#i feel like I've always been an outsider among friends

[shittygothbitch]

My body's kinda jacked up atm

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

‘Cause you are mine

Warning ⚠️; slight smut, Tony being his own warning (alcoholism, suicidal, depression.) Alcohol, blood, fluff 🔞

Pairing; Yandere!Tony Stark/Male!Reader

Summary; Tony can't take it any longer. He doesn't feel appreciated by his friends, feels like a burden to them and that the whole world is against him. That is until he meets you. You shine as bright as the sun and he is Icarus flying too close. But you are the one whose wings burn and melt.

Note; Tony is my Pookie, so be ready to have a lot of stories about him. And again, sorry for the mountain that is this story. ⛰️ And I was hungry for some Yandere Tony

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gala was boring as always and you wondered how long it would take for something interesting to happen. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for someone to catch your attention. Your gaze fell on Tony Stark. The man was alone in a corner, sipping at his drink. The hero seemed lonely, lost and somewhat sad.

Tony Stark, a man who had done so much for the world without ever being thanked. What a sad fate. Trying your best but people keep bringing back your mistakes.

Finishing your own drink, you left the empty glass on the bar before walking up toward the genius. Tony didn't even turn to you before asking you to leave. His voice was low, a dim whisper as if he didn't want to be heard.

- “Why? This Gala is so boring and you are the only interesting person around.” You said, grabbing a drink as a server passed. “I've been impressed with your latest work in medical engineering. That going to help our surgeons save more lives.”

Tony eyed you, suspicious of your intentions and you understood why. So many people only saw him as Iron Man or a drunk, not as another human with feelings. But Stark was so much more. He was a genius and his mind worked like no one else. You wondered why people thought so little of him after everything he had been through and did for others.

You raised your hands, showing you weren't a threat.

- “Hey, easy. I ain't trying to suck your dick, just talking about your latest achievement. Not everyone look at you and see Iron Man.”

You chuckled as Tony rolled his eyes and swallowed his drink in one go.

- “No one ever hears me talk about all that, they all want to speak to Iron Man, curse me or want something from me. So yeah, let me doubt you here princess.” There is an edge to Stark’s voice and you easily see it for what it is; a way to protect himself.

- “Well then, I guess I will have to prove myself to you, won't I?” You replied, getting a smirk from Tony.

And its the best thing you ever did.

For the rest of the gala you both stayed in your corner drinking glass after glass and talking about everything and anything Tony created and made in recent years. You don't understand everything, so you ask question after question just to see some light and passion appear in Tony’s eyes.

Neither of you saw the time pass until you were among the last ones standing. Barely. Drunk the both of you, you had to support each other just to walk outside while jiggling like two idiots as you tried to pronounce some scientific word and Tony tried to help you.

You expected to go your separate way, not thinking Tony would want to spend more time with you. After all, you were both wasted and morning promised to come with one hell of a hangover. But to your surprise and joy, the genius almost forced you into his car.

Tony’s mansion is all you imagined. Enormous, luxurious and extravagant just like its owner, you didn't expected to feel so empty and lifeless. Even wasted you wonder if his home reflect Tony’s entirely. Does inside he also feel that way?

You two crash somewhere in what you can only call a mix between a living room and a bar. Tony, who's the most sober between you, got in his head to pour more drink and you can't refuse. Sitting almost on each other lap the conversation continued with you asking questions and Tony explaining everything, even getting his hand on his tablet to give you a visual.

Before the first light of morning comes Tony and you already finished a full bottle and a half. The conversation isn't clear and it is mostly you two giggling as you struggle to pronounce any complicated words. Stark isn't better. Head resting in the crook of your shoulder, one leg across your lap, the genius looks somehow happy and content in his drunken state. You got your arms around him, making sure he doesn't fall and hurt himself.

But when the sun finally rose and filled the room with golden light, there was only a comfortable silence between you and Tony. Your head resting on top of his, your hand grabbing one of his arms as your thumb drew circles on his skin you both felt content. There is no sleepiness, no need to pass out, just the desire to keep the moment going and hoping it'll never stop.

But of course, every good thing must come to an end.

At first, you heard footsteps coming closer as you were slowly drifting to sleep. In your arms, you felt Tony move, which woke you up fully. Then the door opened as a woman talked. Mind still in the mist, you didn't really understand what she was saying other than she was going to show you out.

- “He isn't going anywhere, Pepper. My new friend is staying right there with me.” Tony said, his voice so close to your ear that you shivered.

- “Tony, you got meetings today and they are important so up and get ready.”

You grunted and groaned, barely listening to the two bickering. Your arm stayed around Tony’s waist, making sure he didn't fall down as he trashed around, arguing with the named Pepper.

- “It's fine Tony. You are a busy man with a lot on your shoulders and I don't want to steal more of your time. We had a lot of fun last night and I hope we can do that again, but for now, your duties await you.” You said, petting his back and you turned your head to look at Pepper. “Alright miss. Show the way, but slowly please.”

Pepper looked at you and nodded as you got up. Tony wasn't happy about it, but you ignored him, not wanting to cause Tony more problems. You followed Pepper, head heavy and feeling like you would never drink again when you felt someone grab your hand. Before you could utter a word, you were forced to run as Tony pulled you behind him.

You heard Pepper screaming Tony's name while the genius just laughed. Lost, you followed the genius. Tony took you down in his workshop and lab. He showed you around, smiling proudly as you admired everything, wondering how a single man could do and create such incredible things.

Having prevented Pepper from following, Tony relaxed and told you he didn't want to leave. Not anytime soon. It both surprised and worried you. Why was your new friend so determined to keep you close? Was he that lonely?

In the following days, Stark was everywhere with you. If you had to go somewhere, he accompanied you and even drove you around. You didn't have a second of peace and yet it only felt normal, natural. Tony fitted perfectly in your life like the piece you didn't know you were missing.

If you weren't sleeping at his place, Tony would join you at yours or you would stop at a hotel or motel. You could tell his friends, especially Pepper were getting tired of it. But not you. Having someone's full attention on you was something exciting, especially Tony who wasn’t one to trust easily.

Even after a few weeks, you didn't get bored with it. Every day brought something new in your relationship with Tony. Some of it was a story from Tony’s past, sometimes he took you to his workshop and you worked with him on some project or he opened up about what was going on in his head.

You couldn't remember when was the first night you shared a bed, but it was at Tony’s place after drinking way too much again. The genius was nuzzled against you, your arms wrapped around him when you woke up. Tony was trashing around, sweaty and whimpering. You could immediately tell he was having a nightmare. As gently as you could, you nudged him until he woke up.

Tony jerked awake, hitting you in the chest as he tried to get away. You had to pin him down against the mattress and ask Friday to turn on the light for Tony to calm down. You were shocked by how scared and broken Tony looked and wondered how no one saw it sooner. You passed the rest of the night cuddling and pampering him until he was calm once more.

As time passed you met each member of the Avengers and each time you were disappointed. Not by the fact they were human but by how little they seemed to care about Tony. They never really listened to him or rolled their eyes as he rambled about some scientific things. It was hard for you to appreciate them when they didn't appreciate your dearest friend.

You pointed it out to Tony who simply scoffed.

- “Tell me something I don't know, Princess.” He told you, voice tired and done.

- “Well I don't like them.” You grunted and he laughed.

- “Again, I know that.”

You kept an eye out on Tony and saw how down he often was after each mission or meeting with the team. You took it upon yourself to make him feel better; getting his favourite food and coffee or drinks and he would smile at you, thankful.

It is sooner than later that your relationship evolved from friends to more.

Again, it all happened after you drank way too much and ended up having a passionate night with Tony. When you wake up naked, you feared you had destroyed your friendship, only for Tony to be happy to now be your lover.

Not just your lover but also your boyfriend.

The news quickly found its way into every magazine and soon enough everyone knew Iron Man was seeing someone, a man. You didn't care about being the target of the cameras, as long as Tony was by your side. After all, you had nothing to be ashamed of.

However, you never imagined how possessive and protective Tony would be toward you. To your surprise, Tony hated seeing your names on the news or on magazines and would snap after any journalist trying to talk to you.

You weren't the only one shocked; his whole team and friends didn't recognize him. Tension began to build up between Tony and the rest of the Avengers. You could only feel guilty, thinking you were the cause and yet not understanding what was going on with Tony.

But with you, Tony was gentle and caring, even overloving sometimes. He would ask for forgiveness each time you pointed out how he acted and would forgive him. You couldn't stay angry for long.

But as the tension and conflicts grew, Tony and the Avengers grew apart. Soon enough, Tony announced he was leaving not only the team but also would stop providing funds to them and the S.H.I.L.D. But after tragedy comes happiness and Tony proposed to you.

As happy as you felt being engaged, the ring strangely felt like handcuffs or a leash. In the back of your mind you wondered if you were doing the right thing. But it was too late to back down, and now that Tony wasn't part of the Avengers anymore he was even more often with you. He was always there, even when you thought you were alone.

After all, he could access any and every camera in the country. There was nowhere where he wouldn't find you.

[kentoxo]

can we have a gojo fic where his best friend is a girl, with a gung-ho personality, and she challenges him and makes him feel alive.

They kept their feelings for each other hidden so well for 10 years of their friendship since highschool.

a year of them not speaking, their friendship dissolved into nothing after a petty argument.

So when Satoru sees her walking in the bubbly way she always did at their highschool reunion, he pounces at her.

smutty, angsty, a bit heartwarming. have fun

OOO I like this! 100% gojo's kind of woman and honestly inspiration for his crackhead energy. Thank you anon for this req!

pairing: reader (f) x bestfriend!Gojo

synopsis: Gojo never imagined he'd ever see you again. You were the catalyst of his refined, carefree spirit. He yearned for you. And little did he know that you did for him as well.

warning: rated m for making out, fingering, eating out

a/n: I've been beside myself regarding whether I want this in the normal jjk world or a slice of life au. i think normal for more writing freedom

The first time Satoru Gojo saw you, it was during class intermission. Your high school was very kind and gave you all the teenager-equivalent to recess. They gave you the option to either hang out in the library, hit the gym, or lounge outside the back of the school.

Satoru was a simple teen, always choosing to go outside just to enjoy fresh hour for the hour you all had. He would sit right under the large willow tree at the backyard of the school, finding peace in the dancing of its branches and the shade it provided. But, it was routinely disturbed by Suguru Geto.

"Did you hear?" Suguru's steps lightly crunched the grass as he joined Satoru under the tree. Satoru had his eyes closed with his hands folded on his lap, embracing the final warmth of the summer before autumn truly took over. "Satoru?"

"I heard you," the white-haired wonder murmurs, "hear 'bout what?"

"The new girl that just transferred in," Suguru informs. Satoru didn't care much for rumormongering, but it was nice to have Suguru as a consistent informant on what goes on in their class. "Todays the first day, and she went ahead and challenged the leader of the wrestling team."

That's different. "Is that so," Satoru replies nonchalantly, his eyes still completely shut. "What a strange girl."

"She's quirky, but very beautiful," Suguru adds. "But she must be out of her mind to challenge a guy like that."

Satoru adjusts himself, crossing his arms behind his head. "If that's what she likes," Satoru couldn't care less. Suguru doesn't respond, and the two stay silent for a moment. But the silence was quickly interrupted when a crowd of students came out of the school, cheering and chanting emanating from them. "Hm?"

"I believe they're here for the fight," Suguru assumes. He scratches the back of his head, his forearm throwing his long, black hair to the side. "I'm guessing they're gonna wrestle in the sand pit there."

Satoru allowed one eye open to see the commotion. A crowd surfed through the backyard, with two students leading the pack. The first was a particularly muscly student, which could be safely assumed is the wrestling leader. But the next student beside him was you.

Suguru wasn't lying when he said you were quirky. No girl in their right mind would want to wrestle a guy with that stature. But he definitely wasn't lying when he said you were beautiful, too. The uniform hugged your body a little too well, but it was truly your face that caused Satoru to open both of his eyes.

Your expression was fierce with a shit-eating smile that Satoru couldn't help but become entranced with.

You radiated a sort of confidence that Satoru's never seen before. It could be due in part of the fact that Satoru wasn't a very social person. Despite being popular among your classmates, Suguru was the only friend he cared to have around.

The two friends watched, with Satoru being surprised at how eager he suddenly was. He leaned forward, his eyes glued at the sand pit where you and the boy stood, preparing for your tussle.

With another student as a mediator/referee, you listened closely to the rules and nodded. You smirked at your challenger, your heart practically tightening in excitement. "A clean fight, okay?" The referee repeats. "We don't want a teacher coming out and suspend us all."

Everyone laughed at the joke. "Lets get on with it, yeah?" Your opponent spewed. He was not amused one bit, considering his serious expression. "I don't like hurting girls."

You waive his concern, "don't worry, you won't."

He locked eyes with you, a glimmer of skepticism in his own. The referee stood between the two of you in the pit, his hand in the air to begin his count down. "3...2...1... Fight!" He shot his hand down and quickly escaped the sand pit.

The whole fight was a blur, but Satoru's jaw was on the floor when he witnessed the leader of the wrestling team on the ground, struggling to escape under your body. You had a toothy grin, your uniform completely scuffed with sand scratches ornate on your arms and legs.

Since that day, Satoru wanted to be known by you. You remember the boy coming up to you, his cheeks peachy and hands clammy when he introduced himself to you. Unlike all the other boys who found you intimidating, Satoru found you alluring. So, you pulled him into your own world.

"y/n, are you fucking insane?" Satoru's voice was shaky, nervous, all while still stable. The two of you stood on top of one of the biggest buildings in Japan. You have a knack for trespassing, and Satoru reluctantly followed your every move. Up until now, of course.

"Just a bit!" You glowed. You climbed up the abandoned crane on top of the building, your rough hands finding path in the bars and random equivalents of grips. "What's wrong, Satoru? You scarwed?" You teased with a baby voice.

You could see a teenage Satoru try to keep his cool, but quietly huffing and puffing when he thought you weren't looking. "it's dangerous, y/n," Satoru sounded distant behind you, his face going pale from how high you were at this point.

"It is dangerous, that's right," you yell back, your hands now gray from the accumulated dirt and dust. "But you'll never find excitement like this anywhere."

"Excitement or intense fear?" Satoru replied, his voice becoming a little louder. "I don't want anything to happen to you, y/n! Seriously!"

"Then come up here and guarantee it!" You muse. You make it to a comfortable spot to sit, turning around to look down at him. You felt the adrenaline bring you to the high you were seeking. You hands were rough and dirty, but your body felt strong and your heart was eager. You look down at the dashing boy below, "come keep me safe!"

"y/n, are you serious?" Satoru yells in dread. You nod aggressively with a wide smile. The tall boy stands there, his eyes distant with thought. You were humored from his trivial expression, his uncertainty fighting with his desire to live like you.

But you watched the nervous boy begin his trek towards you, his eyes never daring leaving the sky. You bounced joyously at his newfound bravery, causing him to emit nervous chuckles. Veins protrude his inner forearms, his breathing heavy from the effort and caution of his body. Once he was close enough, you happily offer your hand. His blue orbs held reticence, but your smile reassured him. His clammy hand meets yours, as you pull him up to the space beside you.

He creates a strong grip onto the crane, his fingers digging into the rusted metal. "are you happy?" Satoru murmurs.

"Aren't you?" You gush, nudging his shoulder gently. "Look over there." You point over at the city, and the clouds ornate between the buildings. The sun was setting, so the shadows of the skyscrapers were defined.

With a nervous gulp, Satoru looked down at the city, his bottom lip hung in awe. You watched as his nerves fade, and his hidden adrenaline finally coming forward. There was a shine in his eyes, and the way his white wisps of hair danced in the wind. A small smile pulled at the edges of his lips, and you swore to never forget the day that Satoru Gojo started his life.

Anyone with eyes could tell you that the two of you were meant to be together. A friendship transcending high school, the two of you were practically inseparable. Satoru would go find you during your work lunches, always swearing that he always gets a BOGO when in reality, he would buy you a separate lunch, opposite of the things he prefers to eat.

He was your adventure buddy, always down to follow your lead. Hiking the craziest mountains, parkouring on rooftops that you two were not meant to be at. He always had your back during paintball battles, your body rough but never shot out due to his diligent protection.

But the both of you were blind to one another's affection. The way Satoru grabs your hand whenever you two entered large crowds so he'd never lose you. The way you would fix Satoru's hair after every adventure, taking out the knots that has accrued, despite his grunts and groans. There are moments were he would just rub your hands, feeling the callouses collected since your younger years.

And you watched him grow, his confidence uncontainable. The quiet boy from high school was now a man full of vigor and ambition. Satoru has taken to exercise, his body beyond prepared for your adventures together. You couldn't help but stare at his muscles, the way his calves pulsated whenever he was reaching something high in the cabinets of your kitchen. Or the way his biceps flexed when carrying your groceries for you to the car. You could stare at him forever if you could.

Of course, until the day you couldn't stand to look at him.

"You can't be serious," you spat quietly. "When has there ever been a time where I've asked someone else before you?"

"Don't start," Satoru hums, "I asked her because someone said they'd be going on a work trip that weekend." He was sat on your couch, book in hand as you were fixing up the kitchen a bit.

You hung your head forward slightly, "and? You could still ask, 'Toru."

"If I asked you, you'd refuse to go on your work trip and just come with me to this skiing trip." This would be the very first time that Satoru goes on a fun trip like this without you. And he knows better than to ask anyone else.

"I'm an adult Satoru, I can make my own decisions," you hiss, "but instead, you've taken it upon yourself to decide for me." You begin to angrily organize your kitchen counter.

"Because I know how you are, y/n," Satoru begins, his soft tone begin to ramp up. "You'll want to go regardless of your work obligations. I'm sorry, but I can't let you be so careless."

"So why go without me anyways?" You ask, a bit of hurt in your words. "We go on these trips together, always. Why can't we then just coordinate this trip another time?"

Satoru closed his book and looked over at you, "the northern lights can be seen from Mt. Fuji this year. As much as I'd love to see them with you, you need to be more responsible and work. In turn, I don't want to miss this chance because you don't want me to go without you. It's a bit selfish, no?"

"Selfish?" The word left your tongue in distaste. "Me? You wouldn't have even wanted to do this if it weren't for me!"

"Quite bold of you for taking all the credit," Satoru lashes, his sunglasses sliding down to the tip of his nose. "I was eventually going to break from my shell-- you just kickstarted it early."

You eyes widen, narrowing down in appall from Satoru's words. The man that you watched grow up, that you helped grow up, was reducing your influence to a 'kickstart.' All of the solace that emanated from Satoru Gojo began to evaporate. "Leave," you muttered painfully.

This caught his attention, and Satoru took off his glasses. Blue eyes analyze your hurt expression, his eyes uncertain and almost... in disbelief? "y/n, you're being so dramatic. Seriously, it's not a big deal."

"To you, sure," you look away from him. You could feel your cheeks warm from the coming of tears. "Just leave, Satoru."

Satoru didn't hesitate, and rose from your couch, "you're being serious?" You don't look his way at all. Rolling his eyes, Satoru begins to grab his book and phone. "Whatever. So sorry for trying to be a good friend."

"Fuck off, Satoru," you spat.

"Yeah yeah, I'm fucking off," Satoru doesn't even hug you goodbye before he slams the door behind him. Neither of you realize it then, but that would be the last time you two saw each other, and exchanged words. Both of your prides did enough damage to eviscerate a friendship that you have loved for a long time. You cried that whole night, and the many weeks that followed.

"Shoko, is my dress okay?" You shyly pull down at the incredibly short red-dress you decided to model. Although it hugged you kindly (a little too much), it stopped just right under your ass. "I feel like if I bend over, I'll show everyone Earth's second moon."

Shoko, in a navy blue tube dress, chuckles between her cigarette pulls, "you look extremely sexy, if that's what you're asking."

"It isn't too much for this reunion?" You ignored her compliment.

Shoko shakes her head, "it's perfect."

Unknowingly to you, Satoru was already inside. His toned body was enhanced by a skin-tight, black turtleneck and black dress pants. His hair grew just a bit, tying it up in a ponytail as it would only make his tangling situation worse. He had red shades on, and a smile that could light up the universe. With a martini in hand, he was sharing laughs with all of your classmates from ages ago.

As he goes to take another swig of his drink, he almost chokes from the sight of you entering the school gym.

You entered in, no hint of shyness anywhere, despite your skimpy outfit. Many of your classmates were in awe, as the whole gym turned their attention to you. With infectious energy, you rush over with open arms to see the people you used to study with. His eyes drowned at the sight of you, your bubbly cheeks, your warm embraces to everyone who met your gaze. Even your laugh came back to his head, repeating itself like a metronome.

Satoru downs his drink, and makes his way towards you. Alcohol, combined with adrenaline, made Satoru move faster than he ever has. So swiftly, you even felt the breeze before his presence was known to you. Your eyes widen at the tall man with the white, wispy hair. His shadow, along with his gaze, swallows you whole.

You two could only stare at one another, having been a year since you've shared the same space. His hair, you thought. He was a little taller, his jaw slightly sharper. He smelled of cinnamon and hinoki wood. But his eyes... they didn't look quite like you remembered. They were dark and hollow. They appeared, in a word, empty.

Before you could begin the conversation, Satoru pulls you into his arms. A calmness washes over you, your tense body letting go. He held you just a bit tight, feeling as though your soul could fuse with his at any moment. He's so warm, you swooned in thought. Leaning down to your ear, he pulls a strand of your hair back and whispers, "can we talk somewhere?"

You silently nod, allowing for Satoru to hold you by your hand and guide you from the gym. You knew all eyes were on the both of you, considering that you two hadn't spoken for a year since your fall out. You didn't know what to expect, but you followed him obediently into one of the classrooms, a little far from the gym. He ushers you in, turning on the lights before pulling down the blinds of the classroom door window. The official windows of the classrooms were already shut, leaving the both of you completely isolated.

You slowly walk over to your old desk, remembering it was yours from the distinct, scratched in lily that was clearly never fixed. You turn around and take a seat on top of the desk, looking up and waiting for Satoru. But Satoru could only stare at you from a distance, unable to accept that you were here in front of him.

"Um," your voice sounds quietly, "long time no see, Sato--" before you could even finish, Satoru aggressively pushes the desks you carefully walked around and found his way to you. He grabs your cheeks in his large, rough hands and brings your face to his own. Lips collided, your nails digging frantically into the under of your desk. "mm--!"

An eager tongue slides between your lips, the taste of dry alcohol and lime intoxicating your own. He kissed you feverishly, his lips delicately chapped in the center. He closed the gap between the two of you, his toned abs pressing against your breasts. You then abandon the desk, ands latching themselves to the back of his shirt.

"'toru,--" you try between kisses and breaths, but Satoru was hungry. The way his tongue lapped around yours, the gentle pulls of your bottom lip between his teeth. Your hands snake to his firm chest, gently pushing him away without seeming disinterested. You look at him, trying to read his expression.

He was panting, but for the first time in your life, he was blushing. The empty eyes that briefly scared you were now lit up, just the way you remembered. His lips shined with your saliva, slightly agape to catch increments of air. "y/n," Satoru whispers.

"Satoru," you say with a firmer tone. You bring a hand up, fingers lightly rubbing your recently conquered lips. But his eyes wouldn't leave your gaze, causing your heart to lead a stampede. You realized you weren't ready to talk just yet. You pulled his shirt and brought him back to you, his face following suit, with lips rejoicing.

Satoru's hand curiously dragged its fingertips down your dress, finding its way to your thigh. He pauses, eyes opening to meet yours. Silent consent. You give yourself a few moments before nodding, allowing him to continue.

Butterflies delightfully tormented your stomach, as long, lanky fingers separate your thighs. They were cold, but your skin warmed them up as he found his way to your flower. You could feel his moans against your lips, his fingers curiously making its way between your homely folds. You perk up when your precum primes his fingers towards your cunt. They delicately filled you, three fingers finding solace in your warm, wet walls.

His lips leave yours, allowing for your moans and curses to escape. "ah--ah, s-satoru...!" His eyes widen at your sensual sounds. His breath hitched at the sound of his name from your mouth, your voice. This fueled Satoru, as he begins to finger fuck you more aggressively. The sound of your cum pierced the room as his fingers filled you up, and pulled out every other second. Your hands grip desperately at the hem of his shirt while you buried your face between his pecs.

"say my name again," Satoru demands in a whisper. "i've missed your voice so much, y/n. please, please keep saying it."

You blush, your eyes focused on the ever-growing bulge in his hands. It was just inches away from you, your mouth salivating at the thought of him. "s-satoru, satoru, f-fuck...!" He curled his fingers inside you, teasing your g-spot while also keeping the quick, steady pace of fucking your cunt. Your ears were heating up, your hands tightening their grip. "i'm... i'm...!" you could barely get your words out.

But Satoru knew exactly what you meant, a sinister smile playing at his lips. "perfect," he murmurs, completely removing his hand from your spot. You let out a disappointing sigh, but it is quickly waived when he suddenly holds your thighs, pulls your forward, and has your back on the desk. You look down, only for your head to writhe back in pleasure.

Pulling your panties down to your ankles, Satoru's lips introduce themselves to your pussy, his tongue lapping your folds. You could feel him dragging his tongue up to your clit, the tip circling around the sensitive bud. Your body writhes, with your hands desperately clinging onto his white wisps. His relentless sucking, hot breaths, and sporadic tongue work your pussy into an orgasm, your entire body tense and twitching.

Heavy breathes decorate the room, as Satoru takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and offers it to you. Your cheeks were a plum hue, but Satoru's face was completely beet red. You could feel his gaze on you as you got on your feet (weakly) and fix yourself up. He quickly gets on his knees, and pulls up your panties for you.

"Thank you very much," you quietly croak between breaths. But you noticed him not rising, with his head hung low. "Satoru? You can stand up no--"

"Y/N, I was wrong." His sharp admittance made you bite your tongue. You look down at him, unsure what to do. "I should have asked you first if you wanted to come with me. I should have never decided for you."

"Ah, Satoru, please--"

"No, I was wrong, and I regret it so, so much," his voice was shaky. "You didn't just kickstart it-- you were the reason that I needed to come out of my shell. And really, you were the reason why coming out of my shell was worth it."

You bring your hand down to his head, which makes him lower his head a bit more. "Satoru, take it easy, please..."

"I didn't enjoy myself at all-- I couldn't!" He exclaimed. "You bring me to life, and I didn't realize it until I saw those lights and didn't feel what I thought I would feel. The feeling I expected, I now realize, was because it was you I wanted to share that experience with."

You smile down at him, giggling to yourself a bit. "We were both wrong," you cooed. "Now please stand up. I don't want this to become a crying fest after you just ate me out."

Satoru looks up at you with watery eyes and a sheepish smile. His lips were still shining from your cum, and you couldn't help but get redder. As he got up and dusted his knees, he looked over at you with a smirk, "aren't you going to explain why you were also wrong?"

You looked up pensively before shaking your head, "nope!"

"Of course not," Satoru chuckles, his hands snaking around your waist, "now come here."

[soupinaboot]

Fuck it. Every Steve Harrington headcannon I have because I've been rotating that boy in my head like a pig on a stick Part 2 this is a little more in depth than the first one but only by a smug

- Epileptic, either since he was young or developed it over time due to all those concussions he keeps getting

- Favorite fruit is blackberries I have no reason

- Kinda sad but he never really had friends, yeah he hung out with Tommy and Carol but that was about it. Like after the fall out with them he was by himself, alone. I feel like if he was as popular as we think he is, he would have at least one other friend right?

- Does not have a filter at all. That one scene where he just casually says, "Oh yeah my parents are out of town because my mom doesn't trust him to not cheat on her any who!" and I feel like he just kinda does that

- Star Trek fan but he just does not comprehend that it's supposed to be nerdy (this is not my own I saw someone else headcannon this please tell me if you find them I can not)

- Absolutely sucked at ELA, could be cause of dyslexia or not whatever you want buttercup

- But on the topic of dyslexia, this headcannon is one of the main reasons why I love math nerd Stevie so much. Like, ELA test and History test are mostly long paragraphs that he needs more time to read through and his teachers don't care enough to give him extra time like he needs. But math tests tend to have a small paragraph that he can read faster or just focus on the numbers and finish on time, so he just got really good at math so he would have at least one class he passed

- Survives off of coffee, lord knows he needs it

- My most random headcannon is that since his parents were never really around or cared much for his safety, he used to hang out outside a lot and explore the wildlife around, got really into nature and animals, bought nature books etc. But his dad told him nature and animals were girly and forced him to stop even though he really loved it

- If he does ever go to college (which he doesn't have to, though if Robin went he would probably go with her), he would either get in education major and become a math teacher or some form of environmental degree

- His love language is quality time

- Among the three of them, Steve and Carol were the closest. Yes, Steve and Tommy met first, and yes they tend to call each other their best friends, but in actuality Carol and Steve were best friends. They have mean girl energy.

- He used to also play hockey when he was younger but stopped playing due to scheduling and shit. But he really liked it cause whenever he would practice there were these older figure skaters who would teach him figure skating (he kinda liked it more than hockey but he never told anyone)

- Speaking of scheduling, he is always tired due to his packed schedule. Since he was young, his dad forced him into a lot of sports and didn't really give him a break. Add that to his piano lessons, his jobs, studying that his dad forced him to do, friends, etc... he is just perpetually tired. And it fucked up his sleep schedule developing into insomnia as he got older

- Most of his and Eddie's dates are just them taking naps

- Once he meets Corroded Coffin they all become best friends. Like best fucking friends

- Specifically Steve and Jeff

[dvchvnde]

excerpt; best friend's dad | John Price x Reader infidelity. age gap.

He breaks your heart in Greece. Cuts a jagged line down your middle. Spills your wet, sticky blood over the Naxian marble outside of the Temple of Apollo with just a handful of words.

(fitting, you find: you've always considered your aimless pursuit to his heart some bastardised delusion akin to Icarus chasing the immovable sun—)

And you suppose it's kind. Or as gentle as a man like him could ever let himself be. Still gruff, surly. But you've always loved the sound of his voice, haven't you? That sarky growl reminding you of classic muscle cars, American-made; the low, gritty purr of an old Mustang. Enough to make you shiver, even as he's shaping it around these awful, cutting words. It makes you heart flutter, enraptured as he speaks like he's ripping a bandaid off.

Except that now that wound is being filled with salt. Acid. Cauterising itself from the friction burn when the gauze is wrenched off your skin. A permanent scar right in your sternum. A gaping hole spilling all the ugliness out. You wonder if he cares that it's being slashed across his shoes—no sandals, he griped when you teased him in the airport; I hate the feelin' of sand between my toes—that this madness inside of you is finding a home on the hot pavement, rotting under the summer's sun.

"m'thinkin' about marryin' her."

The her in question is ten years older than him. Pettily, you wonder if this is to compensate for the fact that he's nearly two decades older than you. An obscene age gap, you know. But—

It's Price.

Your best friend's dad. The man you've been in love with since you were sixteen. Falling all over yourself after a dumb boy broke your heart, and he offered to drive you home, silent the whole way there before he stopped, a block away from your house, and told you that boys weren't worth your time. Boys. Boys—

Not men.

Foolishly, you let yourself hope. Let yourself become the very thing they talk about in TikTok videos lambasting age gaps and silly little girls who let older men run them into the ground. Why would a man his age have any reason to be interested in a girl yours? Sickening. Disgusting. You're being lead stray, groomed. But you clung to it still, even as you thumbed through the comments on those videos and found pieces of yourself lying among the rubble.

You've always known what they say about girls like that. And you were just delusional enough to believe that you were different somehow.

And now—

"Gettin' older," he grouses out, and you wonder if she finds the ornery lilt to his cadence as comforting as you do. Or if it rubs her all the wrong ways. "Might be time to settle down."

Shamefully, you wish he'd say, but maybe you can convince me otherwise, climb into my lap, and eat this decision from between my teeth until all I see when I open my eyes is you.

But that's not the John Price you know. Mr Price. Single dad. Widower. Untouchable.

Mr Price who sees you for what you are—smarter than them, he'd said when you broke down in his Bronco after a softball game where everyone, your best friend included, went to an afterparty that no one invited you to.

Quiet, thoughtful, even when you spent the evening afterwards (the fight hashed out between your best friend and you; i'm so sorry and me too) thumbing through old vinyl records he kept in his basement, listening to the classics that kids your age just didn't understand, so why the fuck do you?

Weekends spent bonding over golden cinema (movies just ain't what they used to be; there's no romance anymore, it's all so—vapid; you don't talk like a kid; i've never considered myself one, do you? he didn't answer. you didn't expect him to). Listening to music older than your dad. Niche jokes and texts that read like I saw this and thought of you.

Your fault, of course, for thinking you could trick him into loving you if you played your feelings through Johnny Cash, Vashti Bunyan, Fleetwood Mac, and Smokey Robinson. An impossibility you know now.

Mr Price who knows you. Who sees through the thin skin you wear and into the heart, the core of you. Who must have known since you called him in the pouring rain to pick you up when you got too drunk to drive home. A house party in the suburbs. Waterlogged flats he told you to toss.

Said nothing at all when you apologised with your head pressed against the foggy glass. You never told him that your sorry, Mr Price was for kissing a boy and wishing it was him.

But he must have known.

open book. pages spilling out. silly little girl with your heart cupped in your palm—

So he knows. Has known. Hindsight says this is him letting you down gently before you get any ideas about forever with your diploma tucked into your chest like a shield. A trip to Greece with your best friend and her dad to celebrate the rest of your life looming over you like a thundercloud. Your eye slanting sideways, glancing yearningly back at him.

sorry, but no. look the other way—

And you think fine, fine, whatever, so long as this doesn't hurt anymore—but what comes out is, "oh."

What follows is this:

He says he's thinking about marrying her with his hands tucked tight under his arms. He tells you he wants to settle down with his chin tucked against his chest, four lines rucked across the pinch of his brow. An emphasis, perhaps, on just how serious he is.

You taste salt in your throat. Sand between your toes. The sun blisters against the thin straps of this pretty blue dress that match the melting sapphire of his burning gaze. It's heatsickness, maybe. Or just all the years of want building and building, festering and growing, until it can't climb any higher—forever reaching for god that won't spare you a glance—and—

falling down around you. wings of beeswax and bird feathers.

Solemn, he says, "it's what I should do."

(i saw this and thought of you—)

Your fingers knot into the soft cotton of his dress shirt, pulling the fabric taut between your knuckles until it peels back from the seams, curling between buttons.

You've had too much to drink. Whiskey sour. Scotch neat. Somewhere along the walk to the temple, you snatched a puff of his cigar, the nicotine blooming between your teeth. Head full of cotton too thick for you to think. To retreat.

In the morning, when he refuses to look at you, you'll blame it on the drinks. On the sun. On being young and dumb and untouchable under the Greecian sky.

Daddy issues, you can shrug. You have the diagnoses from every single TikTok psychologist embedded between your teeth. See, mine never loved me and now I'm taking it out on you—

But right now, you kiss him.

Or maybe—

Maybe he kisses you.

It's a mess in your head. Everything turned upside down, all askew because when your lips touch his, he shudders. His chest rumbles under your fingers, expanding with the sudden inhale as he breathes you in. Deep. Takes you into his lungs—all salt-slick, and sunburnt—and groans low in his throat, all want. All heat.

He should push you away. He's your best friend's father. Two decades older than you. Dating another woman who's so far removed from the person you are that she might as well be a different species. Mature. Stoic. Poised. Graceful.

The perfect antithesis to you.

Everything about this must be ringing shrill in his ears: abort, abort, do not engage. He should push you off.

And he does.

After a moment of your greedy, unpractised kisses pepper along the bristles hanging low over his lips, he makes another sound. Angry. Whitehot. His hands slip free from the damp prison of his armpits and latch tight onto you. Thick, hirsute fingers curling over your upper arms, and pushing, shoving—

Your back hits the marble pillar. The air in your lungs punched out.

But when you try to siphon more balmy air into them again, you find an obstacle in your way.

His mouth.

Searing, blistering. Slanting hungrily across yours, devouring. Intense, dizzying. Your head cracks against the wall when he shoves his thigh between the silken softness of your inner thighs, blanketed by the dress that made him swallow when he first saw you in it, eyes darkening like a storm.

(bit short, ain't it? he'd groused, and your friend slipped her hand into yours with a huff. stop being such a dad, dad—)

It slots there now like it's owed the right. Thick thigh spreading yours apart on a gasp, a groan. Corded muscle pressed taut to the seam of you that burns hot. Melted wax. Dripping against his leg. He must feel the way he liquifies you, turns you into putty. It drags a sound his chest. The misfire of an engine.

"Fuck," he breathes, all teeth. Salt. He should be saying, no, stop. go back to your hotel room, and we'll pretend this never happened, silly girl. But he pulls you closer instead, his hand looping around to cradle the back of your tender head in the cup of his palm. A small comfort as he delves his tongue between your teeth. "Makin' me lose my goddamn mind—"

The words are growled against your mouth. You taste the tobacco-smoked fury between his teeth when they sink into your lower lip. Angry, maybe, that you're making him do this. That you had to be who you are, and despite that, he kisses you like you're not.

"Price," you whine, arching into his chest when he pulls at your bottom lip still caught between his teeth. Skin tender, bruised. He ruts into you at the sound, nearly purring. You feel it then. The hard press of his thickening cock against you. Mindlessly gyrating against your hip. The turgid length proof of his desire. His want for you. All you. "Please—"

He folds himself over you. Tucks you into the bracket of his chest, his arms. His fingers are iron bars on your skin, holding you tight to him. Unwilling to let go. His hand on your crown; his fingers gripping your thigh, hiking it up his waist. It's good. Better than all of your meagre fantasies combined. You've wanted this since you knew what want was. When he wandered into the kitchen the morning after a sleepover with a towel slung loose around his hips, his hand scrubbing the damness from the wet tangle of his hair, spilling them down his neck where they disappeared into the thick bed of hair on his chest, his belly.

He paused in the doorway when he saw you sitting at the island, eyes wide and drilling holes into his chest.

"Shit," he'd cussed, gruff and mean with sleep. "Didn't think—"

But you did. Over and over again. With your face pressed against your pillow, fingers shoved into the sticky wetness leaking out of your cunt. Thinking of him. Wrong. Wrong. Terrible—

Dad bod, your friend said with a cluck of her tongue that afternoon. And you feel it under your fists as he heaves. As he eats you alive, whole. Because kissing John Price, Mr Price, is a whirlwind. A maelstrom.

He devours. He conquers. He owns.

He licks into your mouth, petting over your tongue, your teeth, until you can't remember anything else except the tobacco and whiskey tang of him. Heady. An elixir you want to sip from for the rest of your life. Damn him—

He tells you he's thinking about marrying someone else. Then whispers, ash-soft, against your chin that he can't get enough of you.

Grunts, "you need to go," as he sinks his teeth down, hard, into the throbbing skin of your pulse. Laying claim as he slowly comes to.

The coarse hair of his beard rubs your flesh raw when he buries his face into your neck. You can feel the thunder of his heart against the knob of your wrist. The heat of his skin burning through you.

"Fuck," he rumbles again, and you know this time it's for good. Ironclad. But the remorse is paperthin. "Shouldn't have done that, should have—"

"I want you," you whisper through bruised, kiss-bitten lips. "I want you so bad. I loved you since I was—"

"Don't."

The sweat beading along his hairline smears across the naked arch of your shoulder and neck when he moves; a shallow shake of his head. Muted and small. Heavy with reluctance.

The man who meets you when he pulls back is frowning with wet, red-stained lips. His eyes are hardened sapphire reinforced with unbreakable obsidian. There's no inch to move. No cracks to squeeze through.

"This—" he swallows. You hope he tastes you still. Whiskey sour. Scotch neat. The drag of his cigar, the one he coached you through, scoffing when you choked, when you cough. You hope he runs his tongue over his teeth and tastes nothing but you. "This shouldn't have happened."

You don't say anything. Can't. The words are staining his lips.

You nod, slow. Cautious. He tells you he's marrying someone else. Thinking about it. Says this shouldn't have happened—

But he holds you like he can't bring himself to let go. Fingers clutching, clenching tight around you. Possessive. Greedy, even he as he slowly unspools from around you. As he pulls away, scouring his hand down his face with a deep, ragged inhale. Rough, worn fingers digging into his jaw until the knuckles under a dense cropping of umber hair turn white, nails pinking under the strain.

"This isn't—"

You nod again. Soft and slow, but you let your tongue flicker out, chasing the smoke drying on your swollen lips. It stings. The burn makes you think of him. Of his hot, heavy hands on your skin.

His eyes drop down to follow the slip of red that teases out between your teeth, blackening as they trace the new wetness left behind. You can feel him twitch against your thigh.

Your name is a broken snarl trapped in the thick of his throat. You've never heard it like that. Never. It does something. Lights you up from the inside out. Supernova in his arms. Icarus burning, crashing down to earth—

Catch me, Apollo—

He pulls away instead. Detaches from you with a heavy groan, as if the distance that now sits between you hurts him just as much.

The silence is broken by the sound of the crowd just beyond the pillar. You can see the moment it settles over him in the flattening of his eyes, the erasure of all affection that bloomed bright in blue. The terse set to his shoulders. The distance, the space, that grows and grows and grows—

He clears his throat. Mr Price once more. Untouchable. Off-limits.

"You should go," he says, and there's not an ounce of give in the rough flatline of his voice. Fixed. Firm. "You should go back to your hotel room. Come on. I'll call you a taxi."

"And you?"

He sucks in a breath through his nose, nostrils flaring. "Don't worry about me. Just—go back to the hotel room. We can—we'll talk in the morning."

"Where'd you?" She asks when you crawl into bed, the starchy sheets rubbing against your sunbitten skin.

There is a deluge of things you want to say. Things like—

I'm sorry. I love him. I—

can't let go.

"I think I just got my heart broken," you say instead, and wonder when the tears are supposed to come. At the wedding, maybe. But right now, you just feel numb. Empty.

The bed creaks when she rolls over, facing you in the dark. "Really? Didn't know you were, you know, foolin' around with anyone."

"I wasn't. It's—" your dad. But you can't say that, can you?

There's something painfully nostalgic about loving a man you're not supposed to want. A man who cannot, should not, want you back. An unrequited love in a foreign land. Unconsummated in the summer's heart. Sticky, bittersweet heartbreak.

Or, that's what it's supposed to be.

They are not John Price, though. Your best friend's dad. And they didn't kiss you back—

But he did.

And you think it's the worst thing he could have ever done.

[nordickies]

I've been thinking about the Nordics' view on their immortality. How would they feel about it based on their character and experiences?

Björn (Sweden) seems to be the most keen to live like humans. He wants a domestic life, living quietly somewhere in the countryside, willing to guide and raise younger nations, and focusing on his crafts. He just wants to live in peace. Maybe he'd be willing to give up his immortality status if that was possible; if it meant he could live the kind of life he wanted to without constant outside intervention (from people and other immortals). Perhaps he feels little joy from his status, i.e. representing people or taking the responsibility of such duties. It's a task that he can never fulfill; managing to please everybody. He could have also felt alienated from others throughout his life, never really fitting into any period. So would he feel a deep connection with people to begin with? Perhaps he just wants to live on his own accord, somewhat self-sufficiently, not owning anything to anybody.

Meanwhile, I think Magnus (Denmark) would have a more positive experience with his immortality. He loves his friends and family, always looking out for them. Maybe being surrounded by other immortals makes him feel less alone in his world. After all, could humans ever relate to his life and experiences, since they can't even comprehend what he has gone through? So it'd make sense why he'd seek family and companionship from other immortals. And it'd make sense for him to be terrified of death and losing someone important to him - so I don't think he'd wish to be a mortal. In a way, he enjoys his immortality status. He probably loves his people and feels a sense of pride in representing them.

Sigurd (Norway) however, has had horrible experiences with other immortals, so I think he'd pursue some form of meaning and comfort from his job; representing something he values. He wants to focus on things that are important to him, finally fulfilling his own needs and not being restricted by others. And his position or job would definitely strengthen his sense of self and purpose in life. While he feels limited by his responsibilities at times, he also feels seen. He's finally important and valued. Perhaps he's neutral on his immortality, recognizing the positives and negatives at the same time.

Perhaps for Timo (Finland), the question is complicated. He's an alien not only among people but among his peers as well. Does he really fit into either world? Perhaps his thoughts about immortality are tied to his role and place throughout his life; who he actually is and what he actually wants. He's torn by the whole question, not being able to make his peace with it.

And finally, Eiríkur (Iceland) is rather different from everyone because he has always been so isolated. Thus he has always been alone with these big questions. Who is he and what he's supposed to do? Why he specifically is different than the rest? I think he could have a different impression of immortality because no one has ever told him what it's supposed to be like - he has come to these answers based on his own experiences. Perhaps he's closer to people than most other immortals. Instead of his peers being there, the presence of humans was the only constant in his life. He learned to accept that they'd pass on at some point, but there'd always be new people to take their place. He has accepted death as part of their existence and therefore he doesn't run away from it. It has undoubtedly given him a twisted sense of humor but also healthy optimism and hope about things figuring themselves out.

[charmedreincarnation]

Hey, guys! I've been receiving a ton of messages in response to my last post. It's reminding me of how I first discovered shifting. I feel like doing a little story time since Ive just passed the three-year mark of my discovery, and I've been reminiscing with friends about it.

I remember being in a very dark place when I stumbled upon shifting. I was depressed, and very suicidal. Yet, there was this unshakeable optimism inside me that I was meant for an extraordinary life. Despite my mental state, I had a lot of knowledge of subliminals and the law of attraction (-_-). These gave me hope, but they weren't enough tbh. I didn't want to attract my dream life through practicing gratitude or becoming a magnet for my desires or whatever. Nor did I want to have to listen to subliminals for years on end to achieve my goals. My list of desires was so long, and I needed everything to change that going step by step and waiting years for each one to manifest just wasn't feasible.

But I refused to give up. One day, after a particularly hard day of being sad per usual, I searched on Quora for something like "fastest most powerful subliminals on YouTube ever" (Y’all 😭😭). Among the recommended sub creators, I found a video called "Desired Life: Reality Shifting". The description promised everything I had ever wanted: waking up with all your desires fulfilled permanently in short. It piqued my curiosity so much. Could I really just wake up with my dream life, family, house, wealth, all based on my scripts and imagination?

Growing up, I was a heavy maladaptive daydreamer. From ages 10-17, I created alternate lives in my head, telling myself I would go there someday. I was always doing SATs (State Akin to Sleep), and I think that's what kept me from ending it all. I was constantly in the wish fulfilled state, even though I didn't know what that was at the time.

Back to my story, I went into the comments of that video and came across a guy who claimed that after a week of using this subliminal, he woke up with a new life as a multi-millionaire living in his dream penthouse. I messaged him, and he gave me his Instagram which showcased his luxurious life. He had what seemed like a perfect relationship, he was very attractive, had so many cars, and travelled 24/7 while having a six figures amount of followers. He was living proof that this wasn't just scripting. Also the law of attraction community is known for their mad expensive coaching.. like hundreds of dollars per hour for questions and he was answering it all for free something I didn’t see the law of attraction community. And I talked to him for hours! He never got mad, he had proof, and he was kind, proof and the behavior of someone who really had mastered the art of life.

After our conversation, I spent the next couple of months doing research. I found numerous stories about glitches in the matrix, accidental shifting, people entering parallel realities, and eventually, shifting communities on platforms like Amino and Reddit. It was stuff I already believed in and did in my imagination; I just didn’t know there was a term for it.

Then I got reminded of a memory that I had seriously repressed bc it was so fucking weird. When I was 6 and my brother was 3, we were absolutely obsessed with dodo birds. One day, we were outside playing, and on god time seemed to stop. Out of nowhere, a dodo bird appeared. I know you’re probably like “maya be so fr rn you were a kid” but no, This wasn't just our young imaginations running wild - there was a bird that was huge, dinosaur-like, exactly how dodos are described in books and pictures we had.

Then things got weirder. Suddenly it started raining eggs. Big, large eggs everywhere it was so gross and my brother and I were a mess. We were young, sure, but not stupid. We knew this wasn't normal. My brother and I rushed inside to tell our dad. When I managed to drag him outside, he was furious, accusing me of throwing eggs everywhere. To this day, he tells the story of the time I "trashed the backyard with eggs." And every time, I'm like, "Dad, where would I get that many eggs?" We didn’t have eggs but so he assumed I stole them and we went inside for hours and it was magically cleaned. So he also tells the story of how responsible I am and how I took accountability for my actions even as a child. I didn’t clean that shit bro and I tell him that too and he just laughs it makes me so mad.

My brother, who knows I'm into reality shifting (though he doesn’t really believe in it), can't explain that day either. He often shrugs it off as a "glitch in the matrix," which honestly, well no duh it is a shift dummie. He does believe in manifesting but only bc he has seen me use it and he experiences the good things I manifest as well. They’re the same thing anyways but that isn’t the point

The reason I'm bringing up this bizarre childhood memory is because during my months of research into shifting, I found countless stories of accidental shifts, people entering the void, entering parallel universes, time glitches, examples of the Mandela effect first hand, glitches in the matrix and etc. It was like uncovering a myriad of experiences that confirmed what I already believed: we can change and choose our reality. I just didn’t know the phenomena had a name. Obviously in the future I came across other things like the law of assumption, the void state, etc etc but this was where it started.

I wish I had saved all those fascinating stories, posts, and blogs. I might go back and compile everything I found because they were so real and enlightening. It will probably take forever tho if I do choose to do that, but I think it's worth sharing.

In the meantime, check out this accounts of accidental shifts that my friend shared with me this account https://instagram.com/tessicavision?igshid=OGQ5ZDc2ODk2ZA== based off the Glitch in the Matrix subreddit which is also a goldmine of people experiencing similar phenomena. It helped me make sense of my own experiences and might do the same for you.

I don’t want this to be too long and I already got to the point I think! but regardless stay curious and realize you’re really not that special. I mean ofc you are, i mean this is not some tumblr thing teens girls discovered or created and isn’t even limited to “spiritually/manifesting inclined people” I think at the beginning of my journey people talking about accidental shifts and such, inspired me more than purposeful success stories because they really have no reason to lie and they were looking for answers just like I was.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! I've got to say, I'm very pleased that this au won the latest poll! Gwaine's one of my favorite characters, but I don't give him enough love in my writing. So, I decided to really let his character shine in this au alongside some other characters who I feel like didn't get enough attention in the show. Enjoy! :D

Also, I saw that Merlin was trending again today, so I decided to jump in while that was happening lol! I love that this fandom will just wake up on a random day and decide to take over tumblr!

This au is set in the years between season 4 and season 5 (but Lancelot is still alive because I say so), and the story starts with Gwaine's getting a little worried about his friend. Merlin's getting more and more stressed as the weeks go by, and he doesn't smile very often anymore despite Gwaine's best efforts, which usually involve roping Merlin into whatever mischief he's stirred up recently for a little bit of fun.

Gwaine feels pretty guilty about Merlin's worsening mental state, because Gwaine is thriving for the first time in his life, finding a community and purpose among the knights of Camelot. And he owes it all, everything he now has, to Merlin, who is suffering under a burden that no one can seem to help him with.

So, Gwaine tries all that he can to cheer up his friend and pull him out of whatever terrible place his mind is stuck in, but no matter what Gwaine does, he can't seem to lighten Merlin's mood any. Sure, Merlin will plaster on a smile for Gwaine's sake and tell him that nothing's wrong, but Gwaine can see the dullness in Merlin's eyes, he saw it every time his saw his reflection for years before Merlin barreled into his life and showed him that there was more to life than taverns and wandering.

Before he knew it, a year had passed, and Gwaine hadn't made any progress in pulling Merlin out of his darkening mental state. Gwaine felt so frustrated and useless whenever he saw Merlin's smile the drop the second he thought that no one was watching. This was his chance to finally repay Merlin for turning his life around for the better, for giving him a home, a family, a purpose, but nothing he did was helping!

But Gwaine couldn't give up on helping Merlin. There must be a way to help him, to support him through whatever was burdening him, some way to bring that bright spark back to his eyes. Gwaine just had to find out how.

From the on, Gwaine kept an even closer eye on Merlin, determined to figure out what was weighing down his friend and how to ease his burdens. It was because Gwaine was watching Merlin so closely that he noticed them.

Gwaine will give them credit, whoever they were, they were good at stealth, far beyond anyone Gwaine had met before. The cloaked figure was almost always out of sight, right in the corners of his vision. At first, he thought that this nearly imperceivable figure was after him, but it didn't take him long to figure out that the mysterious figure was following Merlin.

As soon as Gwaine realized this, all of the alarm bells in his mind went off. Was this an assassin sent to kill Merlin? A spy trying to infiltrate Camelot? A bandit planning to abduct Merlin for ransom?

Or, Gwaine realized, this might be connected to Merlin's worsening moods. This mysterious figure was clearly well trained, but they had been following Merlin for over a week and still hadn't attacked, so they probably weren't an assassin or bandit. Was Merlin being threatened by this figure into doing their bidding?!

Finally, after tailing Merlin's stalker for weeks, Gwaine manages to get some answers after following Merlin on a late-night rendezvous outside of the castle. When Gwaine had spotted Merlin sneaking away under the cover of night, Gwaine of course had to follow him! Merlin could be in danger!

Gwaine followed Merlin as the other man made his way into the woods with a surprising amount of stealth. After a long hike through the woods, Merlin arrived at his destination, which, to Gwaine's shock, looked strikingly like a druid camp. There were painted tents, campfires, and even magical symbols carved into the tree, and all signs pointed to sorcerers living there.

Gwaine's anxiety skyrocketed at the sight. Why would Merlin risk coming to this secret druid camp, which Arthur definitely did not know about? Was Merlin being threatened and followed by sorcerers?!

Gwaine crept around the outskirts of the camp, sticking to the darkness. He saw Merlin approach a rather intimidating bald man, who, if the way the others in the camp made way for him as he walked, was the leader of this group of sorcerers.

Gwaine kept his hand firmly wrapped around the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it and run to the defense of his friend at a moment's notice. As he kept watching though, he strangely couldn't see any sign of a threat towards Merlin. While Gwaine couldn't hear much of their conversation, the intimidating leader guy acted almost friendly towards Merlin, and Merlin was relaxed, not showing any signs of fear at all.

As Merlin and his maybe-friend began making their way out of the camp, Gwaine could finally hear some of what they were saying.

"Thank you again, Alator. I'm not sure what I would've done without your help!"

"It is no burden to me or my men, I assure you. It is an honor to assist a man as great as you, Emrys. Morgana's forces are a threat to us all and an affront to all that is good in this world. We will fight at your side as always and ensure that Morgana's spies never infiltrate Camelot again."

Alright, there was... a lot for Gwaine to unpack there.

First of all, the scary bald man's name was apparently Alator, so that was good to know. He claimed to be allied with Merlin against Morgana, which gave Gwaine some relief.

However, as Gwaine's mind put the pieces together, he wanted to scream with frustration. Merlin was consorting with dangerous sorcerers behind Arthur's back in order to protect Camelot! It was a move so selfless yet foolish that only Merlin could pull it off.

Still, these sorcerers didn't seem hostile towards Merlin at all, so Gwaine could work with that. He just needed a little bit more information on them, some way to confirm that they really were on Merlin's side on not double crossing his friend.

So, Gwaine crept closer into the camp, trying to see what they were up to now that Merlin was gone. He didn't see anything incriminating just yet, but that didn't mean that they were free of any nefarious plans.

Gwaine inched closer and closer into the camp, his eyes trained on the men who were probably sorcerers going about their evening chores in the camp. Gwaine so focused on his targets, in fact, that he didn't register that there was someone behind him until he felt blow to the back of his head and fell unconscious.

As Gwaine woke up, his first thought was that the pounding in his head was just a hangover, which was not by any means an unusual occurrence for Gwaine. That idea was quickly disproven as, when Gwaine tried to raise his hands to his head to try and alleviate his massive headache, he realized that his hands were bound. Once again, this wasn't necessarily an unusual situation for Gwaine, but it did cause him to freeze up with alarm as he remembered where he was and what he was doing before everything went black.

When Gwaine was finally able to peel his eyes open, he was greeted with the sight of several angry-looking men, including their intimidating leader whom Merlin had spoken to. What was his name... ah yes, Alator!

Putting on his friendliest and most innocent smile, Gwaine immediately tried to talk his way out of the situation. It had worked for him in similar situations, so why not give it a shot?

"Well, hello there gentlemen! I was just here looking for my buddy Merlin, have you seen him? Lanky fellow, dark hair, always wearing a neckerchief? A great guy, really, you'd know if you had met him!"

Gwaine scrutinized each of his captors' reactions to Merlin's name. Maybe this way he could find out what their intentions with Merlin. However, all of their expressions remained stubbornly neutral, except for Alator, who simply blinked at the mention of Merlin.

After an awkwardly long silence, Gwaine again tried to get some sort of reaction out of these mysterious men.

"I could have sworn I saw him heading this way, and I got worried about him, ya know? What kind of friend would I be if I let him wander around the forest at night all by himself! He's the kindest person I know, but he can somehow find himself in trouble at any time."

Again, much to Gwaine's rising frustration, Alator simply blinked. After another awkward pause, Alator finally responded.

"You are a knight of Camelot, correct? And you hold Emrys is high regard?"

Gwaine frowned at the seemingly random questions, but he figured it couldn't hurt to keep the conversation rolling, especially if it can get him some answers. Admitting to being a knight of Camelot in front of a bunch of potentially dangerous sorcerer might not be the best move, but they were willingly working with King Arthur's personal manservant, so these guys must not have that much of an issue with Camelot, right?

"Why yes, I am a knight of Camelot! Sir Gwaine, at your service! Based on your question, I assume that Emrys is some nickname you have for Merlin?"

In response to his question, Alator merely gave a single, solemn nod. Man, this group really needed to work on their communication skills.

"In that case, I do hold Emrys in very high regard! In fact, I'd say he's the best person I've ever met!"

Finally, that comment got a reaction out of them! As soon as Gwaine told them about how much he values Merlin, the men in front of him started nodding and murmuring amongst themselves. Gwaine hoped that they were happy about having a common friend and not plotting ways to kill him.

After reaching some consensus, the men all turned towards Gwaine simultaneously, which sent a shiver down Gwaine's back. What were they planning?

Alator then waved his hand, and his eyes flashed gold, confirming Gwaine's suspicions that he was dealing with sorcerers. Gwaine flinched back and braced himself for whatever spell had just been sent his way...

Only to feel the chains binding him fall to the ground, leaving him free and unharmed. Gwaine glanced down to check that he was, in fact, still in one piece before staring at Alator in shock.

"I can sense the honesty in your heart as you speak Emrys's praises. Know that any friend of Emrys is a friend to us. We apologize for our previous behavior, as we did not know that you were also an ally of Emrys. Please, join us for a cup of tea so we can discuss this further."

Gwaine, reeling from his host's sudden change in attitude, let them maneuver him outside and give him a seat at their campfire, with Alator and his men sitting with him around the fire.

Gwaine looked around at his hosts, who sat silently around the fire, not even talking amongst themselves. The silence made Gwaine's nerves stand on end, so he decided to fill that silence himself. He might as well get to know his gracious hosts and fellow friends of Merlin, right?

"So, who are you guys? How did you meet Merlin? Hey, maybe we can compare stories of him! Let me tell you, I've got some crazy stories to share about adventures he's dragged me on!"

The men sitting around him shared a silent look at each other before Alator answered.

"We are the Catha, masters of combat and one of the last surviving sects of priests of the Old Religion. I am Alator, the leader of the Catha. I first met Emrys when I betrayed Morgana to follow a better, more peaceful path. Emrys showed us that Morgana's hatred lies opposed to the will of the gods, and we chose to place our loyalty in him instead. What stories do you have concerning Emrys?"

Gwaine nodded, feeling a strange sort of relatability to these intimidating magic-wielding warrior priests. They, like him, were on a path of meaningless destruction and found a better life by meeting Merlin.

"Ah, I can remember meeting Merlin like it was yesterday! There I was, drowning my sorrows in a tavern, when in walks a skinny looking guy and his pompous friend! They got into trouble pretty quickly, and I couldn't miss out on all that fun! I jumped into the tavern brawl to help them, but I got pretty banged up in the process. But, it turned out that it was my lucky day, because wouldn't you know it, I had accidentally saved the life of the prince of Camelot himself!

I didn't think much of prince Arthur at the time, but his manservant sure made a great impression! He brought me back to Camelot on his own horse, took me to the royal physician, gave up his own bed to me for the night so I could recover, and then covered for me after I got drunk off my ass in the tavern, again.

But then some jackasses posing as knights tried to hurt Merlin, and I stepped in to defend him and wound up getting banished by Uther, but then Arthur welcomed me back and even made me a knight when he became prince regent! And I've been lucky enough to have Merlin at my side ever since!"

Gwaine watched as many of the men's eyes widened at his story, unsure of what exactly they were so shocked by.

"You mean to say that you stood up to Uther Pendragon, the mad butcher king, for Emrys's sake? And came back to his side as soon as you could despite the threat of death hanging over your head?"

"Well, I did manage to see Merlin on one other occasion while I was banished, but he sought me out for that one. Apparently Arthur was having some trouble on his big quest to the Perilous Lands, so Merlin called me in as backup."

The Catha started whispering amongst themselves at that, with even Alator leaning forward in interest.

"Emrys specifically sought out your skills on such a monumental quest? You understand the significance of such an honor?"

Gwaine nodded, his expression shifting from a wistful one to a much more serious one.

"Of course I understand. Merlin's such an amazing person, and it shocks me every time that he thinks I'm someone worth relying on. Still, that only motivates me to not let him down. He saw something in me that no one else did, not even me, and he found a way to bring it to the surface. He changed my life, gave me a purpose, and I will never underestimate how much he's done for me."

This time, all of the Catha were nodding their heads in approval of Gwaine's appreciation for Merlin.

"You truly do see the significance of Emrys, Sir Gwaine. I can see your loyalty towards him clearly. For that, I would like to make you an offer.

Emrys's enemies are our enemies, and there are many of them. Morgana's forces grow stronger by the day, and we can only do so much with how few of us are left. Emrys himself faces many dangers, and we cannot always protect him as much as we'd like, seeing as how we cannot enter the city of Camelot. You, however, are at Emrys's side every day.

In working towards our shared goals, will you work alongside us to protect Emrys and keep Morgana's forces at bay? We can provide you with training that will put you far ahead of any of your peers and weapons that shall make you a formidable opponent to even the most powerful sorcerers. Will you accept our offer?"

"Ah, I see now. It was you lot who have been following Merlin around recently! Well, that certainly gives me quite a bit of relief, knowing that he isn't being followed around by someone who'd want to hurt him. I'd be happy to join in on your mission to protect Merlin!"

The Catha started murmuring approvingly amongst themselves at Gwaine's acceptance, until Alator spoke again.

"That is wonderful. It is an honor to be able to work alongside a warrior held in such high esteem by Emrys himself."

As Gwaine shook Alator's hand, accepting his offer, he got the feeling that this was the start of an amazing alliance.

And it sure was. Over the next months, Gwaine trained alongside the warrior priests whenever he could, becoming accustomed to their stoic natures and silent demeanors. They taught him fighting styles that he had never even heard of before and gave him information on people who were trying to hurt Merlin, allowing him to keep an eye on and eliminate threats to his friend before they had the chance to strike.

The Catha figured out pretty early on that Gwaine was rubbish at learning anything about magic itself, but when they placed enchanted weapons in his hands, he could wield them effortlessly and adapt his combat style to whatever the effects of the enchantment were. He even got a sword that could burst into flames!

As Gwaine's abilities to wield stronger enchanted weapons improved, the Catha started letting him fight the powerful sorcerers that Morgana sent into Camelot. Soon enough, he was equipped with indestructible armor armor that could repel spells and curses, weapons with some of the most formidable enchantments that the Catha could muster, and even a growing reputation throughout the land!

Luckily, the helmet that the Catha provided him with obscured his identity, so no reports of a rogue and enchantment-wielding Sir Gwaine made their way back to Arthur, as funny as that would be. Still, reports of the "indominable magic knight" that had defeated some of Morgana's most powerful sorcerers made their way across the land, even into Camelot's court. Some council members wished to capture the unknown knight and kill him before he became a threat, while others saw an opportunity to make a powerful ally against Morgana, and Arthur was constantly on the fence between those two arguments while Gwaine sat at the round table, quietly smug.

Meanwhile, Merlin, checking in with the Catha: What's this I hear about a warrior using powerful magic weapons to fight Morganas men?

Alator: Don't worry, Emrys. He's one of ours, fighting against Morgana in your name. He's one of your most devout followers in fact.

Merlin, not wanting to meet another Emrys fanboy who looks at him like he's a god: Uh, just tell him to keep up the good work and to let me know if he needs anything.

Soon after reports of the magic knight made their way to a very conflicted court of Camelot, Morgana sought out the magic knight, ready to either kill him for being such a nuisance or make an ally out of him. After all, surely a knight wielding such powerful magic would never be on the side of Camelot?

However, when Morgana managed to trap the magical knight and surround him with an army of a hundred sorcerers, the knight managed to defeat her and her entire army before escaping. He rained down fire and lightning upon them, the very elements fighting alongside him, as he cut down her army and left her defeated and humiliated.

Of course, reports of Morgana's defeat travelled to Camelot, where the court was even more incensed over the topic of the magical knight. He was capable of beating Morgana, surely he would be a great ally and could ensure Camelot's protection! But he was also now a magic-wielding threat even more powerful than Morgana! Sure he was now the foremost threat to Camelot!

In the end, Arthur and some of his most trusted knights decided to go on a quest to seek out this magical knight. Gwaine wasn't particularly worried, because how could they possibly find him if he was already travelling with them?

During the journey though, they receive word of a magical beast terrorizing nearby villages. The knights all try to fight the beast, but to little success, and it even managed to injure Merlin's leg before escaping!

Merlin's injury turned out to be not life-threatening, but he couldn't stand on his leg for very long. Unbeknownst to anyone else, Merlin entrusted Lancelot with slaying the beast after his injury, enchanting Lancelot's sword so that it could kill a creature of magic and his chainmail so that he wouldn't be hurt by its claws.

Gwaine, meanwhile, was furious with the creature and, that night, summoned his enchanted armor and weapons to go slay the beast and maybe give its head to Merlin as an apology for being unable to stop it from hurting him. Or maybe he would just treat Merlin to a night at the tavern when they got back.

So, Lancelot and Gwaine both tracked down the beast that knight. When they both arrived at the beast's lair with visibly enchanted weapons, they take each other by surprise. Lancelot is on guard, unsure if he wants to trust the now-infamous magic knight, but Gwaine just laughs and removes his helmet, and Lancelot is shocked.

Lancelot and Gwaine seeing each other with enchanted gear: spiderman pointing meme

Gwaine asks Lancelot where he got that enchanted sword, but Lancelot is tight-lipped about it, just saying he got it because he needed to protect Merlin. Gwaine chuckled and said that he understood.

After they finish slaying the beast together, Lancelot asks Gwaine if Merlin knows that he's the magic knight. Gwaine shrugs and says that he suspects that Merlin doesn't know, but wouldn't mind it if Merlin did know.

Lancelot, as soon as they get back to Camelot: So, did you know that Gwaine is actually the magic knight?

Merlin, spitting out his tea and having flashbacks to his conversation with Alator: HE'S WHAT NOW?!

Things get cleared up between Lancelot, Merlin, and Gwaine pretty quickly from there. Gwaine takes the magic reveal very well, excited at the prospect of going on magical adventures with Merlin and glad that his friend can actually defend himself, because he's rubbish with any type of weapon.

From there though, a sort of friendly competition sprung up between Gwaine and Lancelot, as both of them consider themself to be Merlin's best friend. Soon enough, there's two magical knights running around foiling Morgana's plans, and Arthur's ready to tear his hair out over it.

From there, more knights figure out about Merlin's magic and, if they're accepting of it, they also train with the Catha and receive enchanted weapons. It almost becomes its own secret society within the knights, all united with the sole purpose of protecting Merlin. They eventually have Elyan, Percival, and number one Emrys fanboy Mordred join their ranks.

Arthur eventually finds out approximately where the magical knights are hidden (their meeting spot when they need to meet outside of Camelot), and he sends Leon in disguise to infiltrate them, not knowing that they are knights from Camelot. Being the knights of the round table, they of course recognize Leon immediately and give him the full story, and Leon joins them and just tells Arthur that he "couldn't find the magical knights."

Gwaine laughs his ass off at every round table meeting where Arthur becomes more and more frustrated at not being able to catch the magical knights, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Merlin having a good laugh over it too.

And I'll cut it off there for now! I had lots of fun writing this, I feel like I should write about Gwaine more often!

Let me know if you would like me to write a continuation for this au!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[captn-trex]

let me take care of you

Rex x F!Reader

word count: 5.7k

description: you have been suffering from depression for a few months and have shut yourself off from the world. a few weeks after getting laid off from your job, you get an unexpected knock at the door.

warnings: i'm gonna say this is 16+ just to be safe, heavily implied sex, depiction of depression, suicidal ideation, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mutual pining - let me know what I've missed !

a/n: okay so this is sooooo self-indulgent it's actually embarassing. I wrote the first bit of this when I was truly going through it and... yeah, it's just Rex taking care of the reader hehe, with a bit of suggestive stuff but not proper smut. if that's your kinda thing, I hope you enjoy! (also this is the first oneshot that I've actually posted so gimme constructive criticism pls !!)

Everything felt foggy.

For the past months, your life had felt like you were just going through the motions. Wake up, go to work, come home, struggle to sleep, and repeat. You didn't enjoy the things you used to anymore. It had been too long since you had taken a walk in the park, since you had sketched or written, and it hurt that you couldn't seem to even try and do them. Like there was an invisible force stopping you, and yet, there wasn't. It was just your own mind, lacking in whatever hormone would make you happy.

You couldn't find it in yourself to take care of yourself properly, and ever since being laid off from your job a few weeks ago, you had gone into the worst of it. You weren't eating properly, you couldn't sleep, sometimes staying up all night even though you would lay in your bed and just pray for it to be different. You hadn't seen your friends in months, though they would try and check in on you. You always told them you were busy, but you knew they knew what was going on. You had been like this before, though this time it was worse.

You shut yourself off from the world.

You hadn't been out of your apartment at all in days when you heard the knock. You made your way to your front door, and your breath hitched when you peered through the little hole and saw who was behind it.

Rex.

The clone stood in the hallway, his helmet at his hip, looking down the hall, and handsome as ever. There was no way you were letting him in while you were in this state. You hadn't brushed your hair in maker knows how long, you hadn't showered in… maybe a week? and the last time you had brushed your teeth was probably 2 days ago. Your personal hygiene was sorely lacking.

You watched the Captain through the door, your breath fogging up the glass, and jumped back when the knocking of the door reverberated around your small apartment.

What is he doing here?

You hadn't seen Rex since you lost your job, though he was among the few people who checked in with you regularly, trying to ask about how you were or convince you to come out of the house. Your stomach churned at the idea of people fussing about you, and now one of them was standing outside your door. A particular one of them that, in any given other state, you would be dying to see.

Your deep attraction and affection for Rex only made this situation more uncomfortable for you, the thought of answering the door making you feel physically sick.

You then heard your name called from behind the door in a deep, questioning voice, and your knees went weak.

“Are you in there?” He asked, followed by another knock.

You wanted to reply, to say anything, but you couldn't find your voice. What would I say? You elected to just go back to your bed, let him leave on his own, and pretend he was never here.

You scooted backwards but caught your hip on a table, sending a pile of your precious books hurtling to the floor. You held your breath, hoping Rex had not heard the noise, but it was no use.

Rex called your name again, and this time, it was gentler, “…Please let me in”

Your eyes watered as you walked up to the door, your finger hovering over the button that would cause it to slide open.

“I'm fine Rex, you can go” You tried to sound as resolute as you could, but the quiver in your voice was obvious.

“Cyare… let me in. I'm not leaving”

The nickname hit you hard, and you truly felt like clutching your chest as it pulled at the part of you that desired the clone on the other side of the door like no other.

You had met Rex years ago, at the job you had recently been let go from, working as a civilian medic on Coruscant.

The Captain could rarely be convinced by his brothers to take himself to the medbay, much more of the suffer in silence type. However, once you had begun working there, he had started making trips there for every little bump and scratch, and sometimes even when he was in perfect health, he would go claiming a cold or headache. He had always had a soft spot for you, and though he'd never admit it, he made it obvious. Everyone around him knew, everyone around you knew, but for whatever reason, you hadn't cottoned on at all.

He found you exceedingly beautiful, obviously intelligent, and just the most wonderful and bright spark of a person he'd ever met. Though, that was far from what you were feeling like at the moment.

You had also been enamoured by the Captain from the very start. The moment he walked into the medbay and made eye contact with you, you were done for. Whether it was his loyalty to his men, his commanding presence, or his wonderful smile that did it, you didn't know, but you were kriffed from the beginning.

“I can't let you in” You said, leaning your forehead into the door.

“Why not?” He said in a hushed tone that you could barely hear.

“I- I'm just not feeling well okay?” You choked out, vastly minimising the issue.

“I dont mind Cyare, just let me in. Please” He begged, but you just shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut.

You and Rex had grown into good friends quite naturally. In his needless visits to the med bay, he would often stay after hours and help you clean up, and you would fall into conversation about anything and everything. You shared many opinions about a variety of topics and would talk about your respective favourite things. Rex found that he learned a great deal about the wider galaxy from you, and he could hear you talk about art for hours upon end.

You were a fantastic artist, absolutely brilliant in any media, but Rex loved your sketches the most. You had brought him to your apartment once after work, when he had practically begged to see your work. He liked the simplicity of it, creating life with just a few stokes of a pencil. Your drawings held such character, such joy, such sorrow, and Rex thought that they were always so uniquely you. For that, he loved them.

“Rex I-” You didn't know what to say. You sank to your knees on the floor, letting your tears silently fall down your cheeks.

“Please…” He said one more time, and you finally broke.

You reached up and pressed the button, and the door zipped open to reveal your defeated posture to him. You dared not look up at him. You didn't want him to see you like this at all, but the thought of looking him in the eye when you knew how dishevelled, how weak you looked, you couldn't stomach it.

“Oh Cyare” He said softly and closed the door behind him, sinking to his knees in front of you. He tentatively placed a hand on your knee and began rubbing his thumb back and forth. “What's happened? You haven't been in the medbay for weeks”

“I was laid off” You replied quietly.

“What? Why would they do that?” He asked, genuinely confused. You were a talented medic. He could see no reason for it.

“Money is tight. We are at war after all” You chuckled a little bit, knowing that much was obvious to Rex.

“What are you upset about? I'm sure there's somewhere else that would take you, you're a great medic” He asked so innocently that you could almost laugh.

“It's not about that…” You sighed, running a hand over your face, still looking down.

“What is it about?” Rex said softly, shuffling forwards so his armoured knees touched your bare ones.

“I just… I can't do it anymore Rex” You whispered, the first time you had freely admitted it to anyone before.

Rex tensed up. He brought his other hand up and gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head to look at you properly. The look in your eyes already told him the answer to the question he was about to ask, “Can't do what?”

“It. Life. Anything. I just want to disappear” You said, choking on your tears and overwhelmed by the thoughts that weighed you down. Rex's amber irises burned into yours with such an intensity, but not for long, as his arms made their way around your body, and he pulled you into his lap.

You cried into his chest, with him stroking your hair and holding you close to him with the other arm, scared that you would somehow get your wish and disappear in his arms.

He was at a loss for words. He couldn't understand how someone he thought was so wonderful and incredible could be harbouring such hateful feelings about themself. He feared saying anything that would upset you, and the last thing he wished to do was deny how you were feeling by telling you that you were wrong, so he just held you in his arms, silently letting you know he was there for you, no matter what. The sound of your crying was making his heart break, but he stayed like that until it died down.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” He asked tentatively, drawing back and holding your jaw so he could see your face.

“I dont know… four or five months, maybe?” You replied, and it felt like he had been stabbed in the chest.

How had he not noticed anything was wrong? He felt like he had failed you, that your friendship was for nought if he couldn't even tell when you were upset. He didn't place any of the blame on you, but he had to ask…

“Why didn't you tell me?”

You sighed, “I didn't want to concern you with it. It's for me to deal with”

“What? It's not just for you to deal with, of course I'd want to know if you're not okay. I'm so sorry I didn't notice” He said, his tone so heavy with guilt.

“It's okay, it makes sense that you didn't”

Rex almost took offence to the comment, but the small smile on your lips didn't evade him, “Why does it make sense?”

“Uh, I guess I was always happy around you” You admit, “You- Uh we’re good friends, you know? I like spending time with you”

Despite the comment about being friends, Rex's heart soared, “I like spending time with you too Cyare”

“Why are you calling me that all of a sudden?” You asked. You knew what it meant, you'd spent enough time among the clones, and it was impossible to escape when you overheard their unabashed flirting on your few trips to 79s.

“Um” Rex gulped, not feeling like right now was the best time to admit that he was wildly in love with you, “I don't know, I care about you, you know? Like you said, we're good friends”

You nodded, seeming satisfied with the explanation, and Rex breathed out a shaky breath.

“I'm sorry you had to see me like this” You looked down, playing with your fingers as heat rose to your cheeks.

“It's fine, I really don't mind. Besides, you still look good to me” He said, and your eyes snapped back up to his instantly, your breath becoming short. Rex thinks I look good?

“Thanks Captain” You grinned shyly, your face feeling positively on fire at the compliment.

“It's no problem” He smiled, then he became more serious, “Have you eaten today?”

“Uh- no” You looked away again, feeling ashamed.

“Alright, let me fix you some food then” He readjusted his hold on you and picked you up, setting you down on your couch. Your head was spinning from the intimacy of feeling his breath fanning over your face.

“I don't really have any food here” You admitted sheepishly.

“Okay, how about this then” He crouched by the couch so that his eyes were level with yours, “Why don't you go and have a shower, do whatever you need to feel a bit better, and I'll go out and get us some food”

“Rex… I can't ask you to do that for me” You spoke hesitantly, but he shook his head.

“You're not asking, and in fact, neither am I” He said with a playful glint in his eye, “Go and freshen up, that's an order soldier”

You giggled at him and took the hand that he offered to help you up.

“Yes sir” You saluted him and marched off in the direction of the refresher, earning a laugh from the clone.

You stepped into the refresher and looked yourself in the eye for probably the first time in days. You did not look good. Your eyes held bags that looked so heavy that they could weigh down the skin they inhabited, your hair was a complete mess, and your skin was dull and lifeless.

You sighed, grabbed your hairbrush, and decided to start there. It took a few minutes, but soon, your hair was completely knot-free, and you stripped off and stepped into the shower. You took your time finding the perfect temperature, which ended up being almost scalding hot. You leaned your elbows against the wall, letting the water hit your back and relieving some of the tension you could feel there.

Now that you were actually in the shower, you didn't feel like leaving at all. Though, the idea of Rex being outside the door when you finished was enough for you to quickly wash yourself and your hair and hop out again. You brushed your teeth twice and moisturised your clean skin. Looking in the mirror, you looked a lot better than you did before you went in the shower, and you were eternally thankful for that. If you were going to see the person you had been in love with for years, you only wanted to look your best.

You stepped out of the refresher and headed for your bedroom with your dirty clothes in hand.

“Hey, are you-”

You jumped out of your skin when you saw Rex stood in the living area with a bag in hand, and he did too when he saw you with only a towel wrapped around you. Your eyes went wide, and you wrapped the towel tighter around your body on instinct, only fueling the less-than-pure thoughts that were spilling into Rex's brain. You looked so incredible, your hair dripping water over your body, which was seemingly glistening with its new cleanliness, and your towel left little to the imagination.

“Um yeah, you're out, cool, uh- I'll let you get dressed” He turned around and cursed silently to himself for being so awkward.

You just chuckled nervously, feeling utterly mortified, and made your way to your room as intended. You found a fresh oversized t-shirt and pair of soft shorts and slipped into them quickly, rejoining Rex in the other room.

He had taken off the top half of his armour, leaving just his blacks, the Republic insignia adorned proudly on his chest. The tightness of the top showed off his toned physique as if he wasn't even wearing anything, and you had to tear your eyes away from it.

“What did you get?” You asked quietly, sitting down next to him on the couch.

“Noodles, is that okay?” He asked, looking to you a little nervously.

You chucked at his demeanour, which was decidedly un-captain-like as he looked to you for approval, “It's perfect, thank you”

You both picked up the boxes that held your food and dug in, and your bodies turned to face each other as you rested against oppsite ends of the couch. It was good to have a proper meal, with actually nutritious foods. When you had eaten as of late, it had mostly been ration bars or random snacks you could find in your apartment. You hummed contentedly, and Rex smiled at you.

“Good?”

“Mhm” You smiled, swallowing a bite, “Thank you Rex”

“It’s alright” He said nonchalantly.

“I mean it, thank you for… taking care of me” You said, then looked down, “I'm finding that difficult at the moment, so it means a lot”

“Cyare” Rex moved towards you and placed a hand on your knee, “It's really no trouble, I just want to see you feeling better”

You looked up at him and gave a tight lipped smile, “Well, thank you anyway”

“No problem. You look a little more alive now, by the way” He teased.

“Hey! You're the one that said I looked good before, you cant take it back now” You challenged, and he smirked.

“I'm not taking it back. You just look even better now” He said, but his smirk dropped when you froze up at his comment.

“You dont have to say that just to make me feel better, you know” You said, looking down and taking your final mouthful of noodles.

“I'm not just saying it” He said quietly, and you looked up to see his light frown. You put down your food box as he continued to stare at you seriously.

“What is it?” You ask.

“It's nothing, don't worry about it” He said quickly and put his own food box down as he finished.

“Rex” You scooted closer to him so that your knees were almost touching, “What's the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter” He avoided your eyes as he spoke, and you used the technique that he employed earlier on, gently taking his chin between your thumb and finger and guiding his gaze towards you.

“What is it?” You asked again, and his eyebrows pinched together as his eyes flicked between the two of yours.

“You're so beautiful Cyare” He said, tentatively placing his hand on your lower thigh.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the gentle touch, and you searched his eyes for any dishonesty but only found them to be as earnest as usual.

“I- I should've been telling you every day since I met you” He said, his voice breaking just a little as he spoke so softly, “I should’ve been telling you how much you mean to me, how much I care for you, how important you are” He stroked his thumb back and forth on your thigh, sending tingles up your spine.

“Rex” You breathed out in a whisper, your hand sliding around to cup his sharp jaw. He leaned into your touch, and you felt as if you could melt at the sight.

“Say something” He urged, his eyes pleading for a conformation that you felt the same way.

“I-” You didn't know what to say. You felt the same, but the words got caught in your throat. It felt wrong to truly admit to your affection for him after bottling it up for so long.

“Rex, I've always cared for you, far more than a medic should care for their patient” You admitted, and his eyes lit up.

“You have?” He asked, and you nodded in reply.

“And for the record, I think you're beautiful too” You let a small grin creep its way onto your face.

“That’s good to know” Rex smirked, bringing his other hand to your cheek.

He looked deeply into your eyes, the eyes that he always found so fascinating, and he leaned his forehead against yours before tilting his head towards your lips. You shivered with anticipation.

“Is this okay? I don't want to take advantage of you if you-”

“Just kiss me Rex” You whispered against his lips, your eyes fluttering shut. He didn't delay after that. With your permission, he couldn't say no.

His lips met yours tentatively, as if testing the waters, but as soon as he felt you kiss him back, he pulled you in more urgently. His lips moved against yours, melding together as if it was how they were made to be. You felt your need for closeness growing, and you pulled him towards you as you deepened the kiss. Rex slid his hand up your thigh, resting it on your hip and tracing small circles with his thumb as his other hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer as he devoured your lips.

Rex pulled back, his teeth lingering on your bottom lip for a moment, and you both caught your breath.

“I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that” You said, your breath still short.

Rex grinned widely, “Yeah? I can guarantee it's probably not as long as I have”

“Probably not” You chuckled, “Unless you somehow wanted to before you even looked at me for the first time”

Rex raised his eyebrows, “You've wanted to kiss me the whole time we've known each other?” He asked, and you nodded your head shyly. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“I dont know, I guess I just figured you wouldn't feel the same” You shrug.

Rex just shook his head with a smile and pulled you onto his lap “Oh, how wrong you were”

“Is that right?” You smirked, “I'd love to hear all about just how wrong I was”

Rex smirked back at you, and placed a kiss to your cheek, “I've wanted to kiss those pretty lips of yours ever since I laid eyes on you” He confessed, and your breath hitched as he continued to place featherlight kisses along your jaw. “I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen” He kissed down your neck slowly, gently nipping at you with his teeth at the point where your neck meets your shoulder, which earned a small whine from you, and you could feel him smirk.

“I've never felt the way I feel about you, about anyone else” He murmured against your skin, burying his nose in your neck and inhaling your scent.

His words were driving you crazy. They were all you had ever wanted to hear from him, and here he was, speaking them aloud as he kissed your skin so gently, as if you would break if he pressed any harder.

“Rex” You whispered, and he looked up at you, waiting for you to continue.

“What is it, Mesh'la?” He whispered back, his lips ghosting yours. You shuddered in his arms, your eyes fluttering closed, and he watched your every move with anticipation.

“Rex, I-” You leaned your forehead against his, needing an anchor before you spoke your next words, “I need you”

Rex's heart skipped a beat. Possibly a few beats. “What do you mean, Cyare?”

“Please, take me to the bedroom” You asked, begged, and Rex took action immediately.

He held you to him as he stood up, and you wrapped your legs around him tightly. He made his way to your bed quickly and gently laid you onto your back, crawling over you so he was holding himself above your body.

“You're sure about this, Cyare? If it's just a lapse in judgement because you're not in your right mind, I understand, no hard feelings” Rex stroked your cheek with his knuckles, looking into your eyes intently.

“Rex, please. My judgement is just fine. I want you. I've always wanted you” You said, the neediness so obvious in your tone. Rex's expression then settled somewhere between amusement and adoration.

“You want me?” He smirked, his lips hovering just above yours.

“Yes” You spoke breathlessly.

“Say it again” He commanded in a whisper, his amber eyes burning into your very soul.

“I want you, Rex”

He breathed out a shaky breath and brought his lips to yours, speaking between chaste kisses, “You have me, all of me. You always have. I've always been yours”

It was almost too much to hear. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you thought you'd made it all up.

“I've always been yours Rex” You whispered against his lips, and his breath stuttered.

“You're mine?” He asked in a murmur. The flame of desire burning in his eyes was clear.

“Only yours”

He pressed his lips to yours with a newfound desperation, his hand trailing down your body and holding your hips in place as he slipped his leg between yours. You grasped at his body, your hands finding themselves underneath the top of his blacks, and he stopped kissing you to pull it off. You absolutely marvelled at the sight.

In all your time knowing Rex, mending up his various wounds, you had never had the honour of glimpsing at his form without a shirt on. You traced along a scar at the centre of his chest, “How did you get this?”

“I was shot” He shrugged with a grin.

“No big deal for a big important Captain like you, I suppose” You teased and matched his grin as he rolled his eyes.

“Shut up” He mumbled against your skin as he buried his head in your neck, leaving soft kisses and less soft bites. You struggled to keep small moans from escaping your lips at his touch, and Rex noticed you holding back. He wound his way up to your lips, pressing a short kiss to them before he spoke.

“Don't hold out on me cyar'ika, I want to hear you”

You bit your lip and nodded at him, then kissed a trail across his strong jaw, earning a soft groan. As your kisses made their way down his neck, and you brought your hands to trail down his body, he groaned more deeply. The sound was driving you insane. Before you could breach the top of his blacks, Rex gathered your wrists in his hand and held them above your head, your eyes blown wide with desire and longing, your breath ragged.

Rex just looked at you for a moment, committing the intoxicating sight to his memory. His other hand found your face as he shifted the leg that was between yours, earning a whimper, “Don't worry about that, just let me take care of you”

You shuddered at his words, your body tense with anticipation for what was to come.

He looked so perfect, angelic even.

Watching Rex sleep was never a luxury you imagined yourself getting the opportunity to indulge in, but with it right in front of you, you weren't going to let it pass you by.

You had slept for a little while, wrapped up in Rex's limbs, and held closely to his body. You had been completely at peace, every struggle and awful thought that usually plagued you was pushed to the back of your mind and there was only him, his presence enveloping you; his warmth, his scent, the feel of his skin against yours, his breath against your cheek and his chest rising and falling gently. Now, as you moved away from him and watched the cold light of morning creep across his features, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight.

You slipped out of his arms, a soft sigh escaping him in the process. Your heart clenched at the sound, only feeling your adoration for him growing once again.

You reluctantly tore your gaze away from him and went over to your desk, opening the left draw as quietly as you could. You took out your flimsi sketchbook and a pencil and made your way over to the chair that was against the large window overlooking the city. However, that wasn't the focus of your sketching today, not when there was a sight far more beautiful laying in your bed.

You opened up your small sketchbook and looked at the last thing you had drawn. It was a scene from the park. A couple sat on a bench at the edge of the man-made pond and smiling adoringly at each other. You smiled and pushed down the guilt at the realisation that you had drawn this over four months ago.

When you looked up to Rex again, your heart skipped a beat. The sun had risen a little higher in the sky and cast a golden light across the lower half of his face and chest. You took up your pencil and began sketching the view before anything could disturb it.

The sheets were pooled at his waist, showing off his toned physique in all its glory, especially as he slept with one hand tucked under his head. His features were relaxed, more relaxed than you had ever seen. His face often had a sternness about it that was undeniably militaristic, but that was nowhere to be found as he slept peacefully.

You had the outline and were now just adding the details. The small marks on his skin, some that you had fixed up yourself, and the large blaster burn in the centre of his chest. As you were adding some of the shadows to his face, you heard a small grumble, and your head shot up to see Rex opening his eyes, stretching his arms out.

“Don’t move” You spoke gently, and he looked to you, noticing your sketchbook in your hand as you sat curled up in your chair.

He smiled, a warmth spreading across his chest as he settled back into his previous position, “Like this?”

“Mhm” You hummed in reply, taking in the way the shadows on his face changed now that he was awake. “Relax” You laughed as you saw a small crease emerge in his brow.

He chuckled a little and relaxed with a contented sigh.

“Almost done” You said quietly, as if to not disturb your own work.

You quickly added the remaining shading, adding some small details of the bed and the room, wanting to capture the moment perfectly, so that should your mind ever forget it, which you doubted, it would be forever recorded. That was what you loved about using flimi over a datapad. The physicality felt more personal and permanent.

“All finished” You smiled as you closed your sketchbook and went to place it back in your desk.

“Hey! Aren't you going to show me?” Rex asked, and you looked back to him to see the crease in brow had returned.

“It's not very good, it's just a sketch”

“Cyare, I love your sketches. Please, show me” He spoke gently, an edge of seriousness to deny your self-deprecating words.

“Okay” You conceded, opening the sketchbook back up and sitting down on the bed to show him. Rex then grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him, making you fall back into his chest as he laid down again. A delighted laugh escaped your lips at the sudden contact, and you looked up to Rex's face to see an equally elated expression.

He took the sketchbook from your hand and looked over the drawing of himself, his smile widening with each second.

“It's amazing” He said softly, meeting your eyes again.

“That's because it's of you” You smiled and brushed your nose against his, earning a small chuckle.

“No, it's… You make me look so…” He looked over the drawing and tried to find the right word to describe what he meant, “I'm not sure. It looks exactly like me, but… There's something else to it”

“Well, all the best things are made with love” You said before you could even really process what you were saying.

Rex’s eyes went wide as they snapped back to yours, “Love?” He questioned.

You shrank backwards, wanting the bed to collapse in on itself and swallow you whole, but Rex’s arm tightened around your waist, pulling you against him. You let the word hang in the air for a moment before clearing your throat and swallowing hard.

“Uh… yeah” You said awkwardly, looking away.

Rex said your name in a soft tone, pulling your focus back to him. He rested his forehead against yours, his amber eyes burning into yours, “You love me?”

“I do” You whispered, gnawing your bottom lip at the vulnerability of the admission.

Rex met your lips in a sweet kiss, slow and deliberate, and pulled away a few seconds later. He caressed your cheek with his knuckles before he settled his palm on the back of your neck. “I love you too” He confessed, and your heart leapt to your throat.

“You do?” You whispered.

“I do. I always have. It's like I said, I've always been yours” He confirmed, repeating the words he had said last night. You brought your forehead to his again and closed your eyes, taking in the sweetness of the moment.

“And I yours”

Nothing was fixed. You weren't back to being happy and full of life like you once were, but Rex had reminded you why life was worth living. You were reminded of all the things that made it worthwhile, all of the things you loved to do, the things that brought joy and colour into your life. If you could just take it one step at a time, one day after the other, you would get through this feeling, and best of all, Rex would be there to support you when you needed him.

[tikosblogg]

The Scars We Bare….❤️

Summary: After a traumatic accident leaving your body scarred for life, Noah makes it his mission to remind you of your worth.

Warning: piv sex, unprotected sex(don’t do that), slight choking. Body worship?, mentions of blood, fighting. Let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: This is a little heavier than I usually write about, but I thought it was so sweet. I’m sorry if it’s trash, I wrote this while watching Summer slam🤪

The energy inside our house was insane, the house pulsing with the music and the laughter of friends. the ambiance was alive—a perfect backdrop to celebrate the end of their successful tour. I had always been the glue that held this ragtag bunch together. Growing up alongside Noah, and the guys meant our lives were intertwined in a way that made this party feel like a reunion of sorts, no matter how long we’ve lived together or how often we saw each other while they are on the road.

As I mingled among partygoers, I felt an undeniable sense of pride for these guys who had worked so hard, now basking in the glow of their accomplishments. But tonight wasn’t just about them; it was about me too. I had hopes of taking my relationship with Brent to the next level.

Brent is the first relationship I’ve had since my accident 4 years ago. We have been seeing one another for about a month, and in my gut, I felt tonight could be the night we solidified what we both wanted. Nobody has seen my body since that traumatic day, except for Noah. My family lives out of state, so as soon as I was released from the hospital Noah moved me in here.

He was my rock during the whole ordeal and helped me heal. Our friendship is a special one, that I hold dearly in my heart. He bathed me, cooked for me, cleaned the cuts and incisions on my body everyday. He was the shoulder I cried on, about my insecurities of my forever changed body. Always reminding me that I was beautiful. He has helped more than I think he realizes.

Excusing myself from a lively conversation with Noah and Jolly, I slipped outside to check on Brent. The cool air hit my skin, refreshing yet a little uneasy. I dialed his number, only to be met with an annoyance I couldn’t quite place. "I've been here for the past 45 minutes," he huffed, the edge in his voice making me flinch.

My stomach twisted as he gave me his location. I ended the call, worry gnawing at the edges of my mind. What had gone wrong? He’s never sounded so annoyed with me. I shook it off and decided to find him, determined not to let it ruin our night.

When I finally spotted him, leaning against the wall of the house with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face, my heart sank. Why did he look so displeased? I swept in for a hug, wrapping my arms around his body, hoping to draw out a little warmth. He hesitated for just a moment before returning the embrace, but the spark I had anticipated was absent.

"Hey! Glad you made it," I chirped, forcing a smile even as a twinge of frustration bubbled within me. He didn't reply, only allowed me to grab his hand and lead him inside.

As we entered, I could feel the vibrant energy shift slightly. The laughter and chatter continued, but the warmth of the party felt overshadowed by the tension emanating from Brent. I introduced him to the guys Noah, Jolly, Folio, and Nick—all of whom were mingling and laughing, filling the air with their unique energy. However, I noticed something peculiar: the way the guys eyed Brent, especially Noah. There was a hint of concern in his gaze, the kind that screamed, I’m onto you.

Ignoring the unspoken judgment from my friends, I pulled Brent closer, trying to ignite that spark between us. We stood there, surrounded by music and laughter, yet he seemed distant, his smile faltering as the guys began to chatter amongst themselves.

“Everything alright?” I whispered, leaning closer to him. I wanted an opening, a doorway into whatever was bothering him. But he merely shrugged, his gaze wandering, refusing to engage. I softly grasped Brent’s hand, politely excusing us from the group. I led him through the crowd of party goers, and up the stairs to my room.

As I closed the door behind us, the thumping bass of the party dwindled into a distant murmur, the laughter of friends fading away as I turned to Brent. The vibrant energy of the gathering felt worlds away, and the four walls of my bedroom suddenly wrapped around us like a protective barrier.

“Brent,” I started, my voice wavering slightly. “I’m really sorry if I overwhelmed you back there. I just wanted you to meet my friends. They’re like family to me.” I stepped closer, finding comfort in the small space between us. “I like how you’re different from everyone else,” I reassured him, reaching to cup his face. “I want you with me, Brent. I really like you, and I was hoping tonight could be something more.”

At last, he looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he wasted no more time, and leaned in and captured my mouth with his. The kiss ignited something deep inside me; I melted into him, the world beyond my bedroom eclipsed in a frenzy of sensation. But then, as he pushed me down onto the bed, his body pressing into mine, I felt a rush of vulnerability sweep over me.

His lips were a warm trail, moving from my mouth and down the length of my neck. Nervousness coiled in my stomach, mingling with the thrill of it all. What if he hates the scars? But I shushed that voice; if Brent liked me, he would accept all of me, flaws and histories included.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes dark with desire, he removed his shirt, revealing his toned body. I felt my pulse quicken. The intimacy of the moment escalated as he reached for mine. But then, as the fabric glided off my skin, a sudden silence enveloped us. Brent froze, his expression shifting from desire to something unreadable as his eyes traced the long scar running down my chest, then mapping the smaller scars scattered along my ribs and stomach.

“Are you okay?” I paused, my heart pounding painfully against my rib cage as I reached up, uncertain and vulnerable.

The moment hung heavy in the air; he shook his head vehemently, climbing off me so quickly that the sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill racing down my spine. I sat up, confusion flooding my senses. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Brent stood there, the remnants of our intimacy dissolving between us. He tugged his shirt back on, the fabric crumpling around his torso, and ran a hand through his hair, the gesture laced with frustration. “Why do you have scars all over you?” His voice was low, a mix of concern and discomfort.

As the words spilled from my lips, the weight of the memory resurfaced. “I was in a bad car crash four years ago. I had to have open heart surgery,” I explained, trying to keep my tone steady. I watched the color drain from his face, his brows knitting together in discomfort.

A long sigh escaped him, heavy and laden with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s...bad. I didn’t expect…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as if trying to clear it.

“It makes me feel… kind of squeamish to touch them” he admitted, his eyes glancing away, avoiding the testament of my past etched upon my skin.

My heart plummeted, the weight of rejection crashing down upon me like a tidal wave. I had let the hope and excitement build, only for it to crumble in an instant under the realization that my trauma had repelled him.

“I think we should just end it here. sorry,” he added, almost mechanically, before turning to leave the room. The sound of the party resumed its vibrancy, a stark reminder of the dissonance between our worlds.

I watched him walk out, feeling an emptiness settle into my chest. The door slammed behind him, and I sank back into the bed, wrapping my arms around myself as if trying to shield those scars from the world. Noah, My friends, my family—they had embraced me, scars and all. Why couldn’t Brent?

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. My thoughts spiraled, wondering if my scars were always going to be a barrier, a reminder of a past I couldn’t erase. The party continued downstairs, but all I felt was the silence of my room enveloping me, a somber echo of what had just transpired.

I finally stood from my bed, my body shaking with each sob leaving my mouth. I walked straight into my bathroom, insistent on washing his touch, and this night from my tattered body.

Noah stood with Jolly and Nick, their voices a distant murmur, but his attention had drifted. His eyes were locked on the staircase that you’d just walked up with Brent. There was something about Brent—a way he carried himself, a cocky swagger that made his skin crawl. He didn’t like the guy, not one bit.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah’s unease was proven justified. Brent stomped down the stairs, his expression unfazed and arrogant. He brushed past Noah and the others, heading straight for the kitchen. Noah tilted his head, a knot tightening in his stomach. Where were you? He silently decided to confront Brent.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Noah maneuvered himself silently, standing a few steps behind Brent’s shorter stature. He was leaning against the counter, deep in conversation with some random dude whose name Noah didn’t care to know. Eavesdropping came naturally to him; he would justify anything if it meant looking out for you.

His heart raced when Brent’s laughter cut through the air. “Yeah, I was about to get laid,” he sneered, “until I saw her mangled scars. who the fuck would want to touch that?”

The breath in Noah’s lungs turned hot and escaped his body, choking him as Brent's words sank in. His fists clenched tightly, and he felt the world around him shatter. He could almost hear your voice, the way you’d always brushed off your past with a smile, how brave you were in the face of your demons. But Brent—he had the audacity to belittle you. That was it. Brent had fucked up.

Suddenly, the current conversation shifted; the guy noticed Noah standing there, confusion flickering across his face. It alerted Brent, and he turned around, the mocking grin fading as he saw the fury etched on Noah’s features.

“What’s your problem, man?” Brent started, but Noah didn’t give him a chance to finish. With swift motion, Noah reared back and swung, his fist connecting hard with Brent’s face. The impact sent Brent flying backward, crashing against the counter, glass bottles tumbling to the ground in a cacophony of shattering chaos.

Loud gasps erupted from the partygoers outside the kitchen, a wave of shock sweeping through the crowd. Brent scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his lip, rage igniting his eyes. But it was too late to back down. Noah launched himself at Brent, tackling him to the ground, a flurry of punches raining down on him, fueled by the anger and pain he felt for you.

“Get off me, you psycho!” Brent shouted, trying to push Noah away. The struggle was chaotic, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and outrage. Just as Noah readied another blow, Jolly charged in, pulling Noah back with surprising strength.

“Noah, stop!” Jolly shouted, his grip firm as he held Noah at bay. “What happened!”

Noah was seething, panting heavily as he glared down at Brent, who was trying to push himself back up, shaking with anger and disbelief. “Get the fuck out of my house,” Noah growled, his voice low and menacing.

Brent’s eyes widened, the cockiness draining from his face. He looked around, seeing the eyes of the few witnesses, the trepidation in Jolly’s grip, and the fire behind Noah’s glare.

With a rage still shimmering in his veins, Brent muttered something under his breath, stumbling out of the kitchen and pushing past a few confused guests. As the tension dissipated, the music seemed to swell once again, an unsettling backdrop to the upheaval that had just occurred.

Noah, freed from Jolly’s hold, took a moment to catch his breath, the adrenaline of the fight slowly beginning to wane, replaced by a deep concern for you. He didn’t care what anyone else thought of the scene he just created; all he could think of was you and how he could protect you from people like Brent. The real battle would be making sure you knew how much you were worth, scars and all.

The steam curled and twisted upwards like tendrils of a ghost, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and moisture, yet I felt anything but comforted. My sobs echoed against the bathroom tiles, reverberating with the music of the party that throbbed beneath me. Laughter and music pulsed through the floorboards, but they were alien sounds in this moment, distant and muffled, a reminder of a world I felt unfit to join.

With trembling hands, I wiped my tears away, attempting to compose myself. “Y/n?” A soft voice echoed through the bathroom, as my breath hitched. “I’m fine,” I called out weakly, trying to sound more convincing than I felt, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. Just as I braced for another wave of tears, the shower door opened and Noah stepped in.

his clothes still on, clinging to him like a second skin. His arms wrapped around me, and I melted against him, the warmth radiating from his body bringing some semblance of solace. I could feel the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. The gentle thump soothed me as I softly cried into his chest, his hand combing through my damp hair, as if he could weave away my pain with each passing stroke.

It took a moment to gather my composure, but when I finally pulled back to look at him, I noticed the water swirling around our feet, tinted a soft pink. Panic flared within me as I glanced down at his hands, noticing the cuts marring his knuckles. “Noah, what happened?” My heart raced at the thought of him getting hurt.

His response was almost too casual, a hint of bravado underneath the weight of his words. “I beat Brent’s fucking ass.” The smile that flickered onto my face was unexpected, born from a blend of relief and admiration. I laid my forehead against him, the warmth of his body a protective barrier against the world below.

Noah was gentle, taking the shampoo from the rack and lathering it into my hair, his fingertips pressing against my scalp in a way that felt simultaneously tender and powerful. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, letting him wash away not just the remnants of the night, but the anguish that had been clawing at my heart.

He grabbed my loofah, and bodywash, bathing me next. Sending me back 4 years ago, when he did this for me everyday. Once the water turned off, he wrapped a towel around me, the fabric covering me in warmth as he stripped off his wet clothes, every inch of my cheeks heating more at the sight. He returned, focused, practical, and somehow that made my heart swell. Lifting me effortlessly onto the counter, he took the cotton pad and my makeup remover, carefully cleaning away the smudged remnants of the night while stealing glances at me, gauging my reactions.

The simplicity of his gestures, the kindness radiating from each one, made my insides flutter. He was mending not just the mess on my face but the turmoil inside me too. When he disappeared momentarily and returned with one of his old t-shirts and a pair of my underwear, I felt a warmth. He pressed the towel into my skin, drying me off with an intense focus that made me feel seen, cherished.

He pulled the tshirt over my head, before slipping my underwear up my legs. I carefully lifted my hips from the counter, so he could pull them up over my hips. The deep scary feelings I’ve tried to bury for the past few years, slowly making their appearance.

Once I was dressed, he took my hairbrush and began to detangle my hair with the ease, each stroke a reminder of how he understood me, how he always knew how to take care of me when the world felt too heavy. I watched him in the mirror—his brow furrowed with concentration, his lips pressed together in determination.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice softer than the droplets of water still clinging to the tiles. He met my gaze, kindness dancing in his eyes.

“No need,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “I’ll always be here for you.” The thudding of my heart, beat wildly against my chest. Our eyes stuck in a heated stare down, waiting to see which of caved first. His hand slowly lifted to cup my cheek. His thumb softly rubbed against my cheek, as he leaned in the tiniest bit closer.

“Noah..” I breathed, my voice just above a whisper. The uncertainty that once filled his brown eyes, were now gone. Filled with a darkness, that I was more than ready to fall into. His lips finally connected to mine in a simple kiss. Almost as if testing the waters.

He pulled away for only a moment, before his other hand slob into my hair, pulling me in for another kiss. He didn’t hold back, as he squeezed himself between my thighs, attacking my lips with so much force. His tongue entered my mouth, as he groaned at the taste of me.

I whimpered against his lips, wanting, needing more of him. He pulled away again, resting his forehead against mine as we both panted. “I love you so fucking much y/n, and I’m tired of fighting it.” He shook his head, before pecking my lips again.

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his naked waist pulling him flush against me. “I love you too Noah.” I smiled softly up at him. He grabbed my thighs, wrapping them around him, before lifting me off the counter, and walking us over the threshold back into my room.

He softly dropped me onto the bed, as grabbed him hand pulling him on top of me. I grabbed the towel still wrapped around him, and pulled it loose. He smirked down at me, before reaching up and pushing my hair off my face. “Are you sure about this?”

My eyes flew back up to his before I nodded my head. “I’m positive Noah….please.” Without another word, he leaned down catching my lips into another kiss. As he kissed me, his hand trailed up my thigh, pushing it back and spreading me open.

His tongue slid in my mouth, as his fingers carefully moved my panties over before sinking two of them into me. I moaned against his mouth, as he pulled away smiling. “You sound so pretty baby.” His voice was low, and rough. I whimpered, as I softly bucked my hips into it.

After a few more thrusts he pulled his fingers out, sticking them in his mouth pulling them out with a groan. “And you taste even better.” He lifted himself off of me, grabbing the hem of my shirt.

He slowly pulled it off as I laid underneath him, a rush of warmth and trepidation surging through me. The lamp light in my room, casted a golden hue on everything in the room. It felt as if the world outside had ceased to exist—a serene bubble where only the two of us resided.

Even though Noah had seen my scars a million times before, an insidious wave of insecurity washed over me. As his gaze drifted over the pink lines that traced my skin, I couldn’t help but hold my breath.

A shaky exhale escaped my lips, a reflection of my nerves. Noah, always attuned to my feelings, noticed immediately. His eyes softened, filled with a understanding that spoke volumes. He leaned down, and before I could fully process what was happening, I felt the warmth of his tongue glide along the long scar that ran down my chest between my breasts. An unexpected jolt of pleasure coursed through me, mingled with vulnerability.

He continued his descent, his lips softly placing tender kisses upon each of my scars. With every touch, he seemed to dissolve the doubts that gnawed at the edges of my mind. I could feel each light brush of his lips, each gentle kiss, healing parts of me I thought were beyond repair.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against my skin, his voice barely above a breath. The words lingered in the air, wrapping around my heart like a soothing balm. It surprised me how true they felt, even after what happened tonight. He looked up, deep into my eyes, his sincerity gleaming like a beacon in the dim lighting.

My pulse raced, and from deep within me, the knots of self-doubt began to unravel. Noah had a way of making me feel seen, as if he could peer into my soul and appreciate every scar etched into it. Each imperfection, every faint line was an emblem of survival, milestones of resilience—but in that moment, they felt less like burdens and more like beautiful parts of my story.

He returned to my lips, kissing me softly, allowing the heat and intimacy of our connection to wash over us. I melted into him, giving in to the moment, and for the first time, I felt as if I could shed my insecurities, if only for a while.

He grabbed the sides of my underwear, pulling them off. He laid back onto me before kissing me hotly, and taking no time to slowly push into me. I gasped, digging my nails into his back at the burning stretch. He grabbed my jaw softly bringing my eyes to his. “Are you okay baby?”

I nodded, lifting my head to kiss his lips. I softly bit on his bottom lip, pulling on it softly. He grunted, as his hips roughly snapped against mine. “Please Noah…” I whined, pulling him into me. He lifted up, caging my head in between his arms. He stared down at me, as he pounded into me mercilessly.

“Fuck baby you feel so good” he groaned, above me. The pleasure on his face made me feral. I dug my heel into the mattress, using all my force to flip our bodies over. His eyes widened in shock, as huge grin formed on his lips. “Fuck baby, you gonna ride me?” He almost whimpered.

My pussy throbbed at his words. Having my big tatted mainly best friend whimpering underneath was not something I ever imagined, but am so fucking lucky to experience. I leaned down, trailing kisses down his throat while he groaned. I leaned back up, grabbing his dick, and hovering back over it.

We both let out low groans, as I sank back down. “Fuck Noah you’re so big.” I whined, slowly rocking my hips back forth. “Yeah?” He breathed, gripping my hips tightly. I nodded my head, placing my hands against his chest.

He groaned at my sluggish pace, as I smirked down at him, enjoying my teasing game. After a few minutes, he was done with my teasing. His hand shot up, wrapping around my throat. He pulled me down until our noses were touching, as a cocky smile made its way to his face.

“You really thought I was gonna let you take control?” He growled, brushing his lips against mine. “I-..” my sentence was cut short, as his hips fucked up into me hard and fast. My nails dug into his chest, gripping on for dear life.

His fingers tightened around my throat as he finally connected our lips into a sloppy kiss. Lips, tongues, and teeth clashing. He pushed me back, making me sit up straight on top of him. He reached up, shoving two fingers in my mouth, as I moaned around them, sucking on them hard.

He slowly slid them out, running them down my throat, down my chest and stopping to squeeze my tit. “C’mon baby. You gonna cum for me?” He panted, continuing his decent until his fingers reached my swollen clit.

I threw my head back with a moan, in love with how he was making me feel. I leaned back, placing my hands right above his knees behind me, as I continued riding him. “Fuuuuck…” I groaned as his fingers sped up.

I felt my orgasm rising with each thrust of his hips, and stroke of his fingers. “I’m gonna cum.” I whined, looking down at him. The sight was beautiful. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were parted, as he released ragged breaths.

“C’mon baby give it to me. Cum on my dick.” He groaned finally looking up at me. As soon as we made eye contact, my orgasm shook my body. “Good fucking girl.” He grunted, as he fucked me through it. I huffed, falling onto his chest as thrusted a few more times finally releasing into me with a groan.

We laid there for what felt like hours, catching our breaths just holding each other. He placed a kiss on top of my head, before gently pushing me off onto the bed beside him. He reached down grabbing the towel he wore earlier, and cleaned us off.

Once we were clean he grabbed my comforter, pulling it over us. He pulled me into his arms, as I snuggled deep into his chest. “I love you so much y/n. You’re the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. I will spend every minute proving that to you from now on. Please don’t let some dick head make you think differently.”

I felt my eyes well up with tears again, as I placed a gentle kiss to the middle of his chest. “I love you.”

[mononijikayu]

tears are getting sober – gojo satoru

With a heavy heart, Gojo Satoru began to speak, his words a balm for the wounds that still lingered within him. He told you about his life over the past decade, the trials and tribulations he had faced, and the moments of joy that had flickered amidst the darkness. He talks as though you were still here. As though you were still alive. He teases one moment and he laughs about a memory the next. You were never dead to him. Not for one second in these past ten years did he get used to talking about you in the past tense. He thinks his brain can’t ever process the thought. He could never understand it. And he has come to accept it, after all this time. Nothing about it would ever come to be the past. You will always be his present. You will always be his future. He did not doubt that one second.

GENRE: Hidden Inventory Arc - JJK 0, 2006/2007 - 2017;

WARNING/s: Angst, One Sided Romance, Pining, Grief, Mourning, Death, Depiction of Trauma, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Grief, Depiction of Blood, Depiction of Corpses, Depiction of Injury, Reminiscing;

masterlist

listen: tears are getting sober by victoria

note: i've been thinking about this for the past few days and i wrote this while on my online law class. this is the satoru pov of ghost of you!!! enjoy it!!! i hope you have a good day, i love you all!!!

HE THINKS LOVING SOMEONE IS A TOUGH JOB. As Satoru approached his twenty-eighth year, with the threshold of twenty-nine looming ever closer, he found himself grappling with the complexities of love and human connection. It wasn't that he didn't love others—of course he did. He was a human being, after all, with the same innate desires and needs as anyone else. Love was not just a luxury for him; it was a necessity, an essential part of his existence.

Yet, despite this fundamental longing for love and connection, Satoru couldn't shake the feeling of distance that seemed to separate him from those around him. Even in the company of close friends like Shoko and Yaga-sensei, he couldn't escape the sense of being an outsider, a solitary figure navigating a world that had grown increasingly unfamiliar.

He remembered a time when things had been different, when he had felt more human, more connected to those around him. There had been moments of genuine intimacy and camaraderie, moments when he had been able to express himself freely and without reservation. But as the years passed and the weight of responsibility bore down upon him, those moments grew fewer and farther between, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

Now, on the cusp of another year, Satoru couldn't help but wonder if he would ever find his way back to that sense of connection, that feeling of being truly human. It was a longing that gnawed at him, a yearning for something he feared he might never recapture. And yet, deep down, he held onto the hope that someday, somehow, he would once again find himself among those who understood him, who accepted him for who he truly was.

Because during that time, he had a choice.

Because at the time, he can see Suguru smile.

Because at the time, you were still smiling alive.

There was never a moment when Satoru didn't love you. It was an all-encompassing feeling that seemed to permeate every facet of his being, impossible to ignore or suppress. Even if he had tried, he knew deep down that his love for you would persist, unwavering and unyielding. It was the kind of love that consumed him entirely, the kind that defied reason and logic.

As he reflected on his feelings, Satoru couldn't help but marvel at the power of young love. It was a force unlike any other, capable of transforming even the most mundane moments into something extraordinary. Even now, as he stood on the precipice of adulthood, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to you, the center of his universe.

He vividly remembered the day he first laid eyes on you, a moment etched into his memory with startling clarity. It was a day like any other, until it wasn't. Everything changed the instant you walked into his life, your presence casting a vibrant spectrum of colors upon his once monochrome world.

The sight of you, adorned in your dark blue uniform with that bright yellow hoodie, was like a revelation to him. Suddenly, the world seemed to burst into bloom, vibrant and full of life. The delicate petals of chrysanthemums mirrored the rosy hue of your cheeks, while the golden rays of the sun felt warmer when filtered through your radiant smile.

In that moment, the confines of his existence melted away, replaced by a sense of boundless possibility and wonder. The four corners of the room no longer felt suffocating; instead, they expanded to accommodate the enormity of his newfound emotions.

From that day forward, you became his guiding light, his source of inspiration and joy. Every smile, every wave, every word exchanged between you was a testament to the profound connection you both shared. And as Satoru gazed upon you, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the color you had brought into his life, forever altering the course of his destiny.

The mission briefing room was abuzz with excitement as Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you gathered around the table, eagerly awaiting your first assignment as a team. Yaga-sensei had to work hard to stop the gossiping from all of you. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, each of you eager to prove yourselves in the field. Much so, he and Suguru—who realized that they were polar opposites of the other, began to think of each other as the only rivals worth having. Satoru thinks he can one up the guy with the bangs. He could do it properly too.

As the mission details were laid out before you, Satoru couldn't help but steal glances in your direction, his heart racing with a mixture of nerves and excitement. You and Shoko were conversing about how best to provide support and defense while Suguru busied himself with asking Yaga–sensei about the best ways to conduct offense campaigns.

He had been looking forward to this moment ever since he had learned that you would be joining their team, and now that it was finally here, he found himself feeling more determined than ever to make a good impression.

With the mission parameters set, the four of you set out into the night, the cool breeze of autumn stirring the leaves as you made your way through the city streets. The mission itself went off without a hitch, each of you working together seamlessly to accomplish your objectives.

You and Suguru both gained new cursed creatures, which made you quite happy. You like having good friends in these creatures, you said. Somehow it reminded you of Pokemon. He didn’t say anything, he liked Digimon too. But he supposed, if you ask him one day—he’d watch Pokemon for you.

As you made your way back to Jujutsu High, all of you were too exhausted to come discuss any dinner plans. Shoko suggested you guys stop by a convenient store. This is the one of few times Satoru’s ever been to a convenient store.

Before, he had been far more confused than anything else, no one would expect the head of the Gojo Clan to know about the outer world beyond what he’s been told. But now that he has experienced it, he found his way around it. It felt like a comfort, he supposed, that he’s able to do this at all. 

Satoru found himself beside you, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Shoko was by the counter, pushing a fake ID with a grin on her face. Suguru was just behind her, his face unimpressed about her rule breaking in order to buy some cigarettes. 

"Hey," Satoru said, his voice soft as he fell into step beside you. "Great job back there. You really held your own out there."

You returned his smile, feeling a sense of pride swell within you at his words. "Thanks, Gojo–kun," you replied, your voice warm with gratitude. "I couldn't have done it without your guidance."

Satoru's heart skipped a beat at your words, a rush of warmth flooding through him at the sight of your smile. “You know you don’t have to call me so formally. Aren’t we friends?”

You look up to him again, away from the sandwich section. You blink at him. “Hm?”

“You call Geto and Ieiri by their first names.” 

“And?”

“Why not me?” 

You blink again, and then you laugh at him. He could feel more warmth emit through his body. Your laughter was such a beautiful sound. Far more gorgeous than the temple bells he heard in all his life. You were so beautiful. 

“You could just ask me, you know.” You replied to him, smiling at him. “If that’s what you like, Gojo–kun–”

“Satoru,”

“Satoru–kun,” You corrected yourself, eyeing his happy gaze. “Then you should call me by my name too, you know?”

His lips slowly quivered into a smile, his dark peering shades lowering to reveal his eyes. “You have yourself a deal!”

As you browse the aisles together, you both share your opinions about different types of food. You liked a lot of savory dishes, Satoru loved really sweet things — which you had in common, in a sense. But well, you preferred dark chocolate to his sweet milk choco. You liked matcha and coffee more than you liked choco and strawberry milk.

But you both expressed a good love for mochi ice cream. You told Satoru that you’ve had it since you were a kid and you’ve never looked back since. Satoru’s continually eaten it since he discovered it a couple of months ago.  

You got everything you wanted by then, Satoru insisting he should pay for your basket even though you were arguing with him that you had enough money to cover your expenses. But that had become a bad idea because then Shoko had goaded him with ‘What about us, Satoru?’ followed by Suguru’s lips quivering in a Cheshire grin in the back. Satoru did not care. He thinks he could pay for all your meals for the rest of his life and he would be happy — because you pouted at him that way. And it was adorable.

Satoru couldn't help but feel a sense of nervous excitement building within him. As you all walked towards the train station, he started reaching for his own plastic bag as he kept up to your pace. He reached out to grab a box, offering it to you with a small smile. You looked at him as you both stopped for a moment, Shoko and Suguru lost in their conversation as they walked in front of you both.

"I thought you might like these," He said, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. “I didn’t know which brand you liked best. But this is my favorite. Consider it a reward for a job well done."

Your orbs shone like stars. “You didn’t have to, Satoru–kun.”

“I bought this for you.”  He tells her, tenderly. “You can enjoy it.”

You accepted the box slowly with a grateful smile, your eyes meeting him as you thanked him. In that moment, Satoru felt his heart swell with affection, the warmth of your smile sending a rush of happiness coursing through him. You opened the box and looked at him and grinned. You pull out one mochi container and give it to him. It was his turn to blink.

“It’s not fun to eat it alone.” You grinned wider, taking one and putting the box inside your plastic bag. You remove it from the container and start munching into the mochi. You looked at him encouragingly. “Go on, Satoru–kun!”

As the two of you made your way back to Jujutsu High, the taste of victory and the sweetness of mochi ice cream lingering on your lips, Satoru couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement for the future. And as he stole glances in your direction, he knew that this was only the beginning of something truly special.

Satoru sat alone in his room, a single mochi resting delicately between his fingers as he stared off into the distance. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves outside his window and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on his desk. But in the silence, his thoughts were consumed by one thing and one thing only—you.

As he brought the mochi to his lips, his mind wandered to memories of you, your laughter echoing in his ears like a sweet melody. He remembered the way your eyes would light up with joy whenever you indulged in your favorite treat, the happiness radiating from you like a beacon of light in his life.

But now, as he savored the familiar taste of the mochi, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The once sweet flavor seemed to have lost its luster, the simple pleasure of indulging in his favorite snack now tinged with a bitter aftertaste.

With a sigh, Satoru set the mochi aside, his appetite suddenly vanished as he found himself consumed by thoughts of you. He missed the warmth of your smile, the sound of your laughter, the way you would brighten up his darkest days with just a simple gesture or word.

Closing his eyes, Satoru allowed himself to bask in the memories of your time together, his heart heavy with longing. He missed you more than words could express, and in that moment, he realized just how much he craved your presence in his life.

As the minutes ticked by, Satoru remained lost in thought, his mind drifting back to the memories of you. And as he sat alone in his room, the taste of the mochi still lingering on his lips, he couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness gnawing at his heart—a longing for the sweetness of your presence that he feared he may never taste again.

As Satoru reflected on the passage of time, he couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the days gone by. It had been a decade since you left, yet in his heart, it felt as though it were just yesterday. Time may have marched on, but for him, it would always be 2007—a year etched into his memory like a precious gem.

In his mind's eye, he could still see you as clearly as if you were standing before him, your laughter echoing in his ears and your smile lighting up his world. Despite the years that had passed, he knew that a part of him would always be with you, forever frozen in that moment in time.

And he wasn't alone in his longing. Suguru, too, harbored a deep affection for you, his heartache mirroring Satoru's own. They had both loved you fiercely, with a passion that transcended time and distance. And even now, a decade later, the memories of you still lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what once was and what could have been.

As Satoru gazed out at the world beyond, he couldn't help but wonder if you ever thought of them, if you ever longed for the warmth of their embrace as much as they longed for yours. In his heart, he knew that some bonds were unbreakable, woven together by the threads of love and longing that refused to be severed by the passage of time.

And so, as the years stretched out before him, Satoru held onto the memories of you, cherishing them like precious treasures. For in his heart, he knew that no matter where life took him, a part of him would always belong to you, just as a part of you would always belong to him.

And just as Suguru cursed you back to life,

You left and cursed Satoru back to life too.

He would never love anyone like he loved you.

He lived, just as Suguru does, to remember you.

Because that’s all he could ever truly do.

HE WAS SURE YOU WERE THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE. As Satoru wrestled with his emotions, a tumultuous storm raged within him, tearing at the seams of his heart with every passing moment. He knew better than to say anything to you, for he believed that you deserved nothing but boundless happiness. Yet, a part of him couldn't help but wonder if you would ever find true happiness with him, knowing the burden of his past and the shadows that loomed over his future.

In his eyes, you were a free spirit, a radiant gem in a world filled with darkness and uncertainty. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing you trapped in the confines of his world, shackled by the political machinations of the clans and the dangers that lurked at every corner. Even if you were to reciprocate his feelings, he feared that you would be sacrificing too much of yourself in the process.

The specter of his father's untimely demise and his mother's constant struggles loomed large in Satoru's mind, a grim reminder of the dangers that surrounded him. He knew that he could protect you, that he was the strongest among them. But he couldn't shake the feeling that you deserved so much more—a life free from the shadows that haunted his own existence.

And so, Satoru resigned himself to loving you from afar, content to cherish you as a friend and companion. He found solace in the knowledge that he could still keep you in his life, even if it meant keeping his own feelings hidden deep within his heart. For him, your happiness was paramount, and if loving you from a distance was the price he had to pay, then so be it.

When you confided in him about your feelings for Suguru, Satoru felt no malice or jealousy in his heart. Instead, he embraced your words with a sense of understanding and acceptance, knowing that your happiness was all that truly mattered. And as he watched you walk away, his heart heavy with unspoken longing, he couldn't help but silently wish for your happiness, even if it meant sacrificing his own.

You four were sent on a mission again — not too much of a hassle, considering it was just a minor deity and no one was injured, which Shoko seemed pleased about. She and Suguru were getting the camp site’s benches ready, so you all could eat dinner together. It was rare to be in such places, so you all decided that this was an opportune moment to eat some of the extra packed meals you brought along.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the tranquil waters of the lake as you and Satoru sat together on the grassy bank, the gentle breeze ruffling your hair. It was a peaceful afternoon, the perfect setting for a heart-to-heart conversation.

As you gazed out at the shimmering water, a sense of nervousness fluttered in your chest, your thoughts consumed by the confession you had been holding onto for so long. Taking a deep breath, you turned to Satoru, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Satoru, there's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice hesitant as you searched for the right words. "I... I think I've fallen in love with Suguru."

Satoru's expression softened at your words, his eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and understanding. He had suspected as much, yet hearing you say it out loud still came as a shock. But despite the pang of heartache that echoed in his chest, he knew that your happiness was paramount.

"Really?" Satoru replied, his voice gentle as he reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "That's wonderful news, you know? Suguru is a great guy, and I can see why you've fallen for him."

Your heart swelled with gratitude at Satoru's supportive words, a sense of relief washing over you as you realized that you had made the right decision in confiding in him. His encouragement gave you the strength you needed to finally take the next step in your journey.

"Yeah, he really is," you replied, a smile spreading across your face as you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. "I've been thinking about telling him how I feel, and I think today might be the day."

Satoru nodded in agreement, his eyes filled with genuine warmth as he squeezed your shoulder gently. "You should go for it," he encouraged, his voice filled with sincerity. "Life's too short to hold back your feelings. And who knows? Maybe Suguru feels the same way about you."

With Satoru's words of encouragement ringing in your ears, you felt a renewed sense of determination wash over you. Taking a deep breath, you stood up from the grassy bank, ready to seize the moment and finally confess your feelings to Suguru.

"Thanks, Satoru," you said, turning to face him with a grateful smile. "I couldn't have done this without you."

As you walked away, the weight of your confession lingered in the air, casting a shadow over Satoru's heart. He watched you go with a bittersweet smile, his own feelings swirling beneath the surface like a tempestuous sea. Every step you took towards Suguru felt like a dagger through his heart, each moment a painful reminder of what could have been.

But despite the ache in his chest, Satoru knew that he had to push his own feelings aside for the sake of your happiness. He had always been there for you, offering unwavering support and encouragement whenever you needed it. And now, as you embarked on this new chapter of your life, he couldn't bear to let his own pain stand in the way.

So he plastered on a smile, masking the turmoil within as he watched you disappear from view. Deep down, he longed to hold you back, to tell you how he truly felt. But he knew that now wasn't the time—not when your heart was set on someone else.

Instead, Satoru forced himself to focus on the positives, finding solace in the knowledge that you were pursuing your own happiness. He reminded himself that he had played a part in helping you find the courage to confess your feelings to Suguru, and for that, he felt a sense of pride.

But as he turned away from the lake, the ache in his heart remained, a constant reminder of the love he had kept hidden for so long. And though he knew that he would always cherish the memories of your time together, he couldn't help but wonder what could have been if he had been brave enough to confess his own feelings to you.

‘No,’ He thought to himself as he took a deep breath. ‘It’s better this way. There’s no one I trust more than him. Suguru would be good. It’s better this way.’

As Satoru grappled with his inner turmoil, he often sought solace in the mantra that he had no regrets. Yet, as he reflected on the choices he had made, a nagging sense of remorse crept into his heart. He couldn't shake the feeling that he should have told you the truth, should have confessed his feelings before it was too late.

In hindsight, he couldn't help but wonder how things might have been different if he had been brave enough to lay bare his heart to you. Perhaps you would still be alive, by his side, sharing in the joys and sorrows of life together. But now, as he looked back on the past, he knew that dwelling on such thoughts was futile.

It was too late for "what ifs" and regrets now. The past was set in stone, immutable and unchangeable. All he could do was carry the weight of his unspoken feelings and forge ahead, determined to honor your memory in the best way he knew how.

And so, despite the ache in his heart and the burden of his silent regrets, Satoru resolved to live each day to the fullest, cherishing the memories of your time together and carrying your spirit with him wherever he went. For in the end, he knew that dwelling on the past would only serve to hold him back from embracing the future that lay ahead.

You were too far for him to reach and too far for him to love.

You were like that when you were alive and now even in death.

But he thinks he will never love anyone else as he had loved you.

In this life and in the next and the other one after that, it’s only you.

In that next life, he hopes that he could finally tell you everything. 

HE MEMORIZED EVERY MOMENT HE HAD WITH YOU. As Satoru's mind replayed the harrowing scene of finding you that fateful day, the vivid imagery seared into his memory with agonizing clarity. Your blood, a stark contrast against the dark cavern walls, painted a gruesome picture of the tragedy that had unfolded. It coated the steep stairs, pooling around your lifeless form, a haunting testament to the violence that had taken place.

As Satoru stood frozen amidst the horror of the scene before him, the weight of the moment bore down upon him like a suffocating blanket, threatening to crush him beneath its unbearable heaviness. The sight and smell of your blood, mingled with Riko's, assaulted his senses, leaving him reeling with a nauseating mixture of shock and despair. 

Your blood, brighter than any ruby stone he had ever seen, stained the ground beneath him, a vivid reminder of the tragedy that had unfolded in the depths of the cavern. It coated his shoes, a tangible testament to the violence that had torn through your lives with merciless force.

But amidst the horror, there was a poignant sense of sacrifice and bravery that lingered in the air. You clung to Riko with every last bit of strength and warmth you possessed, a selfless act of protection that spoke volumes of your innate goodness. Satoru had always known you to be a good person, perhaps too good for the cruel and unforgiving world of Jujutsu sorcery. He had feared for your safety, knowing that your tender heart could easily become a target in a world devoid of mercy.

The realization that you had died protecting another, that you had given your life to save someone else, sent a shiver down Satoru's spine. Died. Lived. The words echoed in his mind, their meaning lost in the unfathomable depths of grief and disbelief. They were both past tense, both irrevocably done, leaving him grappling with the unbearable finality of your loss.

In that moment, Satoru felt the overwhelming urge to scream, to lash out against the cruel injustice of it all. But as he stood frozen in place, his body trembling with suppressed emotion, he knew that there was nothing he could do to change what had happened. All he could do was bear witness to the devastating aftermath of your sacrifice, haunted by the knowledge that he had lost you forever.

For Satoru, who had always known himself to be the honored one, a god among men, the scene before him was a brutal awakening. Despite his divinity, he stood immobilized, his mind unable to process the enormity of the loss before him. You lay cold and lifeless, your once bright eyes now devoid of the light that had captivated him so.

As he knelt beside you, his heart heavy with grief, Satoru felt the weight of his own mortality pressing down upon him. In that moment, he shed the facade of godhood, allowing himself to embrace the raw humanity of his emotions. Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he mourned the loss of everything good in his life, stolen from him in the blink of an eye.

And as he grieved over your lifeless form, Satoru realized the bitter truth that even his godlike powers were powerless to bring you back from the brink of death. In that moment of profound sorrow, he was just a man, left to mourn the loss of the one he had loved so dearly, forever haunted by the knowledge that he could never bring you back to life.

As the days passed and the reality of your absence settled in, Satoru couldn't help but notice the profound impact your death had on Suguru. It was as if a darkness had descended upon his once bright and vibrant friend, twisting him into something unrecognizable. Satoru watched in horror as Suguru's grief morphed into madness, consuming him with a relentless fury that knew no bounds.

It was Suguru who had led the charge to burn the village to the ground, a devastating act of vengeance fueled by the pain of losing you. And as the flames engulfed the once peaceful streets, Satoru felt a sense of helplessness wash over him, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop the chaos and destruction that Suguru had unleashed.

But perhaps the most haunting moment came when Suguru turned to him, eyes burning with a fierce intensity, and posed a question that would haunt Satoru for years to come. "Are you the strongest because you're Gojo Satoru?" Suguru's voice was like a whisper in the darkness, his words laden with a weight that Satoru could hardly bear. "Or are you Gojo Satoru because you're the strongest?"

It was a question that cut to the core of his identity, forcing Satoru to confront the very essence of who he was. And as he grappled with the weight of Suguru's words, a sense of panic began to claw its way up from the depths of his soul.

In the solitude of his bedroom, Satoru was overcome by a wave of overwhelming emotion, his chest tightening with each labored breath as tears streamed down his face. He cried out for you, his voice choked with anguish and longing, as he reached out for the comfort that could never be found.

In that moment of profound despair, Satoru realized just how deeply he had loved you, and how your absence had left a void in his heart that could never be filled. And as he lay there, trembling and broken, he knew that he would spend the rest of his days haunted by the memory of your loss, forever yearning for the one he could never have again.

The weight of his grief was like an anchor, dragging Satoru down into the depths of despair. With each passing day, the pain of your absence grew more unbearable, a constant reminder of all that he had lost. The thought of leaving to find you crossed his mind more than once, a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating grip of his sorrow. But every time he entertained the idea, he was met with the haunting memory of your eyes, filled with judgment, disapproval, and above all, hurt.

In those moments, Satoru realized that he could never bear to be the cause of your pain. The mere thought of seeing the disappointment in your gaze was enough to send a shiver down his spine, a stark reminder of the love and compassion that had always flowed between you. He couldn't bear to imagine you grieving for him, carrying the burden of his loss on your shoulders.

No, Satoru knew that he couldn't allow himself to wallow in self-pity and despair, not when your memory was still so fresh in his mind. He owed it to you to honor your legacy, to live his life in a way that would make you proud. Despite the overwhelming grief that threatened to consume him, he resolved to carry on, to strive for nothing less than your happiness.

For in the end, that was all that truly mattered to him—to see you smiling, to hear your laughter, to know that you were safe and content. And so, with renewed determination, Satoru vowed to carry your memory with him always, a guiding light in the darkness of his grief.

And so as those tears dried each and every day.

Your picture was tucked away in his inner pockets.

He thinks he had to live on, so that you could live on.

He thinks that he stays alive for you, no matter what.

SATORU THINKS HE REMEMBERS YOU LIKE THIS. On that rare day off, when the usual hustle and bustle of Jujutsu missions seemed to fade into the background, you and Satoru found yourselves with an unexpected opportunity to spend time together. With Suguru and Shoko occupied elsewhere and Haibara and Nanami tied up with their own commitments, it was just the two of you left to fend for yourselves.

As you pleaded with Satoru to accompany you on a day of exploration, he initially feigned reluctance, claiming he had other things to attend to. But your persistence wore down his defenses, and soon enough, he found himself agreeing to join you on your adventure.

Despite his protests, Satoru couldn't deny the excitement that bubbled within him at the prospect of spending the day with you. Your infectious enthusiasm and boundless energy were like magnets, drawing him irresistibly towards you.

Dressed in vibrant pastel hues that seemed to complement your radiant personality, you looked utterly captivating in Satoru's eyes. He couldn't help but feel his heart skip a beat at the sight of you, a rush of warmth flooding his chest as he marveled at your beauty.

As you set out together, exploring the nooks and crannies of the world outside the confines of the Jujutsu world, Satoru found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you. Every laugh, every smile, every twinkle in your eye seemed to etch itself into his memory, imprinting itself upon his heart in indelible ink.

Despite the uncertainty and chaos that often defined their lives as Jujutsu sorcerers, in that moment, everything seemed perfect. It was just the two of them, lost in the magic of the day, reveling in each other's company and the simple joy of being alive. And as Satoru watched you, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the precious moments they shared together, and the gift of your presence in his life.

As you and Satoru ventured deeper into the botanical garden, the serenity of the surroundings enveloped you like a comforting embrace. Each step you took seemed to lead you further away from the chaos of the world outside, immersing you in a tranquil oasis of greenery and blossoms.

The air was redolent with the delicate fragrance of flowers in full bloom, their perfumed scents mingling together to create a symphony of olfactory delight. Every inhalation fills your lungs with the sweet perfume of roses, lilies, and jasmine, transporting you to a realm of pure sensory bliss.

Sunlight filtered through the lush canopy overhead, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow upon the verdant foliage below. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze provided a soothing soundtrack to your leisurely stroll, accompanied by the occasional chirp of a distant bird or the soft hum of buzzing insects.

As you meandered along the winding paths, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and wonder at the beauty that surrounded you. Vibrant bursts of color greeted your eyes at every turn, as though nature itself were putting on a dazzling display just for you.

You reached out to touch the velvety petals of a blooming rose, marveling at the delicate intricacy of its design. Satoru watched you with a fond smile, his own eyes alight with appreciation for the natural splendor that surrounded you.

Together, you continued to explore the botanical garden, each moment filled with a sense of peace and tranquility that seemed to wash away the cares of the world. In this enchanted sanctuary, time seemed to stand still, allowing you to savor every precious moment spent in each other's company amidst the beauty of nature.

As you strolled hand in hand, Satoru couldn't help but notice the way your eyes lit up with wonder at the sight of each new flower you encountered. He found himself captivated by the joy reflected in your expression, a stark contrast to the darkness that often clouded his own thoughts.

At one point, you paused in front of a bed of sunflowers, your favorite flowers, and exclaimed in delight at their cheerful appearance. Satoru watched you with a fond smile, taking in the way the golden petals seemed to dance in the gentle breeze, illuminated by the warm rays of the sun.

"What is it about sunflowers that you love so much?" he asked, genuinely curious to hear your thoughts. He admired the way your face lit up as you spoke about the flowers, your passion and enthusiasm shining through with every word.

You turned to him, a soft smile playing on your lips as you explained, "Sunflowers always remind me of hope and resilience. No matter how dark things may seem, they always find a way to turn towards the sun, seeking out its warmth and light. I find that incredibly inspiring."

Satoru listened intently, his heart swelling with warmth at the sincerity of your words. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the botanical garden and the company of someone he cherished deeply, he couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him.

As you continued your leisurely stroll through the garden, Satoru found himself feeling grateful for the simple moments of joy that you brought into his life. In your presence, he felt a glimmer of hope and optimism, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still beauty to be found in the world. And for that, he was truly grateful.

In those ten years, not a day had gone by without Gojo Satoru thinking of you, longing for the warmth of your smile and the gentle touch of your hand. Your absence weighed heavily on his soul, a constant reminder of the void that had been left behind when you departed from this world.

As he stood before your grave, surrounded by a sea of sunflowers swaying in the breeze, Satoru felt a wave of bittersweet nostalgia wash over him. The vibrant blooms seemed to echo the radiant spirit you had embodied in life, their golden petals a testament to the joy and beauty you had brought into his world.

With trembling fingers, Satoru traced the letters of your name etched into the stone, each stroke a silent prayer for your peace and happiness in the afterlife. Though he couldn't bring himself to admit it, a part of him still clung to the hope that somehow, someway, you were still out there, watching over him from afar.

But deep down, Satoru knew the truth. You were gone, forever beyond his reach, and no amount of longing or regret could change that fact. And so, with a heavy heart, he bowed his head in silent reverence, offering up a silent vow to honor your memory for as long as he lived.

In that moment, amidst the sunflowers and the gentle rustle of leaves, Gojo Satoru found solace in the quiet beauty of your final resting place. And as he stood there, lost in his memories. Memories that were dried and gone, leaves that had seen autumn over and over. Memories that had gotten him through the coldest whispers of winter and frostbite.

As Satoru knelt before your grave, he couldn't shake the haunting realization that your soul was bound to this earth, tethered to Suguru by an unbreakable bond of love and guilt. He had messaged Suguru, informing him of your final resting place near Gojo Manor, but he knew deep down that Suguru wouldn't visit you. Not out of lack of care, but out of overwhelming guilt and remorse for the role he played in your tragic demise.

Suguru had loved you too much to let you go, and in his desperation to protect you, he had unwittingly sealed your fate. Your body lay here, beneath the soft earth and sunflower blooms, but your soul was intertwined with Suguru's, trapped in a perpetual cycle of longing and regret. He liked to believe that you split your soul, that somehow you gave him a part of you. To feel that he would not truly be alone. But he knew better than that. He was deluding himself. Still, he did not care. He promised to take care of you. And he would. He’d always take care of you, as he had these past ten years. As he would all his life.

As Satoru gazed upon your grave, a sense of profound sadness washed over him, mingling with the guilt and remorse that weighed heavily on his own heart. He had failed to protect you, failed to keep you safe from harm, and now he was left to mourn your loss in silence. No one truly could love you like he and Suguru had. No one knows this pain other than his best friend. 

"Hey there," he began softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Ten years... feels like a lifetime."

With a heavy heart, Gojo Satoru began to speak, his words a balm for the wounds that still lingered within him. He told you about his life over the past decade, the trials and tribulations he had faced, and the moments of joy that had flickered amidst the darkness. He talks as though you were still here. As though you were still alive. He teases one moment and he laughs about a memory the next. You were never dead to him. Not for one second in these past ten years did he get used to talking about you in the past tense.

He thinks his brain can’t ever process the thought. He could never understand it. And he has come to accept it, after all this time. Nothing about it would ever come to be the past. You will always be his present. You will always be his future. He did not doubt that one second.

"I've been doing my best to honor your memory," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret. "But it's never easy, you know? Sometimes, it feels like I'm just going through the motions, pretending that everything's okay when it's not."

As he spoke, Satoru's hand reached up to his silk bandages, lifting it away to reveal the vibrant blue eyes that had long been hidden from the world. You have loved his eyes at one point. You told him how they remind you of the blue sky in summer. Yet now that you were gone, he couldn't find it in his heart to let the world witness them again.

For a moment, he allowed himself to be vulnerable, to let his guard down and show you the depths of his pain. You were the one person, besides Suguru, that saw every facet of him. Perhaps you will always the the person left in this world, even when you weren't here anymore, that will see such side of him. You were the person he could only ever be so truthful to.

"I miss you," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "Every day, in every way, I miss you. And I wish... I wish I could turn back time, change the course of fate, and bring you back to me. But I know that's not possible."

With a heavy sigh, Satoru replaced his blindfold, shielding his eyes once more from the world. But as he rose to his feet and prepared to leave, a sense of peace settled over him. Though you were gone, your memory would live on in his heart forever, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatened to consume him.

"Rest well, my dear," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your headstone. "I'll always be here, watching over you. And I promise... I'll never forget you."

[afurtivecake]

One thing I've been wondering is how much did Riko really see Kevin as a brother and how much did he see him as a possession? (And is there really a distinction between the two in Riko's eyes?) Because, I don't think Kevin was ever meant to be Riko's brother or Riko's equal on the court. I think Tetsuji took Kevin in as an investment, nothing more:

"Tetsuji never formally adopted Kevin. Do you know why? Moriyamas don't believe in outsiders or equals. Tetsuji took Kevin in and took over his training, but he also gave Kevin to Riko—literally. Kevin isn't human to them. He's a project. He's a pet, and it's Riko's name on his leash. Sakavic, Nora. The Foxhole Court (All for the Game Book 1) (p. 88).

To the outside world, Tetsuji taking custody over both Riko and Kevin would have looked like him adopting them and making them brothers, but "Moriyamas don't believe in outsiders or equals" so what reason would he have had to lead Riko to believe that Kevin would be his brother? A brother implies a level of equality. He probably thought this will be a learning experience for Riko: give him something to be responsible for, something that he has to learn to control because he's a Moriyama and it's about time he learned how dominate lesser beings. He probably imagined Kevin to be something like Jean was: an obedient servant who can take being beaten within and inch of his life semi-regularly, no sense of autonomy, blindly submissive, and still able to be one of the top players in his position. A valuable right-hand man perhaps, but nothing worth kicking up a fuss over.

I think (and this might just be me wanting a good story) that the whole "brothers" thing came from Riko. A neglected kid with nothing and no one to call him 'family' receives a boy, who doesn't have anyone to call him family either, and is told, "This is yours now. This is yours to mind. Do whatever you want with him but make sure he knows his place and knows how to obey the right people." To a kid who's longing for something to call his own and someone to recognize him as family, that could easily have sounded like, "This is yours now, your person, to be by your side always. Yours to tend, yours to keep, yours." I think Tetsuji said "possession" and Riko heard, "brother". And if that's not what a brother actually is, well, who's going to tell him that? It's not as if there's a single example of a normal family relationship to be found among the Ravens.

I think Riko made Kevin his brother because he wanted something more than a possession. He wanted an ally, someone who always has his back and would never leave him. Riko making Kevin his brother instead of just a pet as was intended, gave Kevin a degree a freedom that Tetsuji probably wouldn't have allowed otherwise: travelling outside of the country with Riko, not always being stuck inside Evermore, studying what he wanted...he even got to have interests and to enjoy exy even when he wasn't playing (being a Trojans fan) and he managed to have friends outside of Evermore (Jeremy). Ravens don't have family or an identity outside of being a Raven, but Riko made Kevin his brother and gave him the chance to become his own person.

If Riko considers Kevin a brother, how can he turn around and hurt Kevin like he's nothing more than a possession, you ask? Well, I'm not sure he sees any conflict between the two. To Riko, beating Kevin up isn't outside of what Riko understands as "family" and doting on Kevin as a brother doesn't go against what Riko sees as ownership. To Tetsuji, ownership might only include being able to treat a person like shit without consequence. But for Riko, allowing Kevin freedom and indulging his "whims" probably feels as much like ownership as hurting Kevin without recourse does.

It seems impossible and stupid for their relationship to be anything other than toxic and deeply fucked up, but I think Riko selfishly believed that so long as he kept things in check, so long as Kevin stayed exactly where he was, he'd get to keep him. Even when Riko starts suspecting that other people are starting to see that Kevin might be better than him, even when being brothers is no longer useful to him if he wants to prove that he's really a Moriyama, Riko can't let go of their brotherhood. He doesn't give Kevin up until the very end. He can't. No matter how angry he gets at Kevin, no matter how much he comes to enjoy seeing Kevin hurt and sorry, there are lines he can't quite bring himself to cross. Because Kevin is still his brother. Because for better or for worse, he made Kevin mean something more to him than a possession when he made him his brother.

I don't think Tetsuji expected Riko to cling on to Kevin as though Kevin was actually important. He didn't think that by partnering the two, by giving them a common goal and a common enemy, that it would create a bond between them. But they did and maybe, in some ways, their dysfunctional relationship both saved them and doomed them.

[shearlin]

Hot take about Sky angst, regarding the curse of Demise, because I haven't seen anyone talking about this possibility in all those years I've been in LU fandom.

Guys...

Sky has no idea about the curse

Because think about it. Why would he know about it?

My man has been electrocuted multiple times, with magical - basically divine - lightnings in attempt to defeat Demise. All the while fighting for his life with a literal GOD OF EVIL, after spending an entire afternoon fighting an army of monsters and a Demon Lord/creepy ass Sword Spirit. Not even mentioning how worried sick he must have been that entire time, if this time he was also too late too save Zelda.

(always too late too slow not enough and late late late)

I don't know about you, but I don't think he was in any state of body or mind to listen to some dudes last words, when he had to focus on not passing out because he has to make sure Zelda/Sun is alright.

(It got a bit long so rest of the rant under the cut)

Fi gave him clear, that Demise received a mortal blow and that now it's only a matter of time until he dies and that was all Sky needed to stop paying any attention.

Just go through the motions. His vision is blurry, but that's alright just stay awake. Fi chimes to rise his sword. He does. There is some black smoke suddenly surrounding him, but Fi get's rid of it with her light so it's fine. It's probably why she asked him to rise her skyward. The last fifteen minutes he's been following her directions nearly blindly anyway, because his mind is still foggy, he's not sure where he is or what he is doing he just have to get to Zelda.

And then she's there. And everything is fine.

Impa fades, Fi sleeps and he finally rests. Or rather crashes as the exhaustion finally catches up to him.

But he recovers, as best as he can, and live on.

And then eight other heroes, just like him, appear and take him on a quest across the time. They become friends. Then brothers. Soon he feels like they knew each other their entire lives and can't imagine how he can move on after the inevitable goodbyes.

He is so happy that no matter what, there will always be someone among his people, someone from or even outside of Hyrule, to stand up against evil, no matter how many times it will try to show it's ugly face. He's a bit bummed that there even is a need for a hero to show up, but hey! He is not so naive to think people are and always will be only good. Things happen. Some people are just terrible, and some take it out on the entire world.

But somewhere along the line, he starts to notice... something weird.

They all fought that same guy (some of them even multiple times!) called Ganon or Ganondorf. And while he is overjoyed that none of them even heard the name of Demise, he feels kind of singled out. Few of them mentioned an idea of reincarnation. Mentioning Zeldas' connection through blood of the Goddess and their connection through a spirit.

A spirit of a hero.

He always though it was a figure of speech. A way to describe someone courageous who fulfills the quota of being a hero.

But it's not about a spirit of a hero.

No.

It's the Spirit of the Hero.

His Spirit.

An idea begins to form. A distant memory he didn't even knew he had. Maybe nightmares about that fateful fight starting to get clearer by night. Maybe he spends some time talking to Fi and he does not like the feeling he gets from her chimes, even if she can't really talk in her slumber. Maybe he even prays to Hylia in some distant era in an unfamiliar place, so she can deny or confirm his suspicions.

Goddesses, please, may he be wrong.

Because he loves them all like a family. Because they are family. Because he has seen their haunted expressions and blank eyes, he has heard their stories and horrors they went through and nearly all of them were so young, too young, and the thought that he was the direct cause of it-

Sky had no idea that Demise trapped his spirit in a cycle of reincarnation. He had no time to process it or find coping mechanisms before the adventure with the chain happened. He found out during it, slowly putting it together and coming apart at the seems before their eyes.

Sky didn't know about the curse.

And I say, it could be really interesting to watch Sky fall.

(And if anyone knows a fic exploring this idea please let me know! I searched but couldn't find any)

[bhaalbaaby]

Title: Star Stained Eyes Like Flames (2434 words) Pairing: gale/reader Warnings: nsfw, magic sex, gn!reader A/N: was thinking about mage hands and enchanted underwear and got carried away. tried to make the reader more gender-neutral :")

Read on AO3!

Gale is particular about his undergarments and won't let you wash them. You don't ask questions as it's one less thing for you to take care of during your rest. Blood is hard to get out of armor, but you try your damnedest. You don't want to walk around with the blood of your enemies stinking on your skin. People in the wilderness probably wouldn't care, but you do.

As you gather everyone's clothes, you approach Gale's tent. He's reading a book, his regular clothes already on, and himself already bathed. You see his mage hand is at work washing his other clothes, among them his special purple underwear. 

"No need for your assistance today, my friend," Gale says as he closes his book. "I do appreciate your hard work, however."

You smile as you nod, "Good to know. I do have a question." You let your curiosity get the best of you, the question on your mind anyway. Gale smiles back, putting his book away as he leans forward, eagerly waiting. "Always here for you."

You wonder if he thinks you're going to ask about his magical ability to do his chores and if he could teach you. How mistaken he is. "Why won't you let me wash your underwear?"

His eyebrow raises as he rapidly blinks, his mouth suddenly dry. His tongue swipes his lips quickly as he shakes his head. "It is not a slight at your handiwork, (Y/N). Quite the opposite." He raises his hand, a shy smile coming to his lips. "Let's just say old habits die hard. Used to do my own back at my Tower in Waterdeep."

Old habits, eh? You don't believe him, examining his posture. "Did you enchant them?" The question leaves your mouth before you realize what you're asking.

Was Gale that lonely? Did he really do that? You know Wizards were crafty with their magic but for pleasure? It never crosses your mind until he acts so weird about them. The others let you wash their clothes without a question, with nothing to hide. It's the only thing you can think of that he'd be embarrassed about. What if you washed the magic away accidentally and he, Gods forbid, has to wear underwear without being aroused?

The idea amuses you as you see his cheeks immediately turn red. "(Y/N)! Why would you even think that?!"

You don't have to answer, his reply giving it away. "Would you enchant mine?" You ask with a cheeky smile, thinking about phantom touches between your thighs, coaxing you closer and closer, the messes you would need to clean later.

Gale clears his throat as he shakes his head. "No! I will not. That is forbidden magic." It's a lie, but you don't press him, seeing the slight tenting in his pants. His tunic covers the majority as he shifts. "I see," you say, nodding, lifting the basket higher. "Well, if you need any help with your... Enchantments... I may be willing to assist." You tease as you walk away, imagining the underwear activates, helping relieve himself.

When nighttime comes, Gale comes to your tent. You're outside of it tonight, mostly watching the sky. The stars are bright tonight, and everything feels like it will be okay. The tadpole in your mind is quiet, no calls for the Absolute. You stand when he approaches, his hands behind his back. "Hello, (Y/N). I've been thinking."

The corners of your mouth perk up, a smirk on your lips. He's always thinking, but you wonder if your comments spark something more carnal that even his enchantments can't handle. "Go on," You say, crossing your arms.

He clears his throat. "I can enchant your undergarments, but I do not wish for the others to know."

Your eyes dance, "I won't tell. I just want to know how it feels is all. It must make things more intense." You muse as you let your eyes drop to his groin.

He steps away, taking a deep breath. "It's on command. It's not random." Gale explains, his voice lowering. "I can explain more, not here. Not with eavesdropping ears." He offers his hand to you.

You glance around at your companions who have either disappeared into their tents or are busy with their things. You take his hand, wondering where he'll take you. "Lead the way then."

In the clearing, he relaxes. "It's a simple spell. I learned it back in school from older kids when the teacher wasn't looking." Gale starts and waves his hands as he talks. You rest against a tree, listening. "Juvenile, but comes in handy when you're alone and need something more than your... hands."

In the darkness, you can make out that he's nervous speaking about this. "You don't have to tell me Gale." You say, not wanting him to do it just because you teased him.

He scoffs, "I want to tell you. You and I will be on this journey to defeat the Absolute for a little while and I know it can get frustrating being so pent up and no relief."

You smile, shrugging. "There's Lae'zel... And maybe even Astarion." You tease again standing with your legs more apart.

His eyes drop to between your thighs and he whispers something you can't make out. It's soft touches at first on your inner thighs, gently caressing to your pelvis, ignoring the parts of you that need it most. You gasp as you keep your legs apart, your feet planted in the ground.

"And there's Gale." He adds out loud, stepping closer as his enchantment goes over your groin, your heart skipping beats. You curse under your breath as you nod, looking over at him.

"Shall I continue or do you wish for it to stop?" He asks, still not physically touching you.

"C-can I control yours?" You ask, rolling your hips with his phantom touch, swelling in the magic.

Gale chuckles as he continues, rubbing you off. Your legs tremble as you close your eyes, feeling him getting closer. "I much rather have the real thing," He whispers in your ear. You close your eyes, letting your hands rub against his cock. He groans in your ear as his enchantment intensifies, the touch feeling so real. Your legs squeeze together as you start to pant, breathing quickening. You lean up, pressing your lips against his. His kiss is quick as he pulls again, grinding against your thigh. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, adjusting to have him pressed against the magic between your thighs. 

You rest your head on your hand as you try to quiet your moans, the caresses bringing you so close, but you need a release. There is only so much the underwear can do. You let go of him, peeling your pants down.

You get on your knees, tugging his pants down. His enchantment stops momentarily as if short-circuiting as you slowly pull his cock out. You smile up at him as you see his chest rise and fall faster. Your tongue runs along his thick length, lapping at the extra skin around his tip that peeks out. You open your mouth, slowly taking his cock down as far as you can. He grunts, as you feel the enchantment massage your ass, the fingers finding your hole and gently prodding.

Your eyes open as your moans are muffled around him. You didn't think they could do that, but you welcome the change as you rock your hips trying to match your mouth pace to his thrusts. He holds on to the tree behind you, his hair falling forward over his face.

"(Y/N)..." He moans as he watches your mouth around his stiff member. You pull your mouth off, stroking him as you squirm, the enchanted fingers thrusting so quickly inside and vibrating. "Yes, Gale?" You ask, whimpering, bringing his cock back to your hungry lips. He groans as he tosses his head back, his hand slipping to your hair, pressing his cock deeper.

You gag slightly as his thrusts feel thicker between your thighs, leaving you slick, pooling in the underwear. "I want to fuck you hard. Now." His voice cracks as he continues to fuck your mouth.

You wonder if he's using the enchantment to fuck you with his pseudo cock as your whines are muffled. It's too thick to be fingers, filling you just like you imagine he would. You pull your mouth off again, nodding, "Please."

The enchantments suddenly end as he conjures up a small bed next to the tree. You hope he's not overextending himself with the magic as you pull your top off, tossing your ruined underwear to the side. He does the same as you lie back on the bed. It feels real, you think as he climbs on top of you.

"Thank you for indulging me (Y/N)," He whispers, resting his forehead against yours. You feel his cock resting on your belly, hot and stiff. "No, thank you," You whisper back, as he rests back on his knees. His cock feels much better than the imitation, stretching you again, but a thousand times better. You writhe under him as he slowly thrusts in.

He grunts as he leans back down, holding your chin between his fingers, forcing eye contact. You gaze into his dark brown eyes as your brows knit together, your mind growing blank as you clench around him. He moans, picking up his pace. "Gods, you're perfect (Y/N)."

You close your eyes, wrapping your legs around him as he pounds you into the mattress. You're already close to overstimulation from the enchantment as the way he rolls his hips only drives you more insane. You pant as your arms wrap around his shoulders, bringing him close again. He kisses you, this time with more passion, his tongue running along your bottom lip. His beard scratches your chin as you adjust, until you open your mouth a bit more, letting your tongue intertwine with his own.

He pulls away after a moment, staring down at you. "I-I'm sorry if that was..."

You shut him up bringing him closer as he picks up his speed. "Like that, Gale. Please... Like that." You moan, your fingers playing with the ends of his wavy hair. He doesn't say anything more about his kisses, paying attention to what your body says.

"I'm getting so close, (Y/N)... I don't think I can for much longer."

You mewl as you reach behind you, gripping the pillow behind your head. He watches your face as you try to make yourself cum with him. His tip feels so engorged inside of you as he continues to pound into you, sending waves of pleasure to your brain. He says something under his breath again, phantom touches come to your chest, hands and mouths on your nipples. Your breathing hitches as you wrap your legs around him tighter.

Cheater, you think as the phantom's tongue rolls around your sensitive nipple, the hand massaging the other. You feel another hand as Gales sits up, still keeping his pace, rubbing against your sensitive button.

"Fuck, Gale!" You cry out as you hide your face in the crook of your elbow, your stomach tensing.

"Come with me, please." He begs, feeling so overstimulated from all the touches everywhere. He doesn't have to ask twice as you gush around his cock, shuddering as your legs try to close him out. He pulls out just in time, his groan so loud as he lets his magic rub him off, finishing on your stomach and thighs. The mouth and fingers don't stop on your chest, keeping your nerves heightened.

You whimper as you close your eyes, slowly coming down from your high, the phantoms disappearing slowly. He lies beside you, his breathing hard. You turn to him, kissing him passionately, your hands resting on his stubbled cheek as you pull him closer. He smiles as you pull away, his pupils blown.

"That was... Amazing," He whispers. You nod as you wrap your leg around his waist. He rests his hand on your thigh, gently rubbing your skin.

"Yes, it was... You can enchant my underwear whenever, Gale." You say softly, watching his face.

"Oh?" His brows raise and you can tell he's blushing. "It wasn't weird?"

You shake your head as you prop yourself up on your elbow. "I loved it. It was very erotic." You say, imagining him enchanting your underwear when you're alone in your tent, making you cum over and over again while you try to stay quiet.

He clears his throat as he turns to face you, "Maybe another night, but I think I still prefer when I give you pleasure with my actual form." He states.

You nod as you scoot closer, "I do too. Real Gale is very fun and very sexy."

His blush travels to his neck at your teasing as he gently pats your thigh. "Fun I am. Sexy... You flatter me much, (Y/N)..." He sits up, quickly pecking your lips. "And as much fun this was, we better return to camp before anyone comes looking for us."

You grimace as you move your leg off him. He's right, unfortunately. "We'll have plenty of times in the future." You say with a warm smile as you reach for your clothes.

Gale pauses a look of shock on his face. "Are you sure you want to continue with me?" You raise your eyebrow as you pull your shirt back on, getting off the magical bed. It poofs as soon as you stand.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

He gestures towards the camp as he frowns. "What about the others?" You laugh lightly as you decide not to wear your ruined underwear.

"What about them?" You retort, pulling your pants on.

His face is serious as he steps closer to you, his hands resting on your waist. "If you choose me, I want to be your only lover. I'm quite fond of you, (Y/N). I want to get to know you better."

Your eyes sparkle as you nod, "I'd like that a lot, Gale." He blinks as if expecting you to choose someone else over him. "I want to be with you, Gale." You repeat, gazing into his dumbfounded eyes.

He slowly smiles as he bows his head, trying to contain his excitement. "(Y/N)... You are full of surprises. There is nothing that I wanted more than to hear you say that, my love," He pulls you closer, the kiss full of promise. 

[marzipanandminutiae]

Do you know much about historical cuisine? Saw yet another anime with friends and they went the whole 'modern food always tastes better' bit. I feel tired of the trope and am wondering how different historical cuisine would taste compared to modern times. So anything you happen to know as a historian would be cool to know!

That varies MASSIVELY based on time and location. Like. Much more than fashion does, even, I'd imagine (in a given sub-region- I can talk about Mainstream European and Euro-American Fashion of the 19th CenturyTM but the food was so different in different countries that were dressing the same, if that makes sense? just as an example).

Food is often more globalized in a lot of places nowadays, so the characters might have more diversity of flavors from the regional norm than they're used to. But this could be a good or a bad thing- a woman from 17th-century Japan might love pizza and much sweeter Western pastries, or she might absolutely hate them. Which is not to say regional cuisines haven't evolved, too- a museum here in Boston used to have tastings of 18th-century-style hot chocolate, and it was very different from the modern sort. But that's the largest blanket difference across the globe that I can think of, food-wise.

Not sure what anime this was, so it could have been Japan-specific, but I feel like this gets applied the most to the 19th-mid 20th century UK and United States. The whole Captain America line about "food's better; we used to boil everything," for example, and the general belief that everything was bland mush in those areas until the 1950s and then it was incomprehensible Jell-O mold horrors until approximately the 1980s. And of course, none of that's true- there were plenty of dishes that used spices and different cooking methods, many of which are still popular today. See also: Jonathan Harker, a Normal 1890s Englishman, getting so rhapsodical about paprikahendl that he simply must have the recipe for his fiancee to make. There also WERE bland mushes and fluorescent nightmares, but there's less than ideal food today, as well.

(Note that I'm much less confident talking about the whole English StodgeTM thing as we get into the 20th century. That is outside my history wheelhouse and there's a lot of different stuff embroiled in it relating to class and such that I don't want to talk out my ass about. All I know is that I've seen plenty of recipes from as late as the end of the 19th century, from England and some from urban Scotland if I recall correctly, that made ample use of spices. Nutmeg, mustard, black pepper, rosemary, caraway, and cayenne pepper were especially popular (not all together obviously). There was a belief among the middle and upper classes that strong flavors of garlic and onion were distasteful to ladies, but the fact that cookbooks and such feel the need to mention it implies that those elements WERE being used in cooking generally, in the UK, at that time. So wherever the idea that All British Food Is Beige And Tasteless came from, it wasn't mainstream late Victorian cooking for adults as far as I can tell)

(They gave kids a fair amount of the beige and tasteless because they believed their digestive systems couldn't handle strongly-flavored- okay now I'm getting off topic. Read Ruth Goodman's "How To Be A Victorian." Anyway!)

tl;dr- The answer to "is modern food better?" is "that's literally impossible to answer as a blanket statement, since it's massively dependent on the character's original time, place, social status, and personal taste- and where they end up in the present, of course."

Now, I do agree that the trope is annoying the same way every single princess being totally shocked and appalled when her marriage is arranged gets annoying- not because it can't be true based on history and human behavior, but because fiction treats it as some kind of universal precept. Mix it up a little sometimes! Have a Regency character who comes to the present, finds out that her favorite local cheese isn't being made anymore, and loses her entire mind!

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 8

Hey, guys! The plot is plotting and coming along. I've just had a rough week last week and really didn't get too far on any of my works but the omegaverse sequel. So I'm chomping through my backlog (which is a good thing, I promise, that's what it's for).

In this Steve has to deal with the not fun side of the music business, but Eddie is there to soothe the way.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7

****

Steve chewed on his nail as he looked over the contract for the tour they were going to be headlining for Corroded Coffin. It came with their usual anonymity clause.

The part Steve wasn’t sure about was the part where the guys and his roles on the tour to hide that they were part of the band.

Spence being a medic made sense. He was medically trained as an EMT and kept up on his certification even after they made it big.

Simon’s made sense too. Eddie had seen him as a roadie that night, so him continuing that was fine.

It was Shane and Steve’s that concerned him. He didn’t want to PA for The Fallen because then Dustin and his friends would want things like backstage passes and VIP tickets.

Things Steve didn’t want to do because that would get them too close to the action and he worried they would notice that they wouldn’t see Abbadon and him in the same place and put two and two together.

Shane’s role was that of an advance person. Someone that rode into town first to make sure everything was as it supposed to be according to their rider.

Steve loved Shane with all his heart, but he couldn’t think of a worse “job” for him.

Plus it wouldn’t make sense because he wouldn’t be on the same bus as the rest of the band.

He called up Robin.

“Hello!” she chirped her greeting. “What’s up?”

“I’m looking over the contract and they want me to PA and Shane to advance.”

There was silence on the line for a moment or two before Robin said, “I’m on it. I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks, Celeste,” Steve teased.

He was not surprised when she just hung up on him. He chuckled.

His best friend was working on getting Shane and him in the right roles. On their last tour, Shane and Simon had been roadies and Steve had been an assistant like Robin.

Steve looked back at the contract with a sigh. He set it aside and pulled out his notebook. He couldn’t write lyrics or music, but he could write down his thoughts and feelings.

He wrote about the fear of being discovered, of showing his true self. What people would think of him and his friends. Everyone said that metal fans were among the most welcoming in the industry.

Unless you looked like someone they didn’t approve of. Steve couldn’t remember which 1980s rocker it was, but the dude was papped outside a store waiting for his wife in cargo shorts and Birkenstocks and the internet had a fucking field day.

Like how dare he go to the store not dressed all in black and leather and chains everywhere.

It was no doubt the biggest reason no one had cottoned on to him and his friends being The Fallen. Because why would four preppy guys be the members of the hottest rising metal band right now?

He flipped to a different page and began writing about finding love where you left it. Eddie had always had Steve’s heart, ever since they were thrown together when a freak earthquake that was caused by nearby fracking destroyed almost half the town they grew up in.

Eddie ran the local DND club which Dustin and his friends had been a part of.

Steve had managed to keep all of them safe and Eddie, who had been unsure of the former jock had warmed up to him by the time they had come through at the end of the week long ordeal.

Steve had fallen in love with Eddie’s sense of humor, his dimpled smile, and doe brown eyes.

So he wrote about that too.

By the time Robin had called back he had written so much his hand was cramping.

“Hello, hello!” he greeted warmly.

“Hey,” Robin said. “So I talked it over with their lawyers and ours and I think we’ve go the solution.”

“Hit me with it,” Steve said.

“Right so we have Shane assisting with me,” she said. “He doesn’t have anyone really close to him who would ask for favors and shit, or at least not ones he wouldn’t gleefully tell to fuck off.”

Steve sighed in relief. “That’s good.”

“You were a little trickier,” Robin admitted. “But then I remembered you picked up a couple of CPR certifications in the past and got them to make you medic too. You just have to take the refresher courses while we’re in the studio.”

Steve chewed on his thumb. He had wanted to be an EMT before he met Spence and saw how much it took out of him.

“Wouldn’t it look bad if two medics suddenly vanished for two hours every night?”

Robin chuckled. “You’re assigned especially to the band. So you can’t be called during a performance. I do think of these things you know.”

Steve sighed with relief. “I know you do, I just worry.”

“Worry wart,” she teased. “It’ll be fine. You just have to keep it in your pants while on tour because an EMT dating a rockstar is going to be suspicious as hell.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You mean like every other tour we’ve been on?”

“Only this time,” she said, voice dangerously low, “you’ve got temptation in the form of one Eddie Munson, the man you’ve been pining over for literal years.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve groused. “Am I at least allowed to be seen with Eddie you know, considering we are friends?”

Robin sighed dramatically. “I guess. Just try to keep the PDA to a minimum please.”

“I promise.”

This was going to a very long three month tour.

****

Jim Hopper was a former Marine and he looked it. He was built like a tank with a grizzled appearance and cigar tucked between his teeth. Simon thought that he thought Hopper scared the enemy off just glaring at them and Steve privately agreed.

He was there for two reasons. To deprogram their stage persona and to brush Steve up on his emergency medical training.

Actually they all were learning because it was it interesting. Simon and Shane didn’t need to pay attention for certification, but they did anyway.

“How long do you guys plan to be in the studio this week?” Hopper asked. “I need to know if I need to have someone else pick up my daughter from the airport.”

“They want us to have at least eight hours in the studio a day,” Shane explained. “They want us to get as much done as we can before Corroded Coffin goes on tour so they can at least release a single or two.”

Hopper nodded. “Then I should be fine. She’s a fashion designer in New York and the fashion house she works at is sending her out here to intern at their LA branch.”

“That’s awesome!” Shane said. “Maybe while she’s here we can fan her design our costumes for the new tour.”

Hopper shook his head. “As long as it paid. This internship sure ain’t.”

Robin threw her arms in the air. “Fine! I’ll see what the budget is for that and get back to you.”

Hopper chuckled.

“They have you wrapped around their fingers, girly.”

Robin smirked. “Don’t I know it.”

****

That night Steve called Eddie up.

“Hey, baby,” he cooed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie greeted back. “How did today go? It was first day with the deprogramer, right?”

Steve curled up on the sofa and tucked his feet under him. “It was okay. He’s a bit scary, but apparently he has a daughter Dustin’s age.”

“The butthead will be pissed he missed that,” Eddie chuckled.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed warmly. “She’s really pretty, too.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Suzie’s a great girl. But we all know here parents aren’t going to let her marry someone ‘outside the faith’ as it were.”

Steve chewed on his thumbnail. “Yeah. I was hoping with them both going home for the whole summer would break them up.”

Eddie scoffed. “It’s good thing talk and text is included in mobile plans these days unlike in early days of yore when mobile plans made you pay for every text message and long distance calling, otherwise their cell phone bills would be through the fucking roof.”

“Tell me about,” Steve huffed. “And he’s going to spending the last week of vacation in Utah with her.”

“Eeee,” Eddie said with a grimace, “is it bad of me that I hope her parents scare him off?”

“Maybe a little,” Steve admitted. “But I just want him to be happy, you know?”

Eddie let out a long drawn out sigh. “Yeah. So you guys got the contract all figured out?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Steve muttered. “It’s going to be hard being in the studio and taking EMT course to pretend to be medical personnel. Well not really pretending. Both me and one of the other band members have training. Me with being a lifeguard for awhile there and them with being an EMT. But it feels wrong somehow.”

“Is there something else, some other role you can fill?” Eddie asked after a moment or two of silence.

“Not according to Robin,” Steve groused. “She says it’ll be fine and no one will figure it out. And I trust her. Her plans have gotten us through two tours already, one even being overseas...”

“But you’re still worried because I’ll be on the road with you?” Eddie asked gently.

Steve threw his head back and groaned. “God that sounds so horrible of me.”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie admonished. “It’s not. It’s an extra variable you didn’t have to factor in before. But we will make it work.”

“I think the biggest part is that Eddie and Steve have to remain friends until after the tour so everyone doesn’t connect Steve with Abbadon,” he said. “God that sounded pretentious. Talking in third person like some Chad.”

Eddie giggled. “Maybe a little, but I got what you mean.”

“Don’t laugh!” Steve whined. “My dick is going to fall off from the sheer amount of blue balling that’s going to be happening on this fucking tour. Well not fucking actually. I’m going to be in hell!”

“And people tell me I’m dramatic,” Eddie said laughing out loud. “What do you normally do on tour?”

Steve sat up and stretched his feet out in front of him on the sofa. “It’s complicated.”

Eddie snorted. “I don’t doubt that, sweetheart. Are we talking NDAs or fucking with the masks on?”

Steve laughed. “It’s more like no phones, dark room, no staying the night. That sort of thing.”

“I’m betting there aren’t many that agree to that.”

“More than you’d think,” Steve snorted. “Groupies gotta fuck.”

“We’ll figure something out. I won’t let those pretty balls go blue,” Eddie said with a snicker.

“Help me, Eddie-wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope!” Steve cried in a sharp falsetto.

Eddie laughed. “You’re a menace, Steve Harrington.”

“And you love it.”

Warmth just flooded Eddie’s tone when he replied, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Eds.”

****

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

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