#i'm wording this so poorly but i'm dead serious

[specter-star]

Joel isn't Jupiter, he's Uranus

listen, I'll die on this hill.

Uranus is the planet of the skies, representing open air and wind. it's also the planet of flight, and generally swiftness. fast and furious, anyone?

in mythology, Uranus is not a deity but a Titan, a primordial being who is far more unrestrained than any god. Jupiter may be king of the gods, but Joel is not a leader - he's a force unto himself

the superpowers wildcard: Joel had the ability to triple jump and could not take fall damage. in essence: he could leap into the sky without fear, and fall without taking any damage. planet of flight.

the tilted axis: Joel is unhinged! so is Uranus! the planet has a 97.7 degree axis inclination

here's the thing about Jupiter, alright? Jupiter is a planet of strength, rulership, responsibility, and confidence. Joel has confidence, yes, sometimes edging into arrogance. but it's not consistent at all. he doubts his ability to win at multiple points during the series. yet he seizes his opportunities whenever he can. essentially: he goes where the wind blows

as a Titan, Uranus is very wrathful. so is Joel

the planet also represents eccentricity, rebellion, and upheaval. c'mon.

he didn't hesitate to turn on Grian at the end, either. if that's not an example of winds changing, idk what is

finally: the jokes. you know he'd make ALL the Uranus jokes. hell, the ladder podcast in LimLife where they mentioned Uranus - if you stand on it, do you fall in? Joel sure didn't

oh, also? this is the seventh life series. Uranus is the seventh planet.

[mtheonott]

Are you serious? Not kidding?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

⌗ raw!reader, comf, declaration of love, drunk!TheodoreNott, party, jokes and banter, flirt

word count: 2.2k

note: I'm tired of writing this... but it seemed to work out fine.

Theodore, the smartest student at Hogwarts, stood at the classroom door, looking at the large and thick walls that had been cracked for a long time. The guy didn't like to think about time, it drove him crazy. He tried to look at his time at Hogwarts from a more positive perspective, even though he was doing poorly.

The Slytherin noticed a human approaching out of the corner of his eye and turned around, "Ah... you're awake. I thought you were dead, sleeping beauty.", He grinned, keeping his hands on his hips.

A frail figure in a blue uniform was walking towards the guy along the empty corridor, clicking her heel, which was unforgivable for the Ravenclaw prefect. But we'll miss it. When you heard the greeting, you rolled your eyes in annoyance. A new day is a new batch of jokes and tricks. Nott just giggled at your reaction, waved at you and turned his head towards the classroom.

"Zabini suggested a drink after dinner. Are you with us?", He knew that you have a good relationship with a nice alcoholic. Standing next to him, you also looked at the closed doors. Transfiguration lesson. You crossed your arms over your chest and confidently stated, "I'll be busy." It is quite expected that a person like you will have things to do. But the guy's grin made it clear to you that he had come up with an interesting joke again.

"What's up? You didn't tell me. Have you found another boy who will make fun of you in the evenings?" You just sighed a little, "You're enough for me, nerd. I'm going to play chess with Potter."

Nott clicked his tongue, frowning. What an abomination, "Since when do you play chess? Are you trying to get closer to that ideal for half of Hogwarts?" You just giggled, slightly covering your mouth.

You've been in love with this Slytherin since freshman year and haven't looked at the other candidates. He is warmth and comfort. Calmness. Even though you don't want to admit it.

There was an orange landscape in the courtyard, which both Theodore and you liked, so your couple was in a better mood than the others.

"He offered, and I was just free. Nothing special," you said, looking a little more confident. Nott scratched his head, looking at his shoes, "You could have hung out with us then.", the guy sighed, "Okay. Come on, sleeping beauty."

He took your arm and led you to class. He took your arm. Took your arm for the first time. Your heart started pounding, literally trying to jump out of your chest. You followed him obediently, no matter where. All your thoughts were occupied by the fact that he was holding your hand.

The guy entered the office, which was filled with students. They were all waiting for the professor and watching another argument between a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw, not noticing Theo and you.

Nott came over to your desk, leading you along, "Hey?" he said, bringing you back to reality. You just looked at him absently and nodded. What for? You don't know. "I'm sorry, I was thinking."

The guy grinned, leaning towards you and resting his hands on the table, "Are you fantasizing about me? Baby, I can make all your dirty fantasies come true, just ask." He grinned and went to his friends, leaving you. You rolled your eyes and looked away. Idiot.

The girls have already taken you into their company, telling you about the latest gossip, and you were trying to distract yourself from thoughts of Slytherin. Just for a minute.

────────────────.✦

Basically, the day went as usual: boring lessons, Tarot cards (jokingly) at breaks, discussion of Daphne's outfit for the ball and Nott. Theodore Nott has taken literally every second of your time. Not just thoughts. The guy showed up at every break, at every meal, and at every free minute. It's fun for him. Maybe for you too.

In the evening, when Potter reported on important matters with "urgent questions," you still decided to go to Zabini. Why not?

Entering a noisy room, you waved to a familiar bunch of guys at the door, hugged your friends and only glanced at Zabini, who had already found a girlfriend for the evening. You'll say hello to him later. The main thing is different: Nott. He noticed you too and immediately stood up, inviting you to sit next to him, "Little witch, sit down.... It's good to see you."

Of course, sitting down with him is a bad idea. What if the jokes get to a physical level? Although, it's kind of good... nonsense. Okay, calm down. You sat down next to him, nodding at his greeting, "Potter is busy, I decided to stop by."

"Oh, so our hero is busy? It's a nuisance. Okay, here, ah... firewhisky and like... that’s all..." Nott looked thoughtfully at the table, remembering what else he could offer. Unable to think of anything, he turned to you and smiled. "You always have me, you can eat and drink me."

You raised an eyebrow and squinted in his direction, "Sorry, I'm on a diet. I prefer not to eat after 6"

The guy first blinked, trying to figure out your joke, and then grinned and nodded, "Yes, yes, I understand… I just, well..." He lazily pointed at a couple of bottles of alcohol. They were pointlessly empty on the table, almost shouting: "Nott is drunk out of his mind."

You nodded in disappointment, "Every time you're not in class, you're fucking around." Theo smiled brightly, closed his eyes and nodded confidently. Like a dog, which is not like him during lessons and Quidditch practice. "That's right. That's why I'm given a life here."

Sighing, you were about to get up, leaving the drunk guy, so as not to get any problems. You never know. But he stopped you by first pulling you by the arm, and then holding you by the shoulders with both hands. Nott made fake sad eyes and almost whimpered, "Heeeeey... stay with me, at least for a couple of minutes. You're always leaving in my dreams, and now..."

In dreams? What kind of nonsense is this? You tilted your head to the side and frowned, "Did you dream about me? What the..." Theo didn't let you finish. He put his finger on your lip, silencing you and leaned in, "It's a secret. It's better not to tell anyone that I have dreams at all. Suddenly, someone will get into my head..." he whispered, and then looked around. The guy met her gaze again and continued, "I heard someone here can do this."

Your surprised eyes slowly became irritated, "Nott, this is a story for children. Are you nuts?" The Slytherin laid his head on your shoulder, nuzzling your collarbone. Your ears turned slightly red, which made you want to push him away so that no one would notice. But you didn't do it.

The guy said sleepily, "Did you know that you smell great? Patchouli, cedar leaves, bergamot... it smells like autumn." Your heart skipped a beat. Compliments like "Cool lipstick," "Wow, great styling," or "Cute boots." had no effect on you. But this description of your scent... Nott hugged you around the waist, breathing heavily, "You're right. I must be crazy to be in love with..." but he couldn't finish.

Blaze ruffled his hair, silencing him with his abrupt arrival and smiled happily at you, which made you feel calmer, "Hey! Did you come anyway? I see that the idiot is already drunk... keep an eye on him, and I'll leave with... uh... in short, with the pretty Gryffindor. Don't be bored."

You didn't even have time to greet him, let alone respond to his request. He disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone on that couch again. More precisely, there were people here... but they are not felt. Absolutely.

Nott looked out into the crowd, trying to spot his friend, but to no avail. Then he turned to you and grinned, drunkenly rather than cockily, "Would you sleep with Zabini?"

The question has brought you to a standstill. You stared at his alcohol-reddened face and blinked a little, "Well... you know, such questions shouldn't be asked. But I would rather answer no than yes." Theo nodded and rested his head on your shoulder again, which made your heart beat faster again, "And with me? Would you sleep with me, Y/n?" he muttered, closing his eyes.

You blushed again and swallowed, "You know... I'm not going to answer that question. This is unethical and uncivilized, Theodore Nott. "His hands were resting calmly, without movement, on your waist. He nodded again and sighed, "But I would with such a beauty." You are used to skipping such comments, it's not the first time you hear. But now your eyes were darting in different directions, nervously and touchily. You don't even understand why you're offended. Because he's drunk and says things like that? Maybe.

"Okay, Theo, let's go for a walk. Let's try to slow down the negative effects of alcohol's toxic substances on your brain." You gently helped him up, still holding him in your arms. Not because you wanted to, but because he wouldn't let you go. When you straightened up, he finally released you from his grip. Surprisingly, his drunken state still allowed him to walk and stand, but you still helped him get out of the noisy space.

The Slytherin common room was cold and empty. You quietly went out into the hallway of Hogwarts, holding his hand. Nott didn't take his eyes off you, smiling drunkenly. After looking around, you walked on, wandering through the already night-time corridors of the school. He was still holding your hand, now looking at the floor. The silence was pleasant rather than embarrassing. Quiet footsteps, rustling of clothes, faint wind and sighs. Nothing more.

After going out to Ravenclaw Tower, you went to the window overlooking the lake. The clean air allowed you to think clearly again. Theo leaned against the wall, looking up at the night sky, "Sorry about tonight. I... well..."

"You'll sober up and apologize, Nott. There's no need to annoy me again." you replied, still looking at the lake. His gaze fixed on you and he grinned, "That's what I like about you. So serious. Like you are ready to kill… This little walk brought me back to my senses a little bit, don't worry. Accept my apologies."

You still looked at him and nodded, "Okay then, nerd, I forgive you."

Theo leaned over to you, smiling a little brighter, "So you're ready to forgive me? Are you not indifferent to me?"

Raising an eyebrow, you looked at him in surprise, "You seem smart, but the train of thought is not logical... do you want me to feel something for you so much?"

The smile faded from his face and he nodded with a serious expression, "Yes. Why not?"

You shook your head and turned back to the lake. It stood out from everything else, which caught your attention. Like Nott.

The guy touched your cheek, silently forcing you to look at him, which you did. He bent down a little more and said, "Even though I'm drunk, but when I talk about love, nothing affects the words. I want you to feel something for me. Because I am. I... just, hm..." This time, he let go of his gaze. Theo stared at the floor, trying to find the right words.

You stared at him dumbfounded, trying to digest the words he said. Then you swallowed and replied uncertainly, "Well, I... feel... something." He looked up and stared at you hopefully, "Yes? You're not kidding? Fuck, I'm drunk, for sure..." The guy ran his hand over his face and looked at you through his fingers, "Are you sure you said that? Are you serious? Not kidding?"

You chuckled softly and shook your head, "Not kidding." Nott immediately pulled you by the waist, eagerly biting into your lips. It was as if he had turned one of his million bedtime fantasies into reality. You were stunned, but you accepted the kiss by hugging his neck.

The moonlight was spying on this moment, illuminating your faces. No, although you needed the kiss so much, it was rather gentle, warming you on this autumn night.

Soon you broke away from each other. Nott leaned back to look into your eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know... I don't remember why anymore. But I'm sorry." You nodded, also not knowing what he was apologizing for, "Okay. Anyway, I forgive you, nerd. You know... you have an insanely long tongue. Shut up already." You grabbed him by the collar of his black shirt and pulled him back for a hotter kiss.

You spent the rest of the evening walking around Hogwarts. Silently and contentedly. The wind contrasted with the warmth of his hands, leaving a pleasant feeling, like brownies with ice cream. And you don't need anything more. You will remember this moment for the rest of your life.

[justagalwhowrites]

Bane of My Existence - A QZ Joel Miller One Shot

You and Joel Miller have never gotten along, always at odds whether working together or avoiding each other. But when a smuggling job goes bad, you discover that there might be more to his harsh demeanor than meets the eye.

Pairing: QZ Smuggler!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers; Joel is bad with emotions; hurt/comfort; canon typical violence; injury that's probably poorly handled because I don't medicine; vague threat of SA (not by Joel, not made to reader); unprotected vaginal sex. Joel carries reader but look... My Joels are all 6'5" and strong as hell, especially in life threatening situations. Man can carry anybody. I'm in love with him because he's a big strong man. No description of reader.

Length: 8.9k (sorry)

A/N: A lil one shot gift for my beautiful bestie @dundienominee :)

Full Masterlist | AO3

“Hell no.” 

Of course Joel Miller said hell no to working with you. Of course he did. 

You weren’t surprised at Joel’s reaction when his smuggling partner, Tess, brought you to their safe house in the QZ. He’d never been the president of your fan club. 

“Joel,” she sighed. 

“Fuck no,” he said. “Not bringin’ her anywhere, she’s a goddamn liability.” 

“Joel,” she said again, sterner this time. 

You, however, just smirked, watching him pace and glare at you, his face getting flushed as he did. 

“She takes stupid fuckin’ risks,” Joel said. “She’s cocky, she’s…”

“Saved your ass from infected?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. 

You knew you were adding fuel to the fire. Tess glared at you for it. Your smirk grew. 

“Wouldn’t have been near the fuckin’ infected if it weren’t for you,” he snapped. “Not. Goin. With. Her.” 

“Well, you don’t have a choice,” Tess said, standing up a little straighter and crossing her arms, staring her partner down. “She’s the one with the contact, they agreed to two people meeting them and she has to be one of them…” 

“How the hell’d you make a contact?” Joel turned his full attention to you, his eyes molten hot and angry. “Anyone you touch ends up fuckin’ dead…” 

“Oh fuck off,” you snapped before you regained your composure. “Don’t get pissy with me because big bad Joel Miller isn’t the top of the smuggling heap in the QZ…” 

“I ain’t pissy!” 

“…Not the top of the heap in anything at all, really…” 

“That’s it!” Joel stalked over, looking like he wanted to slug you. Instead, he just put his finger in your face, a slightly unhinged look in his eyes. “You think I’m doin’ a goddamn thing with you…” 

“You don’t have a choice, Texas,” Tess came and stood beside you, her arms crossed as she looked to Joel. “You burned the bridge we had with the FEDRA officer I need to buy off to get our next round of pills inside, I can’t go on this run because I have to deal with the mess you made when you couldn’t keep your shit together. We want to actually be set before shit gets snowed in for winter? We need her connection. So. You’re going, you’re leaving tonight, and you’re not going to fuck this up. Got it?” 

His jaw tightened. 

“Got it.” 

“Good,” she looked to you. “Your contact knows you’re coming?” 

“They do,” you said, serious now and completely ignoring the wall of muscle who was still standing uncomfortably close to you. “The walk back is going to fucking suck but it should be worth it. Good with the split?” 

“Good might be a strong word for 60/40,” Tess said, shaking her head a little but grinning all the same. “But I’ll take it.” She looked between you and Joel. “Trusting you two to not kill each other out there. Don’t make me regret it. See you in a few days.” 

She left the two of you there in the threadbare apartment without another word, Joel’s glare practically drilling a hole into your skull. 

“Together again, eh Miller?” You smirked at him. 

He didn’t respond. He just went and sat heavily on the worn couch before lying down and closing his eyes. 

“What, didn’t get enough sleep?” You asked, going and standing over him. 

“Slept fine,” he said, eyes still closed. “Just would rather spend the few hours we have before we leave the QZ not listenin’ to you.” 

You rolled your eyes but took a moment to look at Joel when he wasn’t glaring at you. 

It was a rare occurrence, seeing him when he wasn’t scowling and pissed. He let himself relax down into the cushions and the lines in his face eased. As much as you hated to admit it - and you did hate it - Joel was beautiful. Frustratingly so. What’s worse, he’d somehow gotten better looking in the years you’d known him. Jerk.

You’d first met him before you came to the QZ, almost 10 years ago now. You were holed up in your own little corner of Boston, doing your best to stay out of the way of FEDRA, infected and raiders alike. 

It was basically a full-time job, even more so since you’d become the last person standing. A job that you failed at the day you met Joel Miller. 

And, as much as he liked to blame you for it, he was the one who showed up in your corner of town. You’d been napping through the worst of the afternoon heat in mid-July when you heard a clatter: someone tripped one of your alarms. 

“Fuckin’…” 

He swore loud enough that you heard him from your perch and you watched him shake glass out of the wrinkles of his shirt. 

“Someone’s here,” the second man said, much quieter. “That ain’t no accident…” 

The two men moved slowly, cautiously, their rifles raised as they searched for whoever it was who set that trap. When you thought they were far enough away, you started to move, slowly and quietly, going to sneak up on them and take them out before they could do the same to you. 

But as you drew close, you heard it. The clicking. 

You gasped, close enough to the strange men that they heard it and close enough to the clickers that they did, too. 

“Move!” The larger man snapped out of his moment of shock first, shooting forward and grabbing you and throwing you to the side before shooting at the incoming infected. You scrambled to get back up, fumbling to get the knife you’d been readying to thrust into that man’s back. 

It turned out, you didn’t need it. At least, not for the infected. The two men made quick work of the clickers and turned to you, your knife raised and ready to take at least one of them down with you. 

“The fuck are you doin’ out here?” The larger man said instead. 

“The fuck do you think?” You snapped. “Go on, do it! Kill me, take my shit, whatever it is you’re going to do…” 

“Don’t much like killing women,” he said, looking to the other man, their guns still in hand but pointed to the ground. They looked alike, these two. Like they could be related. 

“What, because I’m a woman you think I’m not a threat?” You asked, brows raised before realizing that you probably shouldn’t be egging on the large, armed men in front of you. 

“Not really, princess,” the younger man said, voice teasing, and you considered throwing your knife at him. 

“Should count yourself lucky that we don’t,” the older man said. “Why don’t you come with us, out pickin’ up just a few things and then headin’ back to the QZ…” 

“Right,” you scoffed. “Because I really wanna live under fucking FEDRA.” 

“Guessing you want to live,” he said. “Got news for you, princess. Even we’re steerin’ clear of this area of Boston after this. Lot more infected than we bargained for. Your little hideout ain’t gonna be safe much longer. Assuming you want to keep on living, QZ’s your best bet.” 

“And you’re just, what, inviting me along out of the goodness of your heart?” You scoffed. “Please.” 

“Don’t much like killing women and don’t much like leaving people to die, either,” the other man said. “Seem capable enough. Come with us, at least out of this part of the city. Would rather not have you added to the infected population.” 

You ground your teeth for a moment, considering. They could easily over power you. You were out numbered, out gunned and they were both large and strong. 

But… you had been noticing more and more infected lately. You hadn’t left your hideout in almost two weeks and you were low on supplies. Part of the reason you hadn’t dared venture out in so long was the seemingly constant press of infected you could see from the best vantage points in your building. You’d been starting to worry that you wouldn’t have a good opportunity to leave for supplies again. And, if you did, you were starting to worry your home would be overrun when you got back. 

These two were the closest thing you had to a safe option out. 

So, you took it. The pair introduced themselves and you were right, they were related. Joel and Tommy Miller, smugglers who lived inside the Boston QZ. They were strong, smart, capable. Handsome, too, not that it really mattered. What mattered much more was your ability to keep each other alive. 

And, it turned out, you were useful to them. Enough that they wanted you around as help for other runs outside the QZ. It made sense, you knew certain corners of the QZ better than anyone else seemed to. It had been your territory - at least, in some way - for a long time. 

Then, it happened. You’d taken to calling it ‘the incident’ for lack of any better word. You were out on a smuggling run with Joel and another man, Harvey. In spite of the fact that you’d been working together for years, Joel had never really warmed up to you. He tolerated you at best and it seemed like growling was his preferred form of communication where you were involved but you always made it back to the QZ in one piece when you went out together. You watched each other’s backs - you were proud that your kill count was higher than his and that you were almost positive he’d be dead by now if it weren’t for you. 

The three of you were at the edge of the city, heading to rendezvous with someone from a small settlement in New York State when you heard it, the first, distinctive shriek of infected. 

Suddenly, there were dozens of them, maybe more than 100, far more than you were capable of handling even if you had unlimited ammunition. 

And, like a fool, you froze. 

You’d scouted ahead and saw no signs of them, no indication of anything more than one or two strays that had been ambling around. You had no idea where they’d come from or how they’d come to be here but that didn’t matter. They were here, they were bearing down on you and you couldn’t seem to make your body move, the shock of the sight making you completely shut down. 

It was Joel who saved you. 

“Move!” He’d grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and thrown you behind him as he fired at the infected, pressing back as quickly as he could while laying down cover fire. Harvey joined him, their guns up and blazing as you tried to force your body to listen to you. “Fucking run!” 

Your limbs decided to obey then and you moved as quickly as you could, turning and firing behind you when it felt like you had a moment to spare. 

But you misjudged that moment once. Just once, but that’s all it took. Infected were closer behind you than you realized and Joel dove in between you and the reaching, groping thing. 

