between you like a wire. It’s in the way he steps closer when you argue, his body taut, like he’s gearing up for a fight he both craves and dreads. You feel it too—the tightness in your chest, the burn of frustration that’s more than just anger, something deeper, more complicated. You don’t know whether you want to scream at him or—

But no, you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he gets under your skin.

You take a look at the sky losing its light with each minute that it passes.

Taking a deep breath, you continue.

After what feels like hours of searching, you finally spot the familiar shape of the plant you’re looking for. You remember the details Clark gave you. Crouching down you carefully pull a small bag from your pocket. You work quickly, plucking the plants and stuffing them into the bag, your movements precise and purposeful.

But then—a sudden rustling, a low whisper of movement through the leaves nearby. Your heart stutters, and your breath catches in your throat.

Instinct takes over. You drop low, pressing yourself against the cold ground, hiding behind the broad leaves of the plant. Grounders, maybe.

They could be watching, waiting.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, listening for the sound of footsteps, for the snap of a twig or the rustle of leaves that would betray their presence. But instead, you hear a low chuckle—soft, mocking, and far too familiar.

Your eyes snap open, and you whip around, breath catching in your chest.

There, arms on his waist, is Bellamy. His eyes, dark and sharp, are fixed on you like a predator who has found his prey. His brows are drawn together, the muscles in his neck tense, and there's a fire in his gaze that blazes hotter than any annoyance you've seen before.

“I see you like to test my patience, Princess.” His deep voice cuts through the silence, pulling your gaze upward. He's standing right in front of you.

You get up immediately, your breathing and muscles relaxing at the notice that you are not in danger.

“What are you doing here?” You ignore his previous comment, turning around and continuing on getting more plants.

“I remember telling everyone to not leave camp, and that includes you too, you know? There’s no special treatment here.” You hear him from behind.

“I wasn’t going to sit around. Clark needs this for Finn.”

“He’s stable enough; we don’t need anyone else getting hurt over this.” Bellamy insists, his tone sharp.

You clench your teeth and turn. “Look, I couldn’t care less what you think. I don’t go by your rules.”

Bellamy scoffs and grabs your arm. You let go of his grasp as soon as he starts walking.

“Don’t touch me!”

Bellamy watches you, wondering why you are being stubborn right now. Hell, he even wonders why he came here for the first place. Was he worried about you? Why did he come here? He questions himself. Bellamy’s mind races, battling with the tangled web of his feelings. He’s been fighting to keep everyone safe, to enforce rules that seem cold but necessary, and yet, here he is, breaking his own rule because of you.

Truth is, you have been nothing but a burden to him every single day since they put a foot on earth. Your defiance, your refusal to follow orders, your reckless bravery—all of it has been a thorn in his side. Every day, you challenged his authority and decisions, and yet, despite all the friction, despite the constant arguments and the resentment, there’s something about you that pulls at him.

He can’t quite distinguish it, but it’s there—a magnetic pull that makes him question his own motives and feelings. It’s in the way you stand up for what you believe in, even when it puts you at risk. It’s in the fire and determination in your eyes, something that resonates with him on a deeper level than he’s willing to admit.

The frustration he feels is braided with an unspoken admiration, a bittering respect that complicates his emotions even further. Bellamy is torn between his duty and the sudden impulses of something else—something he can’t easily define or control. It’s a vulnerability he hasn’t allowed himself to explore, and it confuses him.

All he knows is that despite the danger and the defiance, he can’t seem to turn his back on you. His frustration is laced with a deeper, more complex emotion that makes him question why he’s so determined to keep you safe.

He thought you would be this scared of everyone and everything type of girl, but you prove him all the opposite.

“Let’s go back—”

“I won’t.” You cut him off, not giving him a chance to say anything. You turn again and continue with your job.

Of course, you hoped that he would go and leave you alone. You hoped.

Next thing you know, your feet aren’t touching the ground and you are being lifted up by him. A few leaves escape your grasp, so you make sure to close the bag.

“Let me go!” You protest.

“Stop screaming, you are putting us in danger” He doesn’t listen to your request, instead he walks back to camp.

You scoff, moving frantically. “If you cared so much about safety, you wouldn’t be carrying me off like I’m just another pack to you!”

Bellamy's jaw clenches, and he stops abruptly, eyes scanning the surrounding woods.

“You’re the one making noise,” he retorts, setting you down but not releasing his grip entirely. “Keep quiet or—”

You hear it then—a rustling of leaves, far too close, far too deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s not just the wind. Bellamy stiffens beside you, his grip on your arm tightening reflexively.

For a split second, your eyes meet, and you both know: the Grounders.

“Run,” he whispers, urgency dripping from the word.

But there’s no time to argue. You both take off, feet pounding against the damp earth, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The sounds behind you grow closer—footsteps, which makes your heart race even faster.

Up ahead, you spot a dark opening—a cave, half-hidden by foliage. You yank Bellamy toward it without thinking, and for once, he doesn’t resist. Both dive inside, pressing against the cold rock. The cave is narrow, suffocating, but it’s cover.

Outside, you hear the murmurs and footsteps of the Grounders drawing near. You hold your breath, every muscle tense. Bellamy’s hand is still around your wrist, and you can feel his pulse racing just as fast as yours.

“We’re not going anywhere until it clears. We need to stay inside.” he mutters, barely audible.

Bellamy presses a hand against the small of your back, steering you deeper into the cave, his touch firm, almost commanding. You feel the heat of his palm through your shirt, and it sends a jolt of anger through you.

“Get your hand off me.” You snap, jerking away from his touch. But the cave is too narrow, and he doesn't give you much space to maneuver.

His jaw tightens, and he steps even closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I’m trying to keep you from getting killed.”

You dig your heels in, resisting just to spite him. “I don’t need you to save my life, Bellamy.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it—just a sharp, bitter edge. “You think I want to be stuck here with you? Trust me, Princess, this is the last place I want to be.”

You whirl around, stepping closer, your chest brushing against his, both of you too angry to care. “Then why are you here?” you fire back, your voice louder than you intended. “Why do you always have to control everything? Who made you the boss of me?"

His hand, still on your back, clenches into a fist, pulling you closer instead of pushing you away.

“Maybe because I’m trying to keep you alive!” he spits out, his face inches from yours, his breath hot. “You are always doing this—taking risks, getting in my way. Do you have a death wish?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, anger flaring into something more intense. “No, but maybe you do,” you whisper fiercely. “Coming out here, risking your life for someone you supposedly can’t stand. What is it, Bellamy? Why do you even care?”

He grits his teeth, and you see something flicker in his eyes—a momentary crack in his armor. “I don’t!” he snaps, but his voice lacks conviction, faltering on the last word.

“Liar,” you accuse, stepping even closer, your forehead nearly touching his. “If you didn’t care, you’d have let me go. You wouldn’t have come after me, wouldn’t have—”

His grip tightens on your arm, and his other hand moves to your waist, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” His voice is low, almost a growl. “You think you’ve got me all figured out?”

You tilt your chin defiantly, eyes blazing. “Why don’t you just admit it? All this, you’re not really angry. You’re scared. Scared of what might happen if you lose control. Scared of what it means if something happens to m—"

But he doesn’t let you finish. In the blink of an eye, he’s on you, lips crashing against yours with a force that takes your breath away. The kiss is rough, almost bruising, a mixture of frustration and something deeper—something desperate. You freeze for a moment, caught off guard, before the shock melts into anger again, and you shove against his chest.

He doesn’t pull back. Instead, he presses you harder against the cold, cave wall, his body flush against yours. His hands move up, one sliding to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place while his mouth claims yours with a furious intensity, like he’s trying to silence every word, every protest.

Your heart is racing, your thoughts a tangled mess. You should push him away again, should shove him back and yell in his face, but instead, you find yourself kissing him back just as fiercely, your hands fisting in his shirt. It’s like all the anger, all the arguments have boiled over into this—this raw, heated clash of mouths and tongues.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are panting, breaths coming fast, and his forehead rests against yours, his eyes still dark with emotion.

“Why do you care?” you whisper again, but this time your voice is softer, less certain.

His thumb brushes your cheek, and his gaze is intense, almost searching. “I don’t know,” he mutters, but there’s something vulnerable in his tone, something that makes your heart ache even as your anger simmers beneath the surface.

“Maybe I’m frustrated…so damn frustrated because—” He hesitates, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “—because you’ve got a way of getting under my skin, and it’s driving me crazy. But yeah, there it is. I’m worried. Happy?”

His lips are so close you can feel his breath on your skin, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world has narrowed to just the two of you, trapped together in this cave, trapped by something you can’t name.

"Bell..." you start, but he silences you again, this time with a softer kiss, one that seems to ask for something instead of demand it.

His hands slips down to the curve of your waist pulling you even closer, and you feel a shiver run down your spine, heat pounding low in your belly.

Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers locking on his dark strands. The kids deepens, growing more urgent, desperate, as if both of you are trying to pour all this unspoken feelings into a single, shared breath.

And you know that whatever this is, you are not ready to stop it. Not yet.

[aftgphoenix]

So many of the foxes have sex related trauma.

Dan was a stripper as a minor. I imagine she was regularly harassed at work.

Renee was raped as a child.

Allison was being assaulted when Seth saved her.

Matt lost his virginity as a minor to a prostitute at one of his dad’s parties and let his dad’s friends use him when he was high. He might not consider it rape but I (and the law) do.

Kevin didn’t really have a choice to consent when Riko decided that he and Kevin were going to lose their virginity to Lydia. Plus Riko was in the room for Kevin and Thea’s first time.

Nicky was sent to camp for being gay.

Andrew was raped as a child and an adult.

Neil was beaten by his mother for just kissing a girl.

The only ones I don’t think have anything mentioned are Aaron and Seth.

[slayfics]

Would you consider writing a pro hero!bakugo x pro goth reader fic. Like maybe where they meet on a mission or something.

Katsuki meets a pro goth hero.

550 words

Katsuki was on the scene within seconds of the call. A villain on the move attempting to get away. Not a high-grade villain, so it was going to be an easy task. Either way, Katsuki was glad for the excitement on his patrol shift.

A loud bang and he flew into the alleyway where the villain was last spotted. But he didn’t find a fleeing villain, instead, he was met with a sight that made his ears go hot.

Another pro had beaten him to the scene. The villain was plastered against the floor the pro straddled on top of him pinning him from escaping.

“Where did your friends go?!” You yelled giving the villain a shake.

The villain only mumbled with a flush face, blood trickling from his nose, as you continued to interrogate him, unintentionally bouncing atop him as you yelled and shook him.

Katsuki huffed at the sight. Did you not notice the villain was way too flustered to say anything sensical?

Katsuki didn’t blame the villain. Your slick black hero outfit left little to the imagination. Curves fully displayed and plump breasts pushed together from the tight fit.

You may have thought you were punishing the villain, but this looked more like a reward to Katsuki.

The longer he watched the scene the harder it was to keep his thoughts about work. Your long black hair swayed as you yelled, full lips adorned in shiny black lipstick.

It was a sharp contrast to the usual girl pros he was used to with bright preppy colors that made his eyes squint. Your costume dilated his pupils and shallowed his breath, and no matter how hard he tried to redirect his thoughts he wondered what you’d look like on top of him instead.

“I said where are your friends?!!” You yelled again, obviously to Katsuki’s gaze.

“Think we’ll have better luck if I ask 'em,” Katsuki said, alerting your attention.

You dropped the villain and his head slammed against the ground. His nose still spewing blood.

“Oh, are my methods not good enough for the Great Dynamite?” You teased, eyebrow raised, you stepped off the villain.

Your attitude caught Katsuki off guard, but he found himself clenching his fists as his throat dried.

“Just sayin' I don’t think that nosebleed is because ya hit him in the face, pretty sure he’s not thinking with his head right now,” Katsuki spoke ignoring your jab.

“Alright then, show me how it’s done little fuse,” you taunted and sat up on one of the garbage bins. Legs crossed you gestured to the villain lying dizzy on the floor, indicating for Katsuki to give it a go.

Katsuki scoffed at your nickname pretending to be annoyed, but it made his eyes darken, and cheeks flush.

Katsuki picked up the villain in one hand, lighting up a blast in the other. “Speak or ya gonna be hurting even worse,” he demanded.

“Fuck ok- they are hiding in the dive bar two streets over! They were supposed to wait for my signal,” the villain confessed.

“Was that so hard,” Katsuki taunted, slamming the villain back on the floor and knocking him out.

“Oh, so you like it rough,” you taunted.

What kind of hero were you, Katsuki thought. Mustering up his best eye roll he answered, “Yeah I do- and if you want to meet me later, I’ll show ya there’s nothing little about me.”

sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @zanarkandskylines @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @that-one-fangirl69 @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

could you do a yandere demon mitsuri or shinobu with a demon slayer darling

Demon Slayer Reader in Reverse AU | Yandere KNY

In this alternate universe the hashira are the equivalents of the Upper Moons. Unbelievably strong, incredibly devious, and just as responsible for innumerable deaths as their creator. You on the other hand are like Tanjiro Kamado, a demon slayer dutifully following the orders of Muzan as he’s determined to finally stop the rampant killing that those demons do. But there’s something special about you. Something that the demons just can’t deny. That has them persistently chasing you their greater their connection to their beloved creator. Maybe it’s the blood of their kin, or your kissable lips, or the curses you mutter as your sword doesn’t slice through their necks. Either way they are down-bad:

Mitsuri Kanroji

Turned after being rejected for her strength and differences

Now she uses them to eat scores of humans particularly the most bland people she can find

Can you believe just how few people she actually loves?

Too few people are special because of their differences or physical traits

Which means she’s happily devour all those who don’t which is a lot

She of course claims it’s love at first sight when she sees you

It really can be something as simple as a colorful hanafuda or being deaf

Anything unique to you makes her weak in her knees

“You’re making me so happy just to have met you! I love you!”

So busy fawning over you, she barely misses your swing

Stronger than others she only falls for you deeper

In her twisted mind the blood of Ubuyashiki makes beautiful people of his divine choice even more beautiful 

Thus her mission when fighting you is to turn you

So she can have your beauty be eternal

“Don’t avoid me for long my Love! I’m going to make you perfect soon!’

The biggest challenge other than her flexibility, the cherry blossom flooded air, and her insane physical strength is her beau

Rarely does the Demon Moon of Love leave without the Demon Moon of Snakes in tow

And while for your first meetings he definitely is not trying to keep you alive for the change

After he get’s to know you and a nice talk that involves lot’s of dying lower rank demon slayers they’ll both be on the same page

Which will spell absolute doom for you as the conniving duo is not going to bother being upfront 

They’ll scheme

They’ll plot 

Hold your tsugoko or friends from up high as they take advantage of your heightened emotions

“I want to love you forever and ever and ever. And no one is going to stop me! Not even you”

Shinobu Kocho

She was turned along with her sister who Ubuyashiki saved after she fell ill

For years prior she had devoted herself to science, to medicine only for it to fail her at every turn 

Only when she incorporated the great Ubuyashiki’s blood into her creations does she find proper results good results

And she is praised with having so many willing addicted meals and servants to offer as she produces her remedies for masses

Interacting with prey so often gives her a better way to hide and know about the demon slayer’s actions

And amateur slayers that come into her shop swords drawn are usually bullied by the surrounding towns folk

All to be beaten up and kicked out of the town becoming easy pickings at that point

She thought she’d do the same to you

By the way you walked she could sense your power and her mortal end coming closer

But you didn’t attack

Surrounded by many of her loyal customers you ask that she try the contents of a vial to tell what it is

Since it’s suspicious to the people you offer to drink it, another villager drinks it

“You’re the greatest medic in this region. Won’t you tell me what it is and where to find it?”

It’s Wisteria

Potent and poisonous wisteria 

Here shinobu is faced with a choice

Attack you ruin her reputation and have to deal with a mob

Or…

drink it and writhe revealing her demon form to be attacked by the mob

“You think you’re a cunning little butterfly don’t you. Flashing your poisonous colors at me. You aren’t aware of the hunger you’ve aroused in me!”

She wasn’t happy as a human with the limits she had

So she doesn’t choose any of those options opting to kill everyone 

You block the attack finding out it’s a feint for her to run away 

Run away with a snarl that she hasn’t shown for hundreds of years

How dare you!? 

Ruining her perfect system 

When she reports to the Ubuyashiki compound by night she’s got her head down low while reporting 

As expected she was chewed out not only by The Ubuyashiki but the Upper Moons as well 

And there is one person she blames above all for her shame

“That despicable little demon slayer!! I’m going to make them pay!”

Her hatred for you becomes a widely welcomed truth among the other demons

Hanging your whereabouts above her head 

As she snaps at them like a snarling dog

But her hatred is not simply that

She wants to own you 

To hold your face as she successfully demonstrates her mass attack absorbing all within the vicinity 

To clip your pretty little wings and delight in your forbidden flavor for as long as possible

When one of her colleagues theonesheclaimsshehatesthemost pressures her she’s rambling to him about how she’d never want to actually kill you nor turn you completely into a demon like she

“They’re not good enough for Master…but it’d be a shame for such a beautiful butterfly to die so quickly.”

So she’ll turn to science

Once again using her expertise to craft some serum that she plans to keep you attached to for the rest of your not-so mortal life

She’ll use her own blood measuring and testing how little is needed to give you the best parts of being a demon

She knows the clock is ticking as your life goes on

So she’ll be excited to track you down, learning as much as she can about you

Almost as much fun as she’ll enjoy making simple humans that remind her of you as test subjects

She’d even be willing to get help from one of the Upper Moons with her hunt for you

“I hope your ready for a change, butterfly! There’s nothing I can’t do without his blood.”

[cxrdycxps]

Work Song • Joel Miller

No grave can hold me down, I’ll crawl home to her.

☢️ Canon typical violence • smut, unprotected p in v • angst • soft Joel (it needs a warning) • what might be classed as Tommy and Maria bashing • AFAB Reader ☢️

Main Masterlist • Joel Miller Masterlist

Stop. Breathe. Think.

There had to be a way out. There had to be something he hadn’t thought of. Muffled noise was hard to focus on when his heartbeat was louder. He could feel the pulsing pain in his side, his ribs were broken. His guns and his backpack were gone.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Eugene shared a glance with Shane as they approached the gates of Jackson. There would be word spreading soon. Only two riders returned.

They hesitated in the tree line, waited with bated breath. Once they passed this line they would have to explain. Would have to find a way to break the news.

“We don’t know there’s anything wrong. He might have beaten us back here.” Shane told Eugene. Eugene nodded slightly but they both knew they were kidding themselves.

Joel would never leave a man behind. He would wait all night at an outpost and definitely wouldn’t head back to Jackson without a husband and a father.

