#i need to find a way that i like drawing him cause i've been meaning to draw him in some bat wing pants for forever now

[yoinkschief]

I mean, technically, Matt is a cryptid trying to look human

So I see no issue here !

I love Vampire Matt, I love whenever I scroll on my feed and I see him in cool Vampire/Gothic-esc/Victorian-esc outfits, silly little guy

[sysig]

Size difference.png (Patreon)

[dinogoofymutated]

Hi there! I'm currently watching the original X men series to catch up to 97, and I'm in love with Gambit.

Would it be possible to ask for Remy and reader to be on a secret mission, and the Ole "make out so they don't suspect us" trope comes in, and gambit kinda (obviously) has feelings...?

It could be sfw or nsfw, either is perfect! Thank you for all that you do, I've been trying to find fics for the xmen for a while 🙏🙏

Kinda spicy! Gambit/GN!reader

YESS!! YESSSS!!! I legit had a dream about this situation with remy the day before you sent me this ask and I was cackling in joy when I saw this! I basically hyperfixated on it because I love this trope.

TWS: sexual themes n shit, no explicit smut. As always, reader written while picturing fem! but no specific pronouns mentioned. Semi-public making out and touching. Nipples be touched but size and type of breast not mentioned.

-Ps- reader can see heat signatures for plot purposes. I usually try to keep powers ambiguous but it was a NEED!

"In here, quick!" Remy's thick draw catches your attention, just before he yanks you into an alley. The two of you were in New Orleans, looking for a specific mutant Xavier wanted to talk to. The only downside was that Remy still had a warrant out for his arrest, and wanted posters plastered all over the city from bourbon Street to the garden district.

"Don't worry Cher. You said. NOPD 'dumber than a sack of rocks, you said!" You gripe at him. Remy laughs, tugging you around the corner. The alleyways on Burbon street are mostly private areas, owned and sealed off by the bars that line the storefronts- but Remy knew this city like the back of his hand. However, things had changed since he was here last. That became apperent when the two of you reach the end of the alleyway and there's a brand new brick wall, a dead end.

Remy curses and skids to a stop, causing you to slam into his back. You send him a dirty look as you whip around, eyes adjusting to the brick surroundings. It's hard to make out the figures of the cops through the walls of the busy bar in in front of you, too many people crowding the street for drinks even this late at night. You strain your eyes a bit, but are able to make out the stiff-shouldered men, heat signature slightly elevated from booking it after the two of you. Unfortunately, they're headed towards the mouth of the alleyway.

"Damnit." You mutter, turning back to Remy. He understands what you mean just by looking at your face. He hums, thinking for a moment before he begins to take out a playing card. You grab his arm to stop him, trying to ignore how warm his skin is against your own.

"Don't. The explosion will just lead them to us." You say. Remy nodds, glancing at the corner before suddenly caging you against the wall of the alleyway. You try not to blush as he does so. Remy smirks at you, and you think your heart might just explode. You remind yourself that this is standard Remy behavior, but it doesn't stop your face from heating up. You can only hope it's too dark for him to see you properly.

"Well, there is another way we could fool those pigs." Remy says, quieter than before. You cock an eyebrow at him before looking back over in the direction of the alleyways opening, able to spot the cops as they begin to enter. In your peripheral, you see Remy running his fingers through his hair to flatten it. You open your mouth to ask him what he has in mind, but the sound of footsteps cut you off.

"-Well, if you're going to do something, you better do it quick!" You whisper back at him. Remy pushes you further against the cold brick, his hands drifting down to your waist as he leans over to wisper in your ear.

"Trust me, Cher. I'll take care of you." His words cause goosebumps to rise at the back of your neck, and you hardly have time to react before he's kissing you. Your eyes are blown wide, heart thumping wildly as you start to slowly relax into the kiss.

Unsurprisingly, Remy is a really, really good kisser. It's hard to focus while he's touching you like this, kissing you deeply like he loves you. He nips at your lip, and you gasp, having forgotten about everything else already. His tongue darts into you mouth, caressing the skin he finds there. You let out a small moan as one of his hands drifts lower, caressing your thigh and hiking your leg up just a bit. Your own hands slowly slide up his chest, drifting to his neck.

The heat in your chest is unbearable when Gambit separates from the kiss, a string of spit connecting your mouths before he wipes it away, nothing but affection on his eyes. You're panting for breath while he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, and then lower. Remy places wet kisses on your neck, sucking and biting as he tries to swallow you whole. You thread your hands through his soft hair as his does so, fully encouraging him to ravage you in whatever way he would like. One of his hands begins to slide under your shirt when a cough startles you out of your heated state.

Your first instinct is to turn towards the noise, but Gambit is quick to cup your cheek and pull you into another heated kiss before your head could move a centimeter. He keeps you occupied as his other hand fully caresses the skin beneath your shirt, squeezing and caressing your chest. You hear another exhausted sigh from the cops. You crack and eye open slightly, knowing they cant see you do so in the dark. One of them begins to raise his voice, but the other smacks him on the shoulder.

"Just another pair of drunks. We've got bigger things to worry about right now." The cop says. You could practically hear the other roll his eyes before they turn to and walk away. Gambit brings your attention back to him and only him when you feel a finger brush lightly against your nipple. You gasp, and Remy chuckles, playfully biting your lip as he pulls away. He's smirking as he looks at you, and you can only imagine what you look like right now.

"Looks like you enjoyed that." He teases, voice low and husky. You can't seem to pull your thought together properly when he's looking at you like that. You nervously look away, hands playing with his collar.

"And if I did?" You ask, glancing back at him to gage his reaction. He looks surprised at first, face morphing into a lovestruck smile before he tries to cover it up with a smirk. Didn't stop you from being able to see the heat rise to his cheeks, however.

"Then gambit thinks we should do this more often."

[yanderelionwrites]

I'll Stay Here - Yandere!Leona x Reader

Content Warning: (soft) yandere, implied kidnapping/captivity, I fear the Stockholm Syndrome has ARRIVED

Word Count: 607

(Again, kind of a part 3 to this, but can be read on its own)

You really need to stop forgetting your things in Leona’s room. Luckily, he doesn’t mind you coming and going, but it’s still a pain to have to walk all through the palace to get there.

You’ve been keeping him company as of late, just sitting in his room while he naps or plays chess, meaning you like to bring your own stuff over to entertain yourself. Today, you left behind a book you were reading earlier, so you thought you would pop by really quick and take it back. Even though it was late in the evening, Leona would most likely be taking a nap right now, so he wouldn’t even bother with trying to engage with you.

Poking your head into his room, you confirm that he’s asleep before tip-toeing over to the table you left your book at. You grab it and turn to sneak back out, but you stop yourself when you glance at Leona’s face.

His expression appears so…soft. Free of the stresses his family, the servants, or even you sometimes cause him. He looks the most at peace he’s ever been…

It makes your heart swell, which is very alarming because you’re supposed to hate this man. And yet, despite it all, you still find yourself drawing nearer to him. Just to get a better look.

Leona sleeps soundlessly on his stomach, with his arms hugging the pillow his head is buried in. You can’t help but smile at the way his ear twitches; he looks like a napping kitty. It’s such a stark contrast to how he acts when he’s awake.

This is so frustrating… One minute you feel like you wish you never met Leona, and other times, you’re thinking it’s not so bad staying here with him. You have everything you need, and anything you want (other than freedom) can be given to you when asked. And Leona himself isn’t awful to be with… He makes sure you’re taken care of and remains respectful around you.

But do you love him enough to want to stay?

…You don’t want to admit you don’t hate him anymore.

Inching ever so closer to his sleeping body, you tentatively reach out to brush a strand of hair out of his face.

You shouldn’t…

Hesitantly, you lean down so that your face is hovering right over the crown of Leona’s head. You place the quickest and gentlest kiss on top of his hair, before immediately withdrawing from him. Trying to leave like you were never there, you turn towards the exit, but jump when a hand grabs your wrist.

A small yelp escapes your lips as you’re pulled backward onto Leona’s bed. Arms wrap around your waist, not too tight but firm enough to let you know that you won’t be leaving anytime soon.

“L-Leona?!” is all you can stutter out, hands uselessly pushing at his arms.

“Just stay here…please,” he utters into your ear, voice husky and surprisingly pleading.

“...Only for a few minutes,” you relent, letting him pull you against his chest.

A few minutes is all Leona needs. He’ll take what he can get.

He feels you relax next to him, and he couldn’t be more content. This was only a small step towards the future he envisions for you both, but it was still important progress. Leona bets you don’t even know how much he’s been holding back, how much of his feelings he’s repressed to make sure you’re comfortable here first. But with this small gesture, you’ve opened the doors to so much more.