“Joel!” You shrieked, desperately trying to get a shot off that wouldn’t hit Joel as he strained to hold back the runner who was snarling near his throat. You were about to shoot when Harvey tackled the creature, knocking it off of Joel but into the mass of infected that was closing in quickly. 

They swarmed him and he screamed and you took aim as Joel scrambled to his feet. He shoved you on before you could fire and you stretched to shoot around him but he nearly threw you away from the swarming monsters and your screaming companion. 

“He’s gone!” Joel yelled as you stared at him, aghast. “He’s gone, we have to fucking move, now go!” 

You kept turning, looking back toward the sound of the snarling and the screams. 

“We have to go back!” you said. “We can’t just leave him like that, we have to at least shoot him we can’t just leave him, we…” 

“You should’ve thought of that before you fucked up!” He kept pushing you forward, toward the QZ. “No point in gettin’ us killed to save a man who’s already dead.” 

Joel had gone from seemingly finding you to be a nuisance to hating you then. He refused to even be in the same room as you let alone leave the QZ with you again. 

It took you a long time, after that split, to figure out how to survive. You’d become dependent on the cards you got from smuggling to get by but you couldn’t leave the QZ on your own and expect to make it back in one piece, not with how things had devolved with raiders and infected in recent years. You found a small group who was going out from time to time - which is how you met Tess - and you cobbled together a living. 

You never worked with Joel again. 

At least, not until now. 

You sighed and perched in the window, watching the QZ go by and thinking of the best way out of the city once the sun went down. You tried not to think about the likelihood that Joel would kill you while you were outside. 

It was a long walk ahead of the both of you, 30 miles each way through infected no man’s land, not that raiders hadn’t been trying their damndest to get a foothold. But you had a connection there who had been growing marijuana and had a hell of a crop they were willing to trade for plenty of ammunition and antibiotics. You’d been orchestrating this trade with Tess for weeks, both of you carefully avoiding the sore subject of Joel. The initial plan had been you and her heading out but then Joel beat the shit out of a FEDRA guard for some imagined offense and they were suddenly without the connections they needed and suddenly, Joel became part of the plan. Lucky you. 

Once darkness started to fall, you picked up a little stone that was stuck in the frame of the cracked window. You took careful aim and flicked it, watching it sail to hit Joel square on the forehead. He twitched in his sleep, grimacing, but he didn’t wake. 

You looked around a moment, searching for something else to use against him. You found it in the form of a wad of paper that you had to stretch to reach but you did. You tightened the ball and aimed, throwing it. It didn’t make it quite as far, bouncing off his hands as they sat folded at the base of his chest. He didn’t even flinch at that. 

“Dammit,” you muttered, looking around again. You found a rubber band then, perking up a little as you picked it up. You arranged it carefully on your fingers, pulling it back and aiming it like a gun, targeting Joel’s nose. His oddly beautiful nose. Not that you ever really thought that way about him, of course. You shot the rubber band and it flew, snapping right where you’d aimed it. He jerked awake and you turned quickly so it seemed like you were just looking outside into the night. 

“Wha…” He mumbled. 

You turned your head to look at him as he sat up, seemingly disoriented. 

“You hit me with somethin’?” He asked. 

“What would I hit you with, Joel?” You asked. “I was about to come wake you up, though. Can’t get a late start because of your lazy ass…” 

“Show you lazy…” he muttered, hefting himself up off the sofa. “Let’s move.” 

You gave Joel this much, the man was efficient. You’d forgotten just how efficient in the years it had been since you’d last worked together. He cut through the QZ quickly and smoothly, the knowledge of routes run by FEDRA guards seemingly innate as he knew exactly when and where to avoid and how to do it. In what seemed like no time at all, you were outside the walls and starting into the ruins of the city. 

“Got a safe house about an hour’s walk,” he said, setting an almost punishing pace as you moved alongside him. “We get there, wait for daylight, press on in the morning.” 

“Oh, because you’re the decision maker?” You asked, brows raised, even though you agreed with him. “Just expect me to fall in line…” 

“You know what, princess?” He rounded on you, forcing you back into the wall of a building you were passing. “You’re lucky I came out here with you after the shit you’ve pulled…” 

“Shit I pulled? I fucked up!” You all but yelled at him. “I know it! I think about that all the fucking time, that he’d still be alive if it weren’t for me! I don’t need you to fucking remind me, I know what I did and I’m sure you’re fucking perfect and that no one’s ever died because you fucked up…” 

“You don’t know a goddamn thing,” he growled, pressing closer to you for a moment and his eyes were dark and dangerous. For a moment, you thought he might kill you. Or kiss you. He didn’t do either. Instead, he just stepped back, looking you up and down once. “Keep your shit together this time. Don’t want to die because of you.” 

Tears burned your throat and eyes and you swallowed them and walked a few steps behind Joel, trying to keep an eye out for signs of infected and raiders and trying to make sure that Joel didn’t die. Even if it was just out of spite. 

The next day was easier than you expected, too. You made it quickly out of the safe house in the morning and dodged a hoard of infected, skirting around the writhing mass of them lying on the street. You didn’t really feel like you could breathe until you were outside the city, where the air was cleaner and you didn’t feel the specter of what happened years ago looming over you. 

You and Joel mostly ignored each other, watching the tree line as you kept an eye out for whatever might be lurking for you there. But, every now and then, you thought you caught Joel looking at you out of the corner of your eye, his head snapping around the moment you seemed to take notice. 

After walking for most of the day and covering 20 miles, the two of you stopped and made camp, Joel deeming it safe enough to make a small fire. You watched him after the two of you had eaten and settled, the light casting flickering shadows on his face. 

Joel, you were almost loathe to admit, was an incredibly good looking man. There was a roughness to him that you found almost comforting in the world you were both trapped in but there was beauty to him, too. The symmetry of his features, the plush of his lips, the cut of his jaw. You wondered what he was like before all this, not just when he was younger but before this world had a chance to sink its teeth into him. Maybe you would have been friends then. Maybe something more than friends. 

“How’d you end up smuggling?” You asked, not able to keep sitting here in silence any more. 

“What?” He asked, looking up from where he was cleaning his gun. 

“Smuggling,” you said. “Doubt you were born a smuggler and you don’t seem like you were a drug mule or something in the before times. How’d you end up doing it?” 

“How does anyone end up doin’ anything?” He asked. “Needed cards, people needed drugs. If people want to pay me for ‘em, I’m not about to argue.” 

“So that’s it,” you said. “You woke up one morning and thought to yourself ‘I think I’m going to tell FEDRA to fuck off today by running drugs’ and started a whole new career.” 

He sighed but didn’t say anything. 

“I don’t buy it,” you continued, sitting back against the tree you were propped against. “There’s something else…” 

“Not your business if there is.” 

“So there is something else!” You said, almost smug. “I’m on the right track, excellent.” 

“You always this nosy?” 

“Usually,” you said. “Let’s see… Maybe Joel Miller just likes an excuse to hit things.” He scoffed but didn’t say anything. “Not that? Interesting… Maybe Joel Miller gets off on breaking the rules. Is that it? You have authority issues?” 

“Can we go back to not fuckin’ talking?” He asked. 

“Not authority issues then,” you nodded, ignoring him. “Well, that leaves just one other theory.” 

You were quiet, looking away from Joel and fighting the urge to smirk as you did. It only took a minute of silence before he sighed. 

“Goddammit,” he said. “What. What’s your theory.” 

You let the smirk happen then, looking back at him. 

“That Joel Miller doesn’t feel alive unless he’s about to die,” you said. “And that Joel Miller needs to feel something so he decides to do the thing that almost kills him because what else is there to have?” 

He watched you for a moment, his eyes hot and angry, before he looked back at his gun. 

You laughed once. 

“So predictable…” 

“And why do you do it?” He asked, looking up at you, the rage barely contained on his features. “Must have a reason, right? Livin’ outside the QZ as long as you did, fuckin’ around outside it now, what is it? You got some kind of death wish?” 

“Yes,” you said, looping your arms around your knees. He blinked at you in surprise for a moment and you laughed a little. “I’m not nearly as mysterious as you, it’s not some secret…” 

“Why?” He cut you off, gun set aside now. You frowned but he pressed on. “You got a life, why do you want to just throw it away…” 

“You call what I have a life?” You asked, brows raised. “Never thought you’d be so generous in regards to anything related to me…” 

“Ain’t it?” He asked. “Sure, it’s not what it was before, can’t just do what we did then but…” 

“You think that’s it?” You gaped at him. “That I miss being able to go to fucking happy hour with my coworkers or grab dinner at Chili’s so I might as well drop dead?” 

“That’s not…” 

“I lost people, Joel,” you snapped. “I know everybody did but when I say I lost people, I mean I lost everyone. By the time you and Tommy found me, there wasn’t a single person left on Earth I knew. My parents turned in the outbreak, they bit my brother and his wife and their daughter. I survived with my fiance for a while but he got shot by a FEDRA officer when we were trying to make our way to the fucking QZ and then I was alone. I stayed out there because, what, was I supposed to go live with the people who killed him? No thanks. What the fuck is there? So yeah, you know what? I smuggle shit. I like the risk. I like telling FEDRA to fuck off. I like being able to handle myself because I’m the only thing I can count on. Don’t act so fucking surprised that I’m not thrilled with life in the QZ just because you brought me there.” 

Joel was quiet for a moment and you just squared your jaw and looked away, arms crossed tightly over your chest. You knew you shouldn’t let Joel get to you the way he did - especially not after you’d picked at him and pushed him here - but he got under your skin the way no one else left alive really seemed to. You hadn’t spoken to anyone about your fiance, not in years. It was a wound you’d long set aside, a casualty in the war on humanity that had hollowed you out so much that it seemed like you couldn’t really feel anything unless you were on the edge of your own destruction. Or, apparently, picking a fight with Joel fucking Miller.

“Could be worse,” he said eventually. 

“Yeah, well.” 

“M’sorry.” 

You looked at him then, brows knitted together. 

“What?” 

“Said I’m sorry,” he said, voice a little gruff. “Didn’t… didn’t know. Wasn’t trying to… I’m sorry.” 

You blinked for a moment, trying to get your bearings. Of everything you’d expected to hear out of Joel Miller’s mouth, I’m sorry wasn’t it. 

“I’m sorry, too,” you said eventually. “If you want to talk…” 

“I don’t.” 

“Right,” you nodded. “Well…” 

“I got first watch,” he said, picking his gun back up. “Get some sleep.” 

The next day, you reached the trade you’d arranged, the woman you’d run into a few times when outside the QZ there with her partner. They hauled so much marijuana out - wrapped tightly in old newspaper - that they had to use wagons to carry it all. You unloaded your haul and the trade went smoothly, Joel lurking toward the back and standing guard, keeping a surly watch over the whole proceeding the entire time. It took some doing to pack all the pot into your bags but you managed it, thanking the couple and starting back toward the QZ. 

You were close to where you’d stopped the night before when it happened, the snarl of infected crawling over your skin. 

“Fuck,” you slung your rifle down from its place over your shoulder and turned to where the sound was coming from, seeing a cluster of at least a dozen infected moving for you. You shot, catching the first in the head and you watched it drop. 

“Go!” Joel yelled, planting his feet and taking aim. 

“Fuck you!” You snapped, ignoring him and shooting. “I can handle myself.” 

He growled at that but didn’t say anything else. Instead you stood with him, side by side, trying to pick off the group that was charging for you. For a moment, you thought you’d done it, that you were in the clear. 

And then, Joel’s gun jammed. 

You realized it when you didn’t hear any more gunfire coming from beside you as the remaining infected drew closer. 

“Joel!” Your eyes darted his way and you saw him trying to force the lever back, to no avail. He looked to you and the infected and back to you, his jaw squared. 

“Get back to the QZ,” he said, not giving you a chance to respond. Instead, he charged forward, gun held not like a firearm but a staff and he swung it, hard, so the butt of it slammed into the skull of an infected as three others dove for him. 

“Fuck!” You yelled, ignoring him again. Like hell he was going down out here like this, like fuck you were letting this asshole die for you. You took careful aim, taking down infected that you were confident you could headshot without putting Joel at risk, just one bullet going wide and exploding on the bark of a nearby tree, the rest finding their mark. And then he was on the ground, just one infected left, too close to him for you to be able to shoot and it wasn’t that you chose to do it, not really. It was more like instinct, flying forward, shedding your backpack and dropping your gun as you did, wrenching your knife from its place at your hip and jumping onto the back of the creature, your arms going around its neck as you yanked back on it, hard. 

Your weight threw it off balance and it shrieked, starting to claw at you, twisting in your hold to see if it could sink its teeth into your skin. It bit as best it could at your arms but the thick of your coat kept it from getting any further and you struggled to adjust your knife to drive it into the thing’s neck but you couldn’t get it, not without letting it go.

“Goddammit!” Joel was panting for breath and you could barely see him out of the corner of your eye as he scrambled to his feet. You tightened your grip on the infected, the stink of the rot of it from the inside out making you gag, and it slammed you back into a tree, catching you off guard. You barely registered the sound of your skull hitting the wood before you passed out. 

***

You didn’t listen. You never fucking listened, why could you never fucking listen? 

You were the single most infuriating person Joel had ever met. Stubborn as hell, independent to a fault, seemingly desperate to pick every fight you could find. Of course you didn’t fucking listen to him. You never had before, why would you start now? 

Seeing you that close to infected - again - was terrifying. 

This was why he didn’t want to go out like this with you. This, right here. Because he knew you wouldn’t listen, he knew you’d wind up in this situation, knew he’d have to deal with the fear and the pain of you dying when it was his fucking fault why couldn’t you just fucking listen?

He’d thrown himself at the infected to give you a chance. One of you was probably going to die out here and he wasn’t about to let it be you. Not when he’d already done so much, gone so far to try to make sure you fucking survived. Because dammit, if he couldn’t make sure one of the few people he actually cared about actually lived, what was the damn point? 

But did you take the chance he was giving you? No. Of course you didn’t. 

And all he could do was watch in horror as the thing you’d jumped on top of slammed you into a tree with a sickening thud, one he could hear above the snarling and snapping of jaws. Your body went limp and you slid from its back to the earth, landing in an unnatural looking way. No one who was in control of their limbs fell like that. His blood was ice and he moved without considering, roaring as he ripped his knife from his belt and tackled the infected who was turning to go after your throat. He hit it so hard he rolled with it, the creature’s mouth reaching for him as he held it back. They came to rest on the ground, that thing on top of him and Joel slammed his knife into its neck again and again, until it went quiet and still and Joel was bloodied and panting for breath. 

He shoved it off him and he half crawled to you as he got to his feet, not willing to wait until he was standing to start moving. You were still when he reached you, your head thrown back, half on your side, mouth open. 

“No, no, c’mon,” he pulled your coat open to get at your chest to try to do what he thought was CPR - not like there were fucking certifications for it in the QZ - but, when he did, he realized you were breathing. He lowered his head near your mouth and could hear the soft, shallow sound of your life and he sat back on his heels, taking a deep breath. 

So he hadn’t gotten you killed. Not yet, anyway. At least there was that. He let himself sit with the relief for a moment before checking you over, looking at your throat and wrists for signs of a bite but didn’t find any. Another lucky moment. 

“Alright princess,” he said, tapping your cheek lightly. “C’mon. We gotta get movin’, let’s go.” You stayed still. His stomach twisted. “Know you like to fuck with me but now ain’t the time, we need to get out of here, time to wake up…” 

He half expected you to respond then. You’d love this, the fact that he was damn near panicking because you were hurt. He knew you’d want to draw it out. 

But you wouldn’t be stupid about it. You wouldn’t put them at risk, not really. 

“Fuck,” he swore, adjusting your limp body as best he could before lifting you to his chest. The hair at the back of your head was matted with blood. He tried not to think about what that might mean. “S’alright. You’re gonna be fine, just… You’ll be OK.” 

He kept thinking that, over and over, as he carried you, looking for somewhere he could protect you for a while. 

It took him time to find it, a farmhouse with overgrown fields that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. The door was hanging open, creaking on its hinges, and Joel brought you to the kitchen island, setting you gently on the dust-covered formica. 

“Stay there for a minute,” he said, leaning against the counter to recover his strength and his breath for a moment. “Gotta… gotta make sure we don’t got company.” 

He went through the house room by room, barricading the doors on the ground floor and pleasantly surprised to find most of the top floor intact, no holes in the roof or broken windows. He gathered some blankets from the main bedroom and carried them down to where he’d left you. He propped your head up gently, pouring some water on a cloth and cleaning the cut there with care before covering you with a quilt and pulling a kitchen chair up beside you. He checked to make sure you were still breathing before sitting down, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, hands folded almost in prayer. 

He should have told Tess to fuck off. He knew better, when it came to you. There was a reason he’d avoided you ever since that day everything had gone wrong. Hell, he’d been avoiding you before that, too. 

From the moment he’d met you, he liked you a little too much. You were the exact kind of woman he’d gone for before, one who was capable and strong and a total fucking smart ass. He liked a woman who challenged him, one who made him think. You did those things, you did those things like it was second fucking nature, all while being one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, before the outbreak or after. 

He knew he had to keep his distance from the beginning, that he’d get too attached if he let himself. But you were a valuable partner, so he did his best to keep you at arm’s reach while going on runs with you and his brother. He thought that had been enough, that he’d done a good job of protecting himself from the disaster that waited at the end of any form of attachment in the life he led now. 

And then he saw you freeze in the face of infected. 

He was so afraid in that moment that it shocked him how fast he made the call. The decision to put his body between you and the infected was an easy one. He wanted to make it back to the QZ, to his brother he’d found some reason to live for over the last few years, but he wouldn’t want that if you didn’t come back, too. But you didn’t fucking listen then, either, too busy trying to do the same damn thing he’d have done in your position. If you hadn’t been with him, he’d have tried to save Harvey. He was a good man, he’d watched Joel’s back plenty, Tommy’s too. He deserved a better end than the one he got. 

Joel just couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk you. 

He let himself rage at you about it. Even though it wasn’t your fault, none of it had been. He’d known it then but even more so after. Years later, outside the QZ, he watched as a large hoard worked its way south for the winter, just passing through. You couldn’t have seen them coming, no one could have. 

He never told you that. Because, after the day you froze, he was far enough away from you that he wasn’t going to have to watch you die and he wasn’t going to have to carry the blame if you did. He couldn’t do that again. He knew that much of himself, he knew what he wasn’t capable of surviving. If you were out of reach, he’d have room to breathe. 

But you were still leaving the QZ. He hadn’t known that, at first. He’d just assumed you’d stay put and take the shitty jobs FEDRA offered to get by. He hadn’t even known that Tess knew you, not for years. It wasn’t even her that told him you were still smuggling, it had been a FEDRA guard. He’d overheard your name when Tess was handling a trade and put two and two together. He damn near marched over to your apartment that second and demanded to know what the fuck you were thinking. But he didn’t. He kept it together, he kept listening for news of you, kept waiting for the day that he knew was waiting for him, the one where you didn’t come back and he’d find out about it from some other smuggler or some asshole guard who found out when you didn’t show up with his supply of pills.

And then your name came up when he was trading with a FEDRA guard. It was a small deal, some pills for cigarettes and liquor, just enough for one guy. He was a new client of Joel’s, one he was happy to have. His demand was low and he was good leverage for bringing shit through the gates, turning a blind eye for a good deal on drugs. He just hadn’t seemed to learn quite yet that Joel wasn’t a friend. 

“You know other smugglers, right?” He asked, glancing at Joel as he counted the pills out in his palm. As though Joel was stupid enough to short change a fucking FEDRA officer. 

“Suppose,” Joel shrugged. “Why?” 

“There’s this one…” he talked about a woman who was coming and going, one who was cocky and beautiful and hadn’t caved to his demands for sex the last time she came through and he tried to blackmail her. Joel ground his teeth but kept quiet as he prattled on, eventually pocketing the pills and handing over the cigarettes and booze. “Anyway, wondering if you think she’s the type who’ll give in or should I stop wasting my time and just take it?” 

Joel’s hands curled into fists. 

“Take it?” Joel asked. “Take what, exactly.” 

He looked at Joel, incredulous. 

“C’mon,” he said. “You know. They never fight too hard against a uniform but it’s more fun when they’re at least a little willing.” 

Joel’s punch came so quickly the man didn’t have time to put his hands up. He took him to the ground fast, blow after blow raining down on the man’s face until the air smelled like copper and his knuckles were split. The man gargled on his own blood below him, desperate gasps that sounded something like “please” but he couldn’t be sure. Joel grabbed him by the collar, his head lolling limply to the side as he tried to breathe. One of his teeth was hanging on my a thread.

“Keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself,” Joel panted. “Tell your fuckin’ friends. I hear about any of you messing with women around here? I’ll kill you.” 

Joel dropped him back to the ground and flexed his fingers. He thought he might have broken part of his hand. Wouldn’t be the first time. At least this one was worth it. 

“Pleasure doin’ business with you,” he said, fishing around in the man’s pocket and taking a pill from him. He popped it in his mouth, chalky and bitter on his tongue. “For my trouble.” 

He left the man there in the alley, knowing full well that he’d just shot his whole team in the foot. He didn’t much care. 

The irony that it had landed him here, outside the QZ with you unconscious and your haul on the forest floor was almost too biting. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe he’d been doing this wrong all along. 

You groaned and Joel’s head shot up as you started stirring on the counter, your hand going to the injured part of your skull. 