“He wouldn’t have wanted us to wait. We know the rules.” Eugene sighed and Shane nodded shortly before he nudged his horse out of the tree line.

“Riders!” The tower patrol called and the gates were opened slowly as Eugene and Shane approached.

Jesse paused at the sight of only two returning patrol men and stared at them as they passed. Both men rode in with their heads down, avoiding the stare of everyone.

Maria stood at the stable talking patrol routes with a group of men due to head out for a long patrol in the next week.

She looked up when the surrounding area fell quiet and put a hand out to steady herself against the sudden dropping of her stomach when Eugene and Shane approached on horseback.

Without Joel.

“Where is he?”

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel clenched his jaw and tensed his whole body, readying himself for the impact. There was a burst of pain, bright light behind his eyes. But he didn’t make a noise.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

“Why do I need to know this?” Ellie sighed, her head leaning on her hand. You looked up from the pot you were stirring and found her chewing on the end of her pencil.

“Because a basic knowledge of biology will help in life. Do you know how many people probably wished they hadn’t slept through their bio classes in high school?” You asked her and she sighed heavily, letting her head fall on her notebook.

You only rolled your eyes as you pulled plates down out of the cabinet, eyes on the clock over the window. Joel would be home soon hopefully.

“Set the table?” You asked Ellie and she scrambled to comply, shoving her books into her book bag in an effort to get out of doing her homework in any way possible. “When Joel gets back he’ll help you finish up.”

She laughed and shook her head as she set out the cutlery how Joel had thought her. He still clung to the strangest of Southern traditions. One of the most obvious was his table manners which he was trying in vain to pass on to Ellie.

“Cause he’s gonna know it. Joel’s a high school drop out.” Ellie reminded you and you laughed.

“Joel dropped out of high school to be a dad. Not because he wasn’t smart.” You reminded her while you ruffled her hair when she got close enough, you laughed again when she grumbled about it.

“What’s your excuse?” She huffed, setting three glasses down and filling two with water, a finger of whiskey in the third.

“Gee Els, I don’t know? The end of the world, maybe.” You laughed with her and covered the simmering pot. “Go check the stables and see will they be much longer.”

You all preferred to eat dinner together most evenings. Sometimes home cooked, sometimes at the diner. But eating together was something you had always done with your family and you liked that they did their best to uphold that for you.

Ellie huffed and moved to pull on her converse, sitting on the bench by the front door. A bench Joel built specifically so she would sit down to put her shoes on instead of hopping around and knocking her head on the wall.

A knock sounded at the door just as she had tied the laces on her shoes and you leaned from your place at the sink to look down as she answered the door. Tommy appeared, his hat pressed against his chest and his mouth down turned.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel was alone in the room. Maybe not a room but a shed or barn. There was a lot of creaking going on. The ground underneath him felt like bare concrete but he thought he could hear the rustle of hay when he moved.

Panic was biting at him as he took stock of his injuries. He had been left in a stress position which was murder on his already bad knees. His ribs were on fire, each breath like a brand to his lungs.

His hands were bound to something above his head. Something sturdy enough to hold his weight but it groaned when he pulled. A pipe maybe.

His stomach growled again and he sighed. It had only been a few hours. Regular eating in Jackson had stolen his edge and now he found himself hungry and tired.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the protest from his ribs and pulled, putting all his weight on whatever he was bound to. There was harsh groaning and then a screech.

And then he dropped, no longer suspended.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

You stared at Tommy as he stepped into the hallway past a frozen Ellie. You knew that look. You had seen him do it only once, having to tell Denise that her husband had passed away in the clinic.

A heart attack. That’s what they thought happened. You wondered if this is what it felt like. The pressure building in your chest, your breath catching, frozen stock still.

“He isn’t.” Ellie breathed, moving from the doorway to you. She wasn’t looking at Tommy, hand reached out for you. “It’s Joel. He isn’t. He can’t be.”

“He missed the meet point.” Tommy said with a wince and your eyes narrowed as part of you relaxed just slightly.

“It was a three man patrol.” You pulled Ellie closer by the hand she had reached for you with. You needed to keep her close, keep her safe. “There isn’t a meet point on a three man patrol.”

“Eugene and Jason-“

“You mean to tell me that my husband is missing because those two fucking stoners had to check their grow house?” You asked Tommy, voice low. “Because you know Joel wouldn’t fucking suggest splitting up. You fucking know that!”

“Now look, I’m just the messenger.” Tommy started and you clenched your jaw. “I’m just as mad as you about it and Maria-“

“Oh for fuck sake Tommy. When are you gonna grow a fucking pair and stop hiding in the shadows?” You snapped, a hand running through your hair. “Fucking letting Joel take the fall half your life and now Maria? You ever gonna stand on your own two feet?”

“Now hold on a second-“

“No, you hold on. You heard that those two fucking clowns didn’t wait for Joel and you left them standing? Joel might be dead so that Eugene could check on his fucking weed.” You tell Tommy as he stepped closer in anger. You met him half way, a finger pointed into his chest. “You better fucking hope he’s okay or I’ll make what both of you used to do look like child’s play.”

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel paused in place to see if the sound had alerted any one. His hands are still bound and the circulation returning to his legs caused a rush of pins and needles so strong he dropped to his knees.

He needs to get out. He needs to get home. Home to you and Ellie.

There’s no noise that Joel can detect when he raises his bound hands to push the blindfold off his face. The darkness blinds him a second time, his eyes slowly adjusting to his surroundings.

It’s a barn. Wide and barren, hasn’t been used in decades from the looks of things. There’s not much in way of weapons but there is a rusty scythe hanging on the wall. It looks dull but after a few minutes Joel gets his bindings cut and his hands free.

The pipe he had been detained to comes free with a yank and he swings it, testing the weight. It’s not much but it’ll do if he keeps the element of surprise on his side.

A quick turn over of the barn shows nothing else of importance and so he heads for the hayloft, trying to see if he can get a glance of his surroundings.

His arms ache as he climbs and his ribs are still on fire but he pulls himself up, rung by rung, until he’s able to drag himself to the top. He tried not to breathe heavily, leaning on his hands and knees so as not to hurt his ribs further.

There’s an old dilapidated farm house a couple hundred meters from the barn. There’s smoke coming from the chimney though which means whoever stole his pack is probably in there. He grips the metal pipe tighter in his hand and breathes slowly.

Just one more push. It’s always just one more push.

Joel heads for the ladder and finds climbing down is harder on his ribs than climbing up. He attempts to hurry it which results in him losing his footing and falling a couple of rungs, hitting the ground hard with a sickening crunch. Joel fights the urge to vomit, white hot pain bursting through his body.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

“Now I don’t think this is gonna help-“ Tommy yelled after you as you headed for the Tipsy Bison. Sure as anything you’d find Eugene and Shane at the bar.

For their sake they’d better have changed up their routine.

Ellie followed along side you, her face closed off, her eyes burning with anger. You still held the hand she had outstretched to you in the house. Both of you gripping tightly.

You swung the diner door open and traced your eyes across the occupants and sure as the sky was blue you found Eugene and Shane in the corner of the bar.

You ignored Tommy calling your name and finally released Ellie’s hand, making a beeline for both men who had their heads hung over their drinks. When Tommy called your name they looked up and Eugene stood from his stool.

In his defense he did look sorry. Until your hand cracked against his face. Then he just looked shocked. “You better fucking hope he gets home.”

“We waited for him.” Eugene tried to explain but you only shook your head at him, pointing a finger over his shoulder at Shane.

“You’re just fucking lucky he’s in my way.” You warned, sending Ellie pressing close behind you. “Where did you split up?”

“It was west of here, about three quarters the way through the route. Just after the last post.” Eugene explained and your hand cracked out again. He caught your wrist this time, squeezing roughly. “I let you away with one.”

“You split up with him so you could check your fucking grow house?” You spit at him, attempting to pull your wrist free. “You’re that fucking desperate you couldn’t wait another day till the group patrol headed out?”

“He was fine with it.” Shane attempted to argue. Almost silently Ellie slipped an arm in front of you, the tip of her knife pressed against Eugene’s zipper.

“Let her go or lose your fucking dick.” Ellie warned, voice cold. “And from what I can tell that’s your entire personality.”

Eugene released your wrist which you cradled to your chest, your free hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Cmon Els, while we still have daylight.”

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel grunted, his arm cradled to his chest. His right arm. All he had was a metal pipe and he didn’t even have both hands to swing it.

His ribs, if possible, hurt worse. Every slight inhalation had him fighting back screams. The pain in his wrist made him want to vomit and he wondered what the fuck he was gonna do.

He didn’t have much time. He knew that. They would be back to check on him again in no time and he had to have a plan or he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Voices.

He froze in place, the panic overwhelming him, they were coming from the farm house. Coming for him. He was going to die in this stupid barn if he didn’t think quickly.

The closer the voices drew the worse the panic gripped him. He stepped back into the shadows, his ragged breathing lighting his ribs on fire.

The door opened, the dark sky on his side as two men stepped into the room. They were too busy talking, a lantern held in one of their hands, too low to notice Joel wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

He swung out between the men, enough strength that the first dropped like a rag doll whose stings had been cut. The second had enough time to dodge, taking a bang to the ribs which made him hiss.

Joel swung again at him but he ducked, his hand freeing the gun on his hip. Joel dove at him, panic pumping adrenaline through his blood.

All he could hear was his breathing and the rhythmic pump of his blood.

He swung the pipe, slamming it down on the head of the man and watching his skull collapse with the force.

Joel didn’t hear the shot. He didn’t even feel the bullet make impact. What he did feel was the warmth of the blood on his trousers. The fabric sticking to his skin uncomfortably and then the burst of pain when he stepped forward, his leg buckling out from underneath him.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

“Pack both first aid kits and a vial of penicillin. Enough food for three days and bring me your gun.” Ellie’s feet pounded on the stairs as she climbed them swiftly. You weren’t far behind her, pulling your rifle from under the stairs and setting it on the table.

You checked it over, knowing it was fine as Joel had cleaned it the night before for you when he was doing his own. You grabbed a box of ammo and left it beside your gun. Ellie appeared by your side, setting her own pistol down before taking off again.

You went through the same checks, loading it for her and leaving her a box of ammo to pack for the journey too.

You left them both there and hurried up the stairs pulling your backpack out of the closet and filling it quickly with anything you thought you might need.

A quiet call of your name made you pause, inhaling deeply. You knew why she was here. What she would say but you wouldn’t be deterred. Not when he could be in danger.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Through and through. The bullet had come out as it had gone in and Joel thanked god for small mercies. His whole body was on fire, the bullet wound in his thigh, his broken ribs and his shattered wrist were all throbbing in tandem.

He had a pistol now and a knife. It wasn’t much but it was something. He staggered his way to the farm house and took a minute to walk the outside of the house, ensuring he couldn’t hear anyone else.

His backpack was just inside the door but his rifle was nowhere to be seen. The farm house was just as dilapidated inside as it looked from the outside. It seemed everything had been lost to the elements besides the living room.

Joel stepped towards the fire, dragging his bad leg behind him. He could hear heavy breathing and wondered if it was his own before someone groaned and shifted on the sofa facing the fire.

Joel lifted the gun in his hand, his left arm shaking. He stepped slowly towards the sofa. The man sleeping only had time to open his eyes before Joel cracked the but of the gun down on his head.

When the man came through Joel had managed to tie him to a chair and was reasonably certain he wouldn’t get out of it. He had taken the time to wrap his leg with the first aid kit from his backpack.

A quick raid of the house offered Joel what he thought might have been painkillers. Three white pills in a bottle. He took his chances and swallowed one down with a shot of whiskey from another of the men’s backpacks. No water to be found.

A small groan alerted him that his new friend was waking up just as Joel managed to splint his wrist and construct a sling for support.

They stared at each other for a second and Joel waited patiently, dropping onto the sofa with a grunt of pain.

“Where’s the others?” His voice was quiet, timid.

“Which one are you?” Joel asked in return, looking him over as he struggled against the bindings.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Well, you’re either Billy or Tyson. Cause I know which one Mark is.” Joel told him and he winced. In truth Joel knew this was Tyson, he just wanted to leave the man with hope he hadn’t found Billyyet.

“We didn’t mean any harm, man.” Tyson muttered and Joel narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. “We just needed the supplies.

“So you beat the fuck out of me because it what? Felt nice for me? Toughened me up a little?” Joel asked, leaning forward and ignoring how his body protested. “Here’s what I’m gonna do Ty, can I call you Ty?”

“No-“

“I’m gonna ask a couple of questions and you’re going to answer them. It’s pretty easy, Ty. I got people I gotta get back to, you know?” Joel asked. Tyson spat at his feet.

Joel shot forward, ignoring the pain and stuck his knife into Tyson’s thigh, right where his own wound was.

Tyson screamed as Joel pulled the knife free, wiping it on his jeans and taking his seat again while the man yelled and bucked against the chair.

“Now. Let’s start again. How many of you are there, Tyson?”

“Four.” Joel’s goddamn bum ear let him down again. A gun loaded behind him. His rifle, he could hear it now he was actively listening. “Something you should’ve checked before you killed two of our brothers.”

Joel sighed heavily and inhaled. He stared at Tyson, counting the seconds. Tyson was sobbing now, either from the physical pain or the emotional pain. Joel didn’t know and didn’t care.

The rifle pressed against his neck and he swallowed again.

“Ben, I take it?” Joel asked, reaching up over his shoulder quickly and pulling the rifle forward. Ben jerked the trigger by accident and Joel yelled at the noise in his ear but he didn’t give up, pulling sharply again and knocking Ben off course.

Joel only has time to duck, his rifle in his arm before he scrambled from the couch and swung the rifle strap over his shoulder. He made sure to keep the sofa between then as he grabbed the gun in his waist band.

When he looked up Ben was frozen, staring over Joel’s shoulder. Joel chanced a quick look back and watched Tyson as he gasped for breath, the blood on his chest spreading, soaking through his t-shirt.

Ben had shot Tyson.

Joel didn’t hesitate, he lifted the gun and shot once at Ben and a second time at Tyson. Putting them both out of their misery.

He collapsed back onto the sofa, ears ringing and body burning. When the adrenaline fled his system he was shaking. One small touch against his leg let him know he needed to start worrying about blood loss.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

With his face tucked in your neck he couldn’t see your expression but he didn’t need to. He knew how you’d look, jaw hanging down, eyes rolled back in your head as you moaned quietly in his ear.

He continued the slow grind of his hips, pushing deeper with every slide of his body against yours. He made sure that each press abused your already swollen clit. He could still taste you on his lips, smell you on his beard.

He groaned again, sponging kisses to your neck before exposing his teeth to nibble against your skin. “Feel so fucking good.”

Your fingers were tangled in his hair, clenching tighter with every minute that passed. You were boneless, two orgasms deep and a third building slowly. “All yours.”

“Damn fucking right.” He groaned, hot breath against your neck causing you to shiver. “My pretty baby and her sweet fucking cunt.”

“Joel.” You whimpered, nails scratching against his scalp. “Make me come.”

“You’re in charge.” Joel groaned, pulling back so he could slam into you in earnest. “Anything for you.”

“Anything?” You ask, moaning loudly.

“You want it, I’ll make sure you get it, baby.” Joel told you through gritted teeth as he pushed into your tight, wet heat again and again.

“What if I asked you to burn Jackson down?” You asked teasingly and he rolled his eyes, bring his hand up to your mouth, presenting you with two fingers.

“If it was something you needed then baby, I’d burn the fucking world down. I’d kill every person in my fucking way to getting you want you need.” He told you earnestly as you sucked on his fingers.

He pulled them from your mouth and brought them down to rub against your clit, rendering you speechless as your orgasm hit you.

A few minutes later you lay across his chest as you both attempted to catch your breath. Joel’s fingers traced patterns up and down the line of your spine. You were tracing the same patterns into his chest hair.

“Burn the world, huh? Sounds dangerous.” You teased. Joel smiled, huffing a small laugh that made you bounce against his chest. “What if you get hurt doing it? What if you die? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Baby, if you think there’s a grave that could keep me from you then you’re crazy. I’ll always come home, crawlin’ on my hands and knees if I’ve gotta.”

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Joel can’t move. His whole body is one big starburst of pain. He knows he needs to get moving, knows that he doesn’t have long. There could be more of the group and they could be back any second.

But he can’t move.

His head is spinning and he knows he lost too much blood. The spinning is compounded by the fact that breathing is a nightmare. He doesn’t know where he is or how to get back to Jackson.

He rolls off the sofa, landing on his knees which jolts just about every injury he has. He barely catches himself on his good hand and vomits up every thing in his system from the pain.

He uses the sofa for leverage to push himself up off his knees. He staggers slightly, catching himself in enough time that he doesn’t careen into Tyson’s body, still tied to the chair.

He grunts as he moves, his leg dragging behind him. Each step is torture, a life time of bad karma catching up with him.

He checks over Ben but doesn’t find anything besides another knife. He leaves it where it is and hobbles out the door Ben left open behind him.

Joel doesn’t expect much but the sight of his horse is enough to almost bring a tear to his eye. No crawling needed this time.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

“What do you mean you aren’t sending a search party?” You ask Maria. She stands at your kitchen table and refuses to meet your eyes. She had sat at this very table just last week for your birthday dinner. She had laughed and joked with your husband while he held her little girl in his arms.

“We aren’t ready. A route needs to be planned, quadrants divided among patrol men. Marching out without a plan will lose men.” She warned, slipping into her role as a council member, not a sister in law.

“Do you think he’d hesitate? Do you think he’d wait for routes and quadrants if it were anyone else out there? He wouldn’t have even come back without Eugene or Shane. Those cowards-“

“Followed the rules. Something Joel has never done. He flaunts it in our faces time after time and I’m not going to let everyone else get hurt just because he wouldn’t care if the shoe was on the other foot.” Maria interrupts and you stare at her, jaw dropped. Ellie mutters a curse from beside you and you reach out for her. “Joel will be able to survive on his own until we get a group together. Lord knows that anyone that takes him on is in more danger than he is.”

The chill in her voice makes you hold the rebuttal you had. Your mouth closes as you catch the silent distaste from her and your hand moves to Ellie’s back.

“Wait on the porch, Ellie.” You speak evenly and even short tempered Ellie can hear the rage boiling over your words. She looks up at you and over to Maria, her fingers reaching for your sleeve. “Just a few minutes. I promise.”

“My husband is missing. He’s god knows where with god knows who. Neither Eugene or Shane backtracked or attempted to see if he’d been injured. I don’t know if he’s fallen off his horse, if he’s been bitten and is currently trying to decide wether or not to blow his brains out or if raiders have him and are beating him to death because he’d rather die than betray Jackson.” You tell Maria once Ellie has cleared the room. “He has fought with everything he has for over twenty years and if you want to say something about that, well now’s your chance.”

“I’m just saying that maybe, if there’s karma out there, that-“ Joel’s glass smashes, the whiskey splashing you both when you sweep it off the table, leaning towards Maria.

“Your husband done everything that mine did. So if it’s karma that’s hurt Joel out there then you’d wanna wrap Tommy up tight.” You warn her and she bristles, her jaw clenched.

“You know damn well that Tommy-“

“Was a grown man? With two hands? He pressed every trigger, he planned every attack. Just like Joel. So that they could survive. So that they could be alive to love us. Joel never pointed a gun at Tommy of that I can be absolutely fucking sure.” You told Maria, cutting her off. “Tommy was in the fucking army before it all happened. You think he sat twiddling his thumbs there?”

“There’s a team heading out in the morning. You won’t be given a horse before then. Sundown is in an hour. You won’t make it. I won’t condone it. You need to think of Ellie.” Maria left without further comment.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Joel didn’t know pain like this existed. Every movement of the horse jolted each of his injuries. He had tried everything, every speed to see which hurt the least and there was no answer that didn’t have him biting the reins so as not to scream out.

Night was closing in fast and he was still too far from the closest patrol safe house. He needed to stop for the night but there was nowhere safe to stash himself and the horse. He stuck to the trail when he could, hoping he wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention.

He had to stop twice to bandage his leg again. The blood had slowed but it hadn’t stopped and he knew that was dangerous. He just had to get home. Tommy and him shared a blood type. He’d be fine if he got home.

Something cut across the trail causing his horse to rear back. With only one hand Joel didn’t have a chance, falling back and rolling into a ball as the horse stampeded and took off.

Joel stared at what was visible of the sky through the trees and gasped, attempting to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him.

This was it.

He would have to break his promise.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

“You’re going to be late.” You laughed when he began sponging kisses over where your towel wrapped around you. He moved your wet hair over your shoulder and continued kissing a path up your spine.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed attempting to get dressed while he was having his twenty extra minutes. It seemed he didn’t want to waste them sleeping today.

“It’ll be fine. Eugene is always late. It’s my turn.” He whispered and you felt the bed shift behind you as he sat up. You laughed when he tugged on your towel and you let him have his way. “Fuck.”

“See something you like?” You asked with another light laugh. His hands cupped your hips and travelled up your sides which had you writhing away from him while giggling. “Stop it. I give in.”

“Yeah, you giving in?” Joel asked against your neck, sucking kisses drawing the blood to your skin. “Gonna let me have my way with you?”

“Mhmm, I should’ve expected this when I married a dirty, old pervert.” You teased, gasping when he used his teeth to bite down. “All those years in the wild has left you depraved.”

“Who could blame me? A hot young wife like you, walking around half naked and basically begging for it like a bitch in heat. Well any man would have trouble resisting you.” Joel’s hand slipped around your side while he spoke to cup your breast. He thumbed lightly at the nipple before pinching harshly.

You gasped, leaning back against him as your hips lifted of their own accord. His words only fueled the fire and you whimpered, your head falling back on his shoulder. “Ain’t so smart now, are you Mrs Miller?”

“Nuh uh, Mr Miller.” You whispered as his hand slipped down over your stomach. He ran a finger down your slit and groaned against your neck. “I ain’t even touched you yet, baby.”

“Was thinking about you in the shower.” You muttered. He laughed against your neck. “Was hoping you’d wake early enough for this.”

You breathing turned shaky as his finger ran over your clit, barely there pressure making you twitch. “Yeah, is that why you were making so much noise getting ready for the day? Need me to take you apart first?”

You groaned as Joel pulled you back to sit between his legs. He was leaning against the headboard, keeping you faced away on purpose. He knew you liked to look at him. “Mhmm.”

“Couldn’t let me lie in. I fucked you twice yesterday, Pretty Girl. That wasn’t enough?” Joel asked, adding pressure to the finger circling your clit.

“Never enough.” You told him honestly. It was true. You don’t know how either of you managed to get anything done. From the moment you had met Joel, scared and defenseless on the outskirts of Jackson, he had enchanted you.

You had thought that maybe you had been alone so long that the trip back with him, sharing a horse had been the closest you had to human contact in months, made it seem reasonable that it had an effect on you.

“Insatiable.” He whispered in your ear, sliding a deliciously thick finger into you. The angle was off and he knew it wouldn’t do anything but tease you. “That’s what I get. Hard to keep up in my old age. Shouldn’t have snatched you out of the cradle.”

“I’m thirty- thirty six.” Your words caught on a moan when the palm of his hand pressed against your clit. “Hardly cradle snatching at that point.”

“I’m pushing sixty sweetheart. If I had a couple million dollars I could be a more handsome Hugh Hefner.” He teased as he inserted a second finger.

“That what you want? For me to put on some lingerie and bunny ears. Jacked it to playboy back in the day, did you?” You asked and he groaned. “Well old man, if you can’t keep up then let me take over.”

He laughed and raised his hands as you shuffled around to straddle his lap. He pulled the sheet back to bare himself to you and held you steady as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. “Always so fucking tight.”

“Cause you’re so fucking big.” You whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. For a moment while you adjusted his hands were on your hips, thumbs stroking the skin softly.

“You ready, baby?” He asked softly as you started to shift your hips slowly. “Gonna take me?”

“Promise me.” You whispered, moving yourself slowly. The teasing was gone now, your hands cupping his face. “Make me the promise.”

“I’m coming home today.” He promised, his hands helping your hips in the slow grind, your clit rubbing against his happy trail. “If I have to crawl.”

“You’ll always come home, right?” You asked and Joel pressed a soft kiss to your lips, closing his eyes. “Promise.”

“There ain’t a force that could hold me down.” He promised quietly. “I’ll come home to you.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Joel wasn’t alone. He could tell as much from the sounds around him. He was still over an hour from the closest safe house and darkness had settled over the forest like a blanket.

His vision was impaired and with his already shit hearing it had taken him a while to hear it. A stalker.

He wasn’t sure if that was worse or better than another of the merry band of brothers. His rifle was shit to him in the dark and he barely had the strength to raise it anyway.

At this point it might be easier to crawl. He considers it, getting down on his knees and crawling along with his one good arm.

Lying down is tempting if he’s honest. He’s got the pistol. It could be quick, painless even. He wouldn’t miss this time. He would be sure of it.

He knew the sound of his daughters voice was most likely due to blood loss. But his brain couldn’t rationalize the look of her in the forest. She was wearing her soccer uniform and he hissed at her to keep it down.

“It’s not safe. It ain’t safe, baby girl.” He hushed as the noise drew closer. He had to catch her, keep her quiet. She didn’t know, she had never known this world. “Sarah, baby, please.”

She continued to skip ahead, that same grin on her face. The Miller grin, it only ever lead to trouble. He could go back to her.

He could spend every day kicking a soccer ball with her and watching terrible movies. It wouldn’t be so bad. He missed her. He missed her so much.

“Sarah, you gotta be quiet.” She stared at him in horror and Joel knew without knowing. He ducked and the stalker overshot him just slightly, hitting the ground and rolling back. Joel freed his knife and brought it down, flinching back from the smell of rotting flesh and the teeth inches from his face.

He stumbled over the body of the stalker and waited for the next one to appear. The forest was still. Joel couldn’t hear his daughters laughter or the shifting noise of a stalker in the trees.

He was alone. Again.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Ellie had fallen into a fitful sleep. You had woken her twice from nightmares, your shirt damp from her tears. You had never seen her so scared but you had never seen her without Joel. Some days it was hard to remember she was only sixteen when she carried everything on her shoulders.

She was just a little girl and her dad was in trouble. He was missing and she couldn’t help him anymore.

You weren’t much better, replaying his promise to you that very morning. He had to be okay because if he wasn’t okay there was no way you would be.

You’d be strong for Ellie, you knew that much but you wouldn’t be able to stay in Jackson. Not when every turned corner would bring back his memory.

“You better be crawling, old man.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“Come on, Dad. We’ll be late.” Sarah was laying in the grass next to Joel. She was trying to convince him to come to her.

“You’d like them. You know.” Joel told her quietly, his eyes shut against the onslaught of pain that came with every movement. He was so cold. “She’d have been a good step mom.”

“She’d have been a good older sister.” Sarah teased and Joel laughed. It was true, she was only a couple of years younger than you. “She’s good for you.”

“Ellie too. She’s not you. She’ll never be you.” Joel told the ghost of his daughter by his side. “But she helps when I miss you.”

“Good. You need that. It’s time you forgive yourself for me.” Sarah sighed and Joel opened his eyes, turning his head to the empty forest.

“You better be crawling.”

He huffed a laugh and winced, rolling over and shoving himself up to his feet. “I’m coming baby.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

First light finds you at the stables. Ellie is preparing Shimmer while you go through the bags one more. With Joel being lost the stables are down a horse and you consider sharing with Ellie.

The only downside is you don’t know how stable Joel will be and three people is just too much for Shimmer to carry, especially with Joel.

“A patrol will be leaving at midday.” Maria is standing behind you when you turn. She looks as if she’s gotten as much sleep as you have. “It’ll take a while to organize supplies for a patrol that may take up to a week.”

“Midday is too late. Ellie and I will head out now. We’ll follow the route. Leave markers if we have to leave it for any reason.” You told Maria, looking over her shoulder.

“I can’t let you do that.” Maria spoke evenly and you turned to find Tommy and Darren flanking her. “Those horses are property of Jackson. You’re erratic, you’ll make mistakes. Get yourself hurt.”

“Keep your horse then. We’ll go on foot.” You shrug, pulling your pack up on your shoulders. Ellie joined you at your side, leaving Shimmer at your words. “That’s not something you can stop me doing.”

“We need to look at the reality of the situation.” Darren spoke up and you raised your eyebrows at him before looking across to Maria’s other side at the very quiet Tommy Miller.

“What other reality is there? My husband is probably hurt and I’m going out to help him.” You shrugged and Maria shook her head. “Don’t.”

“You’ll get hurt. It’s not worth-“

Silence fell as Ellie raised her pistol slowly, pointing it at Tommy. You stared at her and tried to fight the smile. She couldn’t know you approved of what she was doing. “You were saying?”

“Ellie. Lower the gun.” Maria spoke quietly, inching towards Tommy who hadn’t moved a muscle. “Don’t joke around like this.”

“Who’s joking?” Ellie asked, her thumb knocking the safety off. “Cause either you got a problem with Joel, which you better not, or you got a problem with husbands. In that case I’ll help get rid of yours.”

You covered your mouth so that she wouldn’t see you smile but you didn’t say anything, watching Maria go through the thought process. “Maybe it’s father figures? Want your kid to grow up without one so she can be cool and edgy like me?”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Maria warned, her jaw tight with tension.

“So are you. Cause it sounded like you were gonna say Joel wasn’t worth it.” Ellie told her, coiled just as tight with tension. “If you feel that way about someone we care about then why the fuck shouldn’t we treat you the same?”

“You’re awful quiet for a man who don’t seem to give two fucks about his brother.” You spoke up finally, eyes on Tommy. He stood to attention but his rifle was still slung over his shoulder, relaxed.

“Y’all are gonna point that gun at me no matter what I say.” He shrugged idly. “Turns out I ain’t able to stay on everyone’s good side. Joel has been through some pretty bad things and I think that he’ll hold on somewhere until we can get to him.”

“He wouldn’t have this discussion. He’d have been out that gate before Eugene and Shane had finished explaining.” You told him and Tommy nodded, agreeing with you.

“I ain’t pretending to be Joel. I’ve got a baby and a wife to think of. He’d kill me if I got hurt on his honor.” Tommy explained. “Now you told me yesterday to grow a pair and I’m telling you I did. I’m praying my big brother is okay but I can’t let my little girl grow up without a daddy.”

“He’s protected you-“

“Since I was four years old and our daddy went to get the paper and never came home. Our momma wasn’t much good and so he stepped up. He bailed me out of jail more times than I count.” Tommy interrupted. “He made sure I stayed alive all through the end of the world. I ain’t forget every sacrifice he made. He woulda been happier just rolling over and dyin’ after Sarah but he stayed alive. For me.”

“Then why-“

“Seems a piss poor way to thank him for saving my life by putting it on the line like this. You two should think about that. I know he’s made his fair share of sacrifices for you both, too.” Tommy said and you sighed, lifting a hand to cover your face, eyes burning with tears.

“He’s all alone.” You whispered and Ellie clutched you. “He ain’t ever been all alone. What if he can’t find a reason to keep fighting?”

“He’s got two great reasons right here.” Tommy promised. “He wouldn’t dare forget that.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

You had only left the lamp on in your living room. The low light lended you a softness in its golden glow. It kept everything cozy and personal, gentle.

Gentle just like his hands that held you up. Your back pinned against the wall, your legs around his waist. He held you like you were precious, kissing you softly.

“You sure about this?” He whispered against your lips. “Don’t owe me anything, sweetheart.”

“I want everything.” You whispered back, your hands cupping his face. You ran your thumb over his bottom lip, feeling the heat of his breath. “I have since that first moment.”

“There’s better men out there. Younger, kinder.” He warned you and you rolled your eyes. “I mean it, you think I’m a good man because I helped you. A few years ago I might not have.”

“While I highly doubt any version of you would’ve been able to tamp down your noble spirit, how fortunate am I that got this version of you?” You asked him, your hand moving to the back of his neck. “I want you, Joel. Scars and all.”

“You might change your mind in the morning.” He sighed, his head tipping back into the fingers combing through the hair at the base of his neck. “What happens then?”

“Well in the extremely low chance that happens we act like two adults that had sex casually. We get over it.” You tell him and he shakes his head.

“I won’t be able to get over it. I haven’t been able to get over you since the first time I touched your skin. Getting this, getting everything, I won’t survive it not working out.” He muttered and you sighed against his lips, using the hand at the back of his neck to push him close enough to kiss.

“Then take me to bed and keep me forever. It’s the only way it can work.” You whisper when you separate. He huffs an incredulous laugh before his grip shifts and he’s supporting you entirely, heading for the stairs.

“Well if that’s the only option, I guess I’ll take it.”

Think. Think. Think.

You had stayed in the stables with Ellie while the discussion took place. Tommy led the team, a map spread out over a barrel as he divided up routes for each team to take.

Initially he hadn’t wanted you or Ellie to go but for the sake of peace he had given in, assigning you both the creek trails. It was as much of a peace offering as you were gonna get so you both taken it.

“We got a live one!” A call came from the tower, drawing everyone’s attention. It was almost casual how disinterested you were in an infected getting this close to Jackson.

It was rare it happened but that’s what tower patrols were for. To deal with a situation like this. There was a pause and then a yell.

“Don’t fucking shoot! For the love of god don’t shoot. It’s Joel!”

Everyone paused in place, not daring to move a muscle. Several long seconds passed before you ducked by Tommy, tearing out of the stables towards the gate that was opening slowly.

And there he was. He was down on his knees, one hand across his chest in a sling. He was covered in blood and bruises but he was there. You slipped out past Jesse and skidded along the mud on your knees to land in front of Joel.

“I promised.”

Think. Think. Think.

Joel’s breathing was labored and even in his sleep he grunted in pain on every exhale. The sheet was low on his waist, showing of the mottled expanse of his chest. It was easy to see which ribs had been broken by the deep purple coloring.

His wrist was wrapped in a hard shell cast which Ellie had already signed with a black sharpie she had been coveting.

Hidden by the blanket was the knife wound which hadn’t knicked any arteries but had led to the need for two transfusions from Tommy just to give Joel enough of a chance to fight through his injuries.

You had spent most waking seconds with him in the clinic. You slept curled up in the chair and the rest of time you held his uninjured hand. The swelling on his face was going down slowly and he was beginning to look like your Joel again.

Ellie dipped in and out between school and spending time with her friends. You had assured her that he was fine and that you’d come get her if she was needed.

Your finger traced over his scarred knuckles and you wiped a tear away. His hand twitched in yours, lifting to wipe your cheek clumsily.

“Those tears better not be for me.” He grunted.

“Nah, they’re for me. You’re such a pain to keep on bed rest.” You teased, throat tight against the onslaught of emotion. “How you feeling, old man?”

“Like shit. Do you know how I broke my wrist?” He asked, looking up at you, shifting against his pillows. You only shook your head silently, unable to say anything for fear it would just be a sob. “Fell down a fuckin’ ladder. Was a contractor all my fuckin’ life and I fell down a ladder.”

You laughed wetly, the tears falling freely now. He tried to shush you, his free hand pulling you closer until you were curled up on his good side. “I was so scared.”

“Made you a promise, didn’t I?” He asked, a lightness to his voice so you’d know he was teasing. “There ain’t a force in this world that could keep me from coming home to you.”

You press your face into his neck as you attempt to compose yourself. You sniffled quietly and he tightened the arm wrapped around you. “Don’t ever put me through that again. Ellie and I almost got us kicked out of Jackson.”

“Oh yeah?” Joel laughs like it’s funny. “You causing trouble baby?”

“Ellie held Tommy at gunpoint. Maria and I fought so bad I thought she’d shoot me herself.” You told him quietly and his shifted around until he could look you in the eye.

“Why?” He asked, his eyes wide in shock.

“They didn’t want us to go looking for you.” You told him and he sighed. “I also hit Eugene.”

“Baby, it wasn’t his fault.” Joel assured you, raising the hand covered in a cast to smooth a finger over your cheek.

“Everyone knows why you’d split up.” You argued and Joel only rolled his eyes. “And then Maria and Tommy wouldn’t let us go. They, well Maria, said some pretty nasty things about you.”

“Maria’s got her reasons. I don’t know how much I’d like me if I was in her position.” Joel sighed and you rolled your eyes this time. “I’ve done some bad things, baby.”

“Just as many as Tommy has!” You argued and he sighed, sick of the same argument. You knew Joel was no saint but that didn’t make Tommy much better. “Told him to grow a pair.”

Joel laughed before wincing at the pain in his ribs. You let the conversation go and pressed in closer to him, your hand running up and down his chest carefully.

His breathing steadied and you assumed he had gone back to sleep. You continued to lie next to him, touching him softly.

“If heaven is real, they ain’t ever gonna let me in. No god could forgive me for what I’ve done.” Joel spoke and you looked up at him, your hand resting over his stomach.

“I ain’t too worried about a god that let the world fall to ruins like this. He’s got more problems than what you did to survive when I get to him.” Joel laughed, groaning in pain again. “I don’t care. About any of it. You’re my husband, you’re Ellie’s father. That’s what I care about.”

Think. Think. Think.

Maria calls by when Joel has been back home for a few days. He’s allowed sit up in bed but that’s all. You’ve taken it upon yourself to enforce his bed rest and he’s decided the rewards are very much worth it.

He learned the hard way what happens when he ignores your ruling in favor of stumbling down the stairs and collapsing against the couch in the short time it takes you to head to the trading post in town.

He had hurt his ribs which had only made it worse when you took a seat on the rocking chair in your bedroom, the one he had built you.

He had watched as you had brought yourself to orgasm, in too much pain to even sit all the way up.

It was the first time he had seen you have an orgasm without his help and it hurt more than all of his injuries combined. He had learned his lesson quickly.

So when Maria knocked he didn’t even look up from the book he was reading and you kissed his cheek in reward before crawling out of bed and heading for the stairs.

You opened the door and felt your smile drop as Maria stood in place, her hands folded in front of her. “I owe you an apology.”

You knew that you should accept it, send her on her way, and get back to Joel. It was all water under the bridge. “Damn right you owe me an apology.”

“I’m not sorry that I didn’t let you leave.” She explained, shifting her weight. “I was right, I knew he would get back here on his own.”

“Just fucking barely!” You couldn’t help the explosion. “Do you know how close I got to never seeing him again?”

“I understand but-“

“You play God here. You choose who is worth your time and who isn’t. You ain’t got a problem with Joel’s past when it makes him the best for patrol. When it’s raiders and smugglers he’s killing.” You snapped and she sighed. “He’s not your little soldier, that’s what you hate. You can bend Tommy to your will but you can’t have him.”

“I came to apologise.” She ignored your point and it made you even angrier. “I want to apologise for judging how he kept himself alive.”

You paused at that, not expecting her to admit it. She took a deep breathe and clasped her hands in front of her. “You were right. The choices they made brought them here to us. Tommy is alive because Joel made sure of it. I owe him everything I have.”

“I’m glad we’re clear on that.” You muttered petulantly, unable to stop yourself pulling the same face Ellie did when she was proven right.

“He loves you so much.” Maria sighed softly. “He used every last reserve a person has to get back here. He’s a different man when it comes to you.

You sighed and shook your head. “You still don’t get it. He’s not a different man with me. He’s the exact same man he’s been for over fifty years. I love him in every phase of his life. Given the chance I wouldn’t change loving him.”

You stared at Maria for a long second before shaking your head again and shutting the door in her face. You climbed the stairs and found Joel with his book in his lap and a proud smile he was trying to hide.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on her. She ain’t wrong.” Joel sighed and you rolled your eyes.

“Course she is. That’s my husband she’s talking about. I wouldn’t swear myself to just anyone in this world. Only the best.”

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Joel had only just earned the right to tackle the stairs again after two weeks of bed rest. He was reveling in his new found freedom by sitting on the sofa rather than the bed.

You had begun returning to society, picking up a few shifts down at the Tipsy Bison and trusting him to behave. You knew he would, he was wrapped around your finger.

He had just found a position that didn’t irritate any of his still healing injuries when there was a pounding at the door. He sighed to himself got up from the sofa, staggering slightly on his bad leg.

An irate Eugene was at the the door, his face red and his eyes wild. He attempted to shove past Joel who wasn’t so injured that he allowed it. He shoved Eugene back over the threshold, his eyebrows furrowed.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Joel asked, his hand raised to shove Eugene backwards again if needed. He was incoherent with rage so Joel just stared at him.

“Where the fuck is she?” He snapped at Joel who frowned at Eugene. “The fucking bitch of yours, where is she?”

“Now Eugene, I got two lovely ladies in my life and I know you ain’t referring to either of ‘em as a bitch. So let’s try again before I gotta bust my stitches and break my cast to teach you a lesson.” Joel warned and Eugene attempted to shove by again only for Joel to shove harder this time, knocking him back a step.

“She fucking done it. I know she did. She’s the only one who would’ve. That fucking wife of yours.” Eugene’s eyes flashed and Joel reached forward, his fist curling in Eugene’s shirt.

“You don’t talk about my wife like that. I ain’t said nothing about the bruises you left on her wrist cause I been in recovery and she did try to hit you a second time. But don’t think I didn’t notice. If I think you’re gonna hassle her further I’ll bury you in that back fucking yard and use you to fertilize her flowers.” Joel warned, voice low. He barely noticed Tommy opening the gate behind Eugene and making his way up towards the porch.

“It’s all gone. It had to have been her.” Joel took a guess at what was missing as Eugene stepped back. “Years of fucking work.”

“She ain’t been outside that wall without me since the day she came in it. So walk fucking away. And don’t let me hear you been hassling her.” Joel warned. Eugene turned with more drama than Ellie during a tantrum, stalking past Tommy and banging the garden gate behind him.

“Wild that. Someone moved every single plant he had. You know how much that is?” Tommy asked and Joel looked over at his brother’s smirk. “Enough to fill the basement of that mansion a few miles away. Heat lamps were tough to get up there but there was already a generator in place.”

“You son of a bitch.” Joel grinned.

“That’s your mama too you’re talking about.”

[medusapelagia]

24 I have a date

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt:"Go, see if I care." ) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: Pretended Hate ) @aug-kissed (prompt: Hickeys)  Rating: Teen and up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: no one Words: 1228

“Come on, Steve! Eddie is a friend! He’s the Dungeon Master of the Hellfire Club! You have to come with us and meet him!” Dustin is begging him, while Steve brushes his hair, getting ready for his date.

“Yeah. I heard you say that the first fifteen times. Eddie’s your super cool friend. Way cooler than me.”

“It’s not that! It’s just… we don’t see each other anymore, and if you started to hang out with us maybe…”

“Dustin, kid, look at me. Do I look like the kind of person who can have fun during one of your boring games? And I know Eddie, I attended the same school you attended, did you forget it? And I can tell you that there aren’t two people more different than Eddie and I.”

“Come on! I swear that he’s fun! And he knows a lot of things! And…”

“Things like what? How to sell drugs to high schoolers? Wait! You aren’t taking any of that shit, are you, Dustin?” Steve asks seriously, his arms on Dustin’s shoulder looking at him in the eyes.

“No, I’m not. Fuck, Steve, you sound like my mother! I’m just having fun with my friends!”

Steve lifts an eyebrow, studying him, then he shrugs, “You’re right. You’re too much of a nerd to use those things. But don’t let Eddie or anyone else convince you to smoke with them, ok?”

“But you used to smoke.” Dustin grins, remembering the drugged confession Steve made in a Russian elevator the year before.

“Yeah. Then I got beaten and drugged by Russian soldiers so no, I don’t smoke joints anymore and I don’t want you to smoke either. It’s bad for your brain.” he tells him while ruffling Dustin’s hair, before looking at the time, “Come on. It’s getting late and I have a long shift and a date tonight.”

“Heidi?”

“No.”

“Susan?”

“No.”

“Jennifer?”

“Oh come on! You’re making me look like a fucking monster. I don’t date that much!”

“Oh yeah, because you date them only for one night and then completely forget about every single one of them but you don’t want to spend one night, one night Steve, with me and my friends.”

“I already told you, Dustin, I have a date,” Steve explains tiredly to Dustin who glares at him furiously.

“Well if your dates are more important than me then just go! Go and see if I care!" Dustin yells, bolting out of Steve’s house, and slamming the door loudly behind himself.

“Dustin! Dustin!” Steve calls, opening the door, but the kid is already biking away through the woods to get to the trailer park.”

“Fuck.” he curses under his breath, staring at the boy that disappears behind some trees. 

He wonders if he should follow him but the clock radio tells him that’s already too late and he still has to pick up Robin, so he grabs his dark green vests and gets into his car, driving toward Robin’s house first and then Family Video.

“What’s the long face?” Robin asks as soon as she sits in his car.

“I think I had a fight with Dustin.”

“You think you did or did you actually have a fight?”

“He asked him to join them for one of their game nights and I said no. And he was so pissed he rushed out of my house without even saying goodbye.”

“That’s normal Dustin’s behavior. Don’t think too much about it. I’m sure in a day or two everything will be back to normal.” She replies, smiling, fixing her makeup in the little car mirror.

Steve nods, she’s right, “Maybe I could pick him up before my date, just to talk.”

“That’s a great idea. Who’s the date by the way? I forgot. Jennifer?”

Steve ignores her, “I’m not going to say anything to you. You lost your gossip privileges when you mocked me for taking Heidi to the Championship game!” Steve replies, parking in front of the video store.

It’s a Thursday, so in the afternoon it’s quite calm and they spend almost all their time rewinding the VHS and throwing candies at each other.

Once their shift is finally over, Steve asks Robin if she minds if they make a stop at the trailer park to pick up Dustin and she replies she doesn’t mind if she can keep her shotgun privileges.

The trailer is old and rusty, and Steve’s BMW wheels grind on the gravel loudly.

“The King has come to see his subjects.” Munson grins, smoking a cigarette.

“I’m here to pick up Dustin, is he ready to go?”

“As ready as someone who lost all his friends can be.”

“He what?” Steve asks worriedly.

“Calm down, Harrington, I’m talking about the game,” Eddie replies, smirking, while Dustin leaves the trailer sadder than he was when he first got there.

“You're the devil himself.” Dustin whines, “How could you do that to us.”

“It’s not me, young padawan, it’s just fate.” Eddie winks while Steve manages to fit Dustin’s bike in his trunk somehow and drives him back home.

“Did you have fun?”

“Does it look like I had fun?” Dustin retorts, crossing his arm in front of his chest.

“Today isn’t a great day. Got it. Why don’t we go have smoothies tomorrow afternoon?” Steve proposes but Dustin doesn’t even reply. 

All he says is “Thanks for the ride,” before shutting the door behind him.

“Kids.” Robin replies when Steve drives her home, “Have fun with your mysterious date!” she waves before going home.

Back at Steve’s place, everything seems normal, apart from his room’s window which looks suspiciously ajar, even if Steve knows he left it closed.

He steps quietly to his room, slamming the door open to catch the intruder by surprise, only to find Eddie half-naked on his bed.

“About time, big boy!” he complains, getting closer to him and pushing him against the wall before kissing him hard.

“Fuck you, Eddie! You scared me!”

“Sorry babe, but I know a great way to ask for forgiveness. Why don’t you lose some of those clothes?” Eddie suggests, kissing Steve more sweetly this time.

“Dustin is still pissed at me. For how long do we have to keep up all this pantomime?”

“Are you ready to come out to a group of teenagers who can’t shut the fuck up?”

Steve sighs, Eddie is right as always.

“But when Robin and I move to Chicago you’ll come with us, right?” Steve asks while Eddie leaves hickeys and love bites on his golden skin, humming content.

“Robin knows about it?”

“Not yet. But she’s my platonic soulmate, she would never say no to me.”

Eddie grins, amused, “She’s way tougher than you think, but yeah, if I manage to graduate this year I promise I’ll try to move to Chicago with you. I think Jeff is moving there too. Could find an apartment with him, close to yours, and get in your room by the window. But for the moment my plan is to write ‘I’m sorry’ on your skin with my teeth. Any thoughts?” He asks, latching on Steve’s neck like a vampire and leaving a huge purple hickey.

Steve feels a familiar warmth in his stomach while Eddie unbutton his jeans and opens the fly.

After all, being in a secret relationship isn’t that bad.

[bumblebeehug]

When do u think Natsu actually realized that he fell for Lucy and i know he treats her differently but can u give moments where it's initiated from his side?

This is going to be a long post so buckle up!

Okay, first of all: the Phantom Lord arc. Though I don't think he fell in love with her at that point of time, I think it was the events that seriously solidified his partialness to her. I'd go into detail but I can already feel a long post incoming, so I'll keep it short: Lucy telling Natsu that she loves being a Fairy Tail wizard, while crying over the fact that she didn't want to leave ↓

After just trusting her life in Natsu, jumping from an insanely high tower, with a mere belief that maybe she had heard him in the distance – I think it struck a chord with Natsu. Like, it would be normal to cry after a fall like that, but Lucy wasn't concerned about that aspect. Her head and heart was all about the guild, how she didn't want to go, and that resonates with Natsu. Natsu's entire life at that point is 1) Finding Igneel, and 2) being with/protecting the guild.

Then I'd say it's a pretty gradual build in their relationship. They go on a lot of missions, hang out together, and just in general spend a lot of time connecting. There's some Natsu-saves-Lucy, some Lucy-saves-Natsu, some hand holding (tenrou arc I won't forget about that, thank you anime team for adding that scene), and then comes the next pivotal moment. GMG arc and the dragon festival that follows.

By then I'd say Natsu and Lucy are very much in this friends-with-emotional-benefit zone: much more than friends, absolutely not yet lovers. But with Lucy's near-death experiences in her battles, Natsu has to refrain himself from getting involved each time Lucy gets beaten up - he becomes helpless, and the worry that's sowed inside of him gets watered each time Lucy still puts his faith in him, still trusts him to come out a winner. That entire section when Lucy's in the infirmary and she tells Natsu that her entire being trusts that Natsu can do anything, I think that's when Natsu falls in love.

Now wait!! He still doesn't quite understand that he loves her. But he understands that his feelings for Lucy are more tender than any other feelings he's ever had. He treasures her in a new, heavier way. She's become precious to him.

Precious. Where have we heard that... oh >:) ↓

Now the Dragon Festival was LETHAL in a trillion ways, but especially for nalu fans. The whole Future Lucy plot and the forehead touches and the Future Natsu and Future Lucy fighting in a wasteland moments and the Natsu skipping the final GMG match to save Lucy. And of course. Future Lucy dying. It's not the first time we see Natsu get so heavily affected - it happened in the tower of heaven, when Erza was ready to give her life up. But it is the first time we see Natsu see a friend die. Like, a team mate, someone who he's responsible for bringing to the guild. And after the whole GMG conundrum? Had a single more bad thing happened Lucy during the dragon festival, he’d probably turn into a demon right there and then. Dare I even say: their relationship was the strongest at this point in time.

After the GMG and the Dragon Festival, we get the Sun Village arc (I don’t like the Eclipse celestial spirit arc so I’m not counting it, same with Key of the Starry Sky arc — technically some nalu moments but not exactly building imo) and then another big one: Tartaros. Ooooh brother, THE best arc of all times, wish Mashima knew how to replicate it. But alas, he doesn’t.

The Tartaros arc isn’t exactly a pivotal moment where Natsu “falls in love” but rather an important aspect to understand his later actions. Like this guy goes through some pretty grusome stuff, learns a lot of complicated, bad things about himself, and finishes off the arc with losing Igneel — his father that he's spent ages searching for. Natsu's entire life is turned upside down, so he decides that he has to become stronger: cue, he heads off for a year to train.

His time away isn't very elaborated on — not from Natsu's viewpoint or Lucy's. But I think it's understood that he chose not to bring along Lucy because she could be put into danger too much for him to be able to concentrate on building his strength: he knew his training would be dangerous. During this time we also have the Gildarts-scene in chapter (idk i can't be bothered to look it up but y'all know the one ↓) which is kinda debated on — who was Natsu talking about here?

I'm still not certain on if it was a heart to heart on the Igneel-matter, or if it was about his guilt of leaving Lucy behind, like many theorise. I'm not even certain that it's limited to one of them — he could be talking about both. But at the very least, this entire year was one of those "distance makes the heart grow fonder" moments for him. He wanted to get back to his normal life with Lucy so bad. After all, it wasn't like him showing up at the GMG was in order to meet Lucy — had he wanted more training after that, he'd head off again, but I don't think he could physically bring himself to do it, even if it hadn't turned out that the guild had disbanded. Though that's just me speculating a bit.

And about the guild disbandment: oh jolly, he was not happy. He had finally taken the step to grow stronger to protect everyone in his beloved guild, and here Makarov went and disbanded it? Leaving Lucy completely alone? Lucy, who once jumped from a hella high tower because she was just so devoted to stay in the Fairy Tail guild? Yeah, I think that broke him a little. At this point there was just so much guilt involved around his whole relationship with Lucy, because now he had put her through so much pain only because he brought her to Fairy Tail that day in Hargeon.

The next arcs I'd say Natsu's trying to spend his time redeeming himself for the countless things he's done bad (getting the guild back together, just generally staying by Lucy's side as much as possible). And naturally he keeps getting hit by challenge after challenge (it's not easy to be a book written by his immortal brother, yk?). And it's even harder to watch Lucy die again, this time for real (he thinks bc he's stupid and also has a tumour that's nothing less than a ticking bomb) (give this guy a break lol).

Anyways: Lucy's death nr2. Natsu can't live a life without her. Now I know — he still doesn't quite understand that it's romantic love, but I think he does understand that it's pure love. No matter if kissing and reproducing was involved, all he knew was that a life without Lucy is completely unimaginable, so blinded by rage he becomes and decides to decapitate everyone in his way (sorry about that Gray).

The last couple of moments I'll go out of my way to mention as signs of love is 1. when he's won over Acnologia and falls towards Lucy, crazy relieved, saying "I'm home", 2. Gajeel pointing out Natsu's crush on Anna, Natsu basically saying "oh that's why I like Lucy so much" (I embellished it lol) and 3. "We're still gonna be together from here on out, right?" yeah that man won't ever leave her. Ever. It's just not an option.

Now since I've only talked about specific moments, here's what I have to say about his relationship with her in general:

Throughout the main plot line, we also see a shift in Natsu's behaviour. Someone here on Tumblr pointed out that Natsu always finds a way to shield Lucy if something unexpected happens, after not being able to shield her from Future Rogue. There's also the small detail of the order he calls out to people - it goes from being pretty random, to Lucy almost alwyas being on the top of the list: likely because she's always on the top of his head. And in general I'd say that Natsu initiates (i'm adding this entire paragraph bc i realised that you asked about when Natsu initiated stuff, more than when he fell in love lol) almost all of their interractions. It's Natsu who wants Lucy to join Fairy Tail, to form a team, he's the one who enters her apartment constantly, he's always searching her out - his interest in her is at a constant high so we never feel like we get "moments" that he's paying her extra attention. He has one setting, and it's "Lucy" cranked to the max. Lol.

I could also add some HYQ moments to the mix here, but they've been few and far inbetween, and also mostly played off as jokes, so I can't really consider them as moments when Natsu initiates his love. I guess his jealousy can be considered a sign? And when (spoilers from the manga) he runs around to protect her/save her from creepy-freaky-jail (the only one who made it freaky was him, with those wild fantasies lol). Maybe I need to jog my memory a bit, but so far there hasn't been any non-pervy nalu moments initiated by Natsu in the HYQ, aside from jealousy-chap. Sadly.

Hope this gave you the answer you were hoping for! Sorry it took so long, I started writing on it and realised it would be a bible so I put it in my drafts to fetch some pics to make it less wordy, and then I forgot about it, lol. But here it is!

[trendywaifus]

thinking about boxer! stelle’s who is pretty much emotionless and just likes to fight. she’s basically an amateur boxer who’s popularity quickly grew because of her innate ability to adapt to seemingly anything. there’s so many gyms wanting to recruit her, even pro gyms that amateur boxers would do anything to get accepted to. stelle ends up going to ‘set your trail ablaze’, a very promising gym with plenty of aspiring and famous boxers.

she meets you there and oh boy, you gave that girl so much color and shine to her eyes as her relationship with you develops. a lot of the members, esp the coaches (himeko, herta, welt, & etc), was pleasantly surprised about stelle’s transformation! at first, she barely spoke and attended practice without interacting with anyone, and everyone was trying to get her to talk to them but to no avail. then you, a newbie trainer to the gym, who’d give her company despite her nonchalant looks and side glances towards you. you were unbothered by her stoic nature.

“ that’s good, stell’ but your jab’s a little wide—which is fine since you have long arms but because of that, you tend to come back a little slow. you gotta be a tiny bit faster and quickly go back into stance like—. “ before you could step up and show her, she sliently does it, swiftly jabbing and snaps back into her boxing stance with perfect execution. she then looks at you expectedly.

“ yeah, atta girl. that’s perfect, geez, i didn’t have to demonstrate for you! “

“. . .” she nods at you before waiting for your next instructions, ignoring the fluttering feeling in her stomach.

you became stelle’s unofficial personal coach and trainer, helping her improve as both a boxer and a person from your strong support. she grew more comfortable around you and others, becoming a little more vocal and expressive. she now has a habit of following you around like a puppy whenever you’re present in the gym. she’ll visibly sulk and become a little distracted when you’re not there. it was clear to everyone except you that she has a crush on you. you also have a crush on her, i mean, she reminded you of a adorable raccoon with claws! the obvious romantic tension between you and stelle was so agonizing, it was driving the fellow gym members crazy.

it was until stelle’s first pro boxing match where she was getting surprisingly overwhelmed by the other opponent. she looked completely beaten up and worn out, it broke your heart. during the one minute resting period, you were so full of frustration that you splashed water on her bruised face, aggressively patted her cheeks, then squished them together and pulled her into a searing kiss that left everyone in the ring and the audience speechless.

“ i fucking love you stelle but, if you don’t get your tall ass up and win, i’ll take it upon myself to be your sparring partner in every sparring match you do. “

spoiler alert, she indeed got her ass up with astronomically high spirits. a dark shade of red staining her cheeks, an odd, dopey grin plastered on her swollen, busted lips—yeah, she’s ready to kick ass in the name of love.

she totally did.

[kyleoreillylover]

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡

Rhea Ripley x Dominik Mysterio x Fem!Reader

Summary: You lose your NXT Women’s title, and Rhea and Dom are here to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: Cursing, typical wrestling violence, anger, etc.

Word Count: 3,138

A/N: We all saw what happened on Raw, so I just wrote this as a lil comfort fic for myself. Hope you enjoy!

You shut your eyes as you held your side, trying to block out the sound of Becky Lynch’s music playing in the air, trying to ignore her standing over you, a smirk on her face as she held your title. That was yours! You were so close to winning, so close to putting Becky away and making her eat her words that she’d been spewing for the past few weeks, make her regret her stupidity by making this match an Extreme Rules match.

Just a couple minutes ago, both of you were fighting, and you wee bruised and beaten, blood gushing from your face. Becky wasn’t doing much better, her arm bleeding and her elbow was fractured early through the match when you hit it with a crowbar. You were fighting in the crowd, beating the absolute hell put of each other with kendo sticks and anything you can get your hands on.

You tried to fling the kendo stick at her again, but she dodged it, and it clattered onto the floor. Your eyes widened at the angry look she was giving you; like this was the beginning of the end and you knew if you wanted any chance at winning you needed to stay away from her direct line of fire.

You bolted down the stairs, taunting her to follow you and she gave into the bait, hurrying right behind you as the crowd got louder with anticipation, wanting her to beat your ass.

You rolled into the ring, maneuvering over the chairs sprawled out but you didn’t get very far because she punched you from behind, taking you down with hit after hit after hit, her anger consuming her as she beat you into the canvas. You laid there limp, your mind hazy until she got you to your feet, trying to set you up for the manhandle slam.

You panicked, pushing her away and kicking at her elbow to make some room between the two of you. She fell to the floor, yelling out in pain. You spotted your title next to you, still in the ring from when you tried to hit her with it before. You saw Becky starting to get up, and you knew it was now or never.

You slammed the title against her face the minute she stood up, following that up with a ddt on the chairs. She was knocked out, and you smirked as you went on top of her for the cover, ready to finally prove to her that you were the better women.

“1... 2... 3-” The ref was about to slam the mat for the three count when you felt yourself getting dragged out the ring. Your groaned when your body hit the floor hard, but anger overtook the pain. You had her beat!! Who the fuck did that?!

You got your answer when you looked up and saw no one other than Tiffany Stratton standing over you, a smirk on her face as she stared you down. “That is supposed to be my title!” She screamed at you, her high pitched voice grating on your ears. “It was supposed to be Me vs you! But you chose Becky, and now you’re gonna pay bitch.”

You stood up, making your way to her with the nastiest glare she’d ever seen on your face. “Don’t blame me because your an untalented blonde bitch who can’t wrestle to save her life!” Tiffany took a step back but it was too late, you punched the taste out of her mouth. She fell to the floor, clutching her cheek as she tried to get away from you. Clearly she didn’t think this through.

“Now you’re gonna pay, bitch!” You yelled at her, enjoying the look of fear on her face as you stalked her. She bolted for the ring, and you chased after her.

You were right on her heels, running into the ring determined to beat her plastic face in when you ran right into a steel chair striking you square in the face, sending a jolt of pain surging through your skull.

Your vision blurred for a moment as you stumbled backward, clutching your throbbing cheek. Becky had a wicked smirk on her face as you collapsed to the floor, the taste of blood lingering in your mouth. You had no strength left to defend yourself as she hit you on the head, in the ribs, anywhere she could get the chair on you, over and over again. Eventually she lifted you up, hitting the manhandle slam on you onto of the steel chairs.

You groaned when your back made contact with the chairs, barely able to see through the haze of pain as Becky covered you for the three-count, the cheers and boos of the crowd sounding like a distant echo. The referee's hand slapped the mat, and your heart dropped when you heard the bell ring.

You lost. Everything you've worked so hard for, everything you've wanted for so long, slipped through your hands in three seconds.

Three. Fucking. Seconds. The number repeated in your head over and over again as you left the ring, storming backstage. It's where Dominik found you, pushing past wrestlers and crew members yelling at the ones who gave you pitying looks. "What are you looking at?" You screamed at a screen tech, who froze in fear as you pushed past him.

"Baby!" He yelled, trying to get your attention. You heard him but you didn't turn to him, you couldn't bear to look at him and the look of disappointment and anger he would be wearing on his face. Why wouldn't he be disappointed in you? You just lost in the fucking main event to one of your biggest enemies, and now your title is in her dirty little hands. He was probably disgusted with you right now. And Rhea. God, Rhea was probably repulsed by you right now. You ignored him calling you and quickly made your way to the Judgment Day locker room.

Your fists clenched, and you threw anything within reach—chairs, bags, water bottles—across the room, all while cursing loudly. The sound of your frustration reverberated off the walls, and the locker room atmosphere grew tense. "Fuck!" you shouted, sending a chair flying across the locker room. "This should have been mine! I had her!"

"Mi vida, it's okay! You did your best," Dom finally found you and walked in, trying to console you, his voice gentle, but you whirled around, your eyes blazing with anger. "Okay?! Did you see what just happened out there? I lost! I let everyone down!" Your voice trembled with frustration and regret.

"You didn't let anyone down, mi amor! Especially not me!-"

"Stop lying Dom!" You spat at him, throwing another bag at the wall. "I fucked up, now you and Rhea can go leave me now that I don't have a title. So stop acting like you care!"

Dominik walked closer to you, eyebrows furrowed at your words. "I'm not fucking lying! I don't know who the hell told you this shit, but Rhea and I would never leave you, title or no title." He grabbed your hand before you could throw another bag, ignoring your glare and wrapping his arms around you. "Let go, Dominik!"

"You need to calm down, mi corazon!"

"You should listen to him." The two of you stopped arguing and looked in the direction of the voice. JD Mcdonagh was standing in front of the door, giving the both of you a wry smile.

"Excuse me?!" You asked him with a scowl. Who gave him the audacity to interrupt a clearly private moment between you and Dom?? Dominik tightened his arm around you, giving you a warning glance that you ignored. JD was either oblivious to your attitude to chose to ignore it, acting like he heard nothing from you.

"What do you want JD? We're busy here." Dominik asked with an exasperated sigh.

"I saw what happened out there love."

"So did thousands of fans here and at home. What's. Your. Point." You questioned him, your piercing stare making JD falter for a second before he continued again, and Dominik prayed he didn't say anything stupid. JD already had Priest almost beat him up, he didn't wanna add you to the list.

“I just wanted to tell you have nothing to be ashamed of, honestly." He walked closer to you, a sympathetic look on his face. "And that it's okay, everyone loses sometimes. Some more than others, but not everyone is good enough to win all the time," he said, and Dom facepalmed internally. He might've been Finn's friend, but god was he dumb as shit. Dominik knew this wouldn't end well.

You went silent for a moment, narrowing your eyes at him and removing yourself from Dominik so he didn't get hurt before you hurled a table across the room and advanced on JD, shoving him against the wall.

J.D. tried to stutter out an apology, but your angry glare cut him off. "Mind your own business!" you spat, your voice dripping with venom. "Stop getting in my business! Stop acting like you're a part of Judgment Day! You never will be, you short piece of—"

“Baby, calm down!” Dom stopped you, trying to hold you back before you killed JD. "Calm down, amor.” Dom urged, his voice soft but firm.

You glared at JD for a moment longer before finally letting him go and taking a deep breath, your anger wavering and the sadness you had been trying to ignore consuming your mind. Dom noticed the change in your demeanor and gently put his hand on your face, his fingers grazing your cheek. You looked up at him, and for a moment, all the anger and frustration melted away as you met Dominik's caring gaze. He wiped away a tear that had escaped your eye and whispered, "It's gonna be okay, mi vida. We're here for you, no matter what."

But you turned away, unable to accept his comfort just yet. You didn't deserve it. "I don't want to hear it, Dom," you muttered, your voice choked with disappointment. "I lost. That's all there is to it."

Dominik sighed, his heart aching for you. He knew you were taking this loss hard, and there was nothing he could say to make it better. But he couldn't stand seeing you like this. "I'm proud of you, you know," he said softly, his hand gently turning your face back toward him.

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill over again. "Don't, Dom. Please."

He gave you a disappointed sigh, but he didn't push you any further. "Come on, I'll wait out here, you grab your stuff and we'll go," he said, wanting to do nothing more than wrap you in his arms and take all your sadness away from you. You nodded, and he made his way out of the room while you got your stuff. He quickly pulled out his phone, texting Rhea, who was back at the hotel.

Rhea<3 Were gonna be at the hotel soon, mami. How bad is it, baby? I saw it on the TV. She didn't look okay. It's bad. She's not doing too good. Physically or mentally?

Both, but mostly mentally. I've never seen here like this. She's about to come out the locker room, see you later mami. I'm gonna kill both of those stupid pricks for hurting her. Drive safe, baby <3

You slid out the room, your bag in hand and a look Dominik couldn't read on your face. "You ready?" He asked, grabbing your bag from you. You nodded, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, guiding you out of the room.

The drive was mostly silent, with you staring out the window, lost in your thoughts, and Dom stealing worried glances at you.

When you finally arrived at the hotel, you both entered the elevator in silence. You felt Dominiks stare burning a whole through your skin, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. You felt like you had let everyone down, especially Rhea. She had been your biggest supporter, and now you had lost the title she had helped you fight for.

The elevator doors opened, and you both made your way to your room. You hesitated for a moment in front of the door, not sure how to face Rhea. But Dom encouraged you to go in first, his hand on the small of your back leading you into the room. As you entered the hotel room, you were met with the sight of Rhea sitting on the couch, her eyes filled with worry. "Baby, are you okay?" Rhea rushed up to you, concern etched on her face. She reached out to check on your injuries, but you pulled away, unable to meet her eyes.

"Leave me alone, Rhea," you muttered, heading toward the bedroom, trying to avoid her touch and gaze. You were sure she was disappointed in you, and it hurt too much to face it.

Rhea followed you, eyes never leaving you as you avoided her gaze, "I know you're probably hating me right now," you muttered, your voice trembling. "You and Dom must be so disappointed. Just break up with me already; I know you want to."

Rhea's face fell, and she motioned for you to sit next to her. You hesitated but eventually sat down when she gave you the look that meant she wasn't playing around. She pulled you into her lap, wrapping her arms around you tightly. She examined the bruises on your face, her fingers gently tracing the marks. "That's not true," she whispered, her voice filled with a softness that few people heard her speak with. "I could never hate you, and we could never leave you, not for something like this. I love you, and I always will."

"I lost, Rhea. I lost the title," you mumbled against her skin, feeling defeated.

Rhea tilted your chin up, forcing you to look into her eyes. "And you'll win it back. I'm not mad at you, love. You did your best. It took two of those bitches to put you down." She stroked your cheek, her anger rising looking at the bruises on your beautiful skin. " I'm angry at Becky and Tiffany, and I promise you, I'll deal with them. But I couldn't never be mad at you, baby."

"But I-"

"No buts." Rhea cut you off, giving you a serious look and tightened her grip around you. "It's not your fucking fault, you hear me?" You nodded, but she shook her head at your action. "I need to hear words, love."

"It's...not my fault." Rhea knew you were still hurting and trying your best, so she didn't push you for more. She gave you a kiss on the cheek and glanced over at Dominik. The two shared a look, communicating without a word. Dominik quickly got up to your side and helped you up. "C'mon hermosa, you'll feel better with a bath. You wanna walk or you want me to carry you?" You didn't say anything, just walked into his arms, making the both of them chuckle as Dominik carried you to the bathroom, his strong arms making you feel safe.

He filled the tub with warm water and returned to help you undress, gently tending to your wounds and bruises. The warm water eased the pain, and you let out a sigh of relief as you sat down. As you soaked in the warm water, Dominik joined you, sitting behind you and gently massaging your shoulders to help ease the tension in your body.

Dominik carried you to the bed afterward, making sure you were comfortable. Rhea joined you on the bed, her fingers expertly massaging your tense muscles. You closed your eyes, feeling the tension slowly melt away under her touch.

"Go to sleep love. We'll be here when you wake up." Rhea whispered to you, stroking your back. You hummed back as answer, and Dominik smiled at your tired state and kissed your forehead. You smiled at the gesture and relaxed into Rhea's arms as you slowly went to sleep.

Rhea gently brought you into the covers, trying to not wake you as she tucked you into the bed. She made sure you were completely asleep before turning to Dominik, her voice changing from sweet to threatening. "I am going to kill Priest."

"Mami..."

"Don't mami me. Your injured. Finn's injured. He was supposed to be there for her. I told him to have her back, and he failed." Rhea hissed out, standing up and clenching her fists. She gave him one job, and he couldn't even do it. Didn't even show up. How pathetic.

Dom was quick to sit Rhea back down, trying to calm her anger down. "I know you're mad mami, I'm pissed off too. He left her hanging."

Dom held his hands out, and Rhea immediately slipped her hands in his slightly larger ones. He brought them to his lips and kissed them, relishing in the small smile Rhea gave him. "I know you want to deal with him, but please, for her sake... wait until Raw." 

Rhea sighed, looking away and biting her lip in thought. Dom grabbed her face, gently turning her back to him, meeting her eyes.

She gave him a resigned look and nodded at him. "Fine. You're right, Dom Dom. I don't want to overwhelm her." She turned to you, staring at you sleeping peacefully, looking like every bit of the angel that you are. "But Monday, I'm putting him in his place, and you can't stop me. Got that?" Dom nodded, knowing he couldn't fight her on this even if he tried. Once she wanted to do something, she'd do it no matter what.

"You can deal with him, but you need to get some sleep first, mami." She nodded at him, getting up and going to the bathroom to change into her pajamas. She came back to the sight of Dominik already in his pajamas, sleeping soundly and cuddling into you. She smiled at the both of you before slipping into the bed as well onto your other side. She laughed when you immediately pulled her into you, Dominik stretching out his long legs and throwing it around both of your waists. She cuddled up to you as well, stroking your cheek as she watched the rise and fall of your chest.

Her anger rose as she looked over your bruises and your face swelling at all the hits you took. She forced herself to calm down for you and Dom, grounding herself by caressing your skin. She'd let sleep overtake her later, but as she looked at you, she promised herself one thing.

Everyone who hurt you was gonna pay.

[daydreaming-nerd]

Hey, I saw that you are writing to Rhys and I have been asking, I just ask that you be patient because I don't know how to explain it very well

Anyway, would you like a fic, like, with two scenarios? where Rhys and the reader LITERALLY love each other with the same intensity? like, a scenario where Rhys defends and protects the reader, and another where the reader defends and protects him?

Thanks!

Unconditionally (Rhysand x Female! Reader)

Summary: you and Rhysand are fiercely protective of each other no matter what the situation is. 

AN: I hope this is kinda what you were looking for!

Warnings: fluff, mentions of abuse, Amarantha sighting (brotha ew), blood, death, mentions of rape, SA.

When I found the High Lord of the Night Court I was nothing but a weapon crafted and created from birth by Keir. Chosen for my impeccable beauty, Keir had molded me to be an assassin that could rival Azirel himself. Keir had long sought to own the entirety of the Night Court and he had every intention of using me to do it.  My beauty allowed me to seduce any man within an inch of his life. But my sleight of hand and dexterity made me nearly lethal. When Keir wasn’t using me I was locked away deep within the Hewn City, forced to train with men who were much bigger and stronger than me. Oftentimes I thought to run, escape, but I was always beaten into submission. 

The night I met Rhys was the mission I had been bred to complete for many years. I walked into Rita’s dressed to the nines and blended in perfectly. The second the devilishly handsome High Lord made to leave I followed him, waiting in the shadows until it was my time to strike, the second I got the blade under his neck he winnowed out from under me and returned the favor with a blade of his own. I’ll never forget his first words to me...

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing with such a dangerous weapon?” he drawled. 

He could've killed me that night, but he didn’t, he showed me mercy and maybe pity too. It turned out he knew much more of me than Keir thought he did. He saw how scared I was offered me sanctuary. At the time I didn’t have a clue who he was to me, but looking back, I think he knew all along. Through months of getting to know each other despite my fear of him at first, we grew to like each other. Soon we grew to have witty banter that kept me on my toes, and intelligent conversation about anything and everything that would surpass the long hours after dinner.  After a few months he started sending me on missions with Azriel, and eventually after a year or so he sent me on missions of my own, his way of saying he trusted me.  

One fateful mission I was sent on to an Illiryan camp left me battered and bruised. It seemed the Illyrian generals sought to teach me what happens when a woman comes into their camp and causes problems, even if it is at the request of their High Lord. I never would’ve made it home if Cassain hadn’t found my frozen body in the ditch they had left me in. Looking back I was almost thankful for the event, it was how Rhys and I realized we were mates. Ever since then we had been truly inseparable.

“Rhysand, I won’t ask nicely again,” purred that clearly female voice. 

Amarantha had been after Rhys since he escaped from under the mountain, but I had never seen her in the flesh. She would send letters and emissaries asking for Rhysand to be her whore, promising him riches and luxuries beyond his wildest beliefs. Yet now she stood in the townhouse, auburn hair cascading down her bare shoulders, her black off the shoulder dress squeezing her tightly.  How she got here? I don’t know, but I do know that from where I sat in the shadows she wouldn’t see me drive a knife through her skull. 

“Amarantha, I'm a mated male. The answer is no,” Rhysand drawled trying to keep up appearances, but down the bond I could feel a sense of fear. 

“She can watch if she likes,” Amarantha mused, and it was my last straw. 

I snuck up behind her with the stealth and dexterity that had been bred into me from a young age. I hardly needed to use it anymore, being Rhysand’s mate gave me ample immunity across Prythian. But god if there was ever a time. I press my dagger to Amarantha’s throat and I feel her body try to move but she's far too late.

“Sorry Amarantha I don’t like to share,” I growl, pressing the edge of the blade even deeper. 

“Did I mention that my mate is lethal?” Rhysand boasts with pride.

“I’m s-sorry,” she pleads and a tear falls on my black dagger. 

“Now mate,” Rhysand smirks. “We wouldn’t want to get blood on the new rug.”  

I roll my eyes at his snarky remark. It was little comments and that effortless swagger that had made me fall in love with him in the first place.

“Beg,” I utter in her ear. My voice filled with absolute authority. 

“P-please I’ll leave. I-I’ll never come back,” she says through her sobs. 

I yank her hair back further, “Why should I let you go?” I smirk. 

“Because I’m s-sorry. I-I’m so sorry.” she cries even harder.

“Sorry for what?” I ask condescendingly.   

“For what I d-did to R-Rhysand,” she says, like she’s too afraid to reveal the whole truth.

I felt Rhysand tense through the bond but it only made me see red even more, knowing that her presence still affected him. 

“What did you do to my mate?” I ask like I don’t already know the answer. She stays silent, choosing to cower. “Tell me!” I shout. 

“I’m sorry I f-forced him into my b-bed.” she admits and her knees go weak at her admission the only thing keeping her up is my hand in her hair and my dagger to her neck.

I couldn’t help but see the image of him and her. Rhysand helpless below her as she rode his cock, the reason he still was too scared to let me take him that way. Images of him cumming inside her, his body's natural reaction to what she was forcing him to do. I remember how he told me the stories of him crying himself to sleep while she slept soundly and happily. 

“You touched my mate, and for that you’ll pay the ultimate price,” I sentence her. “He’s fucking mine.” I growl before slitting her throat. 

Her body falls to the floor in a heaping pile of dress skirts and her own blood and I toss my bloodied dagger over her dead body. I check my hands for blood, but like a trained assassin should have it, not a drop is on me. 

“Well so much for the rug,” Rhysand drawls, standing from his chair. 

I walk over to him, the rage the mating bond caused me to see drifting away at the sight of him. He wraps his arms around my waist. 

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “But she was a dead woman the second she stepped in this court. Thinking about what she did to you still makes me sick to my stomach.” 

“Shhh,” Rhys coos, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I’m not mad at you. If you didn’t kill her I was going to.”

“Sorry I kind went all deadly assassin on you, but-” 

“The mating bond was provoked,” he cuts in, tipping my chin up to meet his gaze. “Trust me I know the feeling. How do you think I feel when you come home injured from a mission?”

“Holy shit y/n!” Cassian drawls from behind me. I turn to find him nudging Amarantha’s limp foot with his boot. “Mating bond chafing a bit?” he chuckles. 

“More than a little bit,” Rhys laughs with male pride. 

I simply raise my eyebrows at the Illyrian in a challenge and pull Rhys down to kiss me.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Rhys asks me for the millionth time. 

“Yes Rhys I’ll be fine! I promise!” I reply but I wasn’t too sure of my answer. 

I had never been back to The Hewn City since I left on that mission to kill Rhys all those years ago. But today I finally made my return. I had avoided the city as much as possible and Rhys never so much as asked me to come along with him. Returning would mean the torture, the assault and every nightmare I faced here, I would have to face again. Today I had decided I was done hiding, I wanted to face my fear, show Keir that I was more than just what he made me. I knew I would be more vulnerable down here, most likely off my game. But Rhys had assured me we would only be making a quick appearance at the party and then leaving, so I felt now was as good a time as ever. 

“Alight, but if you want to leave at any time you let me know okay?” he says, kissing my brow.

“I will,” I smile. 

We walk through the large doors to find the people of The Hewn City already kneeling. The second I come into view their gasps reverberate throughout the room. Everyone knew I was Keir’s pet, but now I stood dressed in black with a crown atop my head, beside the one man I was bred to kill. The High Lord. 

We take our seats on the twin thrones at the end of the room. Keir bows to us both and I don’t miss the shock in his eyes as he sees what became of his pet. It becomes clear to me that he thought I was dead for all these years, and now I walk into his city once more with a crown on top of my head. 

“Let there be music and dancing!” Rhys proclaims and the room fills with a beautiful orchestra as the festivities begin. 

“Welcome Rhysand, who have you brought with you tonight?” Keir asks, faking his innocence.

“My mate of course,” Rhys says, pressing a kiss to my hand. “I must thank you for introducing us. She is without a doubt the most delectable creature I’ve ever known.” he continues nibbling my palm. 

“I- uh. Well” Keir stumbles over his words. 

“Leave us,” Rhysand orders. 

Keir scrambles down the steps to wherever he thinks he might be safe from Rhysand’s death stare. I knew this place always put him on edge, no doubt with me here tonight he was fuming. 

“How are you feeling?” Rhys asks, fondling my hand.  

“Good, considering I’ve never seen Keir show true fear before,” I laugh replaying the image in my head. 

“Maybe next time I’ll have him juggle and sing you a song then too mate,” Rhys chuckles. 

I watched as people danced and sang and were generally happy. I never knew this side of the Hewn City. The normal side I should say. Keir always kept me locked in the dungeons, the only time I was ever allowed out was on missions and when he chose to parade me around like his little pet. His way of striking fear into the hearts of his subjects. Seeing the people act like, well, people was almost jarring. They were monsters, but they were still fae just like me. 

“I’m thirsty darling, I'm going to grab a glass of wine, would you like one?” I ask Rhys. 

“Yes but let me fetch a servant or come with you.” he replies and I can sense his unease. 

“No, I want to show them all I’m not afraid of them,” I say quietly so only Rhys can hear. He nods his head and I feel him tug on the bond as if to say ‘be safe’. 

I waltz down the dias steps and over to the corner where wine is held in large barrels.  I don’t miss the shocked looks from those around me followed by hushed whispers. No doubt all of them were talking about how I used to be Keir’s pet. I keep my head held high and reach for a glass to fill up. 

“Well hello beautiful,” a deep voice drawls from behind me and I whip around 

My shoulders tense up. I would recognize that voice anywhere. Dante. The man who helped to “train me”  in the art of seduction. He would come into my cell and teach me how to seduce a man, which of course led to him taking advantage of me. He was one of Keir’s favorites. 

“Remember all the fun we used to have little one?” he grins wickedly stepping towards me. 

“Normal people would call that rape,” I snipe at him, trying to act like I’m not terrified. 

“Oh but you used to make such pretty sounds for me,” he teases, stepping closer and I feel my back hit the wall. “Lets see if you still do.” 

In a second his body presses me to the wall and his hands are hiking up my skirts. I try to push him off or look for help, but here in the Hewn City it wasn’t uncommon for males to take what they want when they want it. 

Dante’s motions stop and his eyes go wide, like his brain is about to explode. He falls to his knees before me and every vein in his head and neck look like it’s about to burst. I look up to see Rhys standing behind him, nothing but pure murder in his eyes.

“I would think twice before touching another male’s mate,” Rhys grits out standing in front of me so he can look down on Dante. “Especially your High Lord’s.”  

“I’m sorry Rhysand I didn’t know,” Dante wheezes. 

“Have you touched my mate before?” Rhys asks and Dante neglects to answer. “Very well then I’ll just have to find out for myself.” 

Dante screams in agony writhing on the floor, Rhys no doubt tearing into his mind to find out what he wants to know. I look around at the stunned faces watching one of their own lose his mind in the middle of the ballroom, even the orchestra had stopped. I felt shame fall over me as I realized what Rhys was seeing. Images of me, dirty, bruised and helpless being forced to seduce and please the man writing on the ground. Rhysand’s shoulders tensed and suddenly Dante stopped writhing. 

“So you have touched her before,” Rhysand drawls. “What a pity, I almost considered letting you off with a warning.” 

Within moments Dante’s screams echoed off the walls and I knew what Rhys was doing, he had done it to the Illyrain who threw me in a ditch all those years ago. He was melting his mind from the inside out. He didn’t even have to lift a finger. 

“Let it be known that whoever disrespects my mate again shall meet the same fate!” Rhysand’s voice booms, addressing the crowd now. “Maestro you may continue!” he finishes, turning to me.

Rhysand’s shadows shield us from the rest of the onlooking crowd and the second I look into his eyes I’m immediately comforted. 

“Are you okay?” he asks me, taking me in his arms. 

“Yeah I’m fine, you got here before anything happened.” I sigh, melting into his touch. “I’m sorry you had to see that, you know, the things he did to me. I hoped you’d never know” I say, casting my head down in shame. 

“Hey don’t you dare be ashamed,” he says tilting my chin up. “What he did to you was unforgivable. If I had known earlier I would’ve had his head on a pike.” 

“I love you Rhys,” I say, burrowing my head into his chest. 

“I love you too mate,” he smiles stroking my hair. “Let’s go home.” 

[moodymisty]

Sanguinius being secretly guiltily down bad for you, Horus’ beloved??? Now that’s a very fun scenario. Especially considering how Horus starts behaving during the heresy. Don’t you think that Sanguinius would feel the need to rescue you from such a terrible situation? Keep you somewhere where you’re completely safe and far away from the forces of chaos (somewhere right by his side)?

He’s aware of his feelings towards you but would never want to burden you with them, considering the emotional pain you’re in right now. But that doesn’t mean he can’t hold you for a little longer than usual, or linger around you for more than is necessary, or wrap a wing of his around you as a loving friendly gesture. He lets himself indulge in these feelings sometimes, just a small amount, because if he doesn’t he feels like he might explode. The guilt hasn’t gone away, in fact it’s even gotten stronger. You see him as a friend and a confidant, but nothing more, and it’s obvious to him that your heart still belongs to Horus (why should it? Why not him??). And if you weren’t under his protection there’s a high likelihood that you’d probably get assassinated, so he can’t be taking advantage of you like that (despite how badly he wants you to love him as much as he loves you.). He’s content with just being close to you, he’s okay with just being your friend, if he starts getting too emotional about it he’ll cry in the shower about it. He’s fine. He won’t try anything but he also won’t let anyone else near you. He’s normal about it, he’s sooo normal

I love this plotline so much, I'm so excited people like the Horus/Reader/Sanguinius idea. This is really good and I really like this particular idea, so here's a little thang separate from the main fic i'm making.

No warnings other than Horus falling to chaos obv

"She is very lucky."

Jaghatai Khan speaks plainly, looking to Sanguinius.

"A few days longer travel, and Horus would've beaten you there."

Sanguinius brushes a piece of his hair away from his face that had fallen from his crown braids. He was glad they managed to make haste so quickly. The Red Tear had burned almost everything it had just to make it there in time to defend the planet before Horus and his Black Legion desecrated it all.

"We have the planet's surface until control. We'll need it's infrastructure for the coming battles." Jaghatai gives him a look, and Sanguinius knows why.

All the talk about strategy, infrastructure; They both know Sanguinius went there for you.

He still avoids mentioning it, wings tucked firmly against his back. It hangs between both primarchs as true intentions left unsaid. Jaghatai was one of the only three primarchs keen on how Sanguinius felt about Horus' lover. It's obvious in the way he's looked at you since you first entered Horus' life. But Jaghatai doesn't bring it up.

"Then I wish you good fortune in the coming battles."

Jaghatai leaves Sanguinius alone, and it isn't long after he can no longer hear the warhawk's footsteps that he rushes to return to you. Air whistles in his feathers as he briskly walks, hearing the clanking of his armor pieces striking against each other.

He has an entire squad of Blood Angels guarding the room you're in, of which he passes with gentle acknowledgement. They have taken to you just as much as he had; And voiced no complaints about protecting you from what once was your lover's legion.

Once Sanguinius sees you, the room dark and cast in privacy, he watches you rub the corner of your eye as you turn his way. You must've been crying, though you do a remarkable job of hiding it.

"Oh, Sanguinius; Do you need something?"

You speak to him so formally still, the way you did when you were still on Horus' arm. He so desperately wishes you wouldn't.

"I wanted to come see how you were doing. I don't wish to leave you alone in here for so long."

He comes closer, gently lowering himself onto the edge of the bed to sit beside you. Your hands fall into your lap as you look down at them, trying to find the words. It's then he finally hears the cracking in your voice, as you can no longer hold back your grief.

"How... How couldn't I have seen what was wrong with him?" You look up at him, tears welling at the bottom of your eyes just about to break and stream down your cheeks. "Am I really that blind?"

Sanguinius unfurls one of his wings, it wrapping behind you. It's not close enough to touch other than the light brush of his primary feathers, but it's close.

But most of all he wants to cup your face in his hands and kiss away your tears, to be there for you as you grieve the loss of a lover who is something worse than dead. Sanguinius dreads to hear the things you saw as Horus fell to ruinous powers, but he wants to be the one you come to; To protect you from everything.

But he can't. The love you have for Horus hasn't faded, and you're with the Blood Angels for as long as this war wages. Sanguinius will protect you, but his love for you just can't override the guilt he would feel if he swept in to kiss you as you cried for someone else. No amount of yearning desire is enough for him to take advantage of you in such a way, as you technically sit here indebted to him for rescuing you.

"He hid it from us all. We were all blind, same as you."

You sigh, and your posture seems to soften with his reassurance. His wing inches closer, daring to take just a bit more as it gently cradles you. It's only to make you feel better. One of your hands reaches to brush along one of his long primary feathers for a moment, and he bites the inside of his cheek.

Sanguinius reaches a armoured hand towards you and instinctively he wants to set it on your knee, to pull your towards him, but he hesitates- and moves to your shoulder instead. You lean into it, and hold the necklace that Horus had once given you in your hands. You clear your throat and blink your eyes, a few tears dripping down your face that you haphazardly wipe away with your palm. He wishes to wick them away with his knuckle, to brush his fingers across your skin, but he can't.

"Thank you, Sanguinius. For all of this. I appreciate you being so friendly to me."

Sanguinus softly smiles down at you, and attempts to ignore the way your words stab him directly in the heart; Bleeding all over your hands.

"Of course."

[mononijikayu]

and love is a kaleidoscope — gojo satoru.

“I don’t need more than that. Even if it isn't enough, I’ll tell you it's enough.” he said softly, his eyes searching your face as if trying to memorize every detail. “I just… I miss you.” The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded with the things you both weren’t saying. You wanted to tell him you missed him too, that you hated the distance between you, but the missions, the constant fight—it had become a wall between you, one that you didn’t know how to tear down. “I miss you too.” you finally admitted, your voice small and tired. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

WARNING/S: pre-hidden inventory arc, post hidden inventory arc, domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 8.5k words.

NOTE: i feel like every time i ponder if genmei (you) is bisexual or pansexual, i go in the drawing board and think that really doesn't matter. yuki and you go way back, you had something to do with how she managed to get away with not being consumed by tengen. and you were yuki's first love, i supposed. but that's a story for another time. satoru by this point feels like his connection with you matters the most, because he feels secured about his relationship with suguru. but of course, you wonder because there's a difference with how he needs to converse with you vs just going purely with what suguru says. but i suppose that's just how obvious it was, their fracturing relationships. anyway, i hope you enjoy this little treat!!! I love you all <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU HAD JUST GOTTEN THE NEWS ON YOUR WAY BACK. The dimly lit infirmary of Tokyo Jujutsu High buzzed with the faint sounds of healing techniques being employed and the distant murmurs of the staff tending to the injured.

The air was heavy with the scent of antiseptics, but it was the sight before you that truly made your heart race—a scene you had dreaded since the moment you heard about the mission. Ieiri Shoko looked at you in the face, with a weary look. You had never seen that look in her eyes before. Your eyes scanned the room and your breath was blown out of you.

Gojo Satoru lay on one of the beds, his usually vibrant expression now dulled by pain. His left arm was heavily bandaged, blood seeping through the cloth, while deep cuts marred his torso. Geto Suguru, just a few feet away, appeared equally battered, his face bruised and swollen, eyes closed as if he were trying to shut out the world around him.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and a wave of panic washed over you. “Satoru–kun! Suguru–kun!” You rushed to their side, your hands trembling as you reached for them. Satoru’s gaze flickered to yours, a flicker of reassurance in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by the pain etched across his features. Suguru’s lips curled slightly in a weak smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey, we’re fine… just a little banged up.” Satoru managed, his voice hoarse, but it did little to assuage your fear. You heard that he was stabbed in the throat and that concerned you the most. You could see the blood dried soaking the bandages and the shadows under their eyes. Panic turned into a cold grip around your heart.

“No, you’re not!” You barely managed to keep your voice steady as you felt your chest tighten. “You’re injured! You shouldn’t have gone on that mission at all….This should have been my mission, I told them so….” 

“Gen–senpai, we’re….we’re alright.” Suguru whispered, but you can tell that he wasn’t alright. Everything about him was out of place, shaken and beaten. Exhausted. Broken. “Really.”

“You…you don’t have to lie to me, Suguru–kun.”

Your eyes darted around the room, taking in the chaos, the frantic pace of the other healer staff in the room as they worked to clear out the equipment. You turned back to Yaga–sensei, who stood nearby, his expression stoic, but the concern in his eyes mirrored your own. The more you looked at him, the angrier you got. If he had decided to fight against the decision by the higher ups, by Tengen–sama, then maybe….just maybe — he wouldn’t have that look on his face. 

“I’m willing to take the next few months of missions for them.” you blurted out, your determination taking Yaga by surprise. Your exhausted eyes lowered.  “They can’t go back out there like this. It’s too dangerous. I can handle it; I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Yaga looked at you for a long moment, the weight of your words hanging in the air. “You know the risks of this to you. You’re already doing so much….” he said finally, his voice low and serious. “Principal Gakuganji would be displeased—”

Your eyes looked up and narrowed. “So? He’s always displeased with me and my so-called insolence anyway. Let him get angry.”

“Genmei, if you were serious—”

“I am. I never joke around about things like this. You know that too well.” you insisted, crossing your arms defiantly. “I won’t let them put themselves in danger again while they’re like this. They need to rest and recover.”

As Shoko continued to work on Satoru and another worked on Suguru, you sat down beside them, taking one of Satoru’s hands in yours, squeezing it tightly. “Just hold on, okay? You’ll be alright.”

Satoru’s eyes softened as he gazed at you, and for a moment, the pain seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth of your presence. “You really worry too much, Gen–senpai.” he said, a small, teasing smirk trying to break through despite the pain. “But I appreciate it.”

Suguru shifted slightly, his eyes fluttering open. “You’re taking the missions?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with concern. “You shouldn’t have to carry that burden alone, Gen–senpai. That’s not something that you should concern yourself about.”

“I can handle it, Suguru–kun.” you replied firmly, forcing a smile despite the tears threatening to spill over. “You both need to heal. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of while you rest.”

Satoru and Suguru exchanged a glance, an unspoken conversation passing between them. Then Satoru looked back at you, his expression serious. “Promise me you’ll be careful, okay? You can’t push yourself too hard either, Gen–senpai.”

“I promise.” you replied, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you both safe.”

As the medical staff and Shoko continued their work, you stayed by their sides, your heart swelling with a mix of fear and determination. You mouthed a thank you to Shoko, who nodded at you. She didn’t want to talk about it, not yet. But maybe soon. Not everything had to be continued in words. And so silence remained.

YOU WERE GOOD AT NOTICING THINGS. And yet, you didn’t notice this before it was too late. It was subtle at first, so faint that you almost didn’t notice it. The way Satoru would flinch, ever so slightly, when your hand brushed against his.

How Suguru's usually calm and confident demeanor would flicker off with hesitation whenever an argument arose. He would immediately snap and tell you to drop it off. It was small enough to ignore in the beginning, but as the days turned into weeks, the changes became impossible to overlook.

You couldn’t find yourself to come and visit them today, even if you were on campus. As you sat at the edge of your staff room, you sighed as you smoked out your French cigarettes. You had just gotten back from a mission and now you couldn’t fall asleep.

You shrugged as you kept staring at the soft glow of the setting sun filtering through the window, the weight of the growing distance between you, Satoru, and Suguru pressing down on your chest like a vice. They were right there, just within reach, but they felt so far away.

Satoru had always been the one who reached out, pulling you into his orbit with his magnetic energy. He was the one who would tug you close without a second thought, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders, his touch playful and comforting. But now… now he barely touched you at all.

You remembered the last time you tried to hold his hand. It was a small gesture, one born out of habit more than anything, but the moment your fingers brushed against his, you felt him pull away. He tried to cover it up, laughing it off with a joke that was too sharp, too brittle. But you saw the flicker of discomfort in his eyes.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about you or how you feel. You knew he did. But something had changed. Something inside him recoiled from physical contact, and no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, it was impossible not to feel the sting of rejection.

Suguru, on the other hand, had always been your anchor, the one who brought calm to the storm. When things went wrong, he was the one who would sit with you, listen to you, face the problem head-on. But now, whenever there was even the slightest hint of conflict, he would retreat, closing himself off from you in ways that were so unlike him.

The last argument you had was over something small—an errand left undone, a moment of miscommunication—but instead of addressing it, Suguru had simply walked away. No discussion, no confrontation. Just silence. And it hurt more than the argument ever could have.

Ieiri Shoko pushes the door to your room open without knocking, her usual nonchalance on full display as she steps inside. The familiar smell of tobacco clings to her, the faint scent of cigarette smoke tracing behind her like a signature. She waves at you, smiling.

"Hey." she greets, tossing a small box of cigarettes on your desk. "Can I have one?"

You glance at her, then at the cigarettes. A brief hesitation flickers through your mind before you shake your head. "Shoko, I can't give you one."

She snickers, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she takes a seat on the edge of your bed. "Yeah? Like you didn't start smoking at my age." She pulls one out for herself, lighting it expertly and inhaling deeply.

You sigh, realizing she’s got you there. The years have passed, but that particular truth hasn't changed. "Fine, fine. Just one." you mutter, reaching over for a cigarette. "But don’t act all smug about it."

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, the soft crackle of burning tobacco the only sound for a moment. You take a slow drag, letting the smoke swirl lazily in the air between you. You wonder why Shoko was already up — but you knew better than to ask. She probably hasn't slept yet either. Knowing her, she’s studying up for her RCT with some of the other healer focused sorcerers. You sighed. You were in no position to tell her to go back to sleep.

"So... how’s Geto doing?" Shoko asks after a while, her tone casual but with an undertone of concern.

You exhale, watching the smoke dissipate into the air as your thoughts drift to him. "He’s... managing. It’s not easy, but we’re working through it. I think he's finding his balance again, little by little. There are still tough days. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we don’t. If we do, sometimes he snaps. But no more than usual, I suppose.”

Shoko nods, taking another drag from her cigarette. "Yeah. That makes sense. And Gojo?"

"Satoru–kun…" You pause, unsure of how to summarize the mess of emotions tied to his name. "He’s still overseas, doing his thing. Same old Gojo, honestly. But there's something... I don’t know. I worry about him sometimes."

She blows out a slow stream of smoke, eyes narrowing slightly as she considers your words. "Gojo’s always been hard to read when it comes to his own well-being. He hides it well. Guess that’s why we’re all stuck worrying about him."

"Yeah, I suppose so." you agree softly, feeling a pang of concern settle in your chest. "It's like he carries everything but never really shares the weight."

Shoko chuckles lightly, her cigarette burning low as she stubs it out. "Guess we all have our ways of dealing don’t we? But at least we’ve got each other."

You nod, flicking the ash from your cigarette into the tray. "Yeah... we do."

At least that’s what you hoped.

The more they withdrew, the more you found yourself pulling away, too. It wasn’t what you wanted. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to reach out, to grab hold of them, to bridge the gap that was forming between you. But each time you tried, it felt like you were met with walls that neither of them were willing to break down.

You found yourself spending more time alone, avoiding the spaces where the three of you used to be so comfortable together. The living room, once filled with easy laughter and teasing banter, felt too cold, too empty.

The kitchen, where Satoru used to steal snacks from your plate, now felt like a place of quiet avoidance. Even your bedroom, the sanctuary where you’d all shared late-night talks and quiet moments, seemed foreign now.

And they didn’t seem to notice the way your distance mirrored theirs.

Satoru still cracked his usual jokes, but there was an edge to them that hadn’t been there before. He seemed more focused on keeping up appearances, hiding behind his sarcasm and grin, as if pretending that nothing had changed would make it true. Suguru, too, was quieter, more withdrawn. When you tried to talk to him, really talk to him, his responses were vague, his eyes distant, as if he wasn’t entirely present in the conversation.

It broke something inside you.

You wanted to ask them what was happening. Why Satoru couldn’t stand to be touched anymore, why Suguru avoided confrontation like it was a plague. But every time you opened your mouth to ask, the words got stuck in your throat. You were afraid of what the answer might be. Afraid that acknowledging the growing rift between you would make it real in a way that was irreversible.

So, you stayed silent. You put on a smile when they were around, forced laughter where it didn’t quite fit, and pretended that the distance didn’t hurt as much as it did.

But late at night, when you were alone in bed and the silence was deafening, you couldn’t stop the ache in your chest from spreading. The realization that you were becoming a stranger to the two people you loved most in the world was suffocating, and no matter how hard you tried to hold on, they were slipping away from you.

You knew you couldn’t keep pretending forever. Something had to give. But until then, all you could do was watch the space between you grow wider, feeling more alone with each passing day.

YOU RARELY DRINK NOWADAYS. Not because you can’t, but because you had too many vices already. And it worried your mother a lot, how the alcohol had changed you as a person. You would not give up the cigarette, not yet. But giving up the drink was easy. But there were days where it was hard to keep that promise. 

Today was one of these days.

The air was cold and still, the kind of night where even the wind held its breath. The Mikoto family tomb stood silently under the pale light of the moon, a forgotten place tucked away in a corner of Kyoto, where old memories and ancient grudges rested. 

You staggered through the entrance, the alcohol heavy in your veins, numbing everything except the ache in your chest. Your breath hitched as you made your way deeper into the tomb, past the grand marble slabs of ancestors long gone, until you reached the place where the weight of your heart seemed heaviest.

Fushiguro Toji.

His name was etched onto the stone beside your father’s, a simple marker for a man who had lived his life in defiance of everything. Of the Zenins, of fate, and of you. The bottle of sake in your hand swayed dangerously as you stopped in front of his grave. The cold stone of the tomb pressed into your back as you collapsed in front of it, your fingers trembling as you poured some of the drink over his grave, a bitter offering.

“You…” your voice cracked, the alcohol giving it a sharp edge. “Why did you have to do the things you did?”

Your chest tightened as you stared at the name on the stone, blurred by your drunken haze, by the tears that you didn’t even realize were already streaming down your face. “You could’ve come to us! You should’ve come to us, Toji. You didn’t have to… you didn’t have to ruin everything.”

Anger boiled in your veins, mixing with the hurt, with the deep sense of betrayal that had festered inside you for so long. Toji had been family, in some strange, fractured way. You looked up to him in your youth. He was the brother you never had. You missed him, you longed for him. He was a missing piece of your family. And yet he decided that he didn’t want to have that. 

He could have sought refuge, he could have swallowed his pride, but instead, he had walked a path of destruction, dragging everything and everyone down with him.

“Why didn’t you come to us?” you demanded, your voice rising as you clenched the bottle tighter. “You knew the Zenins were trash. Us who left, we were all we had! You knew! My father—he would have helped you. He would have protected you, taken you in. You….you were like a son to him. You knew that! We could have given you a real home, a place where you didn’t have to keep fighting… but no. You had to—” Your words broke off into a sob, your breath ragged as the weight of your pain crushed your chest.

You leaned forward, your forehead resting against the cold stone of his grave. The anger was still there, burning beneath the surface, but now, all you could feel was the deep, aching sense of loss. “Why did you choose pride over everything else? Why, Toji–niisama? Was it really worth it? All the blood, all the pain…”

The tears fell freely now, soaking into the ground beneath you. You had carried this hurt for so long, this question that you had never been able to ask him in life. Why couldn’t he have trusted you, trusted your family? Why had he chosen the hard path, the one that left him broken and alone, when he could have had something better?

You slammed the bottle against the stone, your frustration bubbling over. “Damn it, you fool!” you cried, the sound echoing through the tomb. “You could have had a family! You could have been safe. Your…your kid would have been fine with you and us!”

But he hadn’t. And now, he lay here, next to your father, in a cold, silent grave, while you were left standing in the wreckage of the life he had refused.

The alcohol had stripped away your composure, leaving nothing but the raw hurt, the years of wondering what could have been, if only he had been able to put aside that stubborn, destructive pride. Your voice was quieter now, trembling. 

“Why couldn’t you let go of your pride? Why couldn’t you come to us?”

The tomb was silent, offering no answers, no closure. Only the stillness of the dead.

You wiped the tears from your face with the back of your hand, but it didn’t matter. They just kept falling, spilling out all the hurt, the anger, the love that had been twisted into something unrecognizable over the years. Toji’s grave remained still, his choices set in stone, and you were left there, alone with the weight of it all.

“I could have saved you, nii–sama.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “We could have saved you.”

But it was too late. The man who had stood tall and unbreakable in his pride was now buried, his name carved into the stone, the answers to your questions buried with him.

TSUKUMO YUKI’S OVERABUNDANCE OF MESSAGES WERE QUITE TOO MUCH. But the more you ignore her, the more’s going to go and continue her cheeky messaging. So the moment she sent you her location, you went there as you finished your mission. You can file the report tomorrow, you supposed.

The pulsating rhythm of the music hit you like a physical force the moment you stepped into the nightclub, lights flashing in dizzying colors, shadows shifting in every corner of the packed space. The beat was loud, relentless, but it did nothing to shake the exhaustion that clung to you like a second skin.

After three months of endless missions, your body had moved beyond exhaustion into a state of numbness. Sleep was a distant memory, buried under the weight of six missions a day, the faces of cursed spirits, and the suffocating silence that followed each exorcism.

You stumbled toward the bar, the world blurring slightly around the edges. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was the fatigue, or maybe it was the overwhelming feeling of being completely, utterly alone despite the crowd. The bartender shot you a glance, but you waved them off, searching for the one familiar face you were here for.

Tsukumo Yuki.

It didn’t take long to spot her—leaning casually against the bar, her golden hair catching the light as she turned her gaze toward you. She raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as you approached. But behind her usual teasing expression, you could see something else—concern, perhaps, or something heavier that she wasn’t showing.

“You look like hell, Mei-chi.” Yuki remarked, her voice cutting through the noise as you finally collapsed onto the stool next to her. She grinned. “I thought you would dress up for me.”

She’s called you Mei–chi for a long time, maybe longer than you could remember. Kaiko kept telling her off about it. But you just let her be. She called you her ‘light’ after all. She ordered you both drinks without asking, sliding one toward you. You ignored it for now, instead fixing her with a tired look.

“I just came from a mission, Yuki.” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “Or five. I don’t even know anymore.” The words came out slurred with fatigue. “I can’t dress up for you, sorry.”

“Yeah, I heard, you know?” she said, her smirk softening into something more serious. She leaned closer, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “That’s why I’m here.”

You frowned, blinking at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I’m worried about you. Well, I always worry about you, Mei-chi.” Yuki said simply, her bright pinkish–doe eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I’ve been hearing things—how you’ve been taking on six missions a day, running yourself ragged all over Japan. You haven’t slept properly in months, have you?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yuki, seriously, this is—”

She cut you off with a shake of her head. “I’m not here to lecture you, Mei-chi. I just wanted to see you. That’s enough to halt my research for a bit. You’re more than enough reason, always.”

The weight of her words hit you harder than expected. You had always known Yuki to be focused, obsessed even, with her goals and research. But to hear that she had paused all of it just to check on you—it made something tighten in your chest. You purse your lips into a flat line, your eyes not leaving her own.

“I’m fine, Yuki.” you said, but even to your own ears, the words sounded hollow. You took a long swig of the drink she had ordered for you, the alcohol burning its way down your throat. The lie lingered in the air between you, and Yuki didn’t bother trying to hide the disbelief in her eyes.

“Are you? Or are you just going to lie to me again through your teeth?” she asked quietly, her hand still resting on your arm, warm and steady against your skin. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re anything but fine.”

Her words cracked something open inside you. The exhaustion, the relentless pressure you had been putting on yourself, the weight of every curse exorcized, every mission completed—all of it felt like it was crashing down on you at once. And now, here she was, this person who always seemed so untouchable, so above the chaos, sitting next to you and telling you that she cared.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, your voice hoarse as you looked up at her, meeting her gaze head-on. The alcohol was starting to hit, your mind fuzzier, but her presence was clear, grounded, like a tether in the storm of your exhaustion.

“Because I care about you the most.” Yuki replied, with no hesitation in her voice. The sincerity in her words made your chest tighten, your throat constrict with emotions you weren’t ready to face. Her hand slid from your arm to your hand, squeezing it gently. “But don’t you know that already? Or do you need a reminder?”

You stared at her, the noise of the club fading into the background as her words hung between you. You wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, you took another long drink, the alcohol dulling the sharp edges of everything inside you. It was easier that way, easier to drown it all out, to let the numbness spread.

Yuki stayed by your side, patient, her eyes never leaving you. She didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from you. Instead, she was just… there. And for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to lean into that presence, to let someone else carry a bit of the weight you’d been holding onto.

“I appreciate it. You should know that.” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the music. “I really do.”

Yuki smiled softly, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I know.”

Drink after drink, you let yourself sink deeper into the warmth of the alcohol, into the comfort of her presence. You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point, the distance between you two vanished. The lines blurred, and before you knew it, your lips were on hers.

It was soft at first, tentative, as if you were both testing the waters, but then something broke open between you, a flood of pent-up emotions, exhaustion, and longing. The kiss deepened, and suddenly, the world around you ceased to exist.

You didn’t remember how you got back to the hotel. Everything was a blur of heat and tangled limbs, of whispered names and shared breaths. It was a desperate need to forget, to feel, to lose yourself in something—someone that wasn’t the constant burden of your responsibilities.

When you woke the next morning, the early light creeping through the window, you found yourself in bed beside Yuki, her golden hair spread across the pillow. For a moment, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of last night sinking in.

You hadn’t planned for this. You hadn’t expected it. But somehow, in the quiet hours of the night, you had found something you hadn’t realized you were looking for.

Yuki stirred beside you, her eyes fluttering open as she turned to look at you. There was no regret in her gaze, only quiet understanding.

“Morning.” she murmured, her voice still soft with sleep.

“Morning.” you replied, your voice rough but steadier than it had been in a long time.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe.

WHEN YUKI LEFT, YOUR LIFE RETURNED TO ITS DAILY PATTERN. The quiet of your apartment in Kyoto was a rare luxury, a silence you had grown unaccustomed to after months of constant missions.

It was one of those rare days off, but even then, you couldn’t relax. Your mind was still racing, still thinking ahead to the next mission, the next cursed spirit that needed to be exorcized. The dim light filtering through the curtains gave the space a muted, almost serene feel, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside you.

The soft knock at the door startled you, breaking the quiet. You sighed, already knowing who it was before you even opened the door. When you did, there he stood—Satoru Gojo, leaning casually against the doorframe, his signature smirk in place, but his cerulean eyes told a different story, something more subdued, something that softened his usual bravado.

“Hey.” Satoru greeted, his tone lighter than his eyes. “I’m glad to finally see you.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorway, your eyes narrowing slightly. “You should go home, Satoru–kun.” you said quietly, your voice devoid of its usual warmth. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”

He tilted his head, not moving from where he stood. “I could go home, that’s true.” he admitted, shrugging. “But I wanted to see you. I’m staying here, just so I can spend time with you.” He stepped inside without waiting for permission, his presence instantly filling the space as if he belonged there.

You sighed again, closing the door behind him. “You only have a few minutes, then.” you said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I have to leave. There’s another mission soon.”

Satoru’s expression faltered, but only for a moment before he plastered on another playful grin. “A few minutes, huh? Well, I’ll take what I can get.”

He wandered around your apartment as if inspecting it. It changed the last time since he visited. But you were quite certain that he knew that already. He just doesn’t care about it now.His gaze kept drifting back to you, his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, but you could sense the tension just beneath the surface.

You sat down on the couch, folding your arms over your chest, trying to put some distance between you. “You know I’m not in the mood for this, Satoru–kun.” you muttered, not meeting his gaze. “You should be resting, not chasing after me.”

“Maybe I don’t want to rest, Gen–senpai.” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. He took a seat beside you, not too close, but close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. “Maybe I just want to see you. It’s been… a while.”

Your heart clenched at his words. He wasn’t wrong. It had been a while since you had seen each other, since you had shared any real time together. You had both been buried in missions, in responsibilities that seemed never-ending. And now, even when you had a sliver of time, you were already thinking about leaving again.

“Satoru–kun…..” you began, your voice wavering, “I don’t have time for this. For us. At least right now. You know that.”

He didn’t respond right away, just stared at you, his usual cockiness replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable. “I know you’ve been busy.” he said slowly, looking you in the eyes deeper. “And I know I’ve been… distant. But I’m here now.”

You swallowed hard, your resolve starting to crack under his gaze. His eyes, usually so bright and full of life, seemed a little dimmer now, weighed down by the same exhaustion you felt. You wanted to tell him to leave, to walk away and forget about whatever this was, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, you looked away, your hands tightening into fists in your lap. “A few minutes. Just….a little bit more, okay?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru reached out, his hand brushing lightly against yours, a touch so fleeting it almost wasn’t there. But it was enough to make you freeze, to make you feel the ache in your chest that you had been trying so hard to ignore. He didn’t push, didn’t try to hold on. He just let his hand linger for a second before pulling back.

“I don’t need more than that. Even if it isn't enough, I’ll tell you it's enough.” he said softly, his eyes searching your face as if trying to memorize every detail. “I just… I miss you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded with the things you both weren’t saying. You wanted to tell him you missed him too, that you hated the distance between you, but the missions, the constant fight—it had become a wall between you, one that you didn’t know how to tear down.

“I miss you too.” you finally admitted, your voice small and tired. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

Satoru’s smile was sad, a rare expression on his usually carefree face. “I know it doesn’t. But for now… can stay here for a little more? Even if it’s only for a few minutes.”

You didn’t respond, but you didn’t push him away either. The two of you stared at each other in silence, the sound of the ticking clock the only thing filling the space between you. The weight of your responsibilities still loomed large, but for a brief moment, in the quiet of your apartment, you allowed yourself to forget.

Just for a few minutes.

The soft clink of your lighter echoed in the quiet room, breaking the stillness as you lit a cigarette and took a slow drag. The smoke curled lazily into the air, swirling around you in a haze as you moved around, packing some essentials into a worn duffel bag. The apartment felt heavier these days, the walls somehow closer, as if the weight of everything that had happened had pressed in on you both.

Satoru was back. He was healed, physically at least, but something in him had changed. He had grown quieter, more serious. The once carefree, arrogant smirk that used to greet you was replaced by a grim focus. His obsession with Jujutsu had deepened, consuming him in a way that was hard to watch.

He stood by the window, his back to you, his posture tense. His gaze was distant, fixed on some point far beyond the cityscape, lost in thoughts you couldn’t reach. It had been like this for weeks now— Gojo Satoru in the same room but feeling a thousand miles away.

You took another drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs before slowly exhaling. The bitter taste grounded you, kept you awake, kept you from getting lost in the same fog that had swallowed him.

“I don’t like seeing you smoke, Gen–senpai.” Satoru’s voice cut through the silence, soft but firm. He hadn’t moved, still staring out at the city, but you could feel the weight of his words. “It’s bad for you.”

You glanced over at him, your eyes narrowing slightly. “It keeps me up…..you know that.” you muttered, flicking the ash off into the tray beside you. You didn’t want to get into this—not now. Not after everything.

He finally turned to face you, his pale blue eyes catching the dim light filtering through the curtains. His glasses sat perched on his nose, shielding his gaze, but you knew he was watching you closely. “Just do coffee jelly, like you used to.”

You smiled at him softly. “It’s not enough, Satoru–kun.”

In a few quick strides, Satoru closed the distance between you. His fingers wrapped gently around the cigarette in your hand, not pulling it away, just holding it there, his touch light but firm. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, and you glanced up at him, meeting his gaze.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Satoru removed his glasses, setting them aside. His bright blue  eyes were clear now, piercing, full of a raw emotion he had been hiding behind his usual aloofness. 

“I’m sorry.” he said, his voice quieter than before, but more real, more vulnerable. “I’m sorry I ignored you. That won’t happen again.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the tension between you heavy and thick, the smell of smoke still hanging in the air. His apology hung there, an unspoken plea behind it. It wasn’t just about the cigarette. It was about the distance, the silence, the way he had shut you out.

You sighed, long and heavy, and without a word, you crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. The glowing ember dimmed and died out as you turned away from him, continuing to pack your things.

“I just needed time.” Satoru continued, his voice soft but insistent. “I’m trying to figure everything out, but I know I pushed you away. I shouldn’t have.”

You paused, your hands stilling over the bag, but you didn’t turn to face him. “You’ve changed.” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re different now. Obsessed.”

“I know, I know.” he admitted, his voice steady but lined with exhaustion. “I have to be. Jujutsu… it’s all I have left to keep this world in check. If I’m not strong enough, who else will be?”

You closed your eyes, taking a breath to calm the swirl of frustration in your chest. “You don’t have to do it alone, Satoru–kun.”

“I know that too.” His voice softened, and you could hear him moving closer, his presence a warm but overwhelming force behind you. “But I don’t want to lose anyone else. Not Suguru….Not you. Especially not you.”

His words cracked something inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you turned to face him, your eyes locking onto his. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with everything you weren’t saying.

Satoru’s gaze softened, and without hesitation, he stepped closer, closing the remaining distance between you. His hand brushed against your arm, a touch that was meant to be reassuring, grounding, but instead, it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I won’t ignore you again, don’t worry.” he repeated, his voice a low promise. “I can’t afford to.”

You sighed, letting the tension drain from your shoulders. “Just… don’t lose yourself, Satoru–kun.”

He nodded, his expression still serious but with a flicker of his old self breaking through. “I’ll try.”

For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to believe him. Just for now, just for this moment. You couldn’t predict what would happen next, but for now, at least, he was here. With you.

The quiet stretched between you like a chasm, uncomfortably familiar in the way it pressed on the spaces that once held laughter and ease. Satoru stood there, looking at you with a mix of uncertainty and something else you couldn’t quite place. The tension, though subtle, hung heavily in the air.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant, as if the answer could break whatever fragile connection remained between you.

You looked at him for a long moment before shaking your head. “No, I’m not mad.”

His gaze softened, but you could see the hint of relief flicker in his eyes. He always feared the worst in moments like this, despite the bravado he carried like armor. “Good,” he breathed, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“But….” you continued, your tone steady but carrying the weight of unspoken expectations, “I just hoped for more from you.”

Satoru didn’t flinch at your words, but his face hardened just a fraction. He stood there, absorbing what you said, before giving you a slight nod. “I know.” he said quietly. There was no argument, no defense, just a simple acknowledgment.

You sighed, looking down at the floor, the quiet filling the room once again. You weren’t angry, not really. Just… disappointed. You had always seen Satoru as something more, something larger than life, someone who could shoulder the weight of the world and still be the person you needed him to be. But the cracks were showing, and they were starting to feel too deep to ignore.

“I just…” You trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Your mind wandered to Suguru, to the growing distance you had sensed between him and Satoru. Something was off. You didn’t know what exactly, but you felt it. And it made you feel like you were on the outside, unable to help either of them.

“Have you talked to Suguru?” you asked suddenly, your voice sharper than you intended. “Asked if he’s really fine?”

Satoru’s expression shifted, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Suguru’s fine, you know that.” he said, his tone dismissive, as if the question itself was unnecessary. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

You frowned, your stomach twisting at his nonchalance. “Are you sure?” you asked quietly, searching his face for any sign that he might understand what you were getting at. But Satoru just shrugged, his easy confidence never wavering.

“I’ve seen him. He’s fine.” he repeated, this time with more certainty. “Just exhausted, you know? He’s back to his missions.”

But you weren’t convinced. Something in Geto Suguru had been different lately, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Maybe it was the way he avoided certain conversations, or how his smiles didn’t reach his eyes anymore. Whatever it was, you knew it wasn’t as simple as Satoru made it out to be.

You looked at Satoru, feeling the weight of the silence between you again. You weren’t sure what to say. How could you explain what you felt without sounding like you were imagining things? And yet, the growing distance between all of you gnawed at your gut like an ever-present ache.

Instead of pushing further, you just sighed and shook your head. “I hope you’re right.”

Satoru watched you for a moment longer, his eyes searching your face as if trying to figure out what you weren’t saying. But he didn’t push, didn’t press you for more.

You looked at Satoru, feeling the weight of the silence between you again. You weren’t sure what to say. How could you explain what you felt without sounding like you were imagining things? And yet, the growing distance between all of you gnawed at your gut like an ever-present ache.

For a moment, the tension between you and Satoru lingered, a thin thread that neither of you seemed willing to cut. He stood there, quiet but expectant, as if waiting for you to say something to fill the silence. You glanced at him, then back down at your bag, your hands absentmindedly fidgeting with the zipper. 

Everything about this, it was like a kaleidoscope. A pandemonium of colors, colors you see and don’t want to see all at once. It was just that way, you supposed. Your world, it is more colorful with all these colors in it. And slowly, you were just waiting, Waiting to find out more. To see more. To reach for it.

“Maybe you should ask Suguru if he wants to come eat with us sometime. Shoko too. I heard….her RCT teacher is brutal with work. We can relax together.” you said softly, breaking the silence. The thought had been nagging at you for a while now, ever since you’d heard the rumors—both of them skipping meals, barely taking care of themselves. “I’ve heard neither of you are eating much lately. You and Suguru.”

Satoru’s expression shifted, a small frown creasing his brow. He didn’t deny it, didn’t argue, just let your words hang there for a moment before giving a slight nod. “Suguru’s… he’s been busy.” he murmured, his voice distant, as if there was more to the story than he was willing to admit.

“Busy or not, tell him to come. I can cook and….” you continued. “you both need to eat. My day off is tomorrow, so I’ll cook zaru soba.” You glanced at him, gauging his reaction before adding with a small, lazy smile, “And I’ll bake cookies too.”

Satoru’s frown eased, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, you saw a hint of the old Satoru—the one who’d light up at the mention of food, especially if you were the one cooking. He loosened up, his posture relaxing slightly as the corners of his mouth lifted into a small, genuine smile.

“I missed you/” he admitted, his voice soft but sincere. There was a vulnerability in his words that made your heart ache. He had always been good at hiding behind jokes and bravado, but in moments like this, the cracks showed, and you could see the real Satoru underneath.

You sighed, the sound heavy but not without warmth. A lazy smile tugged at your lips as you reached for the cigarette you’d left in the ashtray. You put it between your lips, not lighting it this time, just holding it there as you looked at him.

“I missed you too, Satoru.” you said, your voice quiet but filled with an honesty you hadn’t allowed yourself to express until now.

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes softening as the tension between you both seemed to dissolve, if only for now. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it was filled with something else, something familiar and comforting.

Satoru stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours as he reached for the lighter you had set aside. For a brief moment, his fingers lingered on yours, a small gesture that spoke louder than words. You didn’t pull away.

“We’ll talk to Suguru. Shoko’s pretty easy to convince.” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “And… I’d like that. The soba and the cookies.”

You smiled around the unlit cigarette, feeling the weight on your chest lift, just a little. “Good.”

As you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, the familiar weight of another mission ahead pressed on you. You glanced at Satoru, who was still lingering by the door, watching your every move. There was something in his eyes—playful, yes, but tinged with something deeper, something almost like reluctance to let you go.

“You heading out already?” he asked, his tone casual, but you could hear the disappointment beneath it.

“Yeah…The sooner I finish, the faster I can go home. I can buy the ingredients for tomorrow in the morning too.” you replied, adjusting the strap of your bag. 

Satoru shifted from one foot to the other, hesitating for just a moment before blurting out, “I’ll tag along.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “No, you won’t.”

But Satoru, in typical fashion, wasn’t ready to take no for an answer. He pouted dramatically, crossing his arms as if you had just denied him his favorite treat. 

“Why not? I wanna come. I’ll even take pictures and send them to Suguru and Shoko.” he added with a childish grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Gonna make them jealous.”

You shook your head, exasperated. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” You tried to hide the amused smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth, but you knew Satoru could see through it.

“Insufferable? Me?!” he gasped theatrically, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. “I just missed you,” he whined, his voice taking on that exaggerated, almost comically tearful tone that he often used when he didn’t get his way. “Is that so wrong?”

You rolled your eyes, sighing as you made your way toward the door. “You’re such a child, Satoru–kun.”

“And you love it!” he called after you, his grin widening. He trotted after you like an eager puppy, his energy somehow never fading, even after everything the two of you had been through.

You stopped at the doorway, turning to look at him one more time. He stood there, still pouting, but there was something about the way he looked at you—something vulnerable beneath all that playfulness. You sighed, shaking your head as you smiled lazily.

“Go home, Satoru–kun.” you said softly, your voice carrying a warmth that betrayed your words.

But even as you stepped out the door, you could hear him calling after you, still determined, still wanting to be near you, as if afraid to let you slip away again. And despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that no matter how much you resisted, Satoru would always find a way to stay close.

epilogue

It was one of those rare weekday afternoons when the world seemed to slow down, a precious day off for Satoru that he intended to make special.

While you were out picking up Megumi and Tsumiki from school, he had taken it upon himself to surprise you by cleaning your office. With Satoshi strapped snugly in a baby carrier on his chest, Satoru moved about the space, a little clumsily, as he picked up stray papers and tidied up the scattered toys that somehow always found their way there.

As he cleaned, he noticed a drawer slightly ajar and, out of curiosity, pulled it open. Inside lay a treasure trove of memories—old photographs that instantly transported him back in time. He reached for a stack, and as he did, Satoshi, fascinated by the colors and shapes of the pictures, began reaching for them with tiny, eager hands.

“Hey, little guy, not so fast!” Satoru chuckled, stumbling slightly as Satoshi’s excitement threw him off balance. In his haste to keep the baby from pulling the pictures out of his hands, he ended up dropping a few, and they scattered across the floor.

One photo landed face-up, capturing a younger version of you, Suguru, and Shoko, all grinning wide and carefree, the sunlight casting a golden hue over the moment. Another showed a laughing Kaiko and Namie, arms thrown around your shoulders. Satoru felt a warmth spread through him as he admired the faces of your past, each picture telling a story of friendship and laughter.

As he knelt down to gather them, he couldn’t help but smile at the nostalgia. “How nostalgic youth is, hm?” he mused aloud, glancing at Satoshi, who cooed in response, as if he understood the sentiment. “Glad you agree, little dawn.”

Just then, the sound of the front door creaking open signaled Megumi and Tsumiki’s return. They came bounding in, backpacks slung over their shoulders, chatting excitedly about their day. When they spotted Satoru on the floor surrounded by pictures, they exchanged curious glances.

“What are those?” Tsumiki asked, peering over at the scattered photos.

You entered just in time to hear her question, a smile blooming on your face as you knelt beside Satoru. “These are some old pictures!” you explained, picking one up to show them. “This is me with some of my friends.” You pointed at the smiling faces in the photo, watching as your children leaned in closer to get a better look. “Then me and Satoru with everyone we love.”

Megumi studied the picture intently. “You all look so young then,” he remarked, a hint of surprise in his voice. “And happy.”

“Yeah, we were.” you said, your voice warm with fond memories. “We had some good times back then.”

As you sorted through the photos,  Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but beam with pride, watching you share your past with the kids. You pointed out Kaiko and Namie in another picture, explaining who they were and how you had all met. The joy in your voice was infectious, and he felt a swell of happiness just being there, part of this moment.

“Wow, you were cool back then, too!” Tsumiki teased, giggling as she spotted a particularly silly pose you’d struck in one of the photos.

Satoru joined in on the laughter, his heart swelling with love for the life you had built together. “I’d say you’ve only gotten cooler.” he said, giving you a playful nudge. “And to think I get to be here for all of it.”

Megumi snickered. “You’re still as lame as back then.”

“HUH!? Megumi! You think of your dad as lame!? LAME!? Darling! Our son thinks I’m lame!”

You laughed. “But….Isn’t that the truth, Satoru?”

“That’s not true at all!” Your husband decried, pouting heavily in response. “I can’t believe it, even you?”

“You make it easy for me to think that way, dear.”

“Now that’s just flat out rude!”

“Gen–san, where was this?” Tsumiki excitedly asked. “Isn’t this a theme park?”

“Ohhhh, that’s the first time we brought Satoru to Parque España! Satoru, didn’t you cry at how you got to ride the Pyrenees?”

“It was terrifying, you knew that!” He blushed, recalling the memory.

Megumi blinked and then grinned. “Gen–san, tell us more!”

“Okay, okay~”

“Darling, don’t tell the kids about my uncool moments!”

With the excitement turning to you telling stories about the pictures, Your son Satoshi wanted to go eat some snacks — so Satoru went to the kitchen with him. Satoshi was gurgling happily in the carrier, Satoru felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. 

Moments like this, no matter how rare or brief, just surrounded by family, reminiscing about the past, and sharing laughter—were everything he could have ever wanted. In the warmth of your smiles and the joy of your children, he found a sense of belonging that filled his heart to the brim.

“Life is pretty great, don’t you think?” he said softly, catching Satoshi’s eye and sharing a smile that spoke volumes. Satoshi giggled. “Hm, I’m glad you think so too, little dawn. We’ll have more and more!”