You’ve walked into the lion’s enclosure, and there’s no getting out of it now.

~~~

Probably the last part to this little series. I've been cooking up something Savanaclaw related though, so stay tuned for that 👀

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

[thatshadowcomic]

Would Sonic and Shadow have kids?

I actually feel very strongly about this, and have written a lot regarding a fanchild (will draw a few ideas eventually and repost this probably)

Sorry for the long post. In my HC Shadow is sterile, as he's a hybrid creature, unable to breed with Mobian or Blackarms. His immortality would play a huge role on how he ponders the world.

I think they would raise a chao garden in place of children, maybe not even realizing the similarity. But over time, as Shadow is again faced with the realization that Sonic will die, and will consider what remains.

After Sonic is gone, there would be nothing left of him that Shadow could hold and look at. The Chao and Sonics influence is a kind of legacy, but to Shadow, he couldn't truly look at either and feel that it was Sonic, which might cause some tension between them. Something they could never agree on, y'know?

Idk why, but sonic always felt like someone who'd be great with kids and a great uncle, but someone who wouldn't want children of his own. Maybe it's an insecurity? He doesn't think he'd make a good father? There's lot of people like that irl. For Sonic, he doesn't consider children to be your only source of legacy. By just existing, Shadow is in essence Sonic's legacy. Even if he forgets again, Shadow's very way of interacting with the world is the continuation of Sonic's influence, something very profound and meaningful to Sonic, even if he doesn't say it.

"People exist in everything they do, Shadow, not just in their kid. When you vanished after the ARK, I was a different person, I approached the world with your story in my mind, even when I wasn't thinking of you. In that way, your existence changed my world, not just the Moon... Just by existing, you continue my legacy for the same reason." -sonic

While moved, in the end I think Shadow would still want a child, as his brain just can't rationalize this, even if he respects it. I've considered if they'd get a surrogate or... If Shadow would use the ARK and his connections to illegally recreate his own creation, using Sonic's blood as a stabilizer, ensuring Doom's blood is scrubbed from the child. I'm still considering what this act would mean to Sonic and how he'd feel about it. It's very extreme, but I live for the drama.

He might become obsessed with either offering Sonic immortality or immortality by way of a child, fearing he'd never make such a deep connection with anyone like he has with Sonic. Or maybe in reality, he'd be creating something he feels he should have been, finding a sense of cartharsis in raising something that is, in a sense, him. But better. A lot of people see their child as their second chance.

"I will be for you, what I desperately wanted. What I needed, what I longed for. It took me years to find it, but you will never need to search for it, because I will always be here to offer it to you..."- Shadow

[mononijikayu]

dearest, darling, my universe — gojo satoru.

"He… he always knew what to say, didn’t he?" Megumi murmurs, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah." you reply, your voice thick with tears. "He always did." The weight of Satoru's absence presses heavily upon you, but the words on the paper offer a strange comfort, like a hand reaching out through the dark. You hold the letter tightly, almost as if you could draw him back with the force of your grip.

GENRE: post shinjiku showdown (spoilers for jjk chapter 268)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 11k words.

NOTE: my brothers caught a cold so i caught it too because that's just how it sometimes goes when you're always together. i've been writing a bunch of stuff in the mean time, cause i'm strong enough at least. but i hope you enjoy this. it took me a while to write this, but it's finally done. also, listen to iu's song love wins all while reading this. love you all!!!

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

IT’S BEEN A WHILE, BUT THINGS HAVE CHANGED. The world feels quiet now, almost unnaturally so, as if it is holding its breath, waiting to see what comes next. The grounds are empty, unlike how they used to be. The sky is heavy and dulled gray and the wind carries a strange stillness that presses against your skin. 

Everything seems suspended, caught in a moment that refuses to pass, a calm that feels more like a warning than a relief. It’s the kind of quiet that settles in after a storm — not the peace that follows resolution, but the heavy, fragile silence that comes when everything has been ripped apart, and nothing has been put back together.

Your gaze searches for someone as you look towards the horizon. It takes you a while, but you smile when you find that figure again. You sighed, he’s been there awhile. But you don't blame him. You think that Fushiguro Megumi feels like he’d find peace, if he sits there to wonder what had been before. You find him sitting on the bench your husband had loved to sit on years ago, his back turned to you. He is still, his head lowered, shoulders slumped, and you can see the way his body trembles with each ragged breath.

He’s still recovering, as most are after the battle with Sukuna. But for Megumi, the wounds are deeper, more insidious. After being imprisoned by Sukuna, after having his body and mind twisted and torn apart from the inside out, he’s struggling to find his footing again. His physical scars may heal with time, but the ones etched into his soul are a different story.

You approach slowly, hesitant to break the fragile stillness that surrounds him. He doesn’t turn to look at you, but you know he’s aware of your presence. You can see it in the way his shoulders tense, the slight shift of his head as if he’s listening, waiting. You move closer until you’re standing beside him, close enough to see the bandaged bruises that still darken his skin, the way his hands are clenched tightly in his lap, knuckles white with the effort of holding himself together.

“Megumi.” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, careful not to startle him.

He doesn’t respond at first, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance, his blue green eyes shadowed and hollow. You can’t tell if he’s looking at the ruins or something beyond them, something only he can see. You wait, giving him the time he needs, the space to decide whether he wants to speak or remain silent.

Finally, he lets out a breath, slow and heavy, his shoulders sagging further. “I couldn’t sleep.” he murmurs, so quietly you almost miss it. “I could still feel it. Like he’s still here… in my head… in my body. And then my dreams…. My hands and Gojo–sensei’s eyes….”

The words hang in the air, raw and unsteady, as if they barely have the strength to escape his lips. You hear the tremor in his voice, the way it quivers with each syllable. It’s a sound you haven’t heard from him before, a vulnerability that he rarely shows, and it cuts through you like a knife. Your heart aches at the sound of his voice, so broken and raw, a far cry from the stoic, determined young man you’ve known for so long.

You can see it in the way his eyes stare ahead, unfocused, as if he’s searching for something he can’t quite grasp. The way his hands tremble slightly, even though they’re clenched tightly on his knees. He sounds lost, like he’s still fighting a battle that has no end, still trying to claw his way out of a darkness that clings to him like a second skin. His whole body seems to sag under the weight of it, the invisible chains that bind him to a past he can’t escape.

“I see.” you whisper, your voice gentle, but firm. You reach out, hesitantly, resting your hand on his arm, feeling the tension that coils beneath his skin, the way his muscles are taut and ready to snap. “I’m sorry for that, Megumi.”

He flinches at your touch, just a little, his gaze flicking to yours for a brief second before darting away again. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he’s torn between wanting to believe you and the insidious doubt that’s been planted deep inside him. There’s a flicker of shame, of fear, as if he’s afraid of admitting just how much he’s struggling, how much of himself he feels he’s lost.

“It’s going to take some time for all of this to go and change.” he finally admits, his voice low, almost inaudible. “It feels like… like he’s still there, lurking in the corners of my mind, waiting for a chance to come back. And then Gojo–sensei’s voice echoes sometimes, whispering… and Sukuna just….It’s like he’s a part of me now, and I don’t know how to make him leave.”

His words are laced with a quiet desperation, a plea for some kind of reassurance that you’re not sure you can give. How do you tell someone that the ghost in their mind will eventually fade when you know that kind of pain never truly leaves? How do you promise a tomorrow free of shadows when the past clings so fiercely to the present?

You tighten your grip on his arm, just a little, enough to ground him, to let him know you’re here. “He won’t win. Satoru knew that too.” you say, your voice is firmer now, more certain. “Not while you’re still fighting. And I know you, Megumi. You’ve fought through worse. You’re stronger than you think, even when you feel like you’re falling apart.”

His eyes meet yours again, and you can see the doubt there, the fear. But beneath it, there’s a spark of something else, something fragile and faint, but alive — hope, maybe. A glimmer of belief that he can pull through this, that he can find himself again. His lips part, but he seems to hesitate, as if afraid of saying something he can’t take back.

“I’m tired.” he confesses, and it feels like the weight of the world is in those two words. “I’m so tired of fighting. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

You swallow hard, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes, but you blink them back. “I know." you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I know you are. And it’s okay to feel that way. It’s okay to be tired, to need a break. But you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, Megumi. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

He exhales, a shaky breath that trembles with all the emotions he’s been holding in, and for a moment, he looks like he might break, like the walls he’s built around himself might finally come crashing down. His shoulders slump further, and he leans forward, just a fraction, as if testing the waters, as if trying to decide if it’s safe to fall.

“I….” he starts, his voice breaking, “I keep thinking about him… and about everyone we lost. And I wonder if it’s even worth it, to keep going… if I’m even worth it. I…I helped cause all this pain.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you feel your breath hitch in your throat. You tighten your grip on his arm, leaning closer, your heart breaking for him, for everything he’s endured, for everything he’s still enduring.

“Megumi.” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “You are worth it. You’re worth every fight, every tear, every moment of pain. You’re worth it because you’re here, and you’re trying, and you haven’t given up. And that… that’s everything.”

He looks at you, his eyes searching, as if trying to find the truth in your words, as if he wants to believe you but doesn’t know how. His lips tremble, and for a moment, he seems like he might speak, might say something that could change everything.

But then he just closes his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek, and he lets out a breath, long and shuddering. “I don’t know.” he whispers, but he doesn’t pull away from your touch. He stays there, his body tense but close, and you know that for now, that’s enough.

You feel the slight tremor in his shoulders, the way he fights to keep himself together, and you wonder how many times he’s had to do this — how many times he’s been forced to stand tall when everything inside him was falling apart. You can see the exhaustion etched in the lines of his face, the dark circles beneath his eyes. He’s so young, but he looks older now, like the weight of the world has been pressing down on him for too long.

You don’t say anything, just keep your hand on his arm, feeling the faint, steady beat of his pulse beneath your fingertips. You know that words won’t fix this, won’t make the shadows in his eyes disappear. But you want him to know he’s not alone, that he doesn’t have to carry this burden by himself.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leans into you, just a little, his head bowing as if the strength he’s been holding onto is slipping away. You don’t move, don’t flinch, just let him take whatever he needs from you, let him find some solace in the contact, in the warmth of another human being who understands, who has lost as much as he has.

“I’m scared.” he admits, his voice so soft you almost miss it, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m scared that I’ll never be… me again. That I’ll never be whole. That I’ll always feel… like this.”

Your heart aches at the confession, at the way his voice breaks, the way his words tremble with an uncertainty that shakes you to your core. You feel a tear slip down your own cheek, and you quickly brush it away, not wanting him to see, not wanting to add to his pain.

“It’s okay to be scared.” you whisper back, your voice rough with emotion. “I’m scared too, Megumi. Every day. But you don’t have to do this alone. You have people who care about you, who love you. And we’ll get through this… somehow. Together.”

He nods, just barely, and you can feel the tiniest bit of tension ease from his frame, as if your words have given him something to hold onto, even if just for a moment. His tired eyes remain closed, and he takes another deep breath, his lips pressing into a thin line, his brows furrowing like he’s trying to muster some strength from within.

“I miss him.” he confesses, almost like he’s ashamed to say it out loud. “I miss Gojo–sensei. Tsumiki, I…I still can’t…”

Silence engulfs you, heavy and unrelenting, settling like a thick fog between you and Megumi. He opens his eyes. You couldn’t help but see the light of devastation in his eyes, a light that flickers and fades like a dying star. It’s a look you’ve seen before, a look you’ve felt etched into your own reflection every time you’ve caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The eyes that have stared back at you have been hollowed out, drained of their usual spark, carrying the same weight that now rests in Megumi’s.

You see it in the way he looks down, his gaze fixed on some invisible point on the ground, as if he’s afraid that meeting your eyes might shatter whatever fragile composure he’s managed to hold onto. The devastation is so clear in his expression, so raw and exposed, like an open wound that hasn’t begun to heal.

But you share the same look, you think. Because you’ve both lost the dearest people in your lives. The ones who held you together, who gave you strength when you needed it most. You knew that too well — the pain, the grief that seems to expand with every breath you take, filling the space around you, making it harder and harder to breathe. Tsumiki, taken from him so suddenly, so cruelly. And now Satoru, your husband, the man who was everything — your light, your laughter, your reason to keep fighting even when the world felt like it was falling apart.

How much more can you both bear?

It feels like there’s a weight pressing down on your chest, an invisible force squeezing the air out of your lungs. Your heart aches with a pain that’s deep and unyielding, a pain that you’ve grown accustomed to, but that never seems too dull. It’s the kind of pain that lingers, that finds its way into every corner of your being, that refuses to be ignored no matter how hard you try.

You think of Satoru — his smile, his ridiculous jokes, the way he could light up a room just by being in it. You think of Tsumiki — her quiet strength, her gentle kindness, the way she could make Megumi laugh even when he didn’t want to. You think of how much they meant to you, to both of you, and you wonder how you’re supposed to go on without them. How do you keep moving forward when the ground beneath you has been ripped away? How do you find the strength to keep fighting when the people who gave you that strength are gone?

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, hot and heavy, and you quickly brush it away. You don’t want Megumi to see, don’t want him to think that you’re breaking, that you’re crumbling under the weight of your own grief. But maybe he already knows. Maybe he can see it in the way your hands tremble, in the way your shoulders sag just a little, in the way your breath catches in your throat like you’re fighting to keep from sobbing.

Megumi finally looks up, and when his eyes meet yours, you see the reflection of your own sorrow staring back at you. His eyes are tired, so very tired, like he hasn’t slept in days, weeks even. There’s a hollowness in them, a void where there used to be determination and fire. He looks older than he is, worn down by the battles he fought, by the losses he’s endured. And you wonder how much more he can take, how much more you can ask of him when he’s already given so much.

“I’m… I’m not sure how to do this.” he admits, his voice barely more than a whisper, his words trembling on the edge of breaking. “I don’t know how to… keep going.”

Your heart tightens, and you feel a fresh wave of grief wash over you, cold and sharp like a blade. You want to tell him that it will get easier, that the pain will fade, but you know it’s not true. You know that some losses never heal, that some wounds never close. All you can do is reach out and take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently, letting him know that you’re here, that you’re not going anywhere.

“I don’t know how either.” you whisper back, your voice thick with emotion. “But we have to try… for them. For ourselves.”

He nods, but it’s a slow, uncertain nod, like he’s still not sure if he believes you, if he believes in anything anymore. His grip tightens around your hand, almost desperate, like he’s holding on for dear life. And maybe he is. Maybe you both are, trying to keep each other afloat in a sea of loss and uncertainty, trying to find something solid to cling to when everything else has been swept away.

For a long moment, you stand there in silence, feeling the weight of everything you’ve lost, everything you’re still losing. And you realize that there’s no easy answer, no simple path forward. There’s only this — the two of you, standing together in the midst of all the broken pieces, trying to make sense of a world that no longer feels whole. And maybe that’s enough. For now, maybe that’s enough.

"I… I keep thinking he’ll walk through that door too, you know?" you finally manage to say, your voice catching on the last word. "With that grin of his, like it's all been a bad dream."

Megumi’s gaze drops to the ground. “Me too.” he whispers. "I keep hearing his voice, like he's about to make another joke… or ruffle my hair." His hands curl into fists, and he swallows hard. "I don’t know if I want to laugh or scream."

You reach out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on his arm. "It feels wrong, doesn't it? For him to be gone."

He nods, his shoulders slumping further. "I hated how he made everything a joke, how he never took things seriously… but I’d give anything to hear him laugh again." His voice cracks, and you see the tears he's been holding back start to gather in his eyes.

Your own tears brim over, and you don’t bother wiping them away. "I don’t know what to do." you admit. "I feel lost without him. I thought we’d have more time… that we could…"

"To live together?" Megumi finishes for you, and you nod, grateful that he understands.

For a moment, you both stand there in your shared grief, the silence punctuated by the distant sounds of the wind moving through the ruins. Finally, Megumi reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, worn and slightly crumpled, as if it’s been handled many times. You look at him and then to the paper. You could feel the air knocked from your lungs. 

"He… he left this for you." he says, handing it over. “Ieiri–san gave this to me. He told Ieiri–san to give it to you.....if something happened, you’d be the one to need it most.”

You take the letter with trembling hands, the weight of it almost too much to bear. For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to open it, terrified of what it might say, of the finality it represents. But then you unfold it, the familiar scrawl of his handwriting dancing across the page, and his little drawing of himself on the side. You don’t know whether you were going to laugh or cry. Because, almost immediately, you can almost hear his voice speaking the words.

𝑯𝒆𝒚, 𝒚𝒐𝒖! 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕, 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒎𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆,  

𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒚𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒆𝒕’𝒔 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒕, 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒅. 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒊𝒕’𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕… 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘.  

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒓… 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖, 𝑴𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒎𝒊, 𝑻𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒌𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 — 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒚. 𝑩𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝑰 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒆, 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚?  

𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒎𝒊. 𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑬𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝑴𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒎𝒊, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒕. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓, 𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔. 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕… 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒖𝒑 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆, 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚? 

𝑻𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊, 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒘𝒏, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔. 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔, 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚? 𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒚.   

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 — 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕,  𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖.

The tears spill over again, as they have these past few weeks and you clutch the letter to your chest, your heart aching with a mix of love and pain. You look over at Megumi, who’s watching you with a mix of understanding and his own quiet grief. He didn’t say a word for a while. He just let you cry, to let out the grief that you had been holding in for so long. 

"He… he always knew what to say, didn’t he?" Megumi murmurs, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah." you reply, your voice thick with tears. "He always did."

The weight of Satoru's absence presses heavily upon you, but the words on the paper offer a strange comfort, like a hand reaching out through the dark. You hold the letter tightly, almost as if you could draw him back with the force of your grip.

Megumi shifts beside you, his gaze distant. You sense he’s been wrestling with his own demons, carrying a grief he doesn’t quite know how to articulate. You remember the nights Satoru would tease him, ruffle his hair, and declare with exaggerated fondness that he was the son he never had. And you remember how Megumi would roll his eyes, always with that begrudging smile, the one that said he was secretly happy to have someone who cared so much.

"I don’t know what to do." you confess, your voice barely a whisper. "I don’t even know where to begin."

Megumi looks at you, his eyes softening in understanding. "Neither do I." he admits. "But… I think Gojo–sensei would want us to keep going. He’d hate seeing us like this, stuck in the past."

You nod, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. "He was always moving forward, wasn’t he? Never stopping, not even for a second."

Megumi’s lips twitch into a faint smile. "Yeah, always dragging everyone else along for the ride." He hesitates, and then adds, "But… it wasn’t just him. You kept him grounded. You gave him a reason to slow down, even if just a little."

Your breath catches in your throat. You never thought of it that way — always felt like you were the one chasing after him, trying to keep up with his boundless energy and insatiable curiosity. But maybe, in your own way, you had been his anchor.

Megumi takes a step closer, his hand hovering near your shoulder, as if unsure whether to reach out. "He always talked about you, a lot. Even when you weren't around." he says softly. "Not in the way you'd expect. He’d get this look in his eyes, like… like he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have you."

You nod, finding some solace in his words. The two of you stand there for a moment longer, letting the silence settle around you, a cocoon of shared understanding. Then, with a deep breath, you fold Satoru’s letter carefully, as if it were the most fragile thing in the world, and tuck it into your pocket.

“I know.” you say gently, a faint smile on your lips. “I was the luckiest person alive too. To have loved him. To have been with him. To…To have a life with him.”

He turns his head slightly, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye. There’s a flicker of something there — a mix of pain and doubt, hope and fear. He looks exhausted, like every breath, every moment, is a battle in itself. His hands unclench slowly, his fingers twitching like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them.

He closes his eyes for a moment, a pained expression crossing his face. “I don’t know if I can ever be what I was.” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

"That's okay." You whisper back. "You don't need to be whole to be yourself, Megumi. It's...enough. Being like this, for now."

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and you see the tears gathering in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He’s still so young, you think, still so young to have been through so much, to carry so many burdens on his shoulders. You didn’t want this from him. You don’t want him to live with this for the rest of his life. 

“Do you think it’ll ever stop hurting?” he asks, his voice so soft it’s almost a plea.

You pause, considering your words carefully. “I don’t know.” you admit honestly. “I think… I think it might always hurt a little. But I also think that one day, the pain won’t be the first thing you feel. One day, you’ll wake up, and it’ll be a little easier to breathe. And then another day, and another… and eventually, you’ll find a way to live with it. To carry it without letting it crush you.”

He nods slowly, as if trying to absorb your words, to find some semblance of comfort in them. “I hope so.” he says quietly. “I really hope so.”

As you purse your lips into a tight line, Fushiguro Megumi turns his head slightly, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the strain in his eyes. They’re the same eyes you’ve known for years, dark and brooding, yet now they seem dimmed by a weight too heavy for any young man to bear. His expression is weary, etched with the lines of battles fought not just against enemies but against the relentless tide of grief and responsibility that threatens to swallow him whole. 

You pause, taking in the sight of him. Megumi, who has always seemed so strong, so unyielding, now stands with his shoulders hunched, his frame pulled inward like a fragile fortress protecting a fragile heart. His hands, usually so sure and steady, are clenched tightly at his sides, fingers twitching with a nervous energy. 

The boy who faced curses without flinching now looks lost, as if he’s unsure of where to place his feet or how to hold himself together. You notice how his posture has shrunk into itself, his form smaller, more fragile than you remember. For a fleeting moment, he is not the stoic young man who bears the weight of the Zen’in name, but the boy you raised, the one who used to look up at you with a defiance softened by hope. 

Memories rush in, unbidden and raw. You remember the first time you took his hand, how tiny it seemed in yours, and the way he stiffened, wary of your touch. It took time for him to trust you, to accept the safety you offered in a world that had been anything but kind. He was so guarded, so determined to prove that he didn’t need anyone, but you had seen through the cracks in his armor, glimpsed the boy beneath who craved comfort and understanding.

Now, as you stand before him, you see that boy again. The boy who hid his hurt behind curt words and narrowed eyes, who watched the world with suspicion, waiting for it to turn on him. You see the boy who wanted to be strong, not just for himself but for those he cared about, who believed that if he could shoulder enough pain, he might somehow spare others from it. That same boy stands before you now, but the weight he carries has only grown heavier, pressing down on his shoulders until they sag with exhaustion.

You move closer, slowly, careful not to startle him. Megumi’s gaze flickers to you, and for a moment, something in his eyes softens, just a fraction. He looks at you as if he wants to say something, but the words catch in his throat, stuck behind the fear of vulnerability. You can see the battle waging within him — the need to be strong, to keep it all together, and the desperate longing to let someone in, to share the burden that’s breaking him apart.

“I…I’m sorry for putting you through what I did.” he whispers, so quietly you almost miss it. His voice is thick, strained with the weight of everything left unsaid.

It was hard seeing Megumi this way, you think. If anything, you still weren’t prepared to seek him out. You felt ashamed that you couldn’t do much for him. As much as you were also worried that he’d put himself at your feet, kneeling and in tears. Now your worst fear came to pass, that he would be apologizing to you for something that was not his fault. And so, you took that time — a long time, to just be alone and grieve. To let your husband’s soul rest in peace.

So your heart aches at his confession, and you step closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, drawing him into an embrace. At first, he resists, his body stiff and unyielding, but you hold firm, refusing to let go. Slowly, he relents, and he collapses against you, his head resting against your shoulder. His hands clutch at the fabric of your clothes, and you feel the tremble in his fingers, the suppressed sobs caught in his chest.

“It’s okay, Megumi.” you murmur, stroking his back in soothing circles. “You silly boy. Why are you apologizing for things that aren’t your fault, hm?”

His shoulders shake, and you feel the tears that he’s fought so hard to hold back finally spill over. He buries his face in your shoulder, his body wracked with silent sobs, each one tearing at your heart. You hold him tighter, as if you could somehow shield him from the pain, as if you could gather all the shattered pieces of him and put them back together.

He cries quietly, like he doesn’t want to be heard, like he’s afraid of what his grief might sound like if he lets it out. You just hold him, letting him take the time he needs, giving him the space to be the child you know he still is, beneath all that strength and stubbornness. 

And for that moment, you are back in time, comforting a boy who tried so hard to be brave, to stand tall in a world that felt too big and too cruel. You feel the years slip away, and you whisper to him like you did then, telling him it’s okay, that he’s safe, that he’s loved. 

Slowly, the tremors in his body begin to ease, and he pulls back slightly, just enough to look up at you. His eyes are red, and there’s a vulnerability there that you haven’t seen in years. “I’m sorry, Gen–san.” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. “I….It must be harder on you.”

You shake your head, cupping his cheek with one hand. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” you say firmly. “You’ve been so strong, Megumi. But you don’t have to be strong all the time.”

He nods, his eyes closing for a moment as he takes a shaky breath. “I just… I miss him, Gen–san.” he admits, his voice breaking. “I miss them. Tsumiki…..I…I miss them both. And it’s…It’s my fault. If I had…”

“I know you do.” you whisper back. “I miss them too. And it’s okay to feel that way. But it was never your fault. You understand? This is not your cross to bear, hm?”

He looked at you, as though he was still unsure. But he nods again, and this time, when he opens his eyes, there’s a spark of something new there, a flicker of resolve. “Thank you.” he murmurs. “For… for being here.”

You smile softly, brushing his hair back from his face. “Always.” you promise. “I’ll always be here for you, Megumi.”

And as he leans into your touch, you realize that maybe, just maybe, he’s beginning to understand that he doesn’t have to face the world alone. That he has a family, even in the darkest of times, and that you’ll always be there to catch him when he falls. When he finally calms down, you look at him with a tender gaze. You rub the small of his back and coo towards him. You tell him over and over again that it’s going to be okay. 

THINGS HAVE CHANGED IN THESE MANY YEARS. But all the same, you were still just trying to get by without your husband. Just as you have done in the past fourteen years. Sometimes you can’t believe that it has been that long. Fourteen long years without his voice, his laughter, his warmth beside you in the dark of the night. Fourteen years of waking up every morning and remembering all over again that he’s gone.

Some days, it feels like he was just here, like you can still hear his footsteps in the hallway, the sound of his voice calling your name, teasing you with that easy smile that could always make your heart skip a beat. Other days, it feels like a lifetime has passed, like his memory is slipping further away with each breath you take, each step you take forward.

And sometimes, all you have to do is look at the world around you and see how much it has changed, even without Satoru. The world didn’t stop for his absence — it kept moving, kept spinning, kept evolving. The streets are filled with new faces, new buildings rise where old ones once stood. The skyline of the city looks different, the energy of the people has shifted, and even the quiet corners where you used to find solace now feel foreign and unfamiliar.

You think about the way he would have laughed at the way the world has moved on without him, how he would have been amused at the thought of being left behind by time itself. “Can’t keep up with me, huh?” he would’ve jokes, that mischievous grin spreading across his face, his bright eyes twinkling with that endless, boundless spirit of his.

But he isn’t here to see it — he isn’t here to laugh or joke or comment on the little changes that make up this new reality. And that’s what hurts the most, you think. The small moments that go unnoticed, the daily routines that feel emptier without him, the tiny, insignificant details that made life with him so full.

You were certain that today was one of those days — a day where the past and present seemed to blur, where the weight of what came before felt particularly heavy. The morning sun filters through the kitchen window, casting a soft glow across the table. You watch as the young clan leader, Gojo Satoshi, sits across from you, his posture a mix of youthful excitement and a hint of nervousness that he tries to hide. His eighteenth birthday has finally arrived — a day you’ve both been anticipating with a blend of joy and bittersweetness. 

For years, you’ve marked this date on the calendar, circled it with a smiley face as Satoru used to do. You remember the way he’d talk about this day like it was a grand milestone, his eyes lighting up with that familiar spark as he imagined all the things Satoshi would accomplish. And now, here it is — the day that seemed so far away, so impossible to reach, yet somehow arrived faster than you ever thought it would.

Your son had taken some time off from his responsibilities, from the pressures of the Gojo clan, just to be here with you. He’d insisted on it, saying he didn’t want to spend this day anywhere else. There’s a maturity in him that catches you off guard sometimes, a quiet strength that reminds you so much of Satoru, and yet he’s entirely his own person, shaped by all the experiences and lessons that life has thrown at him. 

At times, you catch yourself taking a moment to look at him. He was the spitting image of his father. Every bit of him was Satoru. From the way his eyes gazed at you, to the way he laughs. Everything was him. You think if your husband would be here now, it would have been hard to tell them apart. But, he was all you have of Satoru. And you were still grateful for it, even if it makes you cry sometimes.

“Mom.” he begins, and there’s a softness in his voice, a vulnerability that he doesn’t show often. “I… I’m glad I could be here today. I know it’s… a lot. For both of us.”

You smile, a warm, gentle smile that you hope hides the ache in your chest. “I’m glad too, Satoshi. I’ve been waiting for this day. Your father would have wanted it to be special.”

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes — a shadow of the loss you both carry, the empty space that Satoru left behind. You know this day is as much about celebrating as it is about remembering, about honoring the promise that Satoru made to him, to all of you.

And that’s why you’re here, sitting at the kitchen table, a letter in your hand — a letter you’ve kept safe for years, one with Satoru’s handwriting on the envelope, his familiar scrawl that brings a sting of tears to your eyes. The letter he wrote for Satoshi to open on his eighteenth birthday, a letter he wrote knowing he might not be here to read it himself.

You hold it out to him, your fingers trembling slightly, and Satoshi’s eyes widen. He recognizes it immediately, having seen it once before when he was a child, when you tucked it away with a promise that it was for another day, a day when he was older, stronger.

“Is this…?” he asks, his voice trailing off, almost afraid to finish the question.

You nod, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “It’s from your father.” you say softly. “Megumi found it cleaning your father's office. It seems....your father wanted you to have something special when you're older."

For a moment, Satoshi just stares at the envelope, his fingers brushing over the edges, tracing the curve of his father’s handwriting. You can see the emotions flicker across his face — curiosity, sadness, a deep, yearning love. He looks up at you, and there’s a silent question in his eyes, one that asks if you’re okay, if you’re ready for this.

You give him a small nod, even though your heart feels like it might break all over again. “Go on.” you encourage. “Open it.”

With a deep breath, Satoshi carefully tears open the envelope, his hands steady despite the tremor you know he must feel. He pulls out the folded paper inside, and as he begins to read, you watch his face, the way his expression changes, softens, as he takes in the words that his father left for him.

There’s a chuckle, soft and low, that escapes his lips, and for a brief moment, it’s like Gojo Satoru is in the room with you both, his presence lingering in the air, his laughter echoing in the corners. Satoshi’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, and he shakes his head, murmuring, “Of course he’d say that…” under his breath.

You can’t help but smile, a tear slipping down your cheek as you remember Satoru’s sense of humor, his way of making light of even the heaviest moments. You wonder what he wrote, what silly remark he must have made, what words he left behind to make his son laugh on this day.

But then, the laughter fades, replaced by a softer look, a look of longing. Satoshi’s eyes grow misty, and his smile wavers, his breath hitching in his throat. His hands clutch the letter a little tighter, his fingers pressing into the paper like he’s holding onto a lifeline.

“I miss him, a lot.” he whispers, his voice breaking, and in that moment, he looks like the little boy he used to be, the one who would climb into your lap and ask when his father was coming home. “I miss him so much.”

Your heart breaks all over again, and you reach across the table, pulling him into your arms. He doesn’t resist, burying his face in your shoulder, and you feel his tears soak through your shirt, hot and heavy. You hold him close, your hand running through his hair, whispering soothing words even as your own tears fall.

“I know, Satoshi.” you whisper back, your voice thick with emotion. “I miss him too… every day.”

He clings to you, his body shaking with quiet sobs, and you let him cry, let him mourn, let him feel all the things he needs to feel. You know that this pain will never truly go away, that there will always be a part of both of you that aches for the man who isn’t here, for the father and husband who left too soon.

But in this moment, you also feel a deep, abiding love — a love that stretches across time and space, that binds you together even in the face of loss. You know that Satoru is with you, in every laugh, in every tear, in every beat of your hearts. And as you hold your son, feeling the strength of his embrace, the warmth of his love, you know that Satoru’s spirit lives on, in him, in you, in all the days to come.

You feel Satoshi’s grip tighten around you, his shoulders still trembling with the force of his emotions. You hold him closer, pressing your cheek against the top of his head, breathing in the scent of him, so familiar and comforting. He’s grown so much, become a young man with so much of his father’s spirit, and yet so much of his own unique strength.

“He would’ve been so proud of you, little dawn.” you whisper into his hair, feeling your voice catch in your throat. “Every day, he would’ve been so proud. I know he is… wherever he is.”

Satoshi pulls back just enough to look up at you, his eyes red-rimmed and wet with tears, but there’s a light in them — a spark of resilience, of determination, of love. “I hope so, mom.” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I hope I’m making him proud… and you, too.”

You smile, cupping his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his damp cheeks. “You are, Satoshi. You’re everything he could have hoped for… everything I could have hoped for.”

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes, and you can see the way his expression softens, some of the tension easing from his features. “I just… I wish he were here,” he admits, his voice a broken whisper. “I wish he could see this… see me now.”

You nod, swallowing back your own tears, feeling the ache in your chest grow sharper, deeper. “Me too.” you confess. “Every day, I wish for that. But he’s still with us, Satoshi. In you, in me, in all the love he left behind. And as long as we remember him, he’ll never truly be gone.”

Satoshi nods slowly, taking in your words, letting them settle in the quiet space between you. You know it’s not enough to fill the emptiness, to ease the pain that sits heavy in both of your hearts, but it’s something — a small comfort, a small truth that you can hold on to.

“Happy birthday, Satoshi.” You greeted him with a small smile on your face. “You and your papa. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, mom.”

And so, you sit together in the soft morning light, holding onto each other, holding onto the memory of the man you both loved so dearly, trying to find your way in a world that has changed so much without him. You know it won’t be easy — it never has been — but you also know that you have each other, that you have the love he left behind, and maybe, for now, that’s enough to keep moving forward.

Just as you have for the past fourteen years.

Just as you will for the years to come.

YOU DECIDED TO VISIT THAT AFTERNOON. The pond is quiet, save for the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, the soft murmurs of the water lapping against its edges. You stand at the edge, looking out at the calm surface, watching as the light dances across the ripples. The air is thick with the scent of earth and pine, and there’s a serenity here that you haven’t felt in a long time — a stillness that settles into your bones, grounding you in the moment.

This was land that Satoru bought a long time ago, back when the world was still full of possibility, when dreams felt tangible and within reach. You remember the day he brought you here for the first time, the way his eyes sparkled with excitement as he talked about the future, about all the things he wanted to build, all the memories he hoped to create. 

He’d stood right where you’re standing now, his hands on his hips, looking out at the same pond with a boyish grin on his face. “This is it.” he’d said, his voice full of conviction. “This is where I’d be glad to build a family… a place to call home when everything’s said and done.”

You could hear the hope in his words, the unspoken promise of a life filled with love and laughter. He had dreams of children playing by the water’s edge, of long summer evenings spent under the stars, of a sanctuary away from the battles, away from the chaos.

And you had made that happen. For a while, you had built that family, that life, just as he’d wanted. You shared quiet mornings and loud, joyous evenings. You laughed, you loved, you lived. The memories still linger in every corner of this place, like echoes of a time that now feels so distant, so far away.

This is the place where you buried your husband — here, by the pond where he once stood dreaming of the future. It felt right, felt like honoring that dream of his, of giving him the home he’d always wanted, even in death. You wanted him to be where he’d always hoped to be, to rest in the place he had chosen for his family, his sanctuary. So you laid him to rest here, in the earth he once walked upon, beneath the trees that whisper his name in the wind. 

But you chose this spot for a reason. So that he’ll always be home, so that he’ll never be far from the place he loved most. You wanted him to have peace, to feel the tranquility of the land he cherished so much. And maybe, in some way, you wanted him close, wanted to be able to visit, to sit by his side and feel his presence, even if it’s just in the whispers of the wind or the quiet ripple of the pond.

You sit back, closing your eyes, breathing in the fresh air, and you imagine his laughter, his voice, his hand in yours. You can almost hear him now, teasing you about being sentimental, about spending so much time talking to a patch of earth. But you know he’d understand. He always understood you, even when you didn’t understand yourself.

You look out over the pond, the way the water reflects the sky, and you wonder what he would think of the world now, of all the things that have changed. You wonder if he’d still choose this place, if he’d still find it as beautiful as he once did. You like to think he would, that he’d still smile and say, “Yeah, this is home.”

One day, you think. One day, maybe you’ll be here too, resting beside him, sharing this place forever. Maybe one day, you’ll find your way back to him, and you’ll get to hear his voice again, feel his arms around you, and you’ll be whole again. Until then, you’ll keep coming back, keep whispering to the wind, keep holding onto the memories that this place holds.

And as the sun dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the water, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. Because here, in this quiet place, he is still with you. Here, by the pond he loved so much, he is still home.

You’ve walked this path more times than you can count, but today feels different. The air is heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken words and memories that cling to you like shadows. It has been fourteen years now, and in a few days, it will be official. But it was your husband’s birthday today too, and you think that maybe that’s why. Satoshi is eighteen and your husband isn’t here to see it. 

When you reach their graves, you pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The air is cool, the wind gentle against your skin, but there is a weight in your chest that feels heavier than any burden you’ve ever carried. 

Two simple stones lie before you, side by side, as if they were always meant to be together — Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. Their names etched in the granite are stark against the soft earth, the bold characters cutting through the silence of the space around you. The sight is almost too real, too final, as if the reality of their absence is etched into the stone itself.

It was what Satoru wanted, you remember. He had told you that a long time ago, in a quiet moment, his voice uncharacteristically soft, almost pleading. “Promise me, if anything ever happens… that Suguru will be laid to rest too. That he’ll have peace.”

You’d nodded then, not thinking much of it, not wanting to entertain the thought of losing him. But now, standing here, you understand why. You understand why it mattered to him, why it was so important that they be reunited in the end.

They were best friends once — closer than brothers, bound by a shared past, by dreams of changing the world together. Even when their paths diverged, even when they became enemies in the eyes of the world, there was always something unbreakable between them, something that tied them together beyond the choices they made, beyond the mistakes and the betrayals. They were always two halves of a whole, two sides of a coin that could never be separated.

And now, in death, they are together again. You think it fitting, think it poetic in a way that only Satoru could have imagined. They both found their peace here, in this quiet place, far from the chaos and conflict that shaped their lives. And maybe, just maybe, they have found each other again, wherever they are.

You kneel down, your knees pressing into the soft grass, feeling the dampness seep through your clothes, grounding you, connecting you to the earth, to this place where they both now rest. You reach out with trembling fingers, tracing the characters of their names etched into the cold granite. The letters feel rough under your fingertips, each line a reminder of what was lost, of the lives that were lived with so much intensity, so much passion, so much pain.

“Satoru.” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat. It feels strange to say his name out loud, to speak to him as if he could still hear you. But you hope he can. You hope he’s listening, somewhere out there. “I’m back, my dearest.”

“I miss you… so much. Every day. I don’t know how to do this without you.” Your fingers move to Suguru’s name next, tracing the familiar curves and lines, remembering the way Satoru used to talk about him, the fondness in his voice even after everything that happened.

“And Suguru.” you add softly, “I hope you found peace too. I hope… wherever you are, you’ve found each other again. That you’re not alone. Stay together, hm?”

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves around you, and for a moment, you almost think you hear their voices — Satoru’s light and teasing, Suguru’s deeper, quieter, both of them laughing together like they did in the old days, when things were simpler, when the world hadn’t yet shown its darker side. It’s a sound that cuts through the quiet, a memory that tugs at your heart, bringing a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.

You press your palms flat against the grass, feeling the cool earth beneath your hands, grounding yourself in the present, in the reality of this moment. You close your eyes, letting the tears fall freely now, feeling the ache in your chest grow sharper, deeper. 

“I’m sorry.” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you… either of you. I’m sorry it came to this.”

But then you take a breath, slow and steady, and you remember what Satoru always said — that life goes on, that the world keeps turning, even when it feels like it’s falling apart. And you know he wouldn’t want you to stay here forever, trapped in the past, in the grief that feels like it might swallow you whole. He would want you to keep going, to keep living, to find joy again, even if it feels impossible right now.

You sit back on your heels, wiping at your eyes, feeling the cool breeze brush against your cheeks. “I’ll keep going.” you promise, your voice is stronger now, more certain. “I’ll keep living, for both of you. For all of us. But… one day, I hope I get to see you again. I hope we can be together again, somehow.”

The wind blows softly, carrying your words away, and you imagine them reaching Satoru, reaching Suguru, wherever they are. You imagine them smiling, together at last, watching over you, waiting for the day when you’ll be reunited. And in that thought, you find a small measure of comfort, a small piece of hope to hold on to.

So you stay a little longer, just sitting there in the quiet, in the space between what was and what is, letting the memories wash over you, letting yourself feel everything — the love, the loss, the longing. Because here, in this place, they are still with you. Here, by their graves, you are not alone.

You swallow, trying to keep your composure, but it’s hard. The memories rush back all at once — the sound of Satoru’s laughter, always so full and carefree; Suguru’s quiet, thoughtful gaze as he watches you both, always the more grounded of the two. You close your eyes for a moment, letting those memories wash over you, trying to hold on to the feeling of them, even as it brings a fresh ache to your heart.

“I miss you.” you say, your voice breaking on the last word. “Gods, I miss you both so much.”

Your hand drops to your lap, and you feel the sting of tears in your eyes, blurring your vision. You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. The tears spill over, hot against your skin, and you don’t bother to wipe them away. You’re tired of pretending to be strong, tired of holding back the grief that’s been eating away at you ever since you lost them.

“I still can’t believe you’re gone, Satoru.” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I keep thinking… I keep waiting for you to walk through the door with that ridiculous grin on your face, like this was all just some terrible joke. I keep thinking I’ll hear your voice, calling out to me, asking me if I’ve missed you. Fourteen years and I still think like this.”

Your shoulders shake with a quiet sob, and you press a hand to your mouth, trying to stifle the sound. You feel the ache in your chest, the hollow emptiness that’s been there since the day he died. Every day without him feels like a wound that won’t heal, a pain that won’t lessen, no matter how much time passes.

“I miss you so much.” you repeat, your voice raw and broken. “I miss the way you used to make me laugh, even when I didn’t want to. I miss the way you’d wrap your arms around me, like you could protect me from everything. I miss your voice, your smile… I miss everything.”

You take a deep breath, your fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes as if to ground yourself. “Sometimes… sometimes I don’t know how to keep going.” you admit quietly. “I don’t know how to keep living in a world where you’re not here.”

Your gaze drifts to Suguru’s grave, and you feel another pang of sorrow. “I miss you too, Suguru.” you murmur. “I know you and Satoru are probably driving each other crazy up there… but I wish… I wish you were both here with me.”

You let out a shaky breath, your tears falling more freely now. “I’m trying to be strong, to be the person you both believed I could be.” you say, your voice trembling. “But it’s so hard without you. It’s so hard to keep going when all I want to do is just… just give up.”

You close your eyes, bowing your head, and let the tears fall, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The grief feels like it’s drowning you, pulling you under, and for a moment, you don’t know if you have the strength to keep swimming.

But then, through the haze of your tears, you feel a small flicker of warmth — a memory, a feeling, a sense of Satoru’s presence. You can almost hear his voice, playful and light, telling you to keep going, to keep fighting, to keep living. And you know, deep down, that he wouldn’t want you to give up. He’d want you to keep smiling, to keep finding joy, even in a world without him.

You lift your head, wiping at your tears with the back of your hand. “I promise I’ll keep going.” you whisper. “I’ll keep living, for both of you. But… one day…”

Your voice catches, and you swallow hard, forcing the words out past the lump in your throat. “One day, I can’t wait to see you again.” you say, your voice breaking on a sob. “I can’t wait to be with you again, Satoru. I can’t wait to hold you and tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his headstone, your fingers trembling. “Until then… I’ll keep you in my heart.” you whisper. “I’ll keep you both in my heart.”

The wind picks up once more, rustling the leaves, and for a moment, you feel a strange sense of peace, as if they’re both there with you, watching over you, telling you that it’s okay to grieve, to cry, to miss them. And as you sit there, letting the tears flow, you realize that they’re not really gone. They’re still with you, in every memory, every laugh, every tear. 

“I love you so much.” you whisper, your voice carried away in the wind. “I always will, my love. Happy birthday.”

And for the first time in a long time, you feel a flicker of hope, a small, fragile thing, but there nonetheless. A hope that one day, you’ll see them again, that one day, this ache will be replaced by the joy of being with them once more. Until then, you’ll carry them with you, every step of the way, until your paths cross again.

epilogue 

In the ethereal expanse of the afterlife, Gojo Satoru was causing a celestial commotion that even the most seasoned spirits couldn’t ignore. The gates of heaven, grand and imposing, were currently the scene of an unusual spectacle. Satoru was, quite literally, throwing himself against them, trying to push his way through the ornate barriers with a determination that bordered on absurd.

Suguru Geto, Nanami Kento, and Haibara Yuta were standing a few feet away, watching with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Suguru was leaning against a nearby pillar, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. Nanami was rubbing his temples in frustration, and Haibara was trying very hard not to laugh.

"How long has he been at this?" Nanami asked.

"Since yesterday." Haibara snickered in response.

"I haven't had peace these past two days." Suguru sighed.

Satoru, his face pressed against the gates, was shouting, “GAH!? Let me out! I need to get back to Earth! They need me! I can’t just sit here while they’re struggling!”

Nanami, stepping forward with a calm yet firm tone, said, “Satoru, this is not a joke. You’re dead. You’re not supposed to go back. We’ve been over this.”

Satoru turned his head, giving them a pleading look. “But they’re my family! They need me! Can’t you see? I’ve got to be there for them!”

Haibara, trying to defuse the tension, added with a smirk, “Gojo–senpai, you know you can’t just break the rules. Besides, you have to admit, your dramatic exit would probably cause a cosmic mess.”

Suguru, barely containing his grin, stepped forward with a more practical suggestion. “Look, Satoru, there’s a much better way to be there for them without causing a ruckus. You can appear in their dreams. It’s a lot less disruptive and doesn’t require you to break through any divine gates.”

Satoru’s eyes lit up with realization. “Wait, really? I do that? Why didn’t anyone tell me sooner?”

Suguru shrugged nonchalantly. “You didn’t want to listen to me at all. Plus, you were too busy trying to create a celestial catastrophe.”

Satoru paused, considering the idea. “I suppose appearing in their dreams is a bit more civilized. But—” he added, frowning, “—can’t I just pop back in for a quick hug or something? A kiss, more preferably.”

Nanami shook his head, still trying to keep his composure. “No, Gojo. That’s not how it works. You’ve got to accept that you can't do what you want now that you're dead.”

Satoru, with a resigned sigh and the roll of his eyes, finally stepped back from the gates. He still looks like a child when he pouts. “Alright, alright. I’ll do the dream thing. But I want to make sure they know I’m there for them.”

Haibara chuckled. “Great. Just try not to turn their dreams into a circus act. They need comfort, not more chaos, Gojo–senpai!”

Satoru grinned, his spirits lifting as he envisioned his new plan. “Got it. I’ll keep it heartfelt and fun. And maybe I’ll sneak in a few tricks here and there. You know, just to keep things interesting.”

As Satoru prepared to set off on his new celestial mission, Suguru, Nanami, and Haibara exchanged looks of weary amusement. They knew that, despite his antics, Satoru’s heart was in the right place.

“Good luck,” Nanami said dryly. “And remember, no cosmic disasters.”

Satoru gave them a thumbs-up. “You got it! And thanks for the advice, everyone. I’ll make sure they feel my love, even if it’s just in their dreams.”

With that, Satoru faded into a swirl of ethereal light, heading toward the dreamscape to reach out to you and Satoshi. Meanwhile, Suguru, Nanami, and Haibara watched him go, their expressions a mix of relief and amusement.

“Do you think he’ll actually follow through?” Haibara asked, still grinning.

Suguru smirked. “If anyone can turn a dream into a grand spectacle, it’s Satoru. But I have no doubt he’ll manage to bring some comfort, too. Well, somewhat."

Nanami sighed, shaking his head. “Well, at least we’ve managed to keep him out of trouble, for now. Let’s hope he sticks to the plan.”

And with that, the trio returned to their celestial duties, knowing that despite Satoru’s chaotic tendencies, his heart was always in the right place.

And just as promised, Gojo Satoru did indeed make his grand reappearance in your dreams and Satoshi's, weaving a spectral thread through the fabric of your nightly slumbers. The dreams, much like Satoru himself, were a mix of whimsical chaos and heartwarming moments.

In your dream, the scene was set in a familiar place — a cozy, moonlit garden that felt both nostalgic and surreal. There, amidst the soft glow of fairy lights and the gentle rustling of leaves, was Satoru, his usual nonchalant demeanor softened by a warm, affectionate grin. He was seated on a bench, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sparkled with the same mischievous gleam you remembered so well.

"Soooo." he began, stretching out the word as if he were about to launch into one of his signature lectures. "Miss me much? I bet you didn't expect me to show up like this."

You could only laugh, feeling a mixture of relief and joy. "Satoru... this is incredible. I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come."

Satoru’s grin widened, and he leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. "You know me, always keeping my promises, even from beyond. Besides, I couldn’t let you and Satoshi have all the fun without me."

He gestured to the garden around you, which seemed to glow with a gentle, ethereal light, transforming it into a place of comfort and tranquility. It was as if he had crafted this dreamscape himself, blending his penchant for the whimsical with the tenderness of his love.

As you sat together, talking and laughing, the conversation flowed effortlessly. He shared stories from the afterlife, which he portrayed with his characteristic humor and flair, recounting celestial mishaps and the amusing antics of his fellow spirits. It was just like old times, but with a surreal twist — his jokes seemed to float in the air like bubbles, and his laughter was a melody that danced through the night. And then when it was time, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close into an embrace and a kiss.

Satoshi’s dream was equally enchanting. He found himself in a fantastical setting, a blend of his own memories and Satoru's imaginative touch. The scene was a vibrant carnival, full of colors and laughter. Satoru was there, dressed in an elaborate magician’s costume, complete with a top hat and a flowing cape. He was performing tricks, pulling stars out of a hat and making cosmic confetti rain down on the crowd.

Satoshi watched in awe as Satoru performed, a look of wonder on his face. When Satoru finally noticed him, he winked and gave him a grandiose bow. "Hey, kiddo! Did you miss me? Hope you're enjoying the show!"

Satoshi’s heart swelled with a bittersweet mixture of joy and longing. He approached Satoru, who enveloped him in a hug that felt strangely warm despite being a dream. Satoshi felt tears well up in his eyes, but he laughed, feeling a sense of comfort he hadn’t experienced in years. “I’ve missed you so much, Dad.”

Satoru ruffled his hair affectionately, his voice filled with genuine warmth. “I know, kiddo. I’ve missed you too. But you’ve grown so much. I’m proud of you. And I know your mom is too. You both are doing great.”

The dream continued with a playful sense of magic and wonder, filled with laughter and joy. Satoru’s presence, though fleeting, was a gift — a reminder that his love and spirit continued to be a part of your lives, even if only in the realm of dreams.

As the night drew to a close and the dreams began to fade, Satoru gave one last, heartfelt wave. “Remember, I’m always with you. In every laugh, every moment, and every starry night. I’ll be cheering you on from here.”

When you and Satoshi woke up, you immediately texted each other about the dream. And back in heaven, Gojo Satoru was pleased.

[kanmom51]

Are you sure? Jeju - Episode 4

The Pool

Honey's I'm back. Been to the edge of Australia, literally, and back.

Finally watched the episode, and oh boy, there is so much to break down, isn't there.

I won't lie, I've seen so much talk about EVERYTHING here on Tumblr and on X, and I really am joining this party super late. But I will be posting here for the fun of it, cause it's never enough, right? And also maybe I can bring some of the moments together, for points to be made, Idk. I just hope I can manage to get some posts done before the next episode drops, cause there is really so much to unravel here.

Out of everything that went down I thought I'd start with JM and JK's pool party fest.

They return from dinner, where they let Tae know he's a guest on THEIR show once again (and I mention this just because those two just don't stop reminding us and him of said fact, lol) and decide to go into the pool to cool down.

JK looked like he needed a bit of cooling down when JM was undressing next to him.

It was just the two of them, Tae not joining.

JK is in first and JM following, entering and moving towards JK with a LOOK on his face. A LOOK that had JK finding the need to remind JM that the pool wall was glass and see through.

There is no way under the sun that JM's intentions were pure at this moment.

NO WAY!!!

JK knew it.

You gotta be daft not to see it, especially with that man's reaction to JK's comment.

And it's funny, cause it's not like JM didn't see that glass pool wall before. It was just JK's need to remind him off it that makes it so much clearer he was up to no good, lol.

Did you notice how the footage cuts at that moment? I guess we are already used to these cuts, right? There are PLENTY of them in this episode as well. Don't get me started on the before shower, during shower and after shower that night, lol.

Right after that cut we go into Jikook playful mode.

We don't know just how much time they spent in that pool, but we got close to 4 minutes of it. Clearly they were there for some time, we got to see some highlights. The PG version of them playing around in the pool.

It amazes me every time when I see just how in sync those two are with each other. And we got to see it here as well. I mean, we saw it right through the episode. Remember in part 2 of my Jikook in bed (AYS CT) when I mentioned JK was just being with JM when he was just resting his head on JM's thigh? Well, I believe that word is so appropriate for this episode as well.

BEING

Just the two of them.

Even with Tae there with them, it was just them being with each other. With the mundane and everyday stuff.

It's the checking in on each other (for example when JK was getting excited over the food in the Japanese restaurant and JM checks in on him, or when he hits his fist on the table in the chicken restaurant and again, JM checking in on him, or JK just rubbing JM's thigh in the restaurant in episode 3 knowing he's not feeling the best).

It's the making joint decisions - what to eat, when to eat, what to do, when to go to sleep.

It's the calmness. Just calmness in their interactions.

It's them knowing what the other is feeling or meaning, at times without even speaking.

It's them playing around with each other when others don't even understand what's going on (Tae on the boat not getting their playfulness or sense of humor).

It's their constant hyping each other up or complimenting each other.

It's them finding solace in each other.

It's them cuddling watching the sunset.

It's them finding figures in the clouds and drawing them.

It's them hugging while snorkeling.

It's them seeking each other out while snorkeling, wanting to share the experience with the other, share the fun.

It's them sharing their solo music and choreo with each other before it comes out. Spending their time talking about each other's singing and dancing.

It's them being super flirty and talking with underlying innuendos through out their conversations.

It's them just BEING with each other.

I will most likely be writing much more about this, probably small posts with these special moments, but I just had to mention this here as well. Because this here, their time in the pool, was one of those moments as well.

They just click.

And it's so damn loud just how special they are with each other, how different they are with each other.

Saying that is not about diminishing what they have with the other members, because we all know just how close they are with each other, all 7 of them. They are bandmates, they are good friends, they love each other. But let's be realistic here, with all of that, the level of their friendships, the depth of their relationships with each and every one of the other members varies. it's just how it is. Real life, you know. And saying that JM and JK's connection is different and showing how it's different does not diminish from their connections with the others, it just highlights THEM.

And as such, I don't cower away from making these comparisons, because they are part of what screams that the two are a couple. There are things you do with your significant other you don't with your good friend. There are ways you behave with said significant other that you won't with your good friend. There are things you will allow your significant other do to you, do with you, that you won't allow with a good friend. It's the way you communicate with your significant other, things you say, things you don't say, things you don't need to say, tones you use, all of which you don't do with a friend, no matter how good of a friend they are. That's life. No reason to shy away from that just because there are some people that will take it the wrong way.

JM and JK in the pool was just that.

When you know you know.

They were playing games with each other.

Btw, I'm gonna say it even though you have all probably noticed this already, but JK, he doesn't push JM in that game. Not one time. And it reminds me of previous times they've done this.

More games.

then for Tae's benefit.

They were being playful with each other.

They were having fun with each other, just BEING.

Doing THEIR thing.

Jjust clicking.

Being absolutely the cutest EVER possible.

And they can't be Jikook without their signature "You are me I am you", right?

This whole sequence reminded me of the last time we got to catch their late night playfulness. You know, the whole mosquito net debacle, lol.

Only this time there was no alcohol involved and they fully aware of the cameras filming them, lol.

And before all those that happen to be lurking here waiting for me to say something to latch onto start celebrating "she said it", I say calm your farm, because NO SHE DID NOT. Them knowing the cameras are there and having fun TOGETHER, at times posing for the cameras, hence doing it for us to see, takes absolutely NOTHING from it being an authentic and spontaneous interaction.

I can't believe that I actually have to explain this.

Did I mention how many times those two reminded Tae and us that he's a guest on THEIR show?

"The guest is coming"...

"He must be bored and wanting attention"...

"He must be lonely..."

And this is for our benefit? Or their own, perhaps, lol.

"He's the guest... guests can comb their hair...guests should be pretty..."

And then the editors chime in as well.

I guess it was super important to drive this point right home just in case there were those that still didn't get it.

This show, it's JM and JK's. Period.

Tae = guest.

And he is sure going to be reminded of that by both of them throughout the trip. He is, and so are we.

And what about JK leaving the pool only to jump in again ("it's cold") to climb out again with JM?

Again, one of those "we do things together" of theirs.

All in all, the episode was friggin amazing. If there was anyone who for some reason (delusions, for one) thought that Tae being there with them will take away from us seeing just how JIKOOK those two were, or that JK would show his undying love for his husband and father of his children (🤮🤮) that sure was a hell of a rude awakening for them.

The interactions were as clear as day. And very telling. As per usual and as I had said in the past, if anything then JM is the axis with JK and Tae circling him, biding for his attention, JK knowing everything there is to know about JM while Tae needing to say just how much he knows JM. And if we're on the subject of Tae wanting to tell us just how much he knows JM, what we also got to see is just how much Tae and JK don't know about each other (Tae not knowing JK doesn't drink sweet drinks before eating or JK not knowing that Tae has been struggling with sleep lately), again, as a stark difference to JM and JK's abundance of it (JM knowing JK hadn't slept on the flight back prior to their trip, JM singing 3D).

I have so much more to say, but I'm going to stop right here, leave some more to talk about later.

[yesimwriting]

okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

[pinkrangermemes]

EPIC: The Musical

lyrics that absolutely fuck me up, feel free to change pronouns and such as needed

"A mission to kill someone's son, a foe who won't run, unlike anyone you have faced before."

"I'd rather bleed for you."

"This is the will of the gods."

"Don't make me do this."

"The blood on your hands is something you won't lose. All you can choose is whose."

"You're as old as he was when I left for war."

"How could I hurt you?"

"I'm just a man who's trying to go home."

"When does a man become a monster?"

"When does the reason become the blame?"

"Forgive me."

"We should try to find a way no one ends up dead."

"You can relax, my friend."

"Think of all that we have been through. We'll survive what we get into."

"This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms."

"I see in your face there is so much guilt inside your heart."

"Have you forgotten to turn off your heart? This is not you."

"Have you forgotten your purpose? Let me remind you."

"Don't forget that you're a warrior of a very special kind."

"Don't disappoint me."

"What gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?"

"Don't you know that pain you sow is pain you reap?"

"Your life now is in my hand."

"A trade, you see. Take from me like you took from me."

"You shall be the final man to die."

"It's just one life to take."

"When we kill him our journey's over."

"Captain?"

"You've hurt me enough."

"When I kill you, my pain is over."

"Mark my words now. This is not the end."

"Remember them."

"Who hurts you?"

"If nobody hurt you, be silent."

"He's still a threat until he's dead."

"Finish it."

"What good would killing do, when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?"

"The blood we shed, it never dries."

"I am your darkest moment."

"I am the infamous _______!"

"This way, you won't disappoint me."

"This way, you won't waste my time."

"Unlike you, every time someone dies, I'm left to deal with the strain."

"I'll remind you, I saw you as a friend, but now we're done."

"This way, you won't plague my life."

"This way, you'll close the door and have your damn goodbye."

"Since you claim you're so much wiser, why's your life spent all alone?"

"You're alone!"

"This day, you sever your own head."

"This day, you lost it all. Consider this as my goodbye."

"Don't forget how dangerous the gods are."

"How much longer 'til your luck runs out?"

"You rely on wit, and people die on it."

"I still believe in goodness."

"Lead from the heart, and see what starts."

"And what will we do when it tears us apart?"

"You're like the brother I could never do without."

"How much longer 'til your strength takes leave?"

"I can't have you planting seeds of doubt."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Sometimes killing is a must."

"Friends turn into foes and rivalries."

"Never really know who you can trust."

"The end always justifies the means."

"So much has changed, but I'm the same."

"I'm left without a choice and without a doubt."

"Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves."

"You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great."

"You are far too nice."

"Mercy has a price."

"Unlike you, I've got no mercy left to give."

"The line between naivete and hopefulness is almost invisible."

"What have you done?"

"I am your darkest moment, the monster that always draws near."

"Remember me."

"There's only so much left we can endure."

"Think of your past and your mistakes."

"No, I'm not a player. I'm a puppeteer."

"I can hardly sleep now, knowing everything we've done."

"It's a game of wits, but you don't have to play."

"A foe like ____ is not to be messed with."

"You could be hurt or you could beat her."

"I'll help you conquer her."

"Wouldn't you like your outcome preferred?"

"Don't thank me, friend, you very well may die."

"Did you do something to them?"

"I don't know who you are or why you're here, but let me make this one thing clear."

"I've got people to protect, friends I can't neglect, so now there is no turning back."

"Back at home my wife waits for me. She's my everything, my _____."

"Maybe showing one act of kindness leads to kinder souls down the road."

"This land confuses your mind."

"All I hear are screams every time I dare to close my eyes."

"I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died."

"Why would you let _____ live when ruthlessness is mercy?"

"I keep thinking of the infant from that night."

"____, when you come home, I'll be waiting."

"Even if you're the last thing I see, I'll be waiting."

"I took too long."

"I'll always love you."

"Your past is always close behind."

"I see a song of past romance."

"I see portrayals of betrayal and a brother's final stand."

"I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you."

"We've suffered and sailed through the toughest of Hells, now you tell us our efforts were nothing?"

"I see a wife with a man who is haunting. A man with a trail of bodies."

"How has everything been turned against us?"

"How did suffering become so endless?"

"Do I need to change?"

"What if I'm the monster?"

"What if I'm the problem that's been hiding all along?"

"If I became the monster, and threw that guilt away, would that make us stronger?"

"So what if I'm the monster lurking deep below?"

"If I gotta drop another infant from a wall in an instant so we all don't die, then I'll become the monster."

"I'll become the monster."

[hyuckiefluff]

Pretty Boy pt.2

pairing: na jaemin x f!reader genre: roommates to lovers word count: 4.2k content: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, marking (jaemin receiving), y/n is kinda bad at expressing her feelings lol, sweet jaemin :( a/n: *taps mic* hello? tysm for the support on part 1 of this story!! <33 i honestly didn’t think it would get so much love but as promised here’s part 2. it’s literally just smut lol but i hope it was worth the wait anyways.

part 1

As soon as you stepped into the room, Jaemin scooped you up, eliciting a loud squeal from you. You instinctively clung onto him as he effortlessly turned you around. Now that you were face to face, your legs wrapped around his torso, your heart would not calm down. He brushed away a few stray hairs that had fallen on your face, and that simple touch made your breath hitch in your throat.

"Are you really up for this? Cause once we start, I might not be able to stop," he whispered softly, his fingers finding their way to the back of your neck, drawing you closer. "I've been wanting to do this for so long, you have no idea."

It was as if he had plucked the words right out of your mind, and you couldn't help but slightly widen your eyes at his confession. He always seemed to possess a talent for articulating what you had been feeling but struggled to express. The truth was, you had indulged in countless fantasies about this very situation, even if you were hesitant to admit it.

Living with someone as attractive as Jaemin proved to be quite the challenge. In the first week after becoming roommates, you found yourself confined to the safety of your own room, too shy to venture out whenever he was around. It was kind of funny, considering that you had known each other for years, albeit without much interaction, despite being part of the same friend group. Your decision to room together was less about being close and more about the practicality of splitting the rent with someone. He happened to be the only one in your circle who needed a roommate, and that's how you ended up in this situation.

The only reason you let your guard down with him was because he turned out to be one needy guy, always craving company. And it became crystal clear that he wouldn’t let you be awkward around him when he burst into your room one day, demanding that you join him for a movie. "It feels like I live alone, and it sucks," he pouted, his need for attention catching you off guard. Still, you found his little tantrum adorable and you only became closer since that day.

As you got to know Jaemin better, you noticed that he had a naturally flirty personality. It seemed like he had an active dating life too, based on what you could gather. You wouldn't label him as a player, though you did witness him hooking up at a few parties you attended together. Still, he never brought anyone home. Your friends would insist that he treated you differently, but you didn't buy into that. Jaemin was just an affectionate person by nature, that's all. His touchy gestures had become so common that you didn't read too much into them. Whether it was him placing his hand on your waist as you walked side by side or playfully toying with your fingers when he was bored you knew it was simply his way of showing comfort and familiarity with you.

You understood him better than anyone else. There was no hidden meaning behind those gestures—it was simply his way of expressing affection in his own Jaemin-esque style.

"I... I wanted this too," you confessed, taking a deep breath. "A lot, actually."

A gorgeous smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. You couldn't help but smile back before leaning in and kissing him. The kiss was sweet and slow, as if you wanted to savor every second.

As soon as your hands found their way to Jaemin's head, you tangled your fingers in his hair and gave it a gentle pull. A satisfied moan escaped his lips, letting you know he enjoyed that. He led you towards the bed and gently placed you down on the mattress. It struck you that you were in his room, and for some reason, that made you a little jittery. You couldn't recall ever seeing him sneak anyone into his bedroom before, so you wondered if you were the first to do this with him in his own bed.

But the sight in front of you snapped you back to reality. Jaemin was taking off his shirt, revealing a jaw-dropping view of his torso. Sure, you had seen him shirtless in the past, but you'd never really taken the time to truly look at him. His abs were chiseled, and his chest... Well, let's just say it was firm and big. If your face wasn't already burning from the intense kissing, it would have turned an even deeper shade of crimson.

Jaemin clearly found your staring amusing because he shot you a playful smile before closing the distance between your bodies. He positioned himself on top of you, supporting his weight with his arms. His half-nakedness was a big distraction, making it harder for you to maintain eye contact.

"It's not fair that you get to ogle me while you're still fully clothed," he quipped, grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. When your eyes met, he had this exaggerated mischievous smile that made you giggle and eased some of your nerves.

Jaemin had never seen you with so little clothing on, which made you hesitate for a moment. Still, you mustered up the courage and boldly grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. No bra, because who bothered with that at home, right? The look on Jaemin's face when he saw you was absolutely priceless. It was as if he couldn't decide which expression to settle on. His gaze fixated on your chest, a mix of curiosity and adoration in his eyes. He nibbled his lip before locking eyes with you.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he blurted out, followed by a dry chuckle. "It’s unbelievable." With those words hanging in the air, he leaned in to kiss you again. The sensation of your bare chests pressing together elicited equally desperate moans from both of you.

Before long, Jaemin started to peel off his sweats. But right before he could remove his boxers, a panicked expression flashed across his face. "Hold on a second," he muttered, scurrying over to one of his drawers and rummaging through it, tossing random stuff aside. After a minute or two of frantic searching, he paused and scratched his neck.

"No condoms?" you asked, finding the situation and his reaction a bit comical.

He turned to face you, his eyebrows furrowing, worried big eyes framed by his long, pretty eyelashes, and a slight pout forming on his lips. It was quite a sight, to be honest.

"I could have sworn I had some," he replied, sounding a bit defeated.

"Well, I guess we can't proceed then," you sighed dramatically, teasing him a little to see his reaction. In reality, you were on birth control and it had been months since you last had sex, plus you trusted that Jaemin was clean. You just wanted to see how he'd respond to the situation.

"I guess not," he mumbled, his mood deflating.

He looked utterly adorable in that moment, like a puppy who had been denied a treat. Unable to resist, you got up and pulled him down to your eye level, whispering something into his ear.

"How about you fuck me…raw?"

You heard the audible gulp that escaped his throat, and when you pulled back slightly to gauge his reaction, you wished you could take a picture of the look on his face. His eyes seemed ready to pop out of their sockets, and his mouth hung open, as if he was about to say something, but the words just wouldn't come out.

"W-What?" he stammered, clearly taken aback.

He never expected those words to come out of your pretty mouth.

"I'm on birth control, and I'm clean," you reassured him, trying your best not to burst into laughter as he visibly relaxed. "And you're clean too, right?"

He nodded frantically, and without wasting another moment, you pulled him into another kiss. This time, it was messier, more urgent, as you both stumbled backward and fell onto the bed, your lips still locked together.

All the teasing and anticipation had both of you on the edge, so you wasted no time stripping off the last bits of clothing. Jaemin's eyes were locked onto your body immediately. He let out a low curse under his breath, his gaze roaming freely over your figure, soaking in every curve and crevice. He couldn't believe his damn luck.

You also couldn't help but indulge in the sight before you. Mesmerized by how his arms flexed as he supported himself above you and how firm his chest felt under your eager hands. Every now and then, his collarbone would tease you too, sticking out just enough to dare you to leave your mark on it.

Jaemin's lips traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses that made your whole body shake with anticipation. He zeroed in on your breasts, showering them with kisses and playful nibbles, the attention causing your nipples to perk up. At the same time, his hand ventured south, heading straight for the heat between your thighs. When he discovered how wet you were already, a satisfied whimper escaped his lips. Without wasting a beat, he redirected his attention down there, temporarily forgetting about your breasts. With a slow and teasing motion, he slipped off your panties, revealing just how soaked and sticky they were from your arousal. The sight seemed to drive him wild. "Fuck, this is so hot," he breathed out, his voice brimming with desire.

You were on the verge of losing your damn mind with him being so close to your most sensitive spot but not touching it. The warmth of his breath down there was overwhelming, making you forget any self-consciousness. And when you felt his mouth planting kisses on your inner thigh, you were already so far gone you could have thrown all decorum away and begged for him to do something.

"I'm not stopping until all you can say is my name," he promised with a smirk, and without any further warning, he dove right in.

You moaned loudly, caught off guard yet incredibly grateful he was bringing sweet relief to the throbbing ache in your lower stomach. His mouth wasted no time getting cozy down there, switching between kisses, sucks, and licks that sent shockwaves through your body. Maybe it had been way too long since you'd had any action, or maybe he just knew exactly what he was doing, but fuck, you were already on the brink of your first orgasm.

It was crazy how quickly things escalated. A half hour ago you were just hanging out, trying to apply mascara on him, and now he was going down on you. Na Jaemin, the same guy who always drinks his coffee with enough shots to fuel a rocket, screams his balls off during scary movies and uses up your skincare products. That guy was now eating you out like a Michelin-star meal. Who would've guessed? You didn't want to ruin the moment by overthinking how this might change things between you, though. Not that you could even form a coherent thought, with his expert tongue doing magical things down there.

Finally, his eyes met yours, and you could see a glimmer of something animalistic in them. It should've freaked you out a little, but it only turned you on even more. Unable to resist, you grabbed onto his head and pushed him down, silently pleading for him to keep going. Your orgasm was so close, Jaemin knew it too from the way your legs were shaking and closing in on his head. Your hips started to move, grinding against his face like it was second nature. And the way he moaned and groaned against you told you that he loved it.

His tongue was insane, twirling and swirling with a mind of its own. Seriously, how the hell was he so good at this? Words stumbled out of your mouth incoherently as you tried to form a sentence amidst the overwhelming sensations.

"Don't... don't stop," you managed to gasp out, your voice laced with desperation.

He took your plea to heart, intensifying his lapping and sucking. His grip tightened on your thighs, fingers digging deliciously into your flesh as he anchored himself to you. The combination of his insistent mouth and his tight grasp left you writhing and squirming, completely at his mercy. With each flick of his tongue, you felt yourself unraveling, teetering on the edge of an explosive orgasm. And then it hit you, a release that left you gasping for air. You recoiled ever so slightly from the overstimulation, but he didn't let up. His lips remained locked to your throbbing core, greedily savoring every last drop of your release, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

With one final kiss he finally moved away, a glistening trail of your essence still connecting you. The sight alone threatening to tip you over the edge once again. He licked his lips slowly, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He started crawling up towards you then.

"Has anyone..." he began, his voice low as he closed the distance between your faces, his warm breath ghosting over your skin, "told you..." his words trailed off, delivered with a deliberate slowness that was driving you crazy, "that you taste..." his face was now mere inches away from yours, his lips teasingly brushing against yours, "fucking delicious."

“Hm, really?” You let your hands wander, fingers tangling in his disheveled locks, pulling him closer.

"If you don't believe me," he whispered huskily, his lips hovering millimeters away from yours, "taste it for yourself."

He closed the remaining distance between your mouths. It was a moment of pure sensory overload, your taste mingling with his. Even though you had just cummed, you craved more of him. You needed him inside you, to fill you up and to bring him pleasure in return. So without wasting a second, you switched positions, the sudden change making him gasp in surprise. Now you were straddling him, your bare core brushed against his lower stomach and his dick pressed against your ass. The sight of your naked body on top of him was something he never thought would happen in real life, and he couldn't help but stare with his mouth hanging open. He instinctively placed his hands on your hips, caressing them gently and giving them a little squeeze, just to make sure this wasn't some crazy dream.

You whispered something in his ear, but he was so lost in the moment that he couldn't even make out the words. However, as soon as he saw you positioning his dick at your entrance, reality snapped back into focus, and his breath hitched in anticipation. He was barely inside you, just the tip, and he already felt like he was about to lose his mind. The way your brows furrowed and your plump lips parted as he stretched you out was incredibly hot, enough to make him almost cum right then and there. But he quickly shook himself out of the trance and firmly gripped your hips to help guide you down onto him.

"Fuck..." he gasped, his voice strained as he buried himself deep inside you.

He was wonderfully thick, stretching you in ways that demanded your body to adjust. You needed a moment to accommodate his size, to savor the delicious sensation of being filled so completely. He granted you the time you needed, showing an unexpected patience as if he, too, needed some time to adjust to the overwhelming tightness that enveloped him. The way you clamped around him now, it felt like an eternity since you had last been filled this good.

The pressure and friction threatened to push Jaemin right over the edge though, and the last thing he wanted was an embarrassing premature orgasm. So, thinking quickly, he flipped both of you over. He wanted nothing more than for you to ride him, but he also knew he had to set the pace to ensure he could last longer.

"Sorry, love, but you're squeezing me so damn tight in that position," he said, and you nodded in understanding. You didn’t really care about positions, all you wanted was for him to fuck you into oblivion.

And that he definitely did. Once he saw you were more comfortable, he started to move, slowly at first. It took a second to find a rhythm that felt good for both of you, but when he saw the way your face contorted in pleasure and how exquisitely tight you became around him, he knew he had found it.

“F-faster..” you moaned, and he obliged immediately.

He raised your leg a bit, resting it on his shoulder and planting a kiss on your thigh before moving. This new angle allowed him to penetrate even deeper, hitting all the right spots that had you moaning so pathetically loud. You couldn't help but thank your lucky stars that it was just the two of you in here, but at the same time, the thin walls made you hyper-aware of your own loudness. Guess it's time to eat your words about the noisy neighbors, huh?

Jaemin kissed you while keeping that delicious pace. He whispered both dirty and sweet words against your mouth as he rammed into you, his eyes only straying from your face to take in the sight of your bodies coming together. The room was filled with a symphony of sinful sounds that would make even the most hardened eardrums blush. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to care anymore if anyone heard. Not when Jaemin had taken it upon himself to make you feel so good. He held nothing back, unleashing a chorus of moans and whimpering that let you know just how much he was enjoying himself.

At that moment, you discovered that you really liked hearing a man become this desperate in bed. But what truly stoked your fire was knowing that you were the one responsible for reducing Jaemin to such a state. It was an ego boost like no other, sending your confidence soaring to new heights. Breaking away from the kiss, an idea took hold of you, and without warning, you swiftly flipped both of you over, seizing control.

The game for dominance was on again, and you were determined to prove just how good you could make Jaemin feel. His chest heaved, his eyes devouring the sight of you bouncing on his cock. He was utterly helpless, unable to control his expressions or the guttural groans that spilled from his lips. It was a side of him you never thought you’d ever see, his vulnerability laid bare as you pushed him to the brink of pleasure-induced tears. The intensity of the sensations made his head fall back, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as you squeezed around him deliciously.

Taking advantage of the opening, you set your sights on his neck, starting with wet kisses that gradually escalated to nibbles and gentle sucks. You quickly found his weak spot right below his ear. Every time your lips closed around that particular spot, his grip tightened on your hips, and his cock twitched inside you in response.

"Fuck... k-keep doing that," he managed to gasp out, his voice husky and strained from the exertion.

So you did, you kept sucking on all the spots that he liked and as you continued your ministrations he thrusted into you harder and more desperately edging you both closer to the release.

"I-I-m... c..." Your words trailed off into a jumble of incomprehensible sounds. The pleasure was too intense for coherent sentences to form.

"Jaemin..." The syllables of his name escaped your lips repeatedly, like a desperate mantra. This seemed to rile him up even more, prompting him to hold you tighter and unleash a frenzy of powerful thrusts that defied all restraint. He knew exactly how to hit that sweet spot, driving you crazy with each perfectly aimed thrust.

He adjusted his position, sitting up slightly to gain better control. This subtle shift allowed him to fuck deeper into you. "Jaemin, fu-—" You couldn't hold back, sinking your teeth into his shoulder and scratching at him. He was fucking you so hard into your second orgasm that you could no longer control your own body. The climax hit you with such force that it felt like a burst of stars behind your closed eyelids.

"Fuck!" he yelled and with a few more sloppy thrusts, he finally came undone, riding the waves of your orgasm until you were both spent. The intensity of the moment left you both so physically exhausted that all you could do was collapse against each other, breathless and sweaty.

You wish the post-nut clarity didn’t hit you as hard as it did , but as you mustered the courage to lift your face from Jaemin’s neck and meet his gaze, a flood of thoughts raced through your mind.

What the fuck are we now?

He seemed to grasp the unspoken thoughts that danced in your eyes, as he often did.

"Don't do that," he murmured, leaving a kiss on your nose.

"Do what?" you whispered back.

"Don't look at me as if something has changed between us," he replied, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"But something did change," you admitted weakly, your voice betraying your vulnerability.

"No, you're still you, and I'm still me. We just know each other a little more intimately now, and maybe that's for the best.”

You furrowed your brows at his words, not quite understanding. He sighed upon seeing your lost expression and decided to just let it all out.

“Yeah we had sex, and it was amazing and I so badly want to do this again I could cry but no matter what happens between us, I’m always gonna be your annoying roommate," he ruffled your hair softly.

You let out a contented sigh at his words, but doubt still lingered. "Don't you think it will be weird though?…Now that... you know," you trailed off, averting your gaze, feeling a sudden shyness.

"What? Now that you've seen what my dick looks like?" he said with a playful tone, making you laugh and gently slap his arm. "Sure, maybe you're a bit starstruck, but I promise you, it'll be fine.

"Can you be serious for a second?" you asked, rolling your eyes playfully, but he gently grabbed your chin, urging you to meet his gaze.

"I am serious. I don’t think it’ll be weird at all. I don’t know about you but I really, really enjoyed it," he confessed, his sincerity sent your heart racing, making it hard to ignore the depth of his feelings. "Y/N, I've liked you for a while now. I mean, everyone else could see it, right? I'm tired of pretending it's nothing or that I can just get over it. Living with you just makes it harder to ignore. You're the first thing on my mind in the morning and the last thing before I sleep. I'm sorry if this sounds rushed or random, but it's not just because of the amazing orgasm you just gave me. I've never been this serious about anything in my life, and you know me well enough to know I mean it." The words spilled out effortlessly, almost like he had rehearsed them (he totally did).

You didn't need to say a single word in response. The way you were looking at him with such genuine affection conveyed everything without the need for verbal confirmation. Jaemin was definitely the more expressive of the two when it came to feelings but he was always able to pick up on the subtle cues and actions that hinted at your affection. Despite your tough exterior and cutthroat attitude towards others, he noticed how you always softened in his presence. Your face would light up, that permanent frown vanishing, as soon as he acted silly or cracked a joke. And when it came to physical touch, he saw how guarded you were with everyone else, even your closest friends. Yet, you always welcomed his hugs and kisses freely, as if it was second nature. All these little signs had added up over time, painting a clear picture of your feelings, even if it was challenging for you to express them in words. Jaemin had picked up on those clues, cherishing each one as the evidence that confirmed what he had hoped for all along – that you liked him just as much as he liked you.

"Oh, and I meant it when I said I'd love to do it again," he added after a few seconds, trying to play it cool.

"Same here... and, uh, by the way, your mascara is all smudged," you blurted out, the realization making you both chuckle.

feedback is greatly appreciated! also feel free to send requests! i’ll try to post on here more often.

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part 10

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again after seven years, and deal with the fall-out of a secret. 

Warnings: mentions of drinking, panic attack, references to death, child labor 

Word Count: ~4.5k

A/N: I promise I've started on part 11! I appreciate all of your love on this series <3 it seriously means the world to me

series masterlist

Fenrys, sat to your right, was watching you. He was subtle, others wouldn’t notice - perhaps except Rowan or Aelin, but you felt his attention on you, like he knew something was wrong. The bastard probably did. 

The encounter had rattled you. Especially because the male was still sitting further down the table. You’d done a good job of ignoring him for the most part, even though his attention wandered your way several times. Earlier, you’d been correct assuming it was a personal matter, because he didn’t bring up a single thing related to an artifact causing trouble, or your bloodline. Not even a hint of it. 

Yes, his questions had unnerved you, but the memory moreso. You’d kept your oath, but you tried not to think of him. It had been years, but the pain and loss still felt like yesterday, the scar still felt fresh, guilt and horror threatened to overwhelm you - 

A warm hand on your knee, a small squeeze. Fenrys. A scan of the table showed nobody looking closely at you, good - it would’ve been embarrassing and unprofessional if you’d spaced out while a question was asked. 

Trying not to count down the seconds, you did your best to hang on to every word, to listen intently, but your mind scrambled. A glass of wine, maybe a good book, and sleep was desperately needed. 

With Fenrys next to you like a guard dog, he only shot you a look, probably meant to be some kind of promise of a future conversation. You’d need a good amount to avoid him, and lately your luck has been running terrifyingly low. 

Waiting an appropriate amount of time after the meeting concluded - mainly until he left the room, you beelined for the door. A broad back cut you off, Fenrys asking some kind of question you couldn’t hear through the ringing in your ears, the pure panic rising in your lungs. 

Vaguely aware of the empty room surrounding you, Rowan’s face loomed in front of yours, his mouth forming words you couldn’t hear or comprehend. Chest caving, each breath felt like a chore, the sharp pain of your nails in your palm couldn’t distract you, couldn’t break you out, you were suffocating, drowning - one hand squeezed your shoulder, another gripping your chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze. 

“Breathe,” you read his lips, the movement of his mouth slow and exaggerated. “You’re safe.” 

His hand enveloped yours, drawing it up towards his chest. The grip on your chin didn’t move, forcing you to look at him to focus on the steady beat of his heart under your palm, the exaggerated rising and falling of his chest, the way his hand still covered your own. Slowly, the ringing subsided, your breaths growing easier. 

“Good?” He asked, and you hated the gentleness in his voice. You replied with a terse nod. Rowan studied you for a few moments, and unlike yourself you squirmed under the scrutiny, shifting back and forth on your feet. 

“Alright,” he said slowly, releasing your chin, lowering your hand back to your side. He strode back towards the door, jerking his head, speaking lowly enough your Fae hearing couldn’t catch the words. Fenrys strode back in, his face unusually severe. The door shut with a soft snick, a comforting shield of wind surrounding the room. You were too overloaded to add your own magic. 

Fenrys looked concerned, but you shook your head, “I'm fine.” 

“Then what the hell happened before?” At least Fenrys got straight to the point.

“Someone just … asked something that rattled me,” you hedged, leaning back against the table, crossing your arms, trying to buy yourself some time to find a way to explain it that wouldn’t make them overreact. Logically, you knew it was too late for that. 

“You don’t get rattled,” Rowan crossed his arms. Technically, that was a compliment. You glanced at Fenrys, like he might make some kind of joke, but his face was nearly as serious as Rowan’s. Two walls of unrelenting and overbearing male arrogance. “Who?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Neither male bothered responding. Running fingers through your hair, you told him, and added “it wasn’t exactly a threat.” 

‘Exactly’, was your mistake. 

“Tell me everything.” The demand in Rowan’s tone, the sheer sense of authority and arrogance, made you prickle but … this time you gave in and recited the conversation. 

“What do you think he’s looking for?” Fenrys asked before Rowan could get a word.. 

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know.” The second part wasn’t necessarily true. He’d peaked your curiosity, hit that lingering sense of guilt perfectly - as if he already knew how to work you. But, curiosity killed the cat - you wouldn’t make that mistake. 

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Rowan said, glancing up at the clock. Another meeting would start soon - one should probably be at. “Stay here for the night.” 

“Right where he is?” You raised your brows. 

“Right where we are,” he corrected. 

“I’m not that scared.” 

“So you admit you’re scared?” 

“Oh fuck off,” you snapped at him. 

“We fought with that male,” Rowan snarled, “we’re well aware of what he’s capable of.” 

Of course they had. You caught Fenrys’s nod from the corner of your eye. 

“And I’m more than capable of protecting myself. Find someone else to be a fussy bastard to.”

“I care about your safety,” he gritted his teeth, “is that so wrong?” 

Damn you, something inside of you softened and you hated yourself for it. 

“It’s safer for me to be at home.” 

“Safer for who?” The edge in Rowan’s voice grew, “because I know damn well you’re trying to draw a threat away from the castle.” Away from Ceri was implied. He probably didn’t know it, but you wanted it away from him too. From him, Aelin, Fenrys, all of the people you cared about. You couldn’t argue. 

“Don’t fucking underestimate me.” 

He laughed roughly, “trust me, I’m not.”

“Then don’t try to coddle me,” your left fist clenched. 

“It’s common sense, not coddling.” 

Fenrys’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of you, and you threw your head back in a groan. 

“If anything happens tonight, even if I get a bad feeling, I'll come back here,” you said with enough finality and sincerity that the males very begrudgingly agreed. “I’m going home now,” you sidestepped Fenrys, skirted around Rowan, the shield of wind falling, and strode out of the door. 

-

Rowan hadn’t slept well since you left the night before. You showed face yesterday, probably just to assure him and maybe prove a point, but the Akkadian contingent would be present for two more days. He told Aelin, of course, and had to be the reasonable one to prevent her from doing an interrogation of her own. She’d agreed, already knowing there was a close eye kept on them. But, it was near impossible to keep track of everyone entering or leaving without raising suspicion. 

Quarter to midnight, just when he figured he should try and get some sleep, and kick the rest of the Court out, Halle appeared with a … piece of paper between her teeth. She jumped directly on him, claws digging in, dropping the paper, hissing when he didn’t immediately grab it. He took the hint, and didn’t hesitate before unfolding it. 

I’m going to have company soon. If you and Aelin attend, it’ll raise too many suspicions, and it’s the dead of night. Send Fenrys? I’ll stay in until then. 

Gods, you planned on confronting him. The words were scribbled quickly, letters shaky, ink blotted in a few areas. 

He tossed it to Fenrys, who caught it between two fingers - glancing once curiously at the cat, her keen eyes now fixed on him. Attending. You said nothing about a hawk keeping watch from the sky. Besides, you’d said ‘you and Aelin,’ not ‘you or.’ Aelin would be pissy she needed to stay here, but if they were both absent from the castle …  

Sometimes, Rowan missed when he wasn’t King, when he could confront a problem like this without having to worry about political repercussions, when he lived somewhere there were few laws against murder. 

He flew above Fenrys - taking a back exit from the castle, sticking to secluded areas. Somehow, the giant white wolf went unnoticed. Perhaps because it was a Friday night, and the current areas they ran through were nearly abandoned. 

Regardless, he scouted the way ahead, spotting the two males just a fifteen minute walk from your house now. It was obvious they didn’t know exactly where they were going, but Fenrys should arrive with a few minutes to spare. He knew you’d notice his presence, and he’d avoid showing his face to keep your wrath away. 

He momentarily forgot keeping your wrath away as he watched you slip past the wards and shift. Then - disappeared. Catching a draft, he set out to intercept Fenrys. 

-

You’d lied to them unintentionally, the decision made last minute, a switch, but it was the … choice that felt right, a warm hand on your shoulder - a feminine voice in the back of your ear, guiding you. Slipping past the words, sending silent apologies to the night, you shifted. 

It was easy enough to track their magic, moving in between the folds of time and space. Harder, was deciding the best way to ‘run into’ their path. 

Pinching your cheeks until they flushed red, hands shoved into pockets, head down, senses awake - a slight sway in your step, humming a tune frequently played in Terrasen’s taverns, you turned the corner and let the threads of fate throw you to the wolves. 

“Oh,” you laughed, stumbling back a few steps, brushing hair away from your face, “didn’t think I’d see you again today. Your voice carried over the wind, although you spoke a tad louder than necessary. The location was empty, but not abandoned. Probably not where they would’ve chosen. It felt important that you chose the place. “Convenient, finding you here.” 

“Convenient, indeed,” the predatory gleam in his eyes raised the hair on the back of your neck. Still, stupid male. If he thought beyond whatever agenda he’s set on, he would’ve wondered how you ended up directly in his path. “There’s some things we’d like to discuss-”

“It’s past business hours, I’m afraid,” you yawned.

“We can keep this separate,” he purred and you fought the urge to gag. His friend was stone-faced. They looked similar enough they could be brothers or cousins. 

“What do you want?”

“Like I said,” he cleared his throat. “There’s an artifact causing trouble, we need your skillset to track it down.” 

He said it as if it was a done thing, like you’d agree in an instant. “I’m not the person you’re looking for.” 

“Andal said you were.” 

You paled, all of the color flushing from your skin. He couldn’t see it, in the dark, but the silence probably told him he’d hit the mark. Nothing was telling you to run, nothing pushing you away from this - although you wished it would. Deny, deny, deny, was the safe choice but … you had to get to the bottom of this one way or another. Worst case, you shift and disappear. Hopefully. 

“If Andal said,” you pretended to think about it, just for a moment, tapping your fingers on your thigh, before shaking your head “it doesn’t matter, I’m out of business.” 

“This is urgent,” his friend, stone-man, growled.

“Oh he speaks,” you teased. 

“It’s one of the -” his words froze mid-sentence, a pulse of ancient and near primal magic weaving into the space.

Fenrys nearly bowled you over - stumbling, bracing his hand on your shoulder. “Quit leaving me behind,” he huffed out a laugh. An icy and familiar wind brushed against your cheek. 

Immense relief filled you, although you were seconds away from getting the information you wanted. “My bad,” you shot him a smile. 

Nearly imperceptibly, his fingers tightened around your shoulder as he straightened, examining the two males in front of you. Males he already knew were there. Still, you were impressed by his acting. 

“New friends?” He drawled. You shrugged, but didn’t shake off his hand, and he didn’t move it. 

“They were asking for my advice,” you cleared your throat - after an uncomfortable minute of silence. 

“Advice that cannot wait until tomorrow?” 

There was an underlying threat in his words, a slight change in tone, and with it the air filled with tension - suffocating, like all of their magics rose to the surface, postures tense and ready to snap at any minute. 

“I’m sure it can wait,” the male said roughly, jerking his chin towards his friend, as they both strode down the street - back towards the castle. “I’ll be in touch,” he called over his shoulder. Fenrys stiffened, but you didn’t bother replying. 

You and Fenrys waited until they were out of hearing range, and then a few minutes longer for good measure. At this point, you knew Fenrys well enough to tell when he was furious. 

Clearing the city streets, shadows of the stress covering the two of you, you finally spoke, “I’d almost figured out what -”

A flash of light came from your right, you pivoted, faced with an angry silver-haired male, mouth frozen mid-sentence,  “I’d ask what the hell you were thinking,” he snarled, “but it’s obvious you weren’t.” 

“I was thinking I’d keep those bastards from finding my gods-damned house,” you hissed. 

“How do you know you’re not leading them right back to your gods-damned home?” Fenrys said, his dark eyes flashing.  

Fixing him with a sharp look, you didn’t bother answering. 

One, you’d be able to tell. 

Two, it felt like an insult to your intelligence. 

Three, they weren’t stupid enough to follow if Fenrys was with you. 

You considered telling them to piss off, but knew it would be pointless. Tense, angry silence filled the walk back to your home. 

The wards were heavy, thick magic pulsing, enveloping you the closer you got. It might be uncomfortable to the others, but for you it felt like a hug - like it was singing and welcoming you home, magic reaching out with small threads to tug you into its embrace. You realized that the density of magic might be a beacon, and made a note in your mind to possibly research a way to obscure it. 

Running your finger down the invisible wall, a sliver appeared - just big enough to slip through as, snapping back into place as soon as you passed the threshold. 

The silence carried until you were inside, all sitting stiffly on the various couches and chairs. None of you bothered to appear at ease. 

Rowan’s hand slipped into his pocket, pulling a familiar slip of paper out, holding it between two fingers. Dramatically, he unfolded it and read; 

“I’ll stay in until then,” a breeze floated the page towards you, and you batted it away. A streak of orange, and Halle caught it between her teeth, shaking it in her jaws like a dog. She looked up at you and hissed. A small smile curved on your lips. Reaching a hand out, she rubbed her head along your fingers, lifting her chin for a scratch. A minute passed, and it appeared the two males were waiting for you to break the silence this time. You forced yourself to lean back, the armchair big enough for Halle to jump up and settle next to you, one paw batting at you when you dared to stop petting her.

“Do you ever feel like some kind of God or Goddess is watching over you?” 

“Aelin killed them,” Fenrys deadpanned, Rowan cut a glare at him. That, you didn’t know, but as Rowan’s glare turned on you, you decided it was best to ask that question later. 

“It’s like a warm hand on my shoulder,” you continued, “or a voice, nudging me. It hasn’t failed me before, and today felt like a bad time to test it.”

“You couldn’t have found me?” Fenrys asked, “maybe waited until you weren’t alone to confront them?” 

“I should’ve,” scratching the back of your neck, you avoided his gaze.You were old enough to admit when you’d done something stupid, to realize you had indeed fucked up, even if you hated doing it. “Look,” you let out a slow breath, “this is very … personal.” 

Silence. 

“If I'm going to explain this, Aelin really should be here,” you mumbled. She could easily hear from Rowan, or you could tell the story twice, but you wanted her here. Something about her presence soothed an edge, made dark parts of the past more bearable. 

Rowan stood. “I doubt she’s sleeping,” he said mildly, a glint in his eyes. “I saw you shift earlier, it shouldn’t take long to get there.” 

Fighting the urge to snarl or stomp, you lead the way out the door. “I’ll walk,” you called over your shoulder. Mainly because it would piss his impatient ass off. Based on his snarl, it did. 

Rowan snarled as you took off without him, sending a grin over your shoulder. His eyes rolled, but within a few strides he’d caught up to you. 

“Walking me home?” You teased, “how kind of you.” He gently shoved his shoulder into yours. “Really,” you huffed, “I’ll be fine.” 

“It’ll make me feel better,” he countered, and that was the end of the argument. You’d refused to shift and head back, anyway. You didn’t show your animal form to anyone. Even him. 

“I’ll go with you,” Fenrys quickly caught up to you, walking shoulder to shoulder as the memory faded, “we might run into them again.” 

A flash of light, a shriek from a hawk, and Rowan headed off, likely to warn Aelin. 

Ten minutes into the walk, the silence was getting to your head. 

“What is it?” 

“I’ve never wanted to be back in Doranelle,” Fenrys said quietly, “but there, I could’ve just killed them.” 

“Murder isn’t always the answer,” you snorted, and finally had the courage to look him in the eyes. He was fighting a smile. Throwing your head back, a slightly-incredulous, probably insane sounding laugh bubbled from your chest. 

-

“Some of the objects my ancestors made had uses they didn’t expect, and ended up with the wrong people,” you tapped your fingers against your legs, Aelin tried not to make it obvious she was hanging onto every word. “There’s a sense of … responsibility that comes with it. To destroy them, I suppose. There was never enough time to properly explain it.”

Sounds like bullshit, Aelin thought, but kept listening. 

“Few know how to use Wyrdmarks, and very few have the magic to strengthen or infuse them. Some can catch traces of those objects - track them. Not all of my ancestors were angelic, some tracked them down - either to use themselves or sell to the highest bidder,” disgust filled each word as you spat them out. “I was warned that not all will have bad intentions, but even the best intentions can be skewed by greed,” that phrase came out like a quote, one you’d memorized years ago, stored in the back of your mind - perhaps as a reminder. This was mostly information they’d been able to piece together, and Aelin waited for the other side, for whatever big secret you’d been holding onto. 

“It would be good to know what they're looking for, specifically.” Rowan looked ready to interrupt, but Aelin held up a hand. “Then I'll know their intentions. “I’d almost figured that out earlier,” you shot what was probably supposed to be an annoyed look at Fenrys, but she caught the hint of gratitude. As you turned back to them, a hint of guilt hit her at the exhaustion in your face, at the fear in your eyes. 

“I was nine, stuck on the streets. Someone found me, told me if I helped them out they’d make sure I was taken care of. I worked for them for five years, and did whatever they told me to. I knew I'd get fed, a warm bed, and a few marks here and there - to a kid it felt like riches. My … handler, you could say, had an idea of what my magic could do. Eventually my great uncle found me and dragged me out of it.” You ran a hand over your face. “That’s why they’re asking for help, because they know I’ve done it before.” 

“Andal?” Rowan asked quietly. He must’ve overheard that. All Aelin could think of was that word you used; handler. As the name Andal rolled around in her mind, it sounded eerily like Arobynn. Still, she focused on you - your expression, the paleness of your skin, the mixture of anger and fear flashing at the name, fists clenching slightly, shoulders tensing, feet pressing firmer into the ground - like you were ready to launch into a fight. Aelin understood how a name could trigger such a visceral reaction. 

“I fell for his trap and promises, I was so naive,” 

“You were a child,” Rowan insisted. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“Part of me always knew it was wrong, but I was so-” your head snapped towards the door, and seconds later a very insistent knock interrupted. Ceri. Rowan’s shield of wind, and one of whatever your magic was, parted and the door flew open. 

Ceri sprinted through the room, launching herself into your arms. 

“You’re here,” she shrieked. Excitement. A smile naturally spread over your face, the tension of the previous conversation put aside as Ceri recounted the past day's events, settling herself next to you on the couch as you watched with rapt attention - cutting in at all of the perfect moments.

It had been a long week and … Aelin realized the two of you didn’t get to spend much time together. She exchanged a glance with Rowan, and they both silently rose, murmuring a good night, before leaving. They’d get up early to talk in the morning. 

-

Ceri spared no detail, and talked until her eyes started closing, yawns interrupting her words. 

“Why don’t you tell me more in the morning?” You asked gently. 

Her lips pursed, like that was the last thing she wanted to do, but she eventually nodded. She stood, her small hand latching onto your wrist, and dragged you both towards your bedroom. It had been years since she insisted on sleeping in your bed, but you didn’t question it. After tonight, you wanted her close. 

The next morning, thank the gods, nobody woke you up at the ass crack of dawn. In fact, a tray of food waited just outside of your door, all of your favorites and Ceri’s. After discerning it wasn’t poison, you brought it in. 

A few cups of tea later and you felt ready to continue last night’s conversation. Partially. None of this way easy to talk about, and you supposed that was a good thing. 

‘As a child,’ Rowan had said. Sure, you’d been young and naive, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you should’ve known better. ‘Nobody was there to teach you, it’s not your fault,’ a voice that sounded eerily like Aelin’s countered in the back of your mind. 

Ceri left reluctantly, making you promise to spend another night at the castle. It was an easy promise to give, you’d missed her after all. 

As soon as the three of you sat, you said the words you’d rehearsed in your head all morning. “Before we get into … that situation,” you cleared your throat, fighting the tightening sensation. “Whatever it is between us,” you’d caught their attention, both staring at you with keen eyes, “I want it - if you still do. To figure it out when we have time.” 

“I still want it,” Aelin’s mouth curved up at one corner, the mirth in her eyes bringing a pink flush to your cheeks. Rowan met your gaze, pine-green eyes flashing with rare emotion, and nodded. You didn’t need words from him, the look said everything. 

“How dangerous are these objects?” Rowan cleared his throat. Aelin rolled her eyes. 

“Depends on who has them, and if they know what they’re doing.” You realized that was uninformative, and explained, “most of them can capture traces of magic, in some way or form. With enough exposure and time, they can be quite destructive.” 

“You said you helped hunt them, did they ask anything else of you?” 

You nodded, throat constricting, and forced the next words out, “I was a kid who didn’t know what she was doing. I appeased them, changing small marks, making things up, but I really had no idea. I still don’t know what I changed, or what they can do now.” 

“I’ll take care of it.” Aelin said, firmly. 

“It’s not your -” 

“My responsibility, I know,” she waved her hand, “but I want to.” 

The way she said ‘want’ implied she would, whether you liked it or not. You’d learned, over the last few years, that Aelin can be quite good at getting what she wants. Still, you didn’t want to roll over for her. 

“I always pictured myself going on a … quest, some day,” you let out a low, dead, laugh. “When Ceri was grown, hunting down all of the objects I messed with - destroying them.” 

“Getting revenge?” Rowan raised a brow. 

“Redemption,” you countered. He looked like he wanted to argue. “Besides,” you played with the hem of your tunic. “It’s what my uncle would’ve done.” 

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” He said quietly, not with pity, just framing a fact as a question. 

“Yes.” 

Another gods-damned sacrifice. All to keep you alive. All you could do was try to be worthy of it. 

“Ceri didn’t inherit my magic,” you said abruptly.

“I know,” Rowan replied. “Maybe your knack for sensing it, but not the actual magic.” 

“Sensing can be taught,” you replied. 

Aelin hummed. “What do you want to do about this?” 

A few blinks of surprise, but you leaned back. “Honestly? Forget it all happened.” Aelin snorted. “Practically, I should hear them out and figure out what I’m dealing with.” 

“And put yourself in danger?” Aelin’s head tilted, her voice a tad too calm. 

“What if we make it an ‘official’ thing?” When neither outright objected, you continued, “do it during a meeting, make it public.” 

“Then you’ll expose yourself,” Rowan stated. You raised a brow, you already had - to them. “To everyone,” he added. 

“Not necessarily,” you brushed the non-existent dirt off your pants. “I can give them my useless ‘notes’ on the subject,” you’d never intended to give them material that would actually help. “If they try for specifics, clarify what they’re looking for, others will start suspecting them, and I doubt that’s what they want.” 

“How will that tell you what they want?” 

“They’re arrogant and obviously desperate,” you shrugged. “They’ll get irritated, find me, and tell me.” 

“Your plan is to piss them off?” Fenrys looked at you like he prayed you were joking. 

-

taglist: @holb32 @fussel9913 @moonlightttfae @cassianswh0reeee, @reidishh, @shanias-world @fightmedraco @goldenmagnolias @hannzoaks @jennamelinda12 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @acourtofbatboydreams @lennyhhh @prrius-tylersapphire @aelinrhys @theworthlessqueen @anxious-study

[herefortheships]

You want another movie 3 speculation?

Ok, so I firmly believe that Lydia's dream at the end points to her subconscious worry that Betelgeuse might move on from her (and MacArthur Park is a song about moving on as best as you can after losing True Love) and target Astrid. With a compounding, and imo deeply fascinating, worry that her daughter (whom the movie/Delia seems to have cast as being very similar to Lydia, though personally I don't see it cause she seems too normal) might be happy with that. And I think that the bed-sharing might've been her brain - or B himself - pointing out the solution to that worry: Just give tf in and marry him already.

As an aside, a lot of Youtube synopses of that movie have AI-generated thumbnails of Betelgeuse threateningly/creepily hovering over Astrid, even though they barely interacted. Apparently lots if people's minds went there, at least for the sake of clickbait. Ffs, a guy tries to marry a teenager ONE time...

Anyway I think it would be hilarious if in movie 3 Lydia gets into trouble and Astrid calls on Betelgeuse for help, telling him she'll pay whatever he wants if only he saves her last remaing parent/family member, and he just goes: "Can you put in a good word with your Mom for me? Like, really talk me up. I didn't make the greatest first impression, and there were misunderstandings, and I don't think I'll have a shot if she thinks you'd disapprove" " I do disapprove!" "Well, just focus on the positives! Awesome powers, saved your life, has a massive di-... actually, forget about that last one. I mean, it's true, but wouldn't be helpful if you mentioned it."

So then they save Lydia, who'd be deeply, deeply worried bc her daughter seems to think B is a pretty cool guy actually, a woman could do worse for a husband. He's fun, he's helpful, he saved them, there's worse-looking dead people. So naturally, she'd find Betelgeuse and be like "If I marry you, will you leave her alone?" ...j/k, she'd try to exorcise him. We need spunky!Lydia back. She may be kind, but there are limits.

Mid-exorcism, Astrid clears up the misunderstanding about what sort of deal she's under, that he saved Lydia because he loves Lydia and without asking for anything bad in return, and points out that her deal didn't make her lie about B's good points. Lydia stops the exorcism via last-minute Green Card marriage. Betelgeuse does a whole triumphant, manic spiel about looking forward to moving in and starting married life. But first he's got to fetch some of his stuff (hc that he has just... so many clothes in an infinite magical wardrope somewhere). He draws a door with chalk, knocks, steps through. Walks slowly through the long, uneven hallway. Turns around to look back. Astrid whispers "If you took a step in there right now..." (Code 699) and Lydia goes "Yeah I know. [then, much louder] C'mon, let's ready the guest bedroom." *

We see Betelgeuse break out into a happy smile for a sec before the door slams shut.

*I don't think it would be believable if a movie ended with them being in passionate sappy Gomez-and-Morticia love. But there's no way that Betelgeuse³ will end without Lydia agreeing to keep him around. On a trial basis. With the understanding that she has the means to get rid of him if he misbehaves too much (he'll misbehave just the right amount).

It's an interesting headcanon that Lydia might have a subconscious fear about Betelgeuse making a move on Astrid. I've seen a few people mention it as well. It wouldn't be too far off to get to that conclusion, either, because of Lydia's past experience. Betelgeuse also had that flyer up in the attic just lying around. We as the audience know he likely put it out there for Lydia to find, because we saw him staring at her photo and talking to Bob earlier about how he's in a distant relationship with Lydia. We saw him trying to make contact and feeling triumphant because she might have finally noticed him that last time.

But Lydia doesn't have access to that info.; only we as the audience are privy to who Betelgeuse is actually after and how dead set he is on it, too. Only Lydia is the object of Betelgeuse's desires, even after thirty years. It wouldn't be a stretch to conclude that Lydia might fear Betelgeuse would go after her daughter, because at first she didn’t know what Betelgeuse was truly after; for all she knew, he’s still just looking for a way to get out and do evil mischief on the world of the living or whatever she thinks will happen if he’s out.

I personally don't think this is a fear she took with her at the end of the film, though. I think she has it clear now how Betelgeuse feels about her, and that he wouldn’t do something to her daughter. She might have thought it was a pretense before, or him being totally crazy, but after that dance mid-air, there's no way she doesn't know how he feels.

I think Babyjuice coming out of Astrid was just Betelgeuse turning Lydia's dream into a nightmare; a prank letting her know he hasn't left and he isn't planning on leaving her (he even thought it was strange himself lol). But yes, Lydia keeping a lingering fear about Betelgeuse going for Astrid is a solid headcanon as well, though it’s not my interpretation.

I know there are edits of Astrid wearing wedding clothes and Betelgeuse being creepy with her, but many of those were created before the movie was out, by people who thought the movie would be about Betelgeuse going after Astrid.

About Astrid putting up a good word for Betelgeuse with Lydia, that would be part of my dream-come-true story for Beetlejuice 3. I just want to see them explore Betelgeuse and Astrid's relationship as stepfather and stepdaughter. I think they'd get along great. As I've said before, Astrid hasn't really met Betelgeuse yet; she only knows two things about him: according to her mom, he's bad news. And yet, he helped save her life, and all it was going to cost was her mom marrying him and not being able to say his name (though he's totally chill with her calling him her "dad", which I totally love and will always bring it up 😂💜).

I wish the movie will end with Lydia and Betelgeuse being finally married, or at least together in love, but I'll accept them not getting married as well, as long as they’re on the way there as friends who may fall in love, and Lydia doesn't end up banishing him yet again or squirming out of another marriage deal. That'd be repetitive at that point. As for Betelgeuse being banished forever or destroyed, that will totally never happen; Tim, Michael, and especially the WB wouldn't allow that to happen. Not only do Tim and Michael love Betelgeuse, he's also a money-maker and widely beloved character for the WB, so it'd be dumb for them to end the movie with Betelgeuse being sent away forever or perma-killed.

To end my ramblings, I totally love the idea of Astrid and Betelgeuse working together in the next one and Astrid helping her mom see the good in him/putting a good word in for him. That'd be fun to watch.

I do have a feeling lately that if the do make the third part (which is looking more likely every day), they will be taking it in the direction of establishing Lydia, Betelgeuse, and Astrid as a family. I'm getting that vibe because I've seen an official promo TikTok about Astrid's family being strange, which kinda hints at Lydia and Betelgeuse being Astrid's family/her parents. Not to mention, the DVD cover photo has those three front and center, instead of having something like Betelgeuse big in the middle and the Deetz women all together below or something like that; a choice was made to have Lydia, Betelgeuse, and Astrid together front and center. Those little details have me like 👀, I'm getting a vibe that we're being led to see them as a family. But don't take my words for fact, it's just what I'm observing.

Thank you for sending me your speculations! I love and appreciate exchanging ideas with everyone. 💚✨

[otherone12]

Oh, Baby... You're Mine

Vampire!Gerard Way × Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hey!! I’m weirdo and vampires are fucking hot, so I has to write a something like this (no judgement, pleaseeee). Hope u enjoy it :)

Summary: The boy in your class is shy and weird, but you've always been nice to him, making him create an obsession. The problem is he's a little weirder than you thought… I mean, he literally drinks blood, and wants YOU and YOUR blood, and he won't take "no" for an answer.

- Word Count: 2.090

- Warnings: She/her pronouns. Blood things, pet names? Kidnap, AFAB SMUT!

> DEAD DOVE!!!! < IF YOU DON'T LIKE THIS KIND OF CONTENT, DON'T READ!!!! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: Sorry for the smut, i'm not used to write this, i'm still learning already. (:

- Ps3: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st Person POV

Gerard has been my classmate since the beginning of the year. I've never talked properly with him, but everyday I say “hi” to him with a smile. 

His black hair fell perfectly on his unhealthy pale face when he bent over the table to draw. Maybe the way he didn’t talk to anyone, or the way he kept his attention on his drawings during the class, I don’t know, but he's really cute. 

Sometimes my pastime is to find him looking at me, when he notices I stared back, he stops staring and gets a bit blushed. 

This has been happening for some months, and I got a bit tired of this, so I walked towards him at the end of the class, knowing he has free time. I crossed the empty classroom, and stood in front of him. Gerard looked up at me and swallowed hard, looking a bit nervous.

- Hi! - I started with a kind smile - Am I bothering you?

- H-hey… N-no you’re not… - He tucked his hair behind his ear, taking his eyes from his draw. His voice was high-pitched and pleasant to hear. - I wanted to talk to you, but I was afraid of being creepy. 

We talked, and I noticed that we had a lot in common, passion for art; for good music and old movies; so we kept the conversation going as long as we could. He didn't smile even one time, but I thought he liked talking to me as much as I liked talking to him.

In the next few days, Gerard and I had small conversations during the free periods, but nothing more than that. I started to think about him as a friend, ‘cause somehow he made me feel great.

Wasn’t like I thought of him as some kind of partner or something, but it is nice to know that if I need someone to talk to, I can go and speak to him. I haven’t many friends, none actually, I just didn’t feel comfortable with anyone, but he was different, someway.

After class, on an ordinary day, I was walking alone with my headphones on, and the cold wind of fall in my face. Going home, I felt something weird on my way. I didn’t know what was wrong, but the sensation of being followed haunted me for some streets. 

Faster than I could understand the whole situation, I felt a strong hit in my head, I fell on the floor, beating my head on the asphalt. The pain didn't last longer than a few seconds, cause i had already fainted.

Opening my eyes slowly and with difficulty, I couldn't see an inch in front of me because of the dim light. When I tried to rub my eyes with my hands, I realized that they were tied apart. I began to panic, noticing that I was tied to a bed, with my hands on different sides of the headboard and my legs spread with my ankles tied to the other end of the bed.

My first instinct was to scream, and I did. I got no response, but a door was opened, making the room a little brighter because of the light coming from it.

Before the door was closed, in the few seconds that the room wasn't pitch black, I saw that the room had a gothic aesthetic, with old paintings, black veils covering the windows, candles and chandeliers filling the room, and the old structure itself attracting attention.

I heard the sound of footsteps approaching, unable to make out anything. Soon I felt cold hands tracing my face and going down to my neck. I froze, the soft skin of those hands was almost soothing, but I couldn't let it take away my focus. I screamed again, but my mouth was covered pressing hard on my dry lips.

- You don't need to scream, darling. - A familiar voice reached my ear, making me even more nervous - I won't hurt you, hun. At least, not now.

 Slowly, he took his hand away from my mouth and I didn't scream, for fear that the situation might become worse than it already was.

- G-gerard?! 

I said, stuttering and with my voice muddled by fear.

- Aw how cute, you recognize my voice. - His tone didn't sound friendly, but threatening. As he spoke, he caressed my cheek. - There's no need to be afraid, baby.

- W-why are you doing this? - I cried, and he dried my tears with his thumb. - please, let me go

I begged to no avail, only to hear a harsh laugh coming from him. 

- I'm doing this because you’re different from the others. But you already know that, right, princess? - He moved away from me and lit some candles, letting me see the room more clearly - Do you know how much time I spent observing you? The way you talk, the way you smile, the way you walk... The way you look, damn! All pretty, all perfect, but never all mine.

His delicate fingers holding the candles looked like some hypnotic thing, and i couldn’t stop stare at them.  

- I’m not the only one who think about you like this, i’m fucking sure about that. - The disgust in his voice, probably thinking about the guys who asked me to hang out with them, made him seem genuinely concerned about me. - So I couldn't wait any longer to finally make you mine.  

Gerard’s voice became serious, while his disgust turned to seriousness and possessiveness. The sound of the old wood on the floor creaking filled the environment while he walked toward me again. 

- I love you. I always have. And I know you love me too. - A fatherly countenance, together with the heat emanating from the candles, left the environment less morbid, but still gloomy.- If you didn't love me, you wouldn't have spent so much time with me, would you?

- You're crazy! - I screamed, still crying. - I've talked to you very few times. I've never said anything about love!

- You didn't say it, but I felt it. - Now, with the light brighter, I could see the highlight of his white skin contrasting with his black clothes. - You don't know what it's like to spend eternity looking for the right person. 

He walked towards me again with a smile I'd never seen before. The closer he got, the more outward his teeth became. My heart races when I realized that those was FUCKING FANGS! And “eternity” was meant literally.

He sat on the bed next to me and looked me in the eyes. His bright hazel iris bore into mine and sent a chill down my spine.

Panting, my nervousness increased and he noticed. Keeping his smile, letting it be obvious how he was enjoying this situation.

- You're so pretty, do you know? - His hand was on my body again, unbuttoning my blouse. He licked his lips admiring my exposed chest - The most beautiful woman in this world, and all mine.

I opened my mouth to protest, but the stern look he gave me shut me up.

My hands remained tied as he ripped the sleeves of my blouse, removing it completely.

- Please don't... 

Again, I tried to react, but he was already unzipping my pants, ignoring me. The only thing I could do was hope that he would feel sorry for me, and stop doing anything.

- Darling, you're mine now. Don't worry, I'll be nice... - his hands passed over me, who were now covered only by my black lingerie. - but just if you behave like a good girl. Will you do this for me, baby? Can you be a good girl?

While he spoke, his fangs turned apparently, in a perverse smile. He leaned over me and pressed cold kisses down my torso, past my ribs and up closer to my breasts, making me fight the pleasure that was slowly consuming my mind. A moan was about to escape my lips, but I bit it back, muffling any sound that might come out. 

- Looks like someone's enjoying it, huh?  - he hummed, with a haughty tone in his voice - I told you. You love me. 

I tried again to say something in protest, but this time it would be a lie. Not that I loved him, but I was involuntarily enjoying it. He licked his lips in such a hunger, I couldn't help but shiver. 

His hands slid down my panties, pushing them aside. He teased my entrance and made me sink my teeth even deeper into my bottom lip. He looked with satisfaction, laughing darkly, and said In a practically growl.

- Very wet, aren't we? 

I mumbled in response, trying not to make my state of hopeless obvious. Gerard removed his hand from inside me, and positioned himself on top of me, with his knees on either side of my waist. 

- You know I'm about to turn you into the same beast as I am, right? - I barely heard what he was saying, but his voice, at the same time that left me panicking, made me melt into the bed. - I just want to have some fun first. Vampires are cold... but don’t worry, you'll get used to it. 

Gerard undid his black  jeans, springing his boner free. I got shocked by the size, and he let out a grin with his shiny fangs. The situation itself could be romantic, like candles and a pretty guy who apparently loves me… but the kidnap shit messes with all of this.  

He thrusted his dick in me in one move, not even trying to be kind. I was in some kind of state of mind, forgetting that he was abusing me, I started to enjoy the situation. 

- Don’t be shy, honey. - He groaned, going somehow deeper. - I wanna hear all those pretty noises. 

It didn't take too long and I felt my orgasm getting close, and like he said, I moaned really loud, breathless, I felt him come inside of me. 

He kissed me passionately, muffling while I screamed in pleasure against his lips, reaching my apse. The taste of cigarettes mixed with red wine was good, and I kissed him back, needing and wanting more of him. 

I caught myself thinking of how I would feel being with him forever. I’ve never felt like that, loved by someone, cared for by someone, and Gerard gave me all I begged for at last few years. His electric touch, this erotic feeling he brought me, was it that bad? He said “turn you into the same beast as I am”, does it mean he’s gonna bite me? ‘Cause he looks exactly the same way as a vampire does in my mind. 

- Are you ready for this, hun? 

He whispered, biting soft my bottom lip, running his hand to my neck. 

Before I could even respond, his teeth were already buried in my artery. I could feel the heat of my blood being sucked from my veins. The feeling of his tongue running across my neck made the pain milder, even so, the piercing and sharp sensation of pain ran through my body, as did his hands, which touched every inch of my torso. 

As he tightened his grip on my waist, my warm blood began to drip from the corner of his mouth, painting his pale skin a bright red. When he finally let go of my neck, he left kisses at the bite site, moving up towards my jaw and finally reaching my lips again, smashing them hard. The taste of my blood now filled my palate, while our tongues intertwined in movements that seemed to have been rehearsed.

Soon, I found myself out of breath, and feeling tipsy by the smell of wine he emanated. 

The strength in my entire body seemed to have been removed, and I felt really weak. Gerard held my face with one of his hands when he broke the kiss looking for some oxygen, while his other hand was still squeezing my hips.

Quickly, my vision became blurry, and I could only feel his cold lips hit mine again and my body collapsed in that bed, feeling like i was on fire and leaving the scene outside like one of the paintings I saw in his sketchbook once

- G-gerard...

I mothered in a whisper.

- Shh, you'll be fine, baby. I'm gonna take care of you, and we'll be happy ever after. 

He caressed my hair and rocked me. Little by little I lost the last lapses of consciousness, becoming completely off.

___________________________________________

~ So... that's it, guys!

PART 2!

[perfectlovevn]

Hi

Idkkk but I think I saw a question about how the milos would react to a masochistic player? So I was wondering how they would react to a player who is the complete opposite (sadistic), or maybe both simultaneously (I don't know if this has been asked yet either☹️). I don't need it to be anything too extreme, but the player should be visibly like that

I actually thought about this a bit and I don't think Eris is sadistic (or maybe she is?), I don't really know what would be in that category, but she does seem to enjoy the suffering of others sometimes. Whatever, the Milos probably don't know.

Btw!! I love your game, It's so different from other things I've played with yandere/obsessive characters before (although not saying that the others things are bad), It was kind of refreshing? to play KWJDLW LIKE SERIOUSLY😭💗 this literally broke me out of my creative block as an artist. For some reason after finishing playing I immediately wanted to draw the Milos, which I won't show you bcs I'm shy, but just so you know.

Ohh and I've been obsessed with this game for weeks or maybe months now. This is even the first question I've asked on a blog because... erm I already said I'm shy👹 I was just a little curious and wanted to tell you how much I like your game.

Hope to see more of your work in the future!💗 (and I hope you don't mind the rather long text)

-🌀 anon

Hmm, well, I’d say that I wrote Eris to be domineering in a sense, but I left it a bit ambiguous whether or not they are actually more sadistic or masochistic but just giving hints to both. But thank you! I’m really happy I was able to help you out of your creative rut. Honestly I’d love to see any art you have for me.

PreMilo would probably be rather squeamish about it if Eris purposefully caused him physical harm. But if you mean more like just watching him suffer generally, depending on how much it pleases Eris. I think he might purposefully get him to hurt himself more for Eris possibly to the point of developing a liking to it.

Manipulation Milo would be happy to throw himself off a cliff or otherwise be hurt by Eris. He’d be really happy about it actually. I think he might even try to goad Eris into punishing him. All attention is good attention for him.

Violence Milo on the other hand would probably not like it as much but he’d reframe it as toughening himself up, so he might find being hurt as a way to get stronger. I think he’d be very easy to hurt emotionally though since he wants to be a good guard dog for Eris.

[crimeronan]

“Okay, so you were my guard,” Luz says.

"Yeah. Among other things."

“But I don’t, um – I don’t actually need that here. Guarding, I mean. I’m not royalty anymore. And the people here are okay, mostly, except when they suck, and then Vee goes after them anyway. I don't… I’m not sure I can…”

She trails off, less because she’s trying to formulate sentences and more because she can see Hunter’s heart shatter. Even as she does, she checks herself – what does she know about his feelings, really? His face barely crumples. He just closes his eyes for a second, and presses his mouth flat, and swallows. Then he takes a breath and faces her with the exact same calm as before.

She doesn’t know why she’s so certain that’s heartbreak. In anyone else, she’d read it as tiredness or annoyance.

“I’m coming on too strong,” he says, and his voice is just as steady as it always is, no outward signs of distress. “I'm sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Luz says, and means it. “I can tell you’ve had, just, the worst time. And I know this isn't what you hoped for. I just – I don't know what you want with the human world, besides me. Won’t you miss home?”

“You're forgetting I’m not allowed to go home either way right now,” Hunter says, “on account of the atrocities.”

Luz rolls her eyes. “Don’t be a smartass.”

His mouth twitches. He might be trying not to smile.

“I’m just saying,” she continues, “you found me. You did find me. Like you wanted to. And I’m safe here, like you want me to be. So you don't have to… I mean, you did your duty. You did what you were supposed to do. I hereby release you from any further contractual obligations. Okay?”

It’s meant as a reprieve, but Luz immediately knows that she’s chosen the wrong thing to say. Hunter isn’t quite as good at masking this new heartbreak. His fingers spasm, curling around the edge of the couch cushion, gripping like a lifeline. He lets out the kind of breath that someone might if they’d just been shot. His ears flatten, pointing toward the floor, an unconscious reflex that makes him look like a kicked puppy.

When he speaks, his voice cracks. “You don’t want me?”

Luz feels her own expression crumble. Confusion and guilt war for dominance inside her, a stitch between the ribs.

“Here,” Hunter adds, unconvincingly. “You don’t want me here?”

“I don’t want you guarding me here,” Luz says. “All of this stuff, you being so hung up on Vee and my mom… it’s freaking me out. I don't want them to get hurt.”

“I won’t hurt them,” Hunter says immediately. “I wouldn’t hurt them, not if they’re treating you well – I wouldn’t ever do anything you didn’t want me to do, Luz. I swear.”

“See, that. That's freaking me out.”

His brows draw together.

“You’re sitting here locked in a basement on my behalf,” Luz says, “because you volunteered to be locked in a basement.”

“Okay, well. In my defense. There are some very specific extenuating circumstances right now.”

She waves this aside. “You said you’ve been trying to track me down for months.”

“Of course I have. Anyone with sense would have. Belos was-"

“Yeah, I know. But my mama isn’t Belos.”

Hunter stays quiet and still for a solid minute. Luz actually counts the seconds. His only movement is to press a hand to his eyes, like he’s pushing back a headache, or maybe trying not to cry.

“I’m not trying to be mean,” Luz adds. “I promise you, I'm really, really trying not to hurt your feelings. But you get it, right? It's just… a lot to process.”

“I get it,” he says, with what might be an attempt at a smile. He folds his hands in his lap, surveying her politely and deferentially, like a corporate executive might respond to a CEO. “I'm sorry I've made things harder for you. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know,” she says. “It’s okay. I’m really sorry I don't remember.”

“Could be that it's for the best,” Hunter says lightly. “I won't cause your family any trouble, Luz. Promise. It’ll probably be a while until they actually believe that, but in the meantime – you don't need to come down here anymore. I won't pick a fight.”

She has a sudden, overwhelming impulse to fling herself into his arms. Just one more nonsensical reaction, extra proof that something's missing inside her.

“Do you want me to stay away?” she asks.

Once again, Hunter lapses into silence. It's hard to tell whether he’s thinking or just refusing to answer, at least until he counters, “Do you want to remember me?”

“Yes,” Luz says immediately. She doesn't even have to think about it. Without meaning to, she touches her chest, the place that aches every time she reaches out for someone who isn't there. It's been aching since way, way before Hunter stepped onto the Nocedas' porch.

“I want to know,” she explains, “why I miss you so much.”

This, finally, is what makes Hunter break. He buries his face in his hands and lets out a ragged little sob, his shoulders shaking, his breath choked.

Something in Luz wants to wrap her arms around him and snuggle up on the couch and let him cry into her neck. Something in Luz wants to curl up with him under all the blankets in the house and ask him to tell her stories. Something in Luz is suffering physical pain with every elapsed moment in which she doesn’t do that. The desire to hold him edges past want, into need. It hurts.

The rest of her is still loosely gripping a steak knife. And so afraid of sending mixed messages.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?” she says, backing toward the stairs before her instincts can turn traitor. “After I’ve slept. After we’ve both slept. I want – I need you to get some rest tonight. You'll feel better once you do. Okay?”

Hunter grunts in vague acknowledgement. He doesn’t seem interested in discussing his continuing sobs, and Luz is fighting back tears herself, and she doesn't have the strength not to go to him if she cries. So she just climbs the stairs, shutting the door carefully behind her, and she flips the lock closed.

[scekrex]

HIII🫶🫶🫶🫶💍💍💍

I had an idea for a adam xm!reader and its like reader became in a way a sort of friends with the main cast of the demons (Charlie, Vaggie angel ect.) and adam finds out about it when he finds reader with fat nuggets in hel for funzies idk im not so great at English its absolutely not my first language nor the second so if its a complicated idea you can just scrap it dww!!

Furthermore i hope you have a great rest of you’re day 🫶🫶

Sup hun, I simply assumed you mean angel!reader bc it makes the most sense (and it's what I've written) hope ya like it xoxo/p

Forbidden fruits cause damage

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

You knew you weren't allowed to, you knew that if Sera or the other seraphims were to find out, they wouldn't let you come back, that you would only see Adam once a year during extermination day and it really messed with your head to be constantly reminded of how tight heaven's rules were.

And yet you came back over and over again.

At first it had been to visit Charlie's hotel, to make sure she wasn't violating any rules heaven had made - that had been an order from Sera. But when Charlie had greeted you so warmly as if she was one of your closest friends and Niffty had dubbed you 'totally hot not-badboy' you couldn't resist when it came to visiting these shitheads.

At first your visits had been rare, they had been a once every couple month kinda deal, you needed to be careful not to draw any attention to you after all. But soon every couple months turned into once a month, once a month became once every two weeks and every two weeks quickly switched to every week.

And while heaven seemed to either not notice or not care enough - maybe they thought you were doing business with Lucifer, who knew - Adam noticed. Of course your boyfriend would notice that every week you'd suddenly disappear for an entire day. You always made sure to leave early in the morning to be back for dinner. However, whenever you left during the early morning hours Adam woke up due to the lack of warmth that you took with you when you left. He was a cuddly guy, even if he would never admit it so of course he would notice his beloved boyfriend’s absence.

Today was yet another day to visit hell. So you went down to hell early, you had left Adam a note that stated something along the lines of 'visiting Ma & Pa, see ya tonight, big guy'. He however wasn't buying any of it. You had once lied to him by telling him you were hanging out with a friend of yours and when Adam had left the apartment for a walk he had seen said friend alone. The same thing happened a couple weeks later again.

He crumbled the little note in his hand and threw it onto the bed. He trusted you, he really did, but then there were his insecurities. His first and second wife had both decided to cheat on him and leave him. What prevented you from doing so too? He didn't know and the thoughts of you fucking another guy were eating him alive.

What if you disappeared once a week to enjoy time with someone who was more charming and loving than him? With someone who'd constantly tell you how much he loves you instead of jokingly insulting you? He couldn't stand his mind for fucking him up so badly, he wanted to crash his head against a wall until it would split open, but he didn't.

Instead he snapped his fingers to let a small orb appear in front of him. The scene the orb showed him was fogged up at first but the picture got clearer only seconds later. He felt disgusting for spying on you, wanted to scratch the skin off of his bones and claw out his eyes but it was the only thing that quieted down his mind at least a little bit.

The orb showed you a bright smile on your face as you held a little pig, petting the small animal lovingly. Next to you stood Angel Dust.

Angel Dust?

“Fat Nuggets really loves you, y’know, poor baby always gets sad when you have to leave,” the pornstar explained with an arm wrapped around your shoulder. Adam couldn't believe what he was seeing. You were in hell, even worse: you were in hell to hang out with the demon scum like it was the most normal thing to do for an angel as pure as you were. The brunette was so overwhelmed by his feelings that he didn't even recognize it when the orb disappeared again, the only thing that was on his mind was why you didn't tell him.

You were apparently regularly hanging out in hell and instead of telling him you always made up some sad excuses why you were gone for the day. Did you not feel comfortable sharing such a big secret? Adam's mind went crazy, the wildest trains of thoughts were running through his head and there was not a single thing the first man was able to do about it, the only thing that was possible in a situation such as his was to take it.

-

When you got home that evening Adam was walking up and down in the living room. “You okay, babes?” you casually asked, your voice didn't indicate that you had been lying to him for months, it didn't indicate that you had just gotten back to heaven after spending the entire day with some demon fuck-ups. “You wanna explain me where the fuck you were?” Adam asked instead of answering your question and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes gave away that he was pissed about something yet they were glued onto your body leaning against the door frame. “I wrote you a note, I was-” you were about to explain but the first man to ever be created didn't let you finish, “Fuck you and fuck your lies. You weren't visiting your parents bitch, you were in hell visiting the demon fuck-ups who think redemption is possible.”

You frowned at his words - yes that was true but how the fuck did Adam know about that? “What? So you were spying on me?” you questioned his behavior and stepped towards Adam. The brunette seemed to be close to crying yet his body was ready for a fist fight. “After I figured out you lied to me twice about hanging out with friends? Duh,” he made a hand movement that was supposed to symbolize something along the lines ‘obviously I did’.

You let out a deep sigh. He was right. And that was way too fucking hard to actually admit. But you swallowed your pride and gave in. You walked past him, your hand reached out for him but he flinched away from your touch which resulted in you sitting on the couch alone. He didn't move an inch from the spot he was standing on, the only thing he did was to turn around in order to look at you. “I’m sorry.” A look of surprise washed over the brunette's face and his body language visibly softened. He had expected many things but an apology without a fight hadn't been one of them. “What?” he dumbly asked as he blinked at you in confusion. His wings, which had been fluffed up to make him seem bigger than he already was, dropped until they were pressed against his sides again. His beautiful golden eyes which had been full of anger only moments ago had softened too, they reflected empathy.

You couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eyes as you continued to speak so you stared at the floor instead, “I’m sorry that I lied to you, that I visited hell without telling you, I know I should have but -” you shook your head as you paused for a moment. “No. No excuses. I was afraid of your reaction to it, I know you hate them, I know you hate their project but they're actually so sweet and caring and- and I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about all of it. I should have shared this with you.”

Now it was Adam who sighed as he flopped down onto the couch next to you, he kept his distance though, “I don't fucking like that you're visiting them, what if one day you'll get locked out of heaven? The fuck am I supposed to do without you?” You glanced at him from the corner of your eyes. “I honestly don't fucking care who you're friends with and what they are. That's your fucking life, I won't control that shit, that's yours to decide. Just promise me to be fucking careful ‘n’ stop fucking lying to me about it.” You nodded silently, it was the only response that felt right in that moment.

“N remember, if I have to go to fucking hell just to fuck your juicy little ass, I fucking will. You're not safe from me, not even down there,” the grin in Adam's voice was audible and you peeked up a little only to see the taller man grinning down at you. That made you smile a little.

-

It was the next day that you called Charlie to inform her that you wouldn't be able to visit as regularly anymore. You weren't willing to risk everything, especially Adam. She being the supportive girl she was obviously understood. “Who are we talking to?” Adam asked sleepily as he entered the kitchen, the poor man had just woken up and followed your voice immediately. “Charlie,” you cheered at him, “You wanna say hi?” You held your phone in front of his face, his mimic was a mix between annoyance and sleepiness as he spoke, “Sup, bitch.” Then he went to make himself a coffee. “You want one too, babes?” he offered to you and you nodded before giving him a quick ‘thank you’ kiss. “Was that Adam?” Charlie asked in surprise over the phone. “Yeah, y’know how I told ya that we're dating?” Your words made pride bloom in Adam's chest, you had been talking to your new friends about him and you weren't hiding that he was your boyfriend even though Charlie and Adam weren't exactly on good terms. “Well yeah you mentioned that but I didn't think- nevermind. I hope you two have a wonderful morning, I assume we'll see each other in two months?” Lucifer's daughter seemed eager to get off the phone now that she knew that Adam was with you. You chuckled at that, “Yeah, sure, see ya then.”

Once the call ended Adam turned around with a sharp grin on his lips, “So, how's hell reacting to a pure babes like you dating me?”