“Easy,” he said gently, getting up slowly so he wouldn’t startle you. “Took a nasty hit to the head, you were out for a while.” 

“Ow.” 

Joel laughed a little at that. 

“Glad you think it’s funny,” you said, sitting up. He rushed to help you and you gave him an incredulous look as his hands found your back and your hand. “Jesus, I feel like I got put through a meat grinder…” 

“Well, s’long as you ain’t bitten, think we can handle that,” he said, taking his hands back now that you were sitting up. 

“Amen to that,” you said, stretching a bit before looking him over and then looking around, a small frown on your face. “Where are we?” 

“Farmhouse,” Joel said, shoving his hands in his pockets just to give them something to do. “Think about a mile from where we were. Can find our way back OK. I’ll have to, your pack is still out there.” 

“Shit,” you said. “Yeah, we can’t afford to come back without it, I traded my entire stash for my share of the pot…” 

“We’ll find it,” he said. “Don’t think anyone else is comin’ through here any time too soon.” 

You nodded slowly before looking back to him, your eyebrows knitting together before you flinched, your hand going to the back of your head again. 

“Will you actually listen for a change and take it easy?” He asked, going to check the wound. “Jesus, bane of my fuckin’ existence, not doing a goddamn thing I tell you…” 

“Why are you still here?” You asked, ignoring him yet again, fingers finding the gash on your head and tugging at it until it started bleeding again. Joel sighed before pulling your hand away. “Hell, why’d you bring me here at all? You just said I’m the bane of your existence, why the fuck did you go through this much trouble? You could have just left me there, taken my pack, kept all the haul for yourself…” 

“You really think I’m capable of that?” He asked, brows raised. He knew he hadn’t exactly been kind to you over the years but fuck, he didn’t think it was that bad. He pressed the wet cloth to your head again, watching as the red filtered over it. 

You shrugged. 

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Yeah, alright, you piss me off more than… shit, about anyone else I’ve ever met. You’re the bane of my existence…” 

“So…” 

“Will you let me talk?” He snapped. “Fuck, woman, always gotta be right, always gotta have the last damn word, always gotta do whatever’s gonna get you into the most trouble…” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I managed to save your fucking life today,” you snapped back. “Please forgive me!” 

“I don’t want you saving my life if it costs you yours!” He yelled. 

You pulled back from him sharply, eyes wide as you blinked at him in shock. He shook his head and pulled the cloth away from your skin. At least the bleeding had stopped again. 

“Don’t fuck with it anymore,” he said, dropping the bloody fabric to the counter. “Gotta leave it alone so it can start to heal, head wounds bleed like a motherfucker…” 

“Joel,” you said quietly, watching him. 

“What.” 

“Joel,” you said again, eyes still on him. “You… What did you mean you don’t want me saving your life if it costs…” 

“I don’t…” He cut you off before he took a deep, centering breath. “I don’t want anybody dying for me but… Christ, it can’t be you. Yeah, you’re the bane of my existence, you piss me off so much sometimes I swear it’s like you got a goddamn degree in just how to do it but you make me feel more alive than anything else left and I can’t…” His heart was pounding so hard it felt like a bruise. “I can’t lose you, especially not when I could stop it. Not when I could save you. I need you to stay alive, OK? I don’t want anyone else to piss me off the way you do, I want you to be the one getting under my skin every goddamn day…” 

“Joel…” 

“Still not gonna let me finish?” He gaped at you. “Fuck, I’m tryin’ to…” 

You didn’t let him finish that time, either. Instead, you kissed him, your arms going around his neck and pulling him roughly against you, your lips so soft and warm and demanding on his that it felt like you were trying to swallow him whole. 

It was like the logical part of his mind only worked for half a second after that. He knew, in that moment, that he should probably hold you back. Talk things out, make sure you didn’t hurt yourself - you’d just had a head injury for fuck’s sake - but that part of him vanished, consumed by you and the way you kissed him like you were trying to climb inside his skin. 

His arms went around you, pulling you to the very edge of the island so your pussy was pressed tight against his quickly hardening cock. 

He couldn’t help but grind himself against you, the zipper of his jeans harsh contrast to just how soft he knew your pussy would be and the last bit of resolve he should have held snapped. Your fingers fumbled at the snaps on his coat, pulling it open before going to the buttons on his shirt and he did the same, desperate to get at your skin and suddenly not caring that it was nearly freezing or that the two of you had nearly died not all that long ago.

His hands found your breasts, sliding inside the cups of your bra to cradle the soft warmth of them and you moaned into his mouth when his thumbs found your nipples, gently brushing them before working them in little circles as they pricked against his skin. 

Joel had tried to not think about this with you. It was tempting, always tempting, but he knew better. He tried to limit his thoughts of you to frustration and anger but he often failed at that. He had failed at it often enough that he had an idea of how you would feel in his hands, how you would taste on his tongue. He thought he would have known enough to be prepared for it if it ever happened. 

He wasn’t. 

You were, somehow, so much better than he’d ever let himself imagine. You were so goddamn soft, like the whole of you had been spun out of silk, tenuous and tender. There was something almost inherently wrong in how he was touching something as soft as you but he shoved that nagging guilt aside, too obsessed with feeling more of you. If this was how your tits felt in his hands, how your lips felt on his, how your hands felt in his hair, he had to feel inside you. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to think about anything else if he didn’t get to be inside of you, his mind would always be trying to create the way you would feel, to know how warm you would be, how safe he would feel in you and how calming it would be to know that you were safe, too, because nothing could reach you if he was there inside you, nothing. 

His hands reluctantly left your breasts and slid down to your waist, finding the button on your jeans. You quickly, clumsily kicked off your boots and lifted your ass from the countertop so he could slide your jeans and panties down, leaving you all wet and swollen and bared for him. 

“Fuck,” he panted, looking down at you for a moment before reaching one callused finger forward and almost reverently tracing your dripping slit. You groaned, your head going back in pleasure, your hips almost jumping toward him. 

“Joel,” you whispered, voice so goddamn needy. The sound went straight to his cock, skin stretched tight and balls aching. “Please…” 

“I’ve got you baby,” he said, opening his pants and tucking his jeans and underwear below his throbbing sex. “Make you feel so good, just…” 

He took his cock and brushed the head against you and you looked down to where he was about to push inside you and gasped. 

“Holy fuck,” you panted, looking at him, your eyes wide. “Joel, you’re… Are you going to fit?” 

“I’ll fit, baby,” he said, looking down again and notching the head of him inside your wet heat. You groaned as you stretched around him, fingers digging into the skin at his nape. He pushed the first inch of himself inside and stopped, looking back to you. He took your face his hand and your eyes searched his, desperate longing written there. “Just watch me, I’ve got you.” 

You didn’t say anything, you, just nodded quickly. His other hand went to the small of your back, angling you just so as he started to thrust into you, pushing in a little and then pulling back before going again, claiming more and more of you with each stroke until he was fully within you. He stilled inside you and pressed his forehead to yours, your eyes on his own, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath on his skin. 

He’d been right. Inside, you were fucking perfection. He could feel how you stretched over him, how your body perfectly took and held his own. You were so soft there it seemed impossible, like the world should have destroyed anything this delicate and supple. But you felt so like you, too. The heat of you was almost overwhelming, the strength of you sharp and clear when your cunt fluttered over him, already nearing your orgasm with telltale little spasms holding him tight.  He wanted to consume you and be consumed, devour and be devoured and he needed to fuck you deep and hard and leave part of himself inside of you or he might never think of anything else ever again. 

“Fuck, Joel,” your breaths were sharp and shaky. “I’m so… you’re so big, I’m so full, I… You have to move, I need you to fuck me, please fuck me, please, I need…” 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said, gently angling your head just so. “Give you just what you need.” 

He kissed you as he started fucking into you, setting an almost punishing pace as he moved inside you. He drank down your desperate groans, savored the way your fingers scrabbled over his shoulders and neck and back, got lost in the spread of your thighs as you kept trying to take him somehow deeper. As if there was more of you for him to take, as if there was more of himself to give. 

Your channel grew tight over him and he knew he wasn’t going to last once you came but he was afraid he wasn’t going to even make it that far. He’d already given up on pulling out, he’d deal with the whatever fallout came from filling you up, but he had to feel you come when he was inside you. He was desperate for it, needed to feel how you’d draw so tight over him and pull his come from his body into yours, he needed it. He drove deep and found the spot inside you that made your legs clench a little tighter, fingers clutch a little harder. He pressed into it and held himself there, more rocking into you than fucking into you, grinding the head of him into the very softest part of you as your cunt drew tighter and tighter over him and you pulled away from his lips to cry out as you came. You throbbed around him and he could feel every part of you there, the pulsing of your body and the satisfaction of your cries damn near ripping his own orgasm from him. 

He pulled you close and tight as he came, feeling like his whole being was pulled down low and sharp inside him as he spilled deep into you. Your arms loosened on him but you still held him gently as he all but collapsed into you, his head on your shoulder as he panted for breath. 

“Fuck,” he managed after a moment, still deep inside you. 

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. 

He sat back from you, eyes searching yours again now that you’d both started coming back down to Earth. You reached up and ran your fingers through his curls, brushing them back from his face as he started to notice the cold air again for the first time. 

“Bane of your existence, huh?” You asked, teasing lightly. 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling a little. “My whole damn existence.” 

You smiled a little back. 

“Think I can work with that.” 

[xveenusx]

Enough

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Realizing that no matter what you do, no matter how much you love someone, you are still not enough.

Author’s note: I’ve had a severe case of writer’s block so please don’t hate my disappearance.

Rating: Pure brutal angst

Warnings: fucking painful

__________________________

I think I may have made a small miscalculation.

My eyes trailed over the mass of muscle currently spread out on my bed.

Rafe Cameron.

Kook King, heir to Ward's real estate empire, and asshole extrodinare was sleeping soundly in my bed. It was almost laughable if I wasn't so fucking terrified.

The sunlight danced across his tan skin, the sheets bunched up at his hips leaving little to imagination. My breath caught as my eyes followed the small happy trail causing memories of last night to assualt me.

Sitting on the chaise lounge chair, I curl up against the pillows humming softly to myself. Bringing the mug up to my lips, I bite back a smile at the utter relaxtaion on his face.

When Rafe told me to pack a bag, my stomach flipped with nerves. Being the maid of the infamous Cameron family wasn't exactly ideal in the eyes of his family let alone being a pogue. So we kept our relationship a secret at his request. He had too much to lose if his family reacted poorly.

People wouldn't understand. Ward wouldn't understand. That's what he always told me.

Yet, as much as I tried to understand his reasoning, a small part of me ached at the thought of it being much simpler: I just wasn't enough.

It was exahusting to say the least. Always having to hide and watch as other women with more social status and money than me throw themselves at him. It didn't help that Rafe had a tendency to flirt back causing the green monster known as jealousy to rear its ugly head in my face.

So I stuck with what I knew how to do: clean.

And just as I begin to fall off the deep end, straight over a cliff into overthinking, Rafe always manages to pull me back out. This time he did it by offering a small getaway.

The Cameron's weren't set to use their beach house for another month or so, leaving this entire property for Rafe and I to simply enjoy each other's company. Something we rarely get to do.

There was no need to pretend here.

A groan pulled me out of my thoughts directing my eyes to the bed. A cool salty breeze swept in from the open balcony doors, the sounds of waves crashing agaisnt the shore soothed me.

Rafe peered at me from under his arm with a frown marring his features.

"What's with that face?"

"I don't like waking up alone." He complained, staring at me expectantly.

Giddiness singes every nerve in my body as I set down my mug and scurry over to the bed. The moment my knees hit the bed, strong arms envelope me and tug me into a warm prison.

"Mmmmh." Rafe hums, burying his face into the nape of my neck while his hand slowly tugs my leg over his hip. A small giggle slips from my lips at his softness.

"Are you laughing at me?" His voice rumbled with sleep.

"Yes, you’re a very simple man to please."

"I didn't have you, and now I do. There, it's simple."

My heart melted at his words. For someone who struggled wiht expressing how he felt, Rafe always managed to knock me on my ass.

"What did you wanna do today?" I asked, trailing my fingertips along his face, placing every freckle, every spot to memory.

Blue crytsalized eyes follow me every move. "You. In every room in this house. Then outside."

Blushing at his words, I huffed in fake annoyance and playfully shoved his face away from me. "Rafe, I'm being serious."

"I'm being dead serious, baby." He nipped at my fingers before rolling over onto his back, dragging me directly on top.

I rest my chin on the tops of my hands that laid on his chest and stare at the beautiful man below me. Rafe's fingers thread themselves into my hair brushing it softly, alomst lulling me to sleep.

I wanted to capture this moment forever. The sound of the seagulls chirping, the smell of the salty breeze, the warmth of his body under mine, and the utter adortion that dances in his eyes as he looks at me. It was intimate and real. And for a moment, I allowed myself to dream about the possibility of this becoming a reality.

The abilty to hold his hand in public and kiss his body in private. Being able to go on dates and be on his arm for events and dinners. Hanging out with his friends and his family because I knew what they meant to him. Being able to wake up in his bed rather than sneaking out in the middle of the night. I wanted it all.

Our picture perfect bubble. And consider me naive, but I thought this moment would last forever. But the thing about bubbles is they always pop in the end.

"Guess what?" Rafe asked, his cerulean orbs intense and sincere.

A beaming smile stretched across my lips at the familiar phrase he always used. "What?"

"I love-"

"I love you." I beat him to it, making him let out a deep bellyed laugh. I was memoriezed, enamoured by every little thing he did. I wanted to hear it again and again.

Opening my mouth, "No take backs-"

A knock on the door interrupts me.

That's when our bubble pops.

"Rafe? Open up." Sarah Cameron's voice fillters in from the other side of the door.

My eyes dart to Rafe, only for his face to be painted with sheer panic. In seconds, I'm shoved off the side of the bed and fall onto the floor in a heap of sheets.

My mind took a moment to catch up with my body. But when it did, the flood of emotions that crashed into me were nothing short of excruciating. An immediate lump formed in my throat at his actions as I try to make quick excuses for him but nothing came to mind.

"Just stay down, please." The sound of his request has me closing my eyes, his words hitting me deep, knifelike in the size of the wounds that they left.

I nodded softly. I remain still on my side on the cold floor as I numbly stare at the wall.

"Sarah, what the fuck are you doing here? I had the beach house for the weekend." His words were low and sharp, nothing like how he spoke to me mere seconds ago.

"Chill out. My friends and I wanted to get away a little, plus I figured you were already here, so. "

"You brought those fucking pogues here?"

I hear her scoff. "Your friends are worse."

"Just make sure they don't steal anything. I know it's hard for them considering they wouldn't see this type of money in a life time." His words were cruel, twisting the knife deeper into my chest.

I couldn't help but wonder if there was a double meaning behind his words. I was a pogue, just like Sarah's friends, and it would take me years to afford even a fraction of what's in this beach house.

Was that how he saw me? Was this the reason why we couldn't be public?

"Have you seen her? She wasn't at the house when I left." Sarah's question drew me back to the present.

I held my breath as I waited for him to answer about my whereabouts. I couldn't take another hit.

"I know you have about two brain cells, but please tell me why you would think I know where the help is?"

All my breath left my body and I fought the urge to scream. A heavy weight sat on my chest as I blankly stared at the floor, my eyeballs burning in absolute mortification.

"God, you're such an asshole."

"I aim to please. Now leave me alone." With that, Rafe slammed the door shut but I refused to move a muscle.

Instead, I tried to focus on my breath. It was the only thing that would keep me from having a panic attack. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs but it's like my body forgot how to breathe.

Tears finally began to fall silently as I gasped for breath, clutching the sheet closer to my chest. Humilation pricked my very being as his words play on repeat in my mind.

Rafe was the best part of my day. He made me want things I didn't even know I wanted. And yet, this was how he viewed me. So small and insiginifcant.

Footsteps move in my direction but I paid them no mind. Moving was impossible, so I just stayed in the spot where Rafe thought I belonged— on the cold hard floor.

"I know how it looks, just give me a chance to explain." I felt him kneel beside me, his hand reaching to cup my face. I jerked my face away from him and return my attention to the wall.

"Can you please get off the floor?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"This is where you wanted me, right?" The words left a stale taste in my mouth.

My heart pounded in my throat as a hot flush filled my cheeks.

"Look at me." He demanded.

I couldn't. It hurt too much.

"Baby, please. Look at me." He touched my chin and I felt my body shudder.

"Don't touch me." The words tore out of my chest as I wrenched myself away from him.

Rafe's eyes tracked my movement and his face became very still as if contemplating his next move.

The level of betrayal I felt must have been painted on my face, because his expression shifted to one of regret.

"I made a mistake-"

"Stop." I snapped, lifting my hand to cut him off. "Get out. I need to change and leave before Sarah see's me."

"I drove you, where are you going to go when you don't have a car?"

My eyes narrow at his tone. Once again he was painting me as this helpless girl that was nothing without him.

"I have two legs that work perfetly fine."

Rafe crossed his bulging arms against his toned chest. "You're not leaving until we talk."

A fake laugh past my lips. "We're done, there's nothing left to talk about."

He let out a growl of frustation. "We're not breaking up."

Was he delusional?

"This is me breaking up with you. We are done, Rafe."

Rafe's icey blue eyes narrowed into slits. "Stop trying to break up with me."

"You threw me off the bed!" I shouted, my hands pointing to the floor where I laid moments ago, the shame still fresh as an open wound.

"You threw me off the bed." I repeated softer, my voice breaking at the end. "The bed, Rafe. Just so Sarah didn't see you with me."

"I shouldn't have done that-"

"It happened. It's done. Just let me leave."

Protecting what little self respect I had left was my only goal. No matter how much I loved him, it wasn't worth this constant stream of self doubt and humiliation that seemed to follow us like a plague.

Rafe stared at me for a moment before he jumped into action. Heading towards my suitcase, I watch frozen as he goes through my clothes, picking an outfit for me.

Taking several strides to me, Rafe shoved the clothes into my arms, his breath heavy. "Put these on."

"Rafe, what the hell are you doing-"

"I made a mistake. One that I'm going to fix right now. So stop fighting with me and put these on."

Unease filled me chest as my eyes dart to the clothes.

"How?"

"No more hiding. You and me, okay?"

I stared into his hopeful gaze, looking for even a flash of insincerity or deceit, but only found sheer determination. "Rafe, you can get out of this. I'm giving you an out-"

He shakes his head roughly, strands of golden hair falling on his forehead. "I don't want an out, I want you. So put the clothes on so I can go tell the world I love you."

I snorted, "Seems a bit melodramatic. Let's start small, yeah?"

Pushing his hair back, a sexy smile pulled at his lips. "Small."

I made my decision. Turning around, I grabbed the clothes and began to dress.

I wiped my sweaty hands against my mini white sundress as nerves begin to prick every bit of my skin. Rafe stood in front of me, his glacial eyes soft, with his hand held out for mine. "Ready, baby?"

Hope inflated my lungs as I placed my trembling hand in his, the cool feel of his rings brining a familiar type of comfort.

Rafe leads us out of the room and towards the staircase where voices floated up from downstairs. I was nervous. Extremely nervous. He was going to do it. Rafe was going to introduce me as his girlfriend to his sister and her friends, no less.

The sound of our footsteps echoed against the giant house causing the voices to slowly die away.

Coming into view, Sarah and the pogues are all perched in the living room wearing beach attire. An open bottle of tequila and shot glasses are spread along the table.

All eyes zone in on us before they zoom in on our clased hands. Sarah's eyes widened and I fought the urge to pull my hand from Rafe's grasp. As if sensing my thoughts, Rafe squeezed my hand reassuringly and moved me slightly in front of him.

He cleard his throat. "I uh-"

His eyes shot to mine. I let my fingers brush against his arm in encouragement, a proud smile gracing my lips.

This was the first step in the right direction. Once we told Sarah, it would be easier with each passing person.

Butterflies swarmed my stomach like a zoo. I knew how hard this was for him, but he was still doing this for me, for us. Rafe was finally making us a priority. The unattainble future now felt like it was within my reach.

"Sarah, there's something I want to tell you. I've um-well I've been seeing-"

The front door slammed.

"Looks like we're missing all the fun." Ward Cameron walked in, hand in hand with Rose. A loose linen shirt with thin pants dress his body with a hat and an expensive pair of sungalsses cover his face.

I felt Rafe's grip slowly loosen on my hand. Panic clawed at my throat as I turn my head to look at him. Rafe stared directly ahead with his jaw clenched. He refused to even look at me.

In a last ditch effort to cling onto the invisible string that held us together, I tightened my grip on his hand but Rafe jerked his hand away.

I felt the pressure in my chest finally pop and the string that once tethered us together finally tear. Dread sat in my stomach like lead and bile traveled up my throat.

He made his decision and once again, it wasn't me.

Heat rushed up my neck as I left my arms hang limply at my side. I didn't know what to do, I couldn't think. My shoulders slumped as I bit down on my tongue hard enought to draw blood.

It kept me from screaming.

"Rafe, thank god you brought the help. Though it looks like she hasn't been doing much cleaning." Rose tsked as she looked at the littered table in distaste. "Honey, be a dear and make us new drinks. Then when you have a minute, our bags are out front. Go ahead and put them in our room."

With a wave of a hand she dismissed me, as her and Ward walk passed me with no other acknowlegment.

My mouth went dry as I clenched my shaky shands together. I could feel Sarah's gaze drilling into the side of my head, but I couldn't look at her. Instead, I once again looked at the bane of my existance. The source of this crippling pain the crushes every inch of my soul.

"Rafe..." My voice trembled as I begged him, pleaded, for him to look at me. Just once.

I wanted him to see my face. He refused, the only hint of his turmoil was the bob of his adam's apple.

Swallowing my pride, I put my head down and do what I do best: clean.

____________________

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me alive. I spent the rest of the day doing every little thing Rose asked. I kept my head down and said not one word.

Rafe made my place in his life very clear so I was going to be exactly what he wanted me to be. The perfect little maid.

The entire Cameron family sat at the table for dinner, John B included, as I gently set each of their plates down in front of them. I held my breath once I reached Rafe, knowing that one hint of his expensive musky cologne would send me into a fit of tears.

"Thank you." The timber of his voice caused me to close my eyes briefly in pain.

A familiar touch to my wrist made me jerk away and clear my throat. I continue serving dinner, forcing myself to ignore the gravity that's pulling me towards him.

"That'll be all, you can go relax for a bit. We'll need you back to clean up, of course."

"Of course." My smile was brittle. I allowed myself only a glance. Rafe glared down at his plate, hands clenched into fists at his side.

My feet moved on their own accord and soon I found myself outside, standing beside the pool that overlooked the shore. Taking in gulps of air, I placed my head in my hands.

Starting over was never something I planned. Once I met Rafe, everything else shifted into perspective. All I ever thought about was moving forward with him and starting a life together. One that he would be proud of. One where I didn't have to hide.

"I'm sorry." The words came from behind me and burned a whole straight through my chest.

I choked back on my tears that threatened to drown me and stare down at the rag in my hands.

"Baby." He moved closer now, his heat pressing into my side.

A small shake of my head was all I could muster. The armour I placed around my delicate heart was getting weaker with each passing second.

"I said, I'm sorry." His hand reaches for my waist, turning me to face my destruction.

A light blue linen shirt paired with white six inch seamed shorts don his body. A large gold watch decorated his wrist to match the shiny gold necklace that rested on his chest.

Looking down at myself, a simple tee and leggings, the contrast was so striking it was laughable. In what world had I fooled myself into thinking Rafe Cameron was mine.

Deciding to proctect my sanity, I moved back towards the house with every intention of cleaning up before grabbing my bag and leaving when Rafe blocked my escape.

"Did you hear me? I'm so fucking sorry, for all of it."

"I heard you." Indifference lacing every word.

Rafe gowled, running his hands through his hair in frustation at my lack of emotion. "Stop acting like you don't care and just talk to me."

"I don't care what your family thinks of me and I don't care what you think of me. I dont care anymore, Rafe."

Rafe gripped my chin and his irate gaze burned me. "Tell me what to do to fix it."

There was nothing left of me for him to fix.

The sound of Ward calling out my name is enough to distract Rafe. Pulling my face from his grasp, I promplty turned around and headed towards the house.

"Stop fucking walking." He barked out harshly.

Ignoring his words, I continue to head in the direction of the house. Only a few more hours and I can leave with my head held high despite the gaping hole in my chest.

"I swear to God, stop walking." I could hear his footsteps behind me causing a rush of adrenaline to spread like wildfire through my veins.

"Last time I checked, you work for my family. My last name is fucking Cameron so if I tell you to stop walking, you stop fucking walking." The words are cruel and dark and they have their desired effect because I stop immediately in my tracks.

My eyes began to burn as I pivoted on my heel and slwoly turned to face him. His gaze hardened and I can see him contemplating something before a vicious smirk decorates the face I love.

A glass tumblr was in his hand and I watched in absolute shock as he tilted the cup, spilling the dark liquid onto the floor. The rag in my hand suddenly weighed eight tons as I realized his intent.

"Clean it up."

My blood turned ice cold and a sound a disbelief left my lips.

"I said, Clean. It. Up." He gestured to the floor.

I searched his eyes for anything, for everything, but there's nothing there. Looking back down at the mess, I nodded my head and slowly dropped to my knees.

Tears blurred my vision as I scrubbed the floor clean, wanting nothing more than to disappear. Our fate was finally sealed in that moment.

Leaning back on the heels of my feet, I swallowed. Tears clung to my lashes but the damage was already done. The trails the tears left in their wake burned into my skin as a reminder of his cruelty.

His cold mask finally cracked at the sight of my tears. Rafe took a step in my direction but something in my face made him halt.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Cameron?” I averted my eyes from his.

A harsh noise escaped his lips then he reached out and grabbed my shoulders. I closed my eyes at the heat of his touch and my lips began to quiver.

“I just wanted you to talk to me….” Rafe spoke softly, his words pained.

I wiped my tears harshly and forced myself to look at him for the last time. His hard glacial eyes study my face.

The memory from this morning continued to fade out of my reach. Pain filled me as I realized that was the last time we would ever be together.

“Am I free to go, Mr. Cameron?”

His face crumbled. For a second, one second, a twisted sense of happiness hit me at the sight of his pain. Rafe did this to us. Not his family, not his friends, but him.

Rafe’s face became very still. He nodded slightly and relief filled me. I stared into his eyes, hoping he could see all the love I had been so willing to shower him with, but it was now too late.

Giving him my back, I allowed the dirty rag in my hand drop. 20 more steps. That’s all that stood between me and the next chapter of my story. One that didn’t include him.

Each step seemed to get heavier the farther I walked away from Rafe. I was wrapped around a haze of heartbreak that almost made my movements mechanical.

I entered the house, numb to the bone, and gathered all my things. Everything around me was out of focus as I dragged my suitcase towards the front door.

I could see Rose from the corner of my eye, her mouth moving, but the ringing in my ears only seemed to get louder. Pushing past her, I headed straight for the door and forced myself not to look back.

Everything was different now. In a way, so was I.

One foot in front of the other, I walked down the drive way. The ringing in my ears and the adrenaline that pumped through my veins was suddenly dulled at the sound of the door slamming open behind me.

Loud footsteps echoed behind me before my arms are grabbed and I’m forced to turn around.

Rafe’s eyes were wild with panic as he panted in front of me. His entire appearance was disheveled with his hair sticking out in all directions.

“Don’t go.”

I was so close to being out of his grasp and being free of this agony that gripped me so tightly it made it hard to breathe.

“You were never mine. Were you?” The question slipped past my lips before I knew it.

“I love you. I do, please just come back inside and I’ll do what you want. I’ll tell Ward and Rose right now.” His blue eyes held so much hope, but it wasn’t enough. The magic was all gone, replaced with this cruel torment.

“I was yours, in every way possible. But, it didn’t matter what I did. I still wasn’t enough for you. I’m never going to be good enough, am I?” My voice cracked, but the words were out along with the realization of how painfully accurate they were.

Warm hands cradled my face pulling me towards his. Rafe rested his forehead on mine, his eyes boring into mine. I could feel the slight tremble in his hands.

“That’s not true. You know that’s not true.”

“How could I possibly know that? You never do anything that says otherwise.”

“I love a man who can’t even hold my hand in public.” He couldn’t hold me gaze, instead he turned it to the floor with his jaw clenched.

“You knew who I was when we started this. You knew what came with being with a Cameron. Our situation is much more complicated than you’re making it fucking seem. So I didn’t hold your hand, now you’re going to leave me?”

His logic was horribly flawed.

“Our situation is not complicated. All you had to do was love me the way I loved you.”

“Whether you like it or not, you’re a fucking maid,” Rafe said through gritted teeth,” The maid to my family, no less, and you expect to be welcomed in with open arms? This isn’t a fairytale, wake up.”

”Then what was the point of all of this? Of me loving you and you loving me, if it was never going to go anywhere.”

“The point was that we were together and we were happy.” Rafe let out a frustrated noise and shook his head. But it was clear, he wasn’t getting it. I knew nothing I’d say would ever get through to him.

“Were we? Together, I mean. Because I was always at your beck and call. Literally and figuratively. Where were you for my college graduation? Where were you when my dad died? I’ll tell you where you were,” I pressed my finger into his chest, “You. Weren’t. There. Instead, you chose to love me from afar because you care more about the opinion of sheep than you do me.”

I couldn’t stop talking. It was as though a wall cracked and suddenly every emotion I held in was flooding through.

“Look at me.” I shouted, grabbing his chin and forcing him to stare. “I want you to look me in the fucking eye. Look at the damage you caused. You did this to us. ”

“Stop being cruel.”

“Cruel? You threw your drink on the floor and made me clean it up. Did seeing me on my knees make you feel big and strong?”

He tilted his head, his expression darkening. “Enough. Come back inside, now.”

“I wanted everything for you.” I laughed at how incredibly stupid and blind I had been. “And you can’t even hold my fucking hand.”

Race’s eyes softened marginally. “Tell me what to do. How can I fix this?”

My stomach tightened. Steeling myself, I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed out the next words. “You can’t.”

“I can, but you’re not give me a fucking chance here.” His words came out as a plea.

“Being with you was a choice I made every day. One that you clearly couldn’t make, so I’m making it for you. We’re done.

His jaw ticked. ”Try and fucking leave me.”

I wanted nothing more than to run back into his arms and comfort him, despite it all. But I knew, if I was going to survive this at all, I couldn’t be with him.

“I’m always running behind you, trying to keep up. Trying to be everything you want and everything you need, but I’m all out of breath. I have nothing left to give you. But it’s still more than you ever gave me.” With those being my parting words, I clutched onto the handle of my suitcase in a death grip and force myself to walk away from him.

My shoulders jump at the sound of something shattering behind me.

“I love you.” Rafe screamed at the top of his lungs from behind me. His voice was brutal and laced with pain.

Not enough.

_________________

Side note: pls let me know what you think! I’ve been gone for several months so I’m a bit rusty:) I am working on the second part of Hate as promised!

[rottenpumpkin13]

Ignoring Crisis Core's plot, how do you think a falling out would go between AGS? Not anything to do with Degradation, a serious falling out that threatens to shatter their friendship? How would each react? What would happen? Would they resolve it?

Hurt/comfort it is!

Like all stupid friendship fallouts, it should start with a poorly-timed joke or a careless remark—a spark that ignites a raging wildfire because no one bothered to put it out. An insolent tongue, a stray jab, or a well-meaning but tactless comment. Something that on another day might've been brushed off or laughed away, but in the moment hits like a blade to the ribs.

In the case of Angeal, Sephiroth, and Genesis, the stakes are as delicate as they are explosive. Angeal and Genesis have the advantage of years behind them—shared memories, countless arguments weathered and resolved, an unshakable bond forged in their childhood and nursed until adulthood. They've built their friendship on the basis of trust, even when tempers flare. But Sephiroth is newer to their bond, less familiar with the invisible lines they've drawn, not used to friendship, not used to other humans, and more prone to crossing them unknowingly.

That's why it's so easy, in their eyes, to see him as the villain when his pragmatism cuts too close to their pride. A passing comment about the upcoming mission—clinical, realistic, and with no malice: They're not competent enough for it. Sephiroth doesn't mean to insult, he doesn't want to endanger them. But the implication is enough to crack the fragile understanding between them, and what follows is as fiery as it is inevitable.

The room was quiet, completely quiet, which should've been unnerving enough on its own had Sephiroth's enhanced hearing not picked up the sound of two erratically beating hearts and a muffled grunt in Genesis' throat. 

They had been discussing strategy for hours, debating the best approach for an upcoming mission into Wutai territory. The air was heavy, they were exhausted, and the tension was tighter than a drawn bowstring, ready to snap—three minds, three egos, all colliding clumsily in the face of high stakes.

Genesis leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers, smiling in a way Sephiroth knew was not genuine. "Then perhaps we should let our dear General handle it all himself. He's practically perfect, after all. What need has he for canon fodder?"

Angeal groaned softly, his head dropping to his lap. "Genesis…"

But Sephiroth continued, with a sharp edge to his voice that held more reason than malice behind it. "If you're suggesting you wouldn't be useful, then yes. I'd rather not carry dead weight."

The room froze over. The pen slipped from Genesis' hand, clattering onto the table. Angeal sat up straighter, a deep frown etching into his face as he looked back up. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Genesis spat. 

Sephiroth's expression remained neutral. "It means what it sounds like. This mission is critical, and I need people who can keep up. Your presence would only endanger yourselves and compromise the assignment."

Angeal's voice cut through, not a hint of understanding in its inflection. "Sephiroth, that's out of line."

Sephiroth's green eyes flicked to Angeal, unreadable. "It's not a matter of pride, Angeal. It's a matter of survival. I don't intend to put either of you in unnecessary danger…. losing you would be unthinkable—"

"You don't intend to put us in danger! Yes, that makes sense!" Genesis snapped, standing now, his chair screeching against the floor. "You arrogant bastard. You don't get to decide what risks we take. You're not our keeper."

"I'm your superior," Sephiroth replied, calm but unyielding despite the feeling that his words were failing him. "It's my job to ensure success. If that means excluding those who would jeopardize it—"

"Jeopardize it?" Genesis' laughter was hollow, biting, making Sephiroth flinch. "Coming from you? That's rich. Do you hear yourself? You've been insufferable since day one, looking down on everyone as if you're some god. Well here's some news, Sephiroth: you're not."

Sephiroth stared at him, opening his mouth.

"You're not!"

He flinched, closing it again.

Angeal stood then. "Enough, both of you. Genesis, sit down. Sephiroth…" He looked at the younger SOLDIER, disappointment heavy in his tone. "You could've handled this better, Seph. I don't know what to tell you."

Sephiroth's jaw tightened, the only visible sign that Angeal's words had struck a nerve. They were not privy to the panic gripping his heart as he formulated the right words in his mind. "If I'm wrong, prove it in the field. But don't ask me to trust you when I know you'll hurt yourselves."

Genesis stormed out first, throwing open the door with the steel toe of his boot. Angeal followed moments later, sparing one last glance at Sephiroth—one of clear hurt, before sighing and following the redhead before slamming the door shut behind him.

Sephiroth sat alone for an hour after it, gaze fixed on his hands in his lap, flexing them over and over, remind himself that they were, at the end of the day, human hands. 

The days that followed were worse. Genesis refused to acknowledge Sephiroth's presence, and Angeal, though more restrained, was distant, his usual warmth replaced by basic professionalism. They spoke in clipped tones during briefings, ignored him in the training room, and shared quiet conversations with Genesis that stopped the moment he entered.

For Sephiroth, the isolation was a slow, festering wound. He told himself it was for the best. Had he put friendship—and dare he call it love—over reason, it would endanger them. It was better this way. Still, he couldn't stop the ache that settled in his chest when he saw them laughing together, the bond from which he was now excluded from. 

When the mission came, Sephiroth went alone.

The aftermath was bloody. Sephiroth had succeeded in the objective, but it came at a cost. He returned battered, shredded, not on his own feet carrying him, but a medical team. The blood seeping through his silver hair was more his own than the enemy's. 

Hojo oversaw Sephiroth's treatment, suturing torn flesh and monitoring his recovery under strict observation. The injuries weren't especially concerning—Sephiroth had returned in worse condition before, and Hojo himself had inflicted worse during experiments. Physically, Sephiroth was healing as expected, but his weakness this time was more psychological than physical.

When the door to the holding room slammed open, Angeal and Genesis bursting in, Hojo immediately understood the root of the issue.

Genesis looked furious, his eyes blazing, but it was Angeal who spoke first, his voice uncharacteristically sharp as they ignored Hojo's barks of protest and strode to Sephiroth's side. "What the hell were you thinking, going alone?" Angeal demanded.

Sephiroth looked at them from the bed, pale and exhausted but steady. "I thought it was for the best. I didn't want to endanger anyone else unnecessarily. I told you that."

Genesis' earlier anger was now edged with something raw, desperation bleeding through his scowl as his blue eyes welled with hot tears. "We didn't want you to get yourself killed, you bastard! Do you even realize—damn it—" He broke off, his voice cracking as he looked away.

Angeal placed a firm but gentle hand on Sephiroth's. "We were angry, yes. But you…you're one of us, Sephiroth. Don't you get that? You're part of this team, this family. You're not better, you're not worse. Families fight, but they don't abandon each other."

Sephiroth said nothing, his gaze flickering between them, uncharacteristically uncertain. Genesis seized the moment, his voice trembling: "That's why we wanted to come, you idiot," he said. "Glory be damned, Sephiroth. You may act like some insufferable god who always knows best, but you're flesh and—" his gaze swept over Sephiroth's bandaged, broken arm—"surprisingly brittle bone."

The weight of their reprimand should have kept him stoic, but a faint, unpracticed smile tugged at Sephiroth's lips. He missed them.

When he spoke, his voice was softer, hesitant, and painfully deliberate. "I… didn't mean to push you away. I thought…" He trailed off, carefully choosing his words, replaying them in his mind. "I thought it was better than dragging you down."

Genesis exhaled sharply, rubbing his face before throwing Angeal a quick glance. Then, turning back to Sephiroth, he said: "You're an idiot. A brilliant idiot, but still an idiot."

Sephiroth's faint smile twitched at the edges, but his next words came fearful and quiet. "Have I been forgiven?"

Angeal and Genesis exchanged another look, and the pause that followed cut deeper than Sephiroth expected. Then Angeal huffed, crossing his arms. "I think we're three parts of a whole by now," he told Genesis. "I can't handle you on my own."

Genesis' mouth fell open, affronted. "How dare—"

"Look," Angeal interrupted, turning his attention back to Sephiroth. "I understand you wanted to protect us. I even understand your intentions. But Sephiroth, you don't protect us by cutting us out. You protect us by letting us fight beside you."

Sephiroth's gaze shifted between them—these two who, against all odds, had become the anchor of his world—and the something heavy in his chest finally began to ease.

"I… may have miscalculated," he admitted.

Genesis rolled his eyes so dramatically it bordered on theatrical. "He may have miscalculated, he says. Angeal, our fearless leader has finally mastered the art of an understatement."

Sephiroth huffed a weak laugh as he struggled to sit up, biting back a grimace of pain. "The fates are cruel," he said.

And this time, Genesis' laughter carried no bitterness.

The only bitterness in the room came from Hojo's growled order to "release my specimen at once," but the SOLDIERs ignored him entirely. Angeal and Genesis leaned into the bed, wrapping Sephiroth in a careful embrace. Sephiroth winced but smiled, the pain a small price for their presence.

[gor3-hound]

sneaking out of heaven pt.2

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

part one, part two

cw: parental abuse, religious themes, slight guilt, some fluff n some mean dad stuff :(( leon's a sweetheart, tho <3

a/n: omg a sfw drop from me that's... crazy... um... i'm not sure fluff is my strong suit ngl... was trying something new w this series but uh... yeah there's a reason i'm a smut writer i think lol... smut next chap tho maybe depends on if i make this three or four parts!!

word count: 1.4k words

You've always hated Sundays. It's not God's fault. It wasn't the praying or devotion. It all came from one thing, and one thing alone - your father. The wooden pews made your back ache, and your thighs go numb, but he'd never let you miss a day. Broken limb, head cold… it didn't matter. Appearances were everything, so unless you were dead, you had to be there, and you had to be working hard to make the family look good.

You've never felt like you belonged in the Church, not really. Being the Pastor's daughter meant you were constantly under a watchful eye. Everyone knew your every move, and you couldn't afford to mess up. Your mistakes reflected poorly on your father, and your father didn't take kindly to being made to look a fool.

You haven't really felt like you belonged anywhere, not even in your own home.

But you found somewhere to belong now. You feel like you can fully relax and be yourself when you're with Leon. Growing up, you'd always been alone… but now? You spent more time in Leon's bedroom than you spent in your own house.

That's where you find yourself now, sitting cross-legged on his bed as you struggle to figure out how to work an Xbox. He's doing his best to teach you, trying not to laugh at the confusion gracing your features.

“Come on, princess. You can't be serious.” He says with a laugh as you send the camera spinning midway through another gunfight in COD. “Dude - just… just nudge the right stick. If you hold it, of course it's gonna do that.”

“I'm just… ugh, I don't get how you play this.” You huff, your head thumping lightly against the wall as you let it drop backwards. You don't realise Leon is moving until you can feel his warmth, his breath brushing your ear as he leans in.

“Look, lemme help you. I'll aim, and you shoot. Easy.” He whispers in your ear, tilting his head and resting his chin on your shoulder. His hand rests over one of yours on the controller, his thumb guiding the right stick.

You're not even paying attention to the screen anymore - you just hold down the right trigger and hope for the best as your eyes are locked onto Leon's pretty blue ones.

“See, princess? Your first kill.” He says with a grin, and you quickly snap out of your little staring session, your breaths coming out a little heavier than usual.

“Oh… oh, yeah! Cool, um… thank you.” You manage to force out, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

“What's got you all flustered, huh?” He says with a teasing grin - why is he still so close to you? His hand reaches out to touch your cheek and tilt your head gently to face him when you attempt to look away, his thumb brushing your cheekbone lightly. “Is it me?”

You let out a short, nervous laugh, your eyes flickering to the side for a moment. All you can focus on is the heat of his palm, the way his calluses feel against your smooth skin. “You? No, come on. Don't be ridiculous.”

He blinks a few times as he looks at you, and then his grin widens. His eyes practically sparkle with excitement, his gaze flicking over your features. “Aww, it totally is me!”

You open your mouth to deny it, but then he's brushing his lips against your cheek, and you're sure your heart is about to burst. Looks like you'd be meeting God a lot earlier than you thought. Always thought dad would be the one to send you to Heaven.

“You're real pretty, you know that?” He breathes out, then he's leaning forward to kiss you. It's just a peck, but a whine builds up in your throat as he tries to pull away from you. Your lips chase his, and he's laughing again before he leans down to give you another kiss.

Your lips are clumsy as they move with his. Inexperienced. It's not your first kiss(only because the peck was), but your inexperience is clear. Your hands twitch, wanting to explore his body, but you're too scared to touch him. Too much, too fast.

So you settle for kissing him, but you are 90% sure you're about to go into cardiac arrest when his tongue brushes your lower lip. It feels dirty. Brings the same feelings of guilt to the surface that touching yourself does, and the same kind of feeling, too, because slick is building up in your panties, making them stick to your pussy.

Not that you have the courage to do anything about that though. You just shift awkwardly, uncrossing your legs and squeezing your thighs together as his hands slip down to your waist, tugging your body closer to his. His tongue brushes yours, and you try to meet it halfway, only to be a little too eager.

“Feels like you're trying to eat me.” He says with a chuckle as he pulls away, pressing his lips to your jawline. “Slower. A little less tongue. Otherwise, you're doing great.”

His lips are on you again a second later, and his tongue makes another appearance. You try to follow his instructions, your hands finally finding the strength to reach out and touch his arms. Wow. You didn't realise muscles like that were real. He's hard to the touch, making you shudder. Your hands wrap around his biceps almost curiously as you kiss him.

You lose track of time as you make out with him. Neither of you seem to want to pull away, and it's only the sound of his mom's footsteps coming up the stairs that has you both hastily scrambling to the opposite sides of his bed - especially considering she makes him leave his door open when you're there.

She offers to let you stay for dinner, and you really can't refuse. Not if it means more time with her son.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When you come home from the Kennedy's house, the kitchen light is on. But it's past 6pm, so the light shouldn't be on. You've always had dinner at the same time every night for your entire life. You feel a sense of unease as you attempt to sneak past the doorway.

“Where do you think you're going?” A harsh voice calls out. Your father. You turn to walk into the kitchen, your head hanging in shame. A strong grip settles on your jaw, fingers digging in hard enough to hurt, but not enough to bruise.

He's smarter than marking you where it's visible.

“Where have you been?” He growls, dragging your face up to meet his eyes. Your mom is upstairs. You know she's awake, because you heard the creaky floorboard in her bedroom as you shut the front door. You also know she won't come downstairs, because she likes to pretend your dad is nice to you.

“The Kennedy's, sir. I didn't mean to come home so late, I… Mrs. Kennedy offered me dinner, and I just… I didn't think it would hurt. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”

“Yeah, you're damn right, it won't. Don't you think you're a bit close to that boy?”

Your mind goes to the kiss, and you quickly avert eye contact. “Who? Leon? We're just friends, sir… I…”

“I don't believe that for a second.” He interrupts, his grip dropping from your jaw before he smacks you hard across the face, sending your head jolting to the side as tears spring to your eyes. “Proverbs 19:9.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, speaking up with a shaky voice. “A false witness will not go unpunished, and whoever pours out lies will perish.”

“Good. The boy hasn't knocked all sense out of you. Go to your room. I'm dealing with you tomorrow.”

A sinking feeling settles in your chest at his threat, and you slowly climb the steps that lead to your room. You don't even bother changing out of your clothes before flopping into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin.

Your cheek still stings, and you take a few deep breaths to stop yourself from crying. Your father hadn't stopped you from seeing Leon again, but it seemed he wasn't far from it. You'd have to tread carefully. You could sense another one of your father's blow ups building, and you didn't want to be on the receiving end.

Despite everything, as Leon's kiss comes to mind, your lips tug up into a small smile.

[m00nsbaby]

Do you want me (dead)?

Jake Lockley x F! Reader.

Tags & warnings. College AU, no mentions of Marc or Steven, explicit, +18, oral sex (m receiving), cum eating, no use of y/n.

Word count. 3.5k

Summary. He was childish. Unbearable.

It was as if he had a magnet to you, always bothering you, finding a way to ruin your day in some manner. 

You were going to kill Jake Lockley at any moment.

You decided not to blame anyone else but yourself for your bad mood. It had been a conscious choice to only get two hours of sleep due to your sudden desire for a movie marathon by yourself.

You didn't have many friends; you exchanged words with a couple of people, if you were lucky. On any given day, you would arrive, attend class, and then spend the rest of your time alone somewhere else. So, on a Wednesday morning, you could afford to rest your arms on your desk and hide your face there, dozing off until the class started.

Or at least, that was the plan.

"Cariño." If you were a cat, that single word would have been enough to make your fur stand on end. You didn't even bother lifting your head to see who was by your side.

He cleared his throat louder. "Cariño."

When you raised your hand to show him your middle finger, he smiled satisfactorily. Jake was content with getting even a gram of your attention. There was a personal pleasure in getting under your skin, as if his day got 200 times better.

"Did you sleep well?" He was going to keep pushing until he got more from you. "I slept amazingly, actually. Last night, I found a video where..."

"I'm not interested, Lockley." You growled, finally raising your head.

"There she is." You wanted to wipe that cocky smile off his face with a punch. You could only hope that one day he would annoy the wrong person, and someone else would take care of the dirty work. "As beautiful as always."

"I hate you."

"Ouch, my heart." He placed a hand over his chest, still smiling.

"Go to..."

"Good morning, everyone!" You nibbled on your lower lip to avoid screaming over the professor about how much you wished a truck would run over Jake Lockley.

At least with this, you were free of him for the next three hours.

It wasn't long before a poorly folded note landed on your desk.

Hey :)

With your index finger, you pushed the note, letting it fall to the floor.

Heyyyyy!!!

The next one also landed on the floor.

Hey, hey, hey, hey

You caught a glimpse of what looked like a poorly drawn cat. Next paper to the floor.

You didn't even bother opening the next one.

"Professor?" Hearing him speak again made you lift your gaze, wondering what nonsense he would come up with this time. "We have a trash bin in the classroom for a reason, right?" As he said this, he pointed at you and then at the papers on the floor.

"No, no, no! I didn't..."

"You two again?" The professor pressed the bridge of his nose with his fingers as he sighed heavily. His gaze landed on you almost immediately. "Get out of my class."

"But..."

"Out." After a few seconds of silence, you realized he was serious, and you had no choice but to make as much noise as possible with your belongings while standing up.

"Go to hell, Lockley." You said loudly, eliciting a collective 'uhhh' from the group. If you were already in trouble, it was better to have a good reason.

"You're staying for..."

"Detention, yes, yes." You growled as you slammed the classroom door.

You could still feel Jake's gaze on you, along with his triumphant smile. You didn't cross paths with him for the rest of the day.

It seemed that the next day fate was on your side because there were no signs of life from him.

Classes passed as boring as ever, in fact, even more so now that you had no one to argue or talk with. 

It was quieter without him around. Well, the good side was that you were finally free to go home.

You had no choice but to cross the edge of the football field to leave school. Both hands were in your pockets, and you had your earphones on. You were almost thanking God for getting through another day without Jake Lockley.

Almost.

At the last row of stands, there was someone. It wasn't uncommon, and you would have done your best to avoid them, except this time you recognized who it was even with his face hidden in his hands.

You rolled your eyes when you realized you couldn't even have a single day of peace.

Fortunately, not even the sound of footsteps caught his attention. In fact, it left you more intrigued how loudly he was breathing. Perhaps today was the day he finally crossed paths with the wrong person and got put in place.

You shrugged to yourself and kept walking, but your chest decided it didn't agree with you.

What if something had happened to him? Was he crying?

"Keep walking, keep walking, keep walking," you thought to yourself when your legs wouldn't move any further.

Ugh.

You retraced your steps.

"Are you okay?" It came out in a stronger tone than you would have liked.

When he lifted his head from his hands, your stomach churned. You always thought you'd enjoy the day someone finally gave Jake Lockley what he deserved, but this felt horrible.

He nodded silently when he realized it was you.

There was a cut along the bridge of his nose and another on his eyebrow. Blood was flowing from one of his nostrils and reached his lips, all on top of a black eye.

His response should have been enough for you to continue your way, but...

"You don't look good."

He laughed, not genuinely, but one of those laughs you give automatically when someone tries to cheer you up in the worst moments, even though you weren't joking.

"You should've seen the other guy." You didn't smile.

He was a jerk, even in this situation.

You hesitated a few seconds before making your decision. You took a seat next to him on the stands, close enough for your leg to brush against his.

You were silent for what felt like an eternity. Jake didn't even bother to look at you, but at least he wasn't hiding in his hands anymore; he was watching the field as if the grass were the most interesting thing on planet Earth.

"Can I see?" you whispered after a while.

"Huh?"

"Your face. Can I see?" He finally turned to you in silence, and you did the same, daring to look at him. If you noticed any hint of him about to give you that stupid smug grin he always had, you'd make him regret it even more.

But no. Those huge brown eyes were fixed on you as if he were a lost puppy.

You used your right hand to gently hold his chin, lifting his head slightly to search for any other injuries. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be more than what you noticed at first glance.

You pulled the sleeve of your sweater enough to cover part of your hand, which was such a light shade of pink it could pass for white, though you didn't care as you used the fabric to wipe away the blood running from his nose.

If only you had been aware of how Jake's heart was racing.

You licked the fabric slightly to dampen it when you noticed the blood had started to dry.

"Is this why you didn't go to class?" You tried to fill the silence that was starting to make you nervous.

He nodded without saying anything more. You never thought you'd wish to hear his annoying voice.

"Was it a fight?" Another nod. Well, knowing there was no one else bothering him was enough to give you some relief. You kept cleaning. Under his nose and upper lip. The wounds looked less dramatic without so much blood.

"Done."

He licked his lips, cleaning off any remaining blood. You adjusted your backpack on your shoulder when you finally stood up.

"It's late, Jake. Go home." you whispered. You didn't care if it seemed like you were talking to yourself. You didn't wait for a response before walking away, or at least taking two steps before his voice stopped you.

"Hey." You spun on your own feet to look at him. "Thanks, cariño."

You smiled; you couldn't have stopped it even if you wanted to.

"See you tomorrow." It was the last thing you said before continuing to walk.

And yes, you did see him the next day, against your will.

The following days were torturous for both him and you, as Jake set out to annoy you in new ways.

He asked you at least 4 times if you would spend some time with him after school, like a date or in any situation. He simply took your concern for him as a way of saying, "Maybe I don't hate you as much as you think."

You were on the verge of exploding.

You were tangling the cable of your laptop when you noticed a silhouette in front of you. You didn't have to look up to know who it was.

It was just the two of you in the classroom now that everyone had left.

"What do you want, Lockley?" You didn't look up as you packed your charger into your backpack.

"I want to know if we can hang out after school," his tone was firm, more than usual.

"I already told you, Jake, in how many languages do you want me to say it? Fortunately, it's the same in Spanish or I doubt you'd understand," you were not in the mood, not today, not now, and especially not after having rejected his invitations several times before.

"I just want to buy you an ice cream, cariño. Or do you prefer a smoothie? A frappe?" The poor guy was desperate.

"I don't want anything." You finally turned to face him with a frown, adjusting your backpack on your shoulder.

"¿Por qué tienes que portarte como una idiota conmigo?"

"I understood it, you enormous jerk!" Your voice rose almost immediately as you pushed his chest to keep him away. "We're not friends, Jake, we're nothing. I can't stand you, and you can't stand me either. What happened the other day was just some human empathy."

Your index finger kept hitting his chest again and again as you spoke, your frown remained deep.

In Jake's eyes, you looked nothing more than an annoyed kitten, hissing when someone gets too close.

"So leave me alone, seriously, because I swear if you keep this up, I'm going to..." You couldn't continue speaking because his lips were on yours, devouring them like a starving man.

Your eyes opened in surprise just seconds before you succumbed to his delicious taste of mint and cigarettes. Your hands slowly traveled up his chest until they reached his shoulders, which you held onto when your legs weakened.

It wasn't fair that he was such a good kisser.

He moved forward slowly, guiding you until your body was pressed against one of the walls of the classroom. His hands were hooked onto your waist as if you were going to run away at any moment.

You had no intention of doing that; your mind was genuinely somewhere else. However, after eliciting a delicious moan from the guy in front of you by biting his lower lip, your thoughts were momentarily disrupted.

"Please, hermosa." he whispered with a husky voice as his kisses trailed down your chin. "Please, just one date."

You couldn't hate him more. How could he do this to you?

Your eyes were closed as you tilted your head to the side, guiding Jake to your neck. You nodded without saying anything.

A moan escaped your lips when you felt him bite your skin, sucking with enough force to leave a mark.

"Fuck, Lockley," you whispered with heavy breaths as he pulled away from your neck. That stupid cocky smile. Ugh.

"Then I'll see you this afternoon." You hated him. Really, you hated him, just as much as you hated his ridiculous and soft lips now coated with your strawberry-flavored lip gloss.

"Fine." You wished your mouth had expressed what you felt, but your body was acting faster than you."

He picked you up in his car, and you would have preferred to jump out of it while it was still moving than admit that there was something about being in Jake Lockley's car that made you feel... special, especially after hearing him call it 'baby' more than once.

The car smelled like leather, cigarettes, and his cologne.

"You look beautiful." You rolled your eyes with a smile as he got in on the opposite side of the car.

"Thanks, Jake." If you were going to spend so many hours together, the least you could do was try to make it tolerable for both of you. However, you remained on guard for any stupid remarks that might come out of his mouth.

"So, ice cream?"

"I love the vanilla ice cream from McDonald's."

"McDonald's it is, then."

Was it because it was him, or were you just easily impressed to feel delighted with an invitation for a one-dollar ice cream?

"Are you going to tell me why you got beaten up the other day?"

"I didn't get beaten up." He rolled his eyes as he placed a hand on your seat to look back, reversing the car.

Oh, that was...

Oh.

"Well." You imitated his disgusted gesture. "Why did they fight you then?"

"It was over something stupid. Can we talk about something else?"

"And what could you and I talk about?"

"About school?"

"Boring." When he stopped at the drive-thru, you remained silent, smiling.

"Two vanilla ice creams, and... do you want something else?" Was this what it felt like to be the passenger princess?

"Fries."

"And some fries."

"Have you ever eaten fries with ice cream?" You asked as he drove forward to receive his ridiculously small order.

"Together? No." He frowned as he looked in his wallet for the exact 3 dollars to pay the girl at the window. "That's disgusting."

Receiving your ice cream made you confirm that this was what it felt like to be a passenger princess.

"Or maybe you just have terrible taste." You also received the fries.

You would have never imagined that Jake Lockley's idea of a date was sitting in his car, chatting and eating fast food, but you weren't complaining. He was doing an excellent job of making you feel comfortable.

You didn't even notice when the sun set, and the McDonald's parking lot emptied, leaving just the two of you.

"Jake? They'll worry at home, it’s late."

"Sorry, cariño! I didn't even notice." He quickly started the car, and you laughed because you would have never imagined that a guy like him would care about what your parents might say.

You sighed heavily as you got back into your seat. If only the day lasted longer.

And if only the way home was longer.

He opened the door for you just as he did when you got in, and you smiled in thanks. You turned on your heels to face him after stepping onto the sidewalk; you needed the extra inches to be able to look him in the eyes.

"Thanks for driving me," you whispered as he took a step closer to you.

"You're welcome, cariño."

"And thanks for the ice cream."

"You're welcome, cariño." he repeated, trying not to laugh.

"And the fries." His hands found your waist as he pulled you closer, keeping you on the edge of the curb.

"You're welcome, cariño." He finally laughed before leaning in just enough to leave a chaste kiss on your lips.

"See you tomorrow." Another kiss, short and gentle.

Both of you went to bed with the most ridiculous smiles on your faces.

You were looking around nervously, feeling a pit in your stomach at the mere idea of running into Jake. How should you approach him this time? Did you want to deal with the curious stares from your classmates?

Well, you didn't have to look for an answer because a hand pulling your arm took you out of your reverie. Before you could react, you found yourself locked inside the janitor's closet, and once again, you were about to kill Jake Lockley.

"Jake... What the fuck?" You said with almost disappointment. Just when you thought he couldn't annoy you any more.

There was no response from him. The only thing you got from him was the most desperate kiss you had ever received. His tongue was exploring every inch of you while you tried not to knock over the stack of mops and brooms next to you.

"I missed you," was all he could say between kisses. You wondered if he had always been this intense or if it was his strange fixation on you.

You pulled away for a moment to catch your breath, looking at him. Bright brown eyes, flushed cheeks, and lips now pink from kissing you.

Maybe you didn't hate him as much as you had sworn.

"Can you lock the door?" you whispered, looking at him with your lower lip between your teeth. Maybe it would be fair to give back some of the mistreatment you've put him through lately, while he looks at you with so much admiration.

Maybe he deserved it.

He stretched out a hand to obey you, when the 'click' resounded in the small closet, your hands immediately went to his jeans, you unbuttoned them without looking away.

“¿C-cariño?"

"Shhh, do you want to get caught?" You questioned with a smile that nearly made Jake faint.

You pulled his jeans down enough to free his erection, still covered by his boxers. You gathered saliva in your mouth before running your tongue along it to moisten his underwear, all without taking your eyes off of his.

He exhaled heavily causing a smile in you. You licked over the top of the cloth again a few times before slowly lowering his boxers.

You swallowed when his cock was in front of your face.

"What is it, hermosa?" He questioned with a mocking smile when he noticed the surprise in your expression.

"Shut up." You rolled your eyes as you spit into your hand to hold it. You licked its entire length again from base to tip.

You aligned it to your mouth with your hand while your lips were in charge of leaving wet kisses on the head, not caring that your lips were being stained with pre-cum.

"Hermosa." Jake repeated, his voice shaking. You already knew what he wanted but your habit of bothering him was always present in you.

"Yes, Jakey?"

"Please."

"Please, what?" You looked up at him as you traced little circles on his slit.

“Put it in your mouth. Please please please".

“You are adorable when you ask properly.” You gave a small laugh before obeying him. You took a deep breath in through your nose and you pushed it into your mouth in one movement, to the point where you felt it hitting your throat.

“Carajo.” He whispered breathlessly and finally placed a hand in your hair. He held a few strands in his fist and pushed you further against him, to the point where your nose collided with his abdomen.

You'd have to fix your makeup when you got out of there.

And although your eyes began to water, you didn't move away or make any fight to push him, first dead before letting yourself lose. After a few seconds he released you, letting you take a breath and sniff.

"Do you want to kill me?" You whispered laughing as you licked your lips.

"It seems to me that you are the one who wants to kill me, hermosa." His fingers squeezed your chin before pulling you back against his erection.

It didn't take long for you to open your lips for him, taking his entire member into your mouth for the second time.

Your gaze was still fixed on him.

"Are you going to swallow it all, mi amor?" With teary eyes you nodded, your hands resting on his thighs. "Buena chica."

Both hands went to your hair to keep you still. You obeyed and opened your mouth wide for him, even sticking your tongue out from under his cock so he could move freely.

He thrusted into your mouth without an ounce of mercy, you could feel your saliva run down your chin to your neck. When his movements became more frantic you knew he was getting closer.

The heat in his lower abdomen had him covering his mouth with one hand trying not to make any more noise.

One more hard thrust and Jake came. His hot cum ran down your throat as there wasn't enough room in your mouth to keep it there, it shot straight for you to swallow.

"Are you okay?" You questioned with a smirk as you wiped your chin with the back of your hand.

"Better than okay, cariño."

Hey :)

A note appeared on your desk, making you roll your eyes before laughing softly. You uncapped your pink pen to write underneath the horrible handwriting.

Hi! ♡

You filled in the heart before placing the paper on Jake's desk. You even winked at him when he looked surprised to receive a response.

Vanilla ice cream after classes?

And fries too? :)

[blessedbucky]

we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 4.1)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 15.5k (IT JUST KEEPS GETTING LONGER WHY)

summary: that second year of high school has a clear division within your mind—before summer and after. this is the before.

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, bisexual!reader, bisexual!suguru, awkward teenage sexual awakenings, denying that you're thirsting on your bffs and you're plunging in DENIAL river at the thought of CRUSHING on your bffs, masturbation, wet dreams (ish?), the existential crisis of realizing a bunch of old dudes poorly control the future of your teenage life, and good ole fashioned meltdowns

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @honeydew-cheesecake

author note: (ಠ_ಠ) no seriously dude stories really do have a mind of their own because HERE WE ARE. 15.5 THOUSAND WORDS. and that was BEFORE hidden inventory. i've still got so many brain worms for post-hidden inventory that i said "my god the tumblr post will be so fucking long let me just cut this in half and give the besties an update while i'm at it"

chapter links: ONE, TWO, THREE, AO3

[YEAR TWO.]

[PART I]

You know that they’re there. You’re not sure exactly where, but you can feel their eyes on you—sharp and predatory. You know that you may not be the best sorcerer around, but you think that this is a mission only you can do. You can’t let yourself waver here! There are people who depend on you now!

“We truly appreciate this, Senpai.”

They’re close, you can feel it. You’ll have to make your final stand here. Maybe you can trick them, so they don’t come at you with their all. Yes, you’ll talk and make it look like you’ve let your guard down.

You slow to a stop and turn around to face the two boys behind you with a smile. Haibara Yu and Nanami Kento—the only two to be enrolled this year. Both of them come from non-sorcerer families, so like you and Suguru last year, they’re here a week early to have a crash course on the jujutsu world. Hmm, now that you think about it, that could be why you’re so protective of them. You remember how overwhelmed you were by all that information thrown at you.

Nanami was dead serious with his thanks, as he is in general. Paired with Haibara, who is open and warm, you hope that his sharp edges will soften. Just as you hope that Nanami will teach Haibara to learn how to focus. He’s very laidback. You’re not sure that he realizes how dangerous sorcery can be.

“I hope this doesn’t offend you,” Haibara starts nervously, “but isn’t this…excessive?”

Oh, poor, sweet, naïve Haibara. There are still stars in his eyes. It blinds him to the truth that you have to do this because no one else can. Only you can stand up to those saccharine smiles and escort your precious juniors to class. Without you, either they’d be kidnapped or Nanami would break and be expelled because he hasn’t built up an immunity yet.

Out of the corner of your eye, shadows move.

However, you were prepared for this!

You’ve learned from experience, so you know that one will try to sneak up behind you and snatch you up. With a mighty cry, you brandish the bottle that you had hidden in the front pocket of your uniform. Giving your back to your juniors, you spray Suguru right in the face with water.

“Gah!”

You spin on your heel and push between Nanami and Haibara to reach Satoru who stands behind them with a sadistic grin. His hands were going for their collars, but he’s lost when you spray him in the face, too. It doesn’t matter that the water is stalled by Infinity. They’ve lost the game today.

“No!” You hold the spray bottle up threateningly. Satoru accepts his defeat by dropping down to sit on the ground and cross his arms over his chest. “Let them get to class! There’s not gonna be any weird hazing rituals on my watch!”

“When did you become a member of the Disciplinary Committee?” Suguru teases while he slides in beside you to lean an elbow on your shoulder. You brandish the bottle, but he takes a step back with his hands raised in defeat. “You win this round, Squid. I won’t bother you or your ducklings for the rest of the day.”

Did you hear Nanami breathe a sigh of relief? You’re not sure. But you definitely hear Haibara squawk loudly. You look over your shoulder, watching as Nanami takes the chance to escape and books it away from the scene, practically dragging his classmate along with him. You can’t say that you blame Nanami. You know other people tend to think that Satoru is a lot to deal with and now that he and Suguru are so close…at times, they’re downright unbearable.

With an irritated sigh, you ask them, “Can you stop with the duckling thing?”

“Why? Worried you’ll get another nickname, Mama Duck?” Satoru taunts.

You won’t tell him that he’s right.

“The real question,” Suguru interrupts as he gently tugs at the strap of your backpack, “is where are you going?”

“A date,” you answer bluntly.

“What?!” Satoru yelps.

Suguru quickly follows up with, “With who?!”

“Talk about Mama Duck,” you mutter.

“Papa!” Satoru whines. Because he’s still on the ground, he starts tugging at Suguru’s pants—more like a child than the mother he pretends to be. “Sketch is in her rebellious phase!”

“You’re not reading any of my Ouran manga anymore.” In preparation for the anime adaptation that’s about to premiere, you’ve been burning through the manga. And Satoru once declared that he wanted to read what you did because he wants to know what kind of things you like, so he’s been reading it along with you. “I’m meeting up with Shoko. We’re getting our nails done and grabbing food.”

“Boo.” Satoru leans back on his hands with a huff. “Suguru, let’s go on our own date to make them jealous!”

“You guys are extra childish today.” You put a hand on your hip. “If I stop at the konbini on my way back, will you cut it out with the temper tantrums?”

“Rude.” You wait. Suguru and you stare at each other. He’s the one to crack first. “Some unadon, please.”

“Parfait!” Satoru chirps.

“Actual food, Satoru,” you and Suguru intone at the exact same time.

“Ugh. Fine. A katsu sandwich and the parfait.”

“Good boy.” Satoru has an interesting reaction to your praise. His face turns bright red, probably out of chagrin. He jerks away from your hand that’s reaching out to ruffle his hair and yanks his legs up against his chest. You hold your hands up like Suguru had done not long ago. “Sorry,” you quickly apologize. “I should’ve asked before I tried to touch.”

“It’s not that!” Satoru snaps his head to the side, looking away, scowling at nothing. “You know that you and Suguru are allowed to touch me whenever! But don’t talk to me like I’m a dog! Jeez!”

You cock your head to the side. “Is that how it came off? I was being genuine. You usually put up more of a fuss when we try to get you to eat regular food.”

“Squid.” You turn to look up at Suguru. There’s this weird smile on his face as he watches Satoru. Forced, maybe? But then he turns his attention back to you. “What time are you meeting Shoko? Shouldn’t you get going? I don’t want you to freak out over being late because we held you up.”

Your eye twitches. “But you’ll hold up our juniors from going to class?”

The tension in his smile melts away for something coyer. “We want to welcome them. Get to know them better since they’re in the dorms with us now. Isn’t that the responsible thing to do as their upperclassmen?”

“I can’t believe you preached to them about how important our roles are, but you want to interrupt their studies.”

“It’s nothing official,” he tries to dismiss. “Sensei won’t throw them to the wolves on their first day. They could catch up once the term starts.” He raises a brow. “I can’t believe you preached to them about having fun when they can, but you want to keep them tucked away under your wing,” he throws back at you tauntingly.

You roll your eyes. “Go jerk each other off or something and leave the rest of us out of it.”

They’re both still sputtering when you walk away with a smug smirk.

Oh.

No wonder Satoru and Suguru had been so upset about the idea of you on a date. You’d completely forgotten that it’s cherry blossom season. There are definitely no open benches. Thankfully, you’re prepared! You brought a blanket in case the benches were still wet from the morning dew. You’re happy that you’re still early despite Satoru and Suguru’s distraction because you have time to hunt down a spot that’s as far away as it can be from other people on the open lawn.

You spot Shoko before she sees you. You stand up and wave a hand in the air to catch her attention. Around the stick in her mouth, she’s grinning as she approaches. Then, because you’re weirdly attracted to having assholes for friends, she asks loud enough for other people to hear, “Are we on an actual date, pretty girl?”

And, normally, you’d be embarrassed by that. Right now, though, when she’s close enough, you’re smacked in the face with the bitter smell of smoke. The end of what you thought was a candy stick is bright orange. “Shoko!” You flap a hand nervously in her direction, motioning toward that thing in her mouth. “You leave us for a month and you’re smoking now?!”

“Aw, man. I’d hoped getting you all flustered would’ve helped you ignore that.” She laughs easily. “Here.” She plops the plastic bag in hand on the blanket. “I wanted to drop this off before I go put out this cigarette. I don’t want us getting kicked out for me not being in the designated smoking area.” She waves a hand. “Be right back.”

You’re still in a tizzy when she gets back. “This is bribery,” you accuse when she’s close enough. When she’d proposed this, you suggested the both of you buying your own meals, but she insisted on paying. Now, you know why, and you also know why she got a bunch of your favorite foods and drinks. “I can’t believe you,” you continue to complain. “You’re going to be a doctor. You have surgeons as parents. What do they think about this?”

“They’re smokers, too.”

You huff in disbelief. “That seems…irresponsible.”

“They do have a kid that could heal any complications that come from it. That’s why I do it. I get the chemical rush and none of the damage. Seems like a win-win to me.” She plops down on the blanket next to you. “You’re not helping the Mama Duck allegations, y’know.”

Ugh. Having more than one friend sucks sometimes. If only they could move those online chatrooms to cell phones. You could scold them all at once about this weird obsession they have with giving you embarrassing nicknames. “It’s not bad to care about people!”

“You’re too sweet for jerks like us, pretty girl,” Shoko says with a laugh as she holds out okonomiyaki as an offering.

You eye the plastic container before you snatch it from her hands. “No octopus, right?”

“Vegetarian,” she replies. You smile brightly and flip the container open. Between the both of you chowing down, she asks, “Did you work on your technique over the break? Gotten anywhere else with it?”

“Ugh, yeah, and it’s gotten me in a weird place.” She raises a brow at your answer. You absentmindedly chew on the end of your straw. “I still can’t control them. It’s like I’m giving them a suggestion and the weaker they are, the more likely they are to listen to what I have to say.” You frown. “I was on an assignment with Suguru and another sorcerer last week, y’know. They used a shikigami.” You fidget nervously. “I pacified the shikigami and Suguru’s cursed spirit.”

Shoko nearly drops her drink from the shock. “Seriously?”

You nod. “We don’t know what to make of it. I could maybe understand Suguru since the cursed spirits are technically their own separate thing. It’s like an extreme master-servant deal. But with a shikigami…that’s just a physical form of a sorcerer’s cursed energy.”

“How easy was it?”

“Not at all. I passed out,” you admit sheepishly. “I thought I was pacifying the cursed spirit we were after, but…uh…I guess the other two were caught in the range. The shikigami was a lot easier, actually. It might have to do with the amount of cursed energy. When this was all happening, it felt like an uphill battle. Suguru has more cursed energy than me and it’s like I’m muting his connection, so I guess I’d need to overcome his. If he wasn’t so tired, I don’t think I would’ve won.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Maybe it all boils down to cursed energy.” You tilt your head in question. “Like…you’re suppressing cursed energy itself. Not only cursed spirits. What are cursed spirits if not a massive amount of negative cursed energy? If you look at it with that perspective, it only makes sense that you can pacify shikigami.”

“I want to say that it feels like you’re reaching, but…” Well. That’s the only logical outcome when you add up the pieces. It’s started now because you’re getting stronger, refining control over your own cursed energy. “I don’t like this,” you whisper when you start thinking too much. “Wouldn’t the next step be pacifying the sorcerer? I…I don’t want to control people.” You shake your head furiously. “No. I could never be that strong.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself there, pretty girl. If it boils down to a cursed energy match, you have a lot.” You try to wave the comment off. Sensei has mentioned something along those lines, too. “I’m serious. You can’t compare yourself to Gojo and Geto since they’re freaks of nature. You’ve got such an insane amount that you’re getting close to freak yourself. If you had a more threatening ability, you might be considered Special Grade.”

“Can we not talk about me anymore, please?”

“Alright, alright. Let me tell you about the fun I had over the break. They gave me access to the morgue.”

***

You’re…distracted…

It’s hard not to stare.

It was only a moment, but you still watch him intently. You’re reminded of those pictures that are drawn in such a way that you can see multiple interpretations and when someone points out their own perspective, you can never not see it anymore. This is like that. It doesn’t matter if you demand that he tuck his shirt in like some scandalized lady of the house from the Heian period because it’s burned in your brain now.

Such a small, simple thing. A flutter of his shirt when he leaped in the air to shoot the basketball, and you saw beneath the figurative curtain. And somewhere in the back of your brain, you knew that a simple belt wouldn’t be enough to hold up Suguru’s heavy, baggy pants, but it never clicked. Not until now. Not until you saw a flash of the high waist of his pants.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Why does it feel like your brain would be playing the old internet dial-up sound on a loop if someone could read your mind right now?

It was a waist! You didn’t even see skin! If you’re going to drool over something, it should be his arms. With his sleeves rolled up like that, you can see the few veins that run along his upper arms. With him holding a basketball like that, the size of his hands become more apparent. Suguru…really took that punch at last year’s Goodwill Event personally and he’s started to work out a lot more. You can tell. Not that he wasn’t fit before with all the farm work he did in the village, but…

Holy shit, what are you going to do in summer? You think you heard Satoru mention that they had more people to play basketball with now, so they could do teams, and…and don’t guys do the whole shirts versus skins thing? They wouldn’t with only two to a team, would they? What are you going to do? Suguru is more massive than ever now. More muscled than ever.

Is the heat still on? You’re so hot right now. And more than that…

“Yo! Sketch! Hey, look out—”

Something heavy thumps against the top of your head. You clutch at your head, watching the basketball bounce away, more flustered than hurt that you were…were…in a daze. Because you saw your best friend’s waist. When did Suguru get curves? Oh, no. Does this make you a pervert? You might be a pervert!

“Squid?”

The stupidly curvaceous man of the hour squats down in front of you. Hair has fallen out of his tight bun, bangs now framing both sides of his face. You duck your head, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with him. You watch his fingers twitch, but he puts his hands firmly on his big thighs.

“You lookin’ to get a new nickname, Sketch?” Satoru calls out as he approaches you and Suguru. “You’ll get one if you don’t stop being such a space cadet.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “You’re so caring, Satoru. Really, you’re dripping with compassion.” He shakes his head before moving his attention back to you, expression softening. “Are you okay? Is it a bad day?”

“Is it a crime to daydream?” You scramble for something to explain your behavior. “I don’t know. I…I was trying to remember what that cursed spirit looked like.” You shake your sketchbook. His brows furrow in confusion when he looks at it because it’s almost done. You panic. “Uh…like…did it have fur or not? I can’t remember!”

“It was scales…” Suguru informs you slowly. “Are you okay? Really? Not feeling sick or anything? You don’t usually forget big things like that when it comes to cursed spirits.”

The gym door slams open, the sound echoing, and making you yelp.

Sensei shouts all your names as if you’re in trouble…which, to be fair, you probably are since you were supposed to be spending this time studying in the library. Technically, you could spin the sketch as work since you are supposed to record curses that you encounter, but you don’t even want to defend yourself. You’ve never been more thankful to be in trouble in your life. Sensei has learned that the best punishment is to separate you all from each other. You need some room to breathe.

“Since you have so much energy to burn,” Sensei starts heatedly, “you can come help with the first years.”

“Ugh,” Satoru and Suguru groan in unison.

You smartly slide off to the side to make way for Sensei. He rushes forward to knock them both over the head as a reprimand for the rude response. The hit makes them drop to their knees and they accept that they’re in for a lecture. Sensei doesn’t demand the same gesture from you because he knows that you’ll stay where you are. You do tune him out partway through, though. This is definitely a lecture more targeted toward Satoru and Suguru because you’re more than happy to help with whatever the first years need.

When Sensei calls out your name, you snap back to attention. “You’ll spar with Satoru today,” he declares. It’s hard to retain your politeness. Turns out that you’re not exactly escaping, after all. It could be worse. He could make you run the track again which you hate because you don’t have anyone to keep you company, so you get bored just running in circles.

Then, you process his words fully. “Satoru?”

“Suguru is going to work with Nanami and Haibara today,” Sensei explains. “Satoru still needs a lot of work on his hand-to-hand combat.” Suguru snickers quietly while Satoru sputters at the, frankly, correct assessment. “You’re next best after Suguru. He’ll benefit from sparring with you. It might also help him with having some restraint.”

“What the hell, old man?!” Satoru shouts. “Suguru, shut up!” Clearly, Satoru isn’t that preoccupied with getting an answer. He just stomps out of the gym with a red face while Suguru quickly follows after him to pile on the teasing.

Both you and Sensei sigh when they’re out of sight—for different reasons, of course. Sensei goes on to scrub a hand across his face. You don’t doubt that he’s questioning his life choices right now. Kusakabe, when he visits Sensei and you escort him to where your teacher is, has told you that Sensei complains about how Satoru and Suguru are some of the most promising yet most frustrating students that he’s ever had.

“Sorry, Sensei.” You feel the need to apologize on their behalf. Sensei shoots you an irritable look now. One of your biggest lectures is to stop doting on Satoru and Suguru. “Sorry,” you mumble again with a wince. He stares at you a few seconds more before he heads out of the gym. You quickly follow after and step in line beside him. “Um…you said that we needed to get used to helping Nanami and Haibara more. Something about escorting them on missions?” That had caught your attention during the lecture. “When does that start?”

“I’m not sure,” Sensei answers honestly. “It depends on how today goes. Haibara’s family owns a dojo. Nanami has taken kendo classes since he was a child. I want to see how well they incorporate cursed energy into their techniques.”

Your brows furrow. “It’s been a month…” He hums in agreement. “We were going on our first assignments within a month.”

“Your class is a special case. You’re all extremely talented. Satoru and Suguru are in the process of being assigned Special Grade status. I’ve also been speaking with Kusakabe about putting your name forward for Grade 1 in the future.” Your eyes widen and your head snaps up to stare at him in shock. “Though, I’m not sure that you need the recommendation. Those at headquarters are very interested in your abilities. They’ll be speaking with you soon.”

“I…I don’t understand.” Your mind is spinning right now. “Why? What more can I tell them?”

Sensei stops and turns to stare at you like you’ve grown another head. “You discovered that the Red Room Curse exists as an extension of a cursed spirit’s technique. You used the break to research, something you didn’t have to do. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have known that it had created a cursed tool in the Taisho period. It was found yesterday, if you were curious. It’s been sealed away.”

You frown. “Doesn’t that just mean they should do more research themselves?”

“They should,” he agrees. But they won’t and now you’re here, he doesn’t say. You can do it for them. “Like any high schooler, you should start thinking about what you want to do after graduation. You and Shoko have more options open to you than the rest of your peers. As your name spreads at headquarters, it trickles down to the clans, so they may offer you positions, too.”

And you can’t help but blurt, “Couldn’t you have sprung this on me after sparring?”

Sensei chuckles softly. “It wasn’t meant to cause you stress. What you do or don’t do with your technique is up to you. This was to help you see your worth, more than anything.”

You blink at his honesty. “Y’know…you’re actually a good guy, Sensei.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he grouses.

“Ah, but it was?”

Sensei sighs. “I know.”

“This is stupid,” Satoru complains as the two of you stand off to the side and watch Nanami and Haibara throw themselves at Suguru. They try to clumsily infuse their moves with cursed energy which Suguru is quick to point out and guide them on how to better let their cursed energy flow. “Why not let the guy with a shield handle this?”

“The inconsistent shield?”

Ah, maybe that was a little too mean. Satoru is in a weird place. The last few months, he’s felt like he’s started to slide backward in terms of progress. He still can’t fire off his technique, Red, consistently. Whenever he does try, it leaves him exhausted. Not to mention that, suddenly, his Infinity has started to lower at the most random of times. Satoru has no reason why. Thankfully, it’s not a lot. Sensei and Shoko were honestly shocked because it’s never dropped around them. It’s only you and Suguru that have seen Infinity act up and Satoru wants to keep it that way.

Satoru doesn’t dwell on your words. “Not you too, Sketch! What’s with everyone bashing me today, huh?”

“Anyway.” You roll your eyes. “Getting hit is the point here. Suguru can feel their output better that way and correct them. And it’s not enough for them to hurt him.”

“I’m good at controlling and channeling my cursed energy, too!”

“Yeah, but you can’t explain it well.” Before he can loudly whine again, you interrupt. “For you, it’s so easy that you don’t think about it. It would be like explaining how to breathe.” You pause. “Also, you’re way too rude. You need to be delicate with these things and that’s impossible for you.”

“Is not!”

You turn to stare at him while you dryly ask, “Are you done stalling now?”

His cheeks are flushed with chagrin. “I’m not stalling!”

“Let’s get started, then. I want today to be over. I’m exhausted.” You are tired, true, but you mainly want to run and hide away in your room. Those…thoughts…about Suguru…they still linger in the back of your mind. You’re pointedly not trying to look at him specifically, instead focusing on Nanami or Haibara.

“Fine.”

Satoru makes a show of stomping away. You follow after him with a shake of the head and quiet chuckle. Just a little pushback from people for once and he can’t take it? Suguru will definitely give him more shit later. You wonder if Suguru will lecture him in the showers—

Stop! Stop! Stop!

Where the fuck did that come from? You’re so struck by your own brain’s train of thought that you almost trip over your feet. As you meet Satoru on the other side of the field, you purposely put your back to the first years. You pray that you won’t bump into them. You don’t know that you can stand to face Suguru right now. You’re done. This day has been weird and hellish. You’ll just have to apologize to Satoru later for your impending brutality. You can’t take it easy on him today if you want to be dismissed by Sensei as soon as possible.

“Start already!” Sensei shouts from the other side of the field.

You’re not sure whether Utahime would consider you a friend yet, but since Shoko has the hugest crush on her but is too scared to ask her on an actual date, you’ve spent a lot of time with the two of them. A favorite activity of hers is dancing. It makes sense because it’s an integral part of her technique. More often than not, when you and Shoko visit Utahime in Kyoto, you three end up dancing the night away in her apartment.

And you, practical person that you are, have started to infuse what you’ve learned into your attack style. It’s useful against people like Suguru and Satoru who are so much taller and physically stronger than you. Because, like all things, there are disadvantages to their size. You’re more nimble, more flexible. They naturally swing high which has you mostly going low—sometimes, even dropping to do the splits. When they try to kick, you can dance away or, if you react fast enough, you can catch their leg to sweep them off their feet.

It's been some time since you’ve sparred with Satoru, but that doesn’t mean you’re still not watching. You know how he fights, but today…it’s different. He’s as dodgy as you are. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that he’s pulling his punches. Never let it be said that he’s not a fast learner, so maybe he’s adjusting to match your fight style. He’s like a snake, trying to lash out to get his fangs in you, trying to wrap around you. You narrowly miss getting locked down when he snatches your sweatshirt by pulling yourself out of it.

Just when you think you have his moves down, it only gets weirder. His cheeks are pink. You didn’t think you were going hard enough at him to make him sweat, but maybe you’re wrong. Now, he’s purely on the defensive…or so you think. You should’ve known better. You make the mistake of trying to throw yourself fully on the offense. So, when you aim a high kick at him, he snatches your ankle and roughly yanks you.

It happens fast. You try to catch yourself with your hands, twisting your torso to try to get them on the ground. It doesn’t work in that respect, but it does hook your ankle around Satoru’s neck enough to tip him forward. The back of your head smacks against the ground painfully. The breath is knocked out of you when Satoru’s heavier body lands right on top of you.

“Ow, ow, ow, Sketch. You kicked my head!”

Words are stuck in your throat.

Because, suddenly, you have become hyperaware of your own body. And it’s not exactly like that’s…abnormal…but this…isn’t overstimulation. Or…maybe it is? A shiver runs down your spine. The points of contact where Satoru’s bare skin touches yours are like live wires—heated and sparking.

With the first few buttons of his shirt popped open, your cheek is smashed against his bare skin. Since you’re in a short-sleeve shirt, one of his stupidly huge hands are wrapped around your arm. And…and when he tries to lift away from you, his…his knee slips up and…accidentally nudges up between your thighs…

You bite down on your bottom lip and squeeze your eyes shut, but it’s not enough to hold back the tiny whimper in response to the rush of heat that zips up your spine.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

Above you, Satoru goes rigid. You’re mortified. He heard. “Ow!” It’s all you can think to do. You hope that he falls for your desperate attempt to make that sound like a pained whimper. You need out of here. Fuck the consequences. You squeak out, “I yield!”

“Cool!” Satoru sounds as equally panicked as you do. “My prize is your sweatshirt!”

“Whatever! Can you m—”

There’s a burst of cursed energy. Then, you two become a dizzyingly mess of limbs. You yelp and instinctively grip at Satoru, but because he lifted his arm, his shirt rode up, so you’re grabbing at his bare waist and digging your nails in. He squawks at the rough treatment, trying to lean away, and his hand ends up groping one of your tits when he tries to get his bearings.

As soon as your sweatshirt that he pulled toward him with Blue is finally in his hand, Satoru moves away from you. He chokes when he’s yanked back viciously by the back of his collar. Suguru uses so much force that it briefly lifts Satoru’s knees off the ground. Satoru, weirdly, is protective of his prize because he only reaches back to swat at Suguru with one hand while the other keeps your sweatshirt pressed against his body.

“Satoru!” Suguru shouts. “What the hell? We don’t use cursed techniques in sparring—”

“I’m okay!” You scramble to lift yourself up from the ground. “I am okay!” You don’t know who you’re trying to convince, but Suguru isn’t buying it. You can’t blame him. There’s a tremble in your voice, sweat lining your skin, and your heart is pounding away in your chest. “I hope that everyone has a good sparring session! I’m done!”

Sensei and Suguru both call out your name, but you’re already power walking away from the field.

Despite what some people may think, you’re not stupid or naïve.

But…with how much time it took you to figure out what it was that you were feeling today since that time in the gym…you might be in denial.

In the communal showers, under the lukewarm spray of water, you have your hands pressed to your scalding hot cheeks. You continue to take deep breaths. None of this helps. There’s a very real urge to clench your thighs together. Because there’s a very real ache between them. Because your mind is an endless loop—sweat-slick skin and the hair stuck to it, flashes of skin from shirts ridden up, the outline of defined muscles hidden under white shirts, massive hands…

You slap your hands over your face which…doesn’t help. Since you’re alone, you crouch down without the fear of judgement. If you weren’t alone, you think you still wouldn’t care. You’re in the middle of a crisis. Is this a moral crisis? No. Wait. Oh, no. Is this what they call a sexual awakening?

No. That’s stupid. You’ve obviously felt desire before. Kind of. It was about as lukewarm an experience as the water that pounds against your back right now. Your thoughts had been scattered, nowhere in particular, so maybe that’s why it’d been dry—both literally and metaphorically.

This…this is so different from back then. This is warm. It’s heat. You’re throbbing. You didn’t think that you could ever feel this way. You’ve never wanted to touch yourself so badly. And that in itself isn’t a bad thing. You’ve never understood the point in shame over a natural bodily reaction and doing something to satisfy it. It never flustered you as much as your fellow classmates to hear the boys make sexual innuendos.

No, this shame comes from who you want to think about as you touch yourself. Even now, past your distress, you want to drop to your knees, slip your hand down between your thighs, and know what it’s supposed to truly feel like. But you know…you know that if you do that, their faces will be at the forefront of your mind.

You’re not supposed to think about Satoru and Suguru like this!

They are your best friends!

How the hell are you supposed to ignore this? You finally understand what some people mean when they say they feel like a cat in heat. It’s fine. You’ll just…get your mind off it. Ugh. So, going back to your room is a bad idea. If you’re left alone with your thoughts, you’ll never stop thinking about it. What can you do, though? Why is your go-to always hanging out with friends? You don’t want to be around people anymore. You’re so mentally exhausted now.

Right, okay, you’ll drop to your other default.

There was a bird nest in the big tree outside the classroom window. If you’re lucky, the mama bird will stay still long enough for you to draw her.

As always, drawing manages to knock you out of your head.

It calms you down to the point that between one blink and the next, you’re asleep. Not that you realize that until the ground falls out from underneath you and you jerk awake. There’s a part of you that knows whose arms you’re in, though, so your brain is still calm enough to try and drag you back to sleep.

With a sigh, you slip your arms around his neck and shove your face in the crook of his neck. “Sketchbook,” you mumble as almost an afterthought.

“I’ll come back for it later,” Suguru whispers. “You have to stop sketching outdoors when you’re so tired, Squid. You’ll catch cold.”

“Okay,” you agree sleepily.

Suguru chuckles quietly. “Forget it. I’ll lecture you tomorrow.”

***

“This one?”

You take a step to the side, almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Shoko. You hunch over to examine where she points at on the display case. It’s a cute tongue ring with a charm in the shape of a heart. “Pretty, but too flat.” She raises a brow in question. “I like it when they have the little ball on the end. See?” You open your mouth to physically show her the piercing and how you roll it against your teeth. “It’s really satisfying to play with.”

On the other side of the display case, Utahime clicks her tongue. “That could easily turn into a dangerous distraction.”

You tilt your body to stare at her through the crack of display cases. Deadpan, you ask, “You have a problem with my tongue piercing but not with Shoko’s smoking?”

“I’m trying to save you from her bad influence,” Utahime shoots back.

“Hey,” Shoko complains.

Then, hypocritically, Utahime points at her side of the case. “What about one of these?” Clearly, if she’s making suggestions then she doesn’t care all that much about your piercing…ah. Wait. She was joking. Maybe a little. You’re still trying to get a read on how Utahime communicates.

You step over to her side of the case. You can’t catch yourself before you let out a shudder and scrunch your nose in disgust. It’s a bead, sure, but it’s those rubbery ones with equally rubbery spikes. Just the thought of that touching the inside of your mouth is nauseating. “Um…thank you for the suggestion, but…no.” You try to keep it polite as to not offend her.

Utahime snorts. “Okay. Stick to metal.” She blinks. “Oh. What about this one?”

The price tag makes you internally cringe, but then you actually look at it, and you immediately know you want it. You have the money saved up for it, anyway. It’s probably plastic, but it’s shaped and shiny enough to look like it’s made of diamond. At that price, it might be made of that off-brand diamond. The charm on the end is in the shape of a dragon’s head.

Excitement surges through you. You practically bounce over to a store worker to have them unlock the case and take the tongue ring to the register. As soon as it’s paid for, you skip out of the store and make a break for the nearest restroom. Just as you have it torn open and are washing it with hand soap, Shoko and Utahime burst into the restroom behind you.

“You’re really excited about this,” Utahime remarks.

“Ahh.” Shoko finally gets a good look at the tongue ring when you hold it up in the light. “No wonder you’re so excited. It’s like a little rainbow dragon.”

The tongue ring almost goes down the drain when you nearly drop it. Looking over your shoulder, you glare at her. “That’s not it at all!” The defensiveness isn’t helping your case, you realize, so you turn back to the mirror. “Jeez, Shoko, not everything I do is about Suguru or Satoru! Can I not get something because it looks cool?”

In the reflection, you watch Shoko put her hands up in surrender. “Whoa, okay, I didn’t mean to offend you, your highness.”

“Inside voice, please,” Utahime reminds you. Then, to Shoko, she says, “She’s right, y’know. Not everything has to revolve around those two. A woman can dress up solely for herself. We know Duck isn’t the type to make herself uncomfortable for someone else.”

Slowly, you move to face Utahime, expression blank. “What did you just call me?”

Shoko, smartly, uses Utahime’s embarrassed stream of apologies as a chance to escape.

You need new fucking friends.

As you and Shoko meander your way up the main staircase that leads back to campus, she casually asks, “So, what’s going on with you and Gojo?”

Ha. As if you’d admit the truth. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, pretty girl. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed how quiet Gojo’s been.” For a moment, you stupidly think that she’ll keep the focus on Satoru, but you’re not so lucky. “As for you…it’s hard to explain because quiet is your default, but you’ve been really…dodgy. Acting like a nervous wild animal that runs whenever someone gets close.” Oh, you are praying that she doesn’t connect the dots. No dice. “That someone is Gojo and Geto.”

“You know how they are, Shoko. They’re always so touchy. I haven’t been in the mood to deal with that,” you lie. Well. It’s part lie. What you can and can’t handle always goes day by day.

“No, see, I know that’s a lie. Like Utahime said, you never hesitate to tell us when you’re uncomfortable. If you’re having a bad day, you let us know about it.” Shit. “Geto and I are just trying to figure it out. This started after you and Gojo sparred. I thought maybe you’re scared of Gojo and Gojo is scared that you’re scared of him, but you two are acting weird around Geto, too. So, it can’t be that—”

You try to interrupt in as less a panicky way as possible. “It really isn’t that deep—”

“I thought it had to do with the giant crush that Gojo has on you, but like I said, he’s acting like a flustered virgin around you and Geto—”

“Crush?” Shoko holds out an arm to catch you when your foot catches a step the wrong way and you stumble forward. You jerk to face her, eyes wide with shock. “What are you talking about?! Are those cigarettes laced with something, Shoko? Do you need glasses or something?”

Shoko laughs. “Sure, the person that struggles with social cues is going to lecture me.”

“I’m not dumb.”

“When did I say you were?”

“What I mean is that I could tell if he has a crush on me. He’d act different around me, right? Satoru doesn’t know how to be subtle. Since he acts no different around me than he does anyone else, the only logical conclusion is he doesn’t feel any different for me, either.”

“I can’t believe you’re coming at this like a math problem. No. Actually, I can believe that.” She rolls her eyes. “First of all, emotions aren’t logical. Second, and more importantly, he absolutely acts different around you and Geto.”

You huff. “You just proved your point wrong. If he has a crush on me, he wouldn’t treat Suguru the same, would he?”

“Ah. Wait. You’re right. Unless…ooh.” She knocks one fist against her open palm as if she’s had an epiphany. You’re terrified to hear what she’s come up with. “Unless he’s got a crush on both of you. That’s what it is. It makes so much sense. Oh, man. I’ve got to talk to Nanami and Haibara now.”

Your head is spinning. “No, you’re not talking to them about this! I don’t even think there’s a word to describe how far you’re reaching right now, Shoko!” You shake your hands, desperately trying to get out your nervous energy. “Look, I’d understand if he has a crush on Suguru. They’d be a hot couple, okay? But don’t…don’t bring me into this! That’s…anyway, isn’t that cheating?” Your voice quiets. “Isn’t that…wrong?”

“It’s not like any of you are in a relationship. So, no, I don’t think it’s cheating. I still wouldn’t. Cheating is if the other person doesn’t know you’re involved with someone else.” She shrugs. “I might be a biased opinion. There are a lot of people who say that me liking girls is wrong. So, if everyone cares about everyone else involved, then what’s wrong with more than two people in a relationship?”

Oh.

Well, that’s…

You don’t know what to do with all this.

“Okay, that’s…that’s true. I can understand that. It’s like another one of those things that people worry about when there’s no reason.” She nods in agreement. “You’re still wrong about the crush thing, though. Why would someone have a crush on me? No one ever has. Why would they start now?”

“No one has had a crush on you that you know of,” Shoko corrects cryptically. “Are we going to ignore you called them hot?”

“Are you blind?”

“No. I’m gay.”

“Shoko, I like girls, too. It doesn’t make you less of a lesbian if you admit they’re aesthetically pleasing.”

“Sure, but their personalities are so awful that it just ruins everything else.”

“Are you sure that this isn’t just you being uncomfortable that it’s like looking in a mirror when you see them? You all have the exact same sense of humor. You’re definitely as much of an asshole as them.” She bursts out in a fit of laughter. “Yeah, yeah, keep laughing. You know it’s true.”

Shoko wipes at her tears of laughter. As she starts to walk forward again, she remarks, “You talk big, pretty girl, but you can be an asshole yourself.”

***

If there was one thing that Shoko was right about, it’s that you’ve been obviously skirting around Satoru and Suguru. For three nights straight, both your mind and body toss and turn as you try to figure out where this sudden awareness of their bodies is coming from.

Technically, you’ve been through this before with Suguru, but…was it to this degree?

It’d been one of those rare days that you were allowed to work out in the fields with your parents. When you’d hunted Suguru down to not be so bored as you pulled crops, he’d been hunched over with no shirt on. It wasn’t the first time that you’d seen him without a shirt, per se. You’d both gone swimming before…

You’re not sure what it was. Maybe it was like how your grandparents, who lived in a different village, would remark on how much you’d grown between monthly visits. You would look in the mirror every day, so the changes in yourself were infinitesimal compared to someone that only saw you once a month. It could’ve been that, on that day, your brain had finally caught up on all the ways that Suguru had grown.

That skinny boy with his bony elbows and knobby knees and short, wild hair had grown. He’d finally hit a growth spurt the year before and was taller than everyone else in the village now. He towered over you, skin golden and dripping with sweat. He’d started to slowly grow his hair out and it was long enough to be pulled back in a stubby ponytail. He hadn’t been as toned as he is now, but it was still enough for your eyes to follow along the subtle swell of his biceps.

Jeez, that had been the last year of middle school, you think. Are you having another one of those moments? Did Satoru get caught in the crossfire?

The real question is…why aren’t you as aware of everyone else at school as you are of them? Like you told Shoko, anyone with a pair of eyes can see that they’re aesthetically pleasing. You’ve known that Suguru is a heartthrob since middle school. But…so is everyone else at school.

Shoko is a bombshell. That beauty mark? That poster that had made you blurt out your attraction and caused your mother to smack you, you’re pretty sure the model had a beauty mark, too. Shoko has the whole femme fatale thing going on now that she’s smoking. It’s not like you can blame it on height thing, either. Nanami is as tall as Suguru, the both of them just barely under Satoru. Even with the…stoic loner vibe and haircut…he’s also very handsome. Ruggedly so. Haibara is boyishly handsome, too, and very fit since his family runs a dojo.

So, why?

Why is your body reacting like this to only them?

It’s fine, you tell yourself. You can acknowledge that they’re pretty. There’s nothing wrong with that. You are, as many adults have complained about before, a hormonal teenager. It’s a little embarrassing, your body fixating on them, but you need some good old fashioned exposure therapy. You miss the normalcy that comes with them. You’re bored without them around. Your brain will whip your hormonal body into shape.

The morning after you’ve made your decision, you, admittedly, might…go from zero to a hundred. Despite your exhaustion from the lack of sleep, you think this will be a good day for your senses. Knowing that Satoru and Shoko are the type to show up at the last minute, you rush to meet Suguru on his way to class.

When you see him, back turned, head ducked as he looks at his phone, bag over his shoulder, your feet speed up. And then you throw yourself at his back, locking your arms around his waist, squeezing him tight. Suguru is so surprised that his phone clatters to the ground, yanking out his earbuds.

Suguru lifts his arm up, looking under it, and you poke your head out further to show him it’s you. “Sorry,” you apologize meekly in regard to the fright. You crouch down to pick his phone and earbuds up.

“It’s fine,” he breathes out. “Someone is in a good mood this morning.”

“Sorry,” you repeat. “I feel bad now. You ask me if I want to be touched. I really should’ve done the same.”

“Should I renew my blanket permission? You don’t have to ask me.”

“Permission renewed.”

Suguru chuckles lowly as he tries to turn around in your arms. You take a step back, letting him have room, but you don’t make it very far. He snatches your wrist and yanks you back toward him, making you squeak in surprise. He wraps you up tight in his arms. Your body is tense, you know, only made worse by the rapid beat of your heart and heat prickling across your skin, but you’re trying not to act weird.

“Sorry for being…” You don’t know how to describe it without being incriminating. “My head has been in weird places.”

“Why haven’t you talked to me about it?”

“It’s embarrassing,” you mumble before pressing your face against his chest.

“Since when did you start to feel shame?” Suguru teases. You dig your fingers into his side meanly, knowing it’s a spot that gets him squirming. Sure enough, he tries to wiggle away from you. “Cut it out,” he demands with a laugh. You do as he asks. “Let me be serious, Squid. I want you to talk to me, okay? Have I ever made you feel like you couldn’t be yourself or say what you want around me?”

“…no,” you admit after a pause.

“Why start now, then?” His grip around you goes unbearably tight. He buries his face in your hair and confesses, “I was worried that I scared you with how rough I got with Satoru.”

“Suguru!” You fist your hands in the front of his blazer and shove him away enough to make him look at your face. “That might be the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me!” His brows furrow in confusion. You nearly shake him. “I will never ever be scared of you, okay? I think it’s physically impossible for my body to think of you as a threat.”

Suguru raises his arms in defeat. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Squid. I didn’t think you’d take it so personally.”

“You’re the most important person to me. Why wouldn’t I take that personally?” You step back and cross your arms over your chest. “How would you feel if I asked if you were scared of me?”

“It might actually be physically impossible for you to look scary.”

“Never mind. I’m not talking to you anymore,” you declare with a huff before you start stomping away.

Suguru chases after you with a laugh.

The next day, in the late afternoon, you’re on your way to the bus stop, planning to head into the city for something to eat. You like this bus. Since the school’s campus is so far out, the bus is smaller, and there’s only one seat per aisle. No one will sit next to you. You don’t have to make small talk, either. You finally dropped money for a MP3 player, so when you have earbuds, you’re simply written off as a rude teenager and usually aren’t bothered.

At the torii gate, though, your dinner plans change because Satoru is waiting for you with your sweatshirt over one arm and a bag of takeout dangling from his other hand.

The two of you sneak inside an empty classroom, glowing orange with the afternoon sun. He shoves a desk in front of the one you sit at, giving you both room to eat the ramen he bought. Wordlessly, he passes you the sweatshirt. At first, you were confused over how he even got it, but you realize it’s the one from when you two sparred. It’s still warm, you think, and smells like the really expensive laundry detergent.

Unthinkingly, you shove your face against the fabric, taking a lungful and soaking in the soft warmth. You rub your face against it. Satoru snorts before he speaks directly to you for the first time in…a few days, probably. “It’s like looking at a kitten.”

“That’s rich when you’re cuddling with those soft Digimon plushies,” you grumble. You carefully fold it up and shove it down in your bag. “You didn’t have to wash it, y’know. What? Did you spill something on it or stain it or something?”

Satoru shouts, “No!” His face is bright red, though. The reddest that you’ve ever seen it. It’s answer enough.

“Don’t be so defensive. It’s okay if you did.” Your leg is bouncing from nervousness. This is so bad. You shouldn’t be nervous around best friends. “Are we done being weird around each other?”

He is pointedly not looking at you as he divvies out the plastic containers. “I’m…um…I guess I should apologize first. I didn’t scare you or anything, did I?”

You blink, honestly confused and trying to figure out why you’d be scared. “It was just Blue?”

“Yeah, but still…”

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.” You break your chopsticks apart but pause. “I’m more disappointed than anything. Using your technique because you’re too lazy to walk and get my sweatshirt? What if the school was suddenly attacked and you didn’t have any cursed energy left because you’ve been flinging it around everywhere?”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “Do you even know how much cursed energy I have? Using it here and there isn’t going to kill me. And what kind of hypothetical is that, anyway? This is the safest place in the jujutsu world.”

“The Special Assault Team could storm campus with machine guns or something.”

“Okay, then I’d have Suguru use Hong to deflect the bullets while something else in his arsenal eats them.”

You shake your head. “And he’d do it, too. For all the lectures he gives you about being spoiled, he’s the worst.”

“Heh! So do you,” he sings.

The worst part is that he’s right. Still, you feel the need to defend your honor. “Who can say no to the jujutsu world’s prettiest princess? Lord Gojo is such a demanding little thing. No one wants to deal with one of his tantrums.”

“I know you’re trying to be an asshole, but I am the prettiest princess in all the land.”

The two of you continue to make innocent jabs at each other while you eat. In the middle of dinner, Suguru texts, asking where you are and what you’re doing. You tell him, knowing that he’ll be here sooner rather than later. Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, he’s at the doorway in baggy sweats and a big white shirt. His long hair is down, still dripping. Did he seriously come here from the showers?

You swallow, a lump in your throat. It’s fine. This is fine. His nipples are hard and poking against his shirt, but that’s a natural bodily response. Just like how you squeeze your thighs together.

Fuck. You need to run your mouth before this gets weird. “You need to blow-dry your hair. You’ll get sick, walking around with wet hair.”

Suguru’s eyes narrow. “Are you lecturing me? Miss Barefoot-in-Snow?”

“I like to see my footprint in the snow and the crunch is nice.”

“Wear socks, at least.”

In unison, you and Satoru give a scandalized, “And have wet socks?!” You’re too busy shuddering at the thought, so Satoru continues on your behalf. “It’s like you want her to die!”

“Remind me to put my blazer over any puddles that you might have to step in, Lord Satoru,” Suguru says dryly.

“More proof to the princess allegations,” you mutter.

Satoru harrumphs. “I never denied being a princess.”

Suguru fully steps inside the classroom, approaching you both, grabbing a chair along the way. “I don’t even want to know.”

***

A month of normalcy passes, and you naively think that all is right in the world once again.

It’s been an exhausting day.

As it happens when the weather starts to warm up, cursed spirit activity is on the rise again.

For Nanami and Haibara’s first mission, you are the one tasked with their supervision. You weren’t anyone’s first pick, but there was no other choice. The more experienced sorcerer assigned was called away last minute to handle a higher grade. There’s a situation somewhere in Hokkaido, potentially Special Grade. A lot of sorcerers have been seriously hurt, so Shoko went with Satoru and Suguru.

You were given one hell of a lecture when you argued with Sensei about him going with the first years instead. A chance to study a Special Grade? You didn’t want to pass that up! Then, maybe you hadmade a bitchy remark about how a potential promotion to principal is getting to his head.

Anyway, the assignment with the first years went fine.

You were lectured yet again, this time by Haibara of all people. There’s a possibility that you…sort of pacified everything in the area. In your defense, the briefing said there would only be a pack of low-level spirits. A separate, higher graded spirit must’ve been close by, heard the violence, and slipped past the veil to get in on the action. When Nanami was smacked away with enough force that he cracked the wall he landed against, you panicked.

Ugh. You’re definitely not beating those Mama Duck accusations anymore.

You force yourself through dinner with them because you wanted to be polite and felt like you owed them since you cut the mission short. It’s dusk, almost night, but the lights of the city and restaurant are still too bright. They decide on a place that’s packed and so loud. By the time you three step outside, you have a pounding headache and nearly fall asleep against Nanami’s shoulder because you’re drained.

After you’re showered and dressed for bed, you flop back on your mattress with a weary sigh. On instinct, you reach for your cell phone, checking for any new messages like you have been the last three days. It’s late. You don’t expect much from them. Satoru used Blue at maximum output three times, Shoko reported. Suguru swallowed the curse when it was weak enough. Satoru will be wiped out and Suguru will be in bed immediately to digest the curse.

Everyone has been sending you pictures. The most recent and most likely last batch of the night are from Shoko. One that shows three bottles of nail polish, one that shows Suguru and Satoru hunched over as they paint their nails, a zoom-in of Satoru with his tongue poking out in concentration, and the last a shot of everyone’s finished nails. Satoru chose an electric blue, Suguru went with black, and Shoko has a baby pink color.

You spend way too long staring at that picture. There’s something in the pit of your stomach, seeing Shoko’s hand so close to theirs. It’s small compared to theirs. You wish that it could be your hand there. You want to run the tip of your finger along the line of their prominent veins. You’d hold both your hands up so they could press one of theirs against it, just to see how much they dwarf your own. What would the fit be like if you laced your fingers through theirs?

Your phone chimes with a text from Suguru. Face hot, you quickly back out of the conversation with Shoko, feeling guilty for a reason you can’t pinpoint. As soon as Shoko told you that Suguru swallowed the curse, you immediately texted Suguru, wanting to check in and remind him to remember to grab some instant rice for the morning. It’ll be easy on his stomach. You made him send a picture as proof. After he did, he wanted to know if you’d eaten yourself. You sent a picture of your meal. Suguru hadn’t responded to that text until now.

I’m proud of you for going out. I always worry about you being lonely, his text says. You’re about to roll your eyes at his mother hen tendencies, but then his next message rolls in. Be a good girl for me until I get back. Night, Squid.

The phone slips out of your hand, the edge of it landing painfully on the bridge of your nose. You jerk up from the mattress, clutching at your nose. Why is your face on fire? He…he was teasing, right? Be a good girl for me. They…they were just some words. You shake your hands, trying to dispel the sudden surge of panicked energy. Be a good girl for me. Great. That’s stuck in your head now. Shit.

Goodnight, Suguru, you reply back with slightly sweaty fingers. Sweet dreams.

Eh. They’re never that sweet without you around.

Is…is this…no. No. This isn’t flirting. It’s just…being a friend. That’s something friends would say, right? Yeah. This is just another roundabout way of saying that he misses you. Yeah, yeah. I miss you, too, you send back. Maybe some of Satoru’s sweetness can rub off on your dreams.

Fingers crossed. See? Friendly banter. If he was flirting, he wouldn’t pull Satoru into the conversation, right? I’ll text you in the morning when we’re leaving.

Rolling over on your side, you curl up into as much of a ball as you can and shove your face against your pillow. You have to stop yourself when you realize you’re rubbing your feet together again because you can’t fall asleep like that. Just go to sleep, you tell yourself.

Closing your eyes, you breathe in and out.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

Over and over and…

…the mattress dips down. One side and then the other. You’re on your belly, arm shoved under the pillow that your face is still shoved into. You tilt your head to the side, eyes still closed, too exhausted to open them. You know these bodies that press up against each side of your own.

Someone’s hand presses against the small of your back and it’s almost like lightning shoots up your spine. In nothing but your sports bra, it’s bare skin against bare skin. But that’s nothing compared to the rush that comes when he leans down to press a kiss to where his hand previously was, so close to your ass, to your…

“Be a good girl,” Satoru quietly sings as the tips of his fingers land on the back of your calf. Your fingers are clenching the sheets. You gasp as his fingers teasingly begin to meander up your legs. Dancing around your inner thighs. “Mm, you’re the prettiest princess in all the land.” Oh. Oh. He’s so close. He’s going to feel how wet you are. “Heh, hell yeah, I am. Are you as pretty down here as you are everywhere else?”

“Satoru,” you gasp before you shove your face back against the pillow.

Another hand splays around the back of your neck, slipping up and around, cupping the side of your face. When he guides you to turn your face back toward him. A thumb runs along your bottom lip, dipping inside your mouth. Just a tease, though. You’re the one that sucks it back into your mouth.

“Such a good girl,” Suguru whispers against your ear. “Sweet girl.” He pulls his hand away, fingers teasingly running along the band of your sports bra.

“Suguru.”

“Let us handle it.”

And your eyes open before they’re closing again. You’re rolling your face against the pillow. As you’re clinging to the last vestiges of your dream, you don’t quite yet comprehend that it’s your hand shoved down your shorts. The line between dream and reality is a blur.

Sheets tangled around your legs are what you imagine what it would feel like to have theirs around yours instead. Your warm breath that fans out across your face as you’re panting against your pillow could be mistaken as theirs while they’re whispering into your ears. The heat inside you is almost unbearable, pitching up into a fervor, only spurred on by the desperate rolling of your hips. It’s like liquid fire rushing through your veins, burning and burning as you hump your hand.

Finally, blissfully, you are overwhelmed by pleasure.

It all crests. Your entire body locks up and trembles. In an attempt to chase after the addictive yet fading sparks, you try to jerk your legs up to get up on your knees, but it’s too soon after your limbs were locked up. Your leg painfully cramps and throbs and you’re fully thrown out of the dream’s clutches.

Clutching at your throbbing leg, you roll over on your back and stare up at the ceiling while you suck in shaky breaths.

What did you do?

What did you just do?

All you can really think to do is shout, “Fuck!”

You’re not there when they return the next day. Just before six in the morning, Sensei called you and said that you needed to report to Kyoto as soon as possible. If you’re honest with yourself, you’re thankful that you don’t have to see them today which only adds to the guilt that’s set in the pit of your stomach like a stone. Why couldn’t this be like a normal dream that fades away before you’re out of bed?

A better question—why did you have a dream like this to begin with?

There’s a Kyoto manager waiting to pick you up from the train station. Before you slip in the car, they hold out a hand. “I’ll need your phone.”

“Excuse me?”

Their eyes seem cold, but you try to convince yourself that’s not the case. You don’t do well with catching on to how other people feel and often mistake cold with cordial. “You’ll be meeting with a few of the higher-ups.” Your eyes widen. And you have nothing to be in trouble for, but your heart rate picks up regardless. “These meetings are expected to be kept private, but your phone is confiscated as a precaution.”

“The higher-ups?” The manager nods wordlessly. “Why?”

“I wasn’t trusted with that information.” The manager steps aside and motions toward the open door. “I’m your escort. Have you had breakfast? They’ve permitted us to stop for something if you need it.”

You don’t take the manager up on the offer.

The higher-ups are already waiting for you when you make it to campus. There are only three in the room, none of them speaking, only sipping at some tea. You recognize Principal Gakuganji, but that’s it. Even worse, they’re seated around a chabudai. They’re not close enough to touch, but it’s still a much more intimate setting than if they were all behind a desk with you in a chair across the room.

Gakuganji states your name and then motions to the empty spot at the chabudai. “Sit.”

The three men introduce themselves—Gakuganji, of course, and the other two are elders of the Zen’in and Kamo clans. You don’t bother to remember their given names. You doubt that you’d ever be in the realm of familiarity with these people and, yeah, maybe you can’t read the room well, but you know they look down on you. Satoru has warned you about elders in clans and those high up on the food chain.

Superiority complex bigger than mine, Sketch, Satoru had said. And with nothing to back it up! They’re weak as hell! Even the geezers in my clan!

Gakuganji is the first to speak. “Yaga should have instructed you to bring your drawings and notes. Did you?”

“Oh. Um. Yes.” You reach inside your bag to pull out the sketchbook. It makes you twitchy when you place it on the table and Zen’in immediately reaches out to roughly grab it and slide it over in front of him. You try not to cringe when you see it slide through some tea that spilled over the rim of his cup.

You’re not allowed to watch Zen’in long. Gakuganji asks, “Is that all?”

“Pardon?”

“I was informed that you had multiple sketchbooks. You’ve kept them since before you entered Jujutsu High, correct?”

Zen’in grunts. “Is there any organization to this?” Your hands fist the hem of your skirt. The disgusted curl of his lip is downright offensive. You keep those pages clean. They’re not cluttered with doodles. You limit one curse to each page. You’ve always had neat handwriting. What more does he expect? “Tch. You’ll have to go through and identify which are with Geto Suguru.”

A cold chill runs down your spine.

“Have some patience, Zen’in,” Kamo snaps. “We’re here for more than that.” Kamo is the youngest which is to say that he’s probably barely hit the retirement age. He smiles at you. “I apologize on his behalf, young lady. Continue, please.” You suspect that he’s meant to be the one you warm up to.

Very suddenly, viscerally, you become keenly aware that you’ve stepped inside a room full of snakes. What’s worse is that a misstep isn’t going to poison you alone. Suguru’s shadow is in the room. You don’t quite understand why your instincts scream danger. Normally, you wouldn’t trust them. Something tells you that you need to right now.

“I threw those away,” you lie. You’re a good liar. With a naturally emotionless expression and flat tone, people have as hard a time reading you as you do with them. “I only had one with me before I became a sorcerer, but I threw it away. It was full and I didn’t see a need for it. It was too messy to be submitted.”

Kamo’s lips twitch. “It’s truly only that one?”

“There are six-hundred blank pages, so I planned for it to last a long time. I have another one that’s more personal. Just to work on my art.” You nearly breathe a sigh of relief. For once, your meticulous nature of keeping a hard line between what you use your sketchbooks for comes in handy. “Here.” You set your smaller, personal sketchbook on the table.” I apologize for not getting it out before. I thought you meant only what I’ve done with cursed spirits.”

Gakuganji takes your personal sketchbook, only briefly skimming through with pursed lips. “I’m sure you’ve been told, but you’re expected to turn in your work to headquarters when it’s full.” You nod slowly. “We’ve been getting feedback about you, not only from Yaga but from other sorcerers. You were the one that helped with the Red Room Curse, yes?”

“Yes.”

Zen’in snorts. “You’re telling me that old urban legend was real?”

“Walk us through your thought process,” Gakuganji requests without acknowledging Zen’in.

“The internet, in the scheme of things, is relatively new. In my studies, I’ve learned that cursed spirits tend to stay away from technology. They usually interact with it only to destroy it. So, the curse using the internet as a tool to curse and travel was a huge red flag to me,” you explain. “Legends and cursed spirits can go hand-in-hand. An existing spirit inspires a legendary monster or the negativity around a legend will create a spirit.”

“Imaginary vengeful cursed spirits,” Zen’in grunts. “We know.”

“Not always,” you correct curtly. His eyes narrow at you. “There’s that old saying…legends have a sprinkle of truth to them. It’s smart to look into these cursed spirits. An imaginary vengeful spirit could have actually started out as a regular vengeful spirit that’s connected to an area or bloodline which is what happened here. Someone cursed a relative in the Taisho era, the spirit bound itself to a red journal, and gained power until it found an easier, faster way to spread itself.”

Kamo hums thoughtfully. “There was another incident last week.” You already know the one that he’s talking about. “Has Yaga told you the outcome of the situation?” You shake your head. “Did the sorcerer on call with you explain what that cursed object was?” Another shake of the head from you. “That was one of the fingers of Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, and you were right about the seal being weak. The seal was reinforced.”

“I’m glad.”

“How did you know?”

“The activity of the cursed spirits in the area,” you lie again. Rather, it’s not the whole truth. But you’re worried that the truth could come off as a concern for them.

When you were in the range of that finger, something inside you just…knew. The cursed energy that radiated from it…there was a sense of anticipation. It’d been disorienting because the spirits in the area had the same feeling, too. It left you reeling and jittery from secondhand adrenaline.

These men don’t need to know that you’re feeling cursed spirits. No. Cursed energy. As the days tick by, you’re getting closer and closer to your dreadful theory being proven correct. You don’t want the higher-ups to come to that conclusion, too. You’re not sure what would happen if they thought you could influence anyone with a shred of cursed energy.

“We’d like to offer you an internship of sorts,” Gakuganji speaks up. “Each of the major clans have a storage of cursed objects, tools, and weapons. We do this so everything isn’t centralized to the school campuses, in case of a successful raid. Starting your third year, we’d like you to visit their main compounds and examine their collections.”

You catch yourself before you agree. “I would need cursed spirits to see how they act.”

“That’s not a problem for the Zen’in. We have a pit full of them.”

Again, you bite back the urge to ask this man why the fuck his clan has a pit of curses. “The pacification alters their behavior. It would only be effective if I hid myself from them, but that doesn’t protect anyone else in the compound. I don’t feel comfortable with that kind of risk.”

Kamo and Zen’in burst out in loud guffaws. The sudden noise makes you visibly wince. When they quiet, Kamo explains the hilarity by saying, “You’ll be in compounds with some of the strongest sorcerers in the world. We can handle some low grade cursed spirits.”

Your brows furrow. “Won’t there be children—”

Zen’in rolls his eyes and waves off your concern with a callous, “They need the practice.”

Is this seriously what it’s like to be born into one of these clans? These men are at the highest place in their clans, in jujutsu society. Better than anyone else, they should understand how rare sorcerers are. Why would they be so careless with the lives of their clansmen? You understand that this is ruthless work, and to coddle children can be a death sentence in itself, but this just seems cruel for the sake of cruelty.

Was Satoru’s world this cruel?

“I’d like a partner with me,” you force yourself to politely request. “Please.”

“One of the first years,” Kamo reluctantly agrees. Your mouth opens to protest, but he holds a hand up. “No Gojo will step foot on my clan’s compound. As for the Geto boy, it’s pointless. His control over cursed spirits is as manipulative as your pacification abilities, right?”

“Yaga says that Nanami Kento is showing promise,” Gakuganji adds.

“For once, I agree with Kamo. I’d burn my compound to the ground before I let a Gojo waltz in,” Zen’in spits on the ground, to which Kamo and Gakuganji make displeased noises. “And I’m not adding more fodder to the army of that brat with the Curse Manipulation.”

An offer, they say, but even you with your struggles to grasp social cues knows that this isn’t an option. No one in your position can say no to the higher-ups. With a smile that’s probably more of a grimace, you grit out, “Nanami will be fine.”

Sensei is in the longue outside the room where you met with the three elders. Said men who had been escorting you out, all rush on, leaving you in your teacher’s care. Not that you want to be around him right now. You might be more furious with him than the people you just met with. Sensei is next in line to be principal. He’s essentially a liaison with Lord Tengen. There’s no way he didn’t know what this conversation would be about. You wonder if he’s the one that suggested this.

Maybe you’re overreacting, but it feels like he’s stabbed you in the back.

There’s a lot that you want to say, but you won’t. There’s no point in it. It’ll only send you to your inevitable breakdown. You feel that rumble inside you. But…maybe you can get some answers out of Sensei before that happens. So, you demand to know, “Why are they like that with Suguru? He hasn’t done anything!”

Sensei drops down in a chair, sighing tiredly as he goes. “It’s…not only Suguru. This is a lack of trust in anyone that’s been marked as Special Grade.”

“Why? What did they do that was so wrong?”

“Do you know what it takes for someone to be considered Special Grade?”

“Anomalies in the system,” you recite. His own words, you might add.

“Yes, but there’s more to it than that. The truth is that Special Grade sorcerers are those who have potential to devastate. You’re a logical girl. You can understand that Suguru has access to an army. Satoru, when he’s at his full potential, will most likely be the strongest sorcerer of the modern era—”

“Fear,” you spit. “This is fear.”

“Yes,” Sensei confirms without a beat. “They’re afraid. There’s currently only one other Special Grade sorcerer. Before this generation, the rank Special Grade had only been reserved for cursed spirits. To suddenly have so many, and all at once, it’s only made the higher-ups more afraid.” He hunches over, putting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not fair, I know, but this is how it has to be. That much power comes with certain responsibilities.”

Your fists clench. “I understand that, Sensei, but where’s the trust? All our lives, we’ve been…no one has ever trusted us. We came here because we wanted to be around people like us. We wanted to be accepted. What’s different between our village and here? Nothing. Sometimes, I think it’s worse. We’re not weapons. We’re people.”

“They know that.”

At your breaking point, you shout, “Do they?!” There’s so much more you want to say. I’m not spying on Suguru. I’ll lie on every single one of those pages that I send to headquarters. Somehow, you have the wherewithal to realize that that’s not a smart idea. Sensei is on your side, but not as much as you thought before. He’s chained by the higher-ups. “I’ll make my own way back to Tokyo.”

And you make sure to slam the door on the way out.

As you’re storming out of the building, you throw your hood up and shove on your sunglasses. You’re storming through campus with a trembling bottom lip and tears slowly trickling down your cheeks. You had hoped that it would be dead, but you’re not that lucky. There are a few students, a few more mature sorcerers, and you keep your head ducked down. You’re biting your lip raw to hold back the sobs threatening to spill out.

You make it as far as the outside of Kyoto High’s barrier before you can’t take it anymore and duck off the path. You drop down on a small boulder and cry. Between gasping breaths and desperately trying to wipe away tears that won’t stop, you pull out your cell phone.

Because you can’t do it. You can’t be around strangers. A two-hour bullet train ride is too daunting. Thinking of the smells of meals that people eat to pass the time, of the noise from even whispered conversations that would be loud to your overworking mind, of only an armrest separating you from another person and how that would make your skin crawl. An even worse hell would be a grueling five-hour drive with a manager back to Tokyo.

Please come pick me up, you text with trembling fingers. Not even thirty seconds later, your phone is ringing, but you quickly deny the call. No, you rush to text. Can’t talk, you add before he gets the wrong idea. Crying too hard to talk, you admit. The confession only makes you sob harder, of course. You can put your fist through monsters, but you can’t talk on the phone with your best friend without bawling like a baby.

Okay, Suguru responds back. I’ll take Hong there.

Manta ray back? I don’t want to be around people.

Whatever you want.

Thank you, Suguru.

Through the canopy of the trees, you see the glitter of Hong’s rainbow scales. You’ve managed to stop crying. And you thought that you’d be okay, but seeing the concern on Suguru’s face when he finds where you’ve hidden yourself away just brings it all back.

At this point, it’s not even so much the meeting. This is pure frustration with yourself. It’s shame and embarrassment. Just a little stress and you buckle. You hate this body. You hate this brain. Why can’t you be stronger? Why can’t you push yourself through the pain? Why does there have to be pain at all?

Suguru doesn’t speak. He sits down in front of the boulder, leaning his back against it. You spread your legs, allowing his shoulders to fit between them. He knows your tights are a barrier from skin contact, so he can freely lean his head to the side, resting against the inside of your knee.

Then, Suguru waits in silence.

You need his rock-solid presence but can’t bear him watching you in this pathetic state. It only makes things worse. Normal people would want to be comforted, to be hugged, but that’s just more stress. You can’t talk like this, so you feel stupid. You feel eyes on you, so you cry harder because you’re ashamed that you got here in the first place. If you were back on your campus, you would hide yourself away in your room until you’re calm. That’s not an option here.

And…and Suguru knows this. He knows you. He won’t look at you, won’t acknowledge that you’re breaking down. Why are you so kind? You think of those three stupid, old men. How can you be afraid of someone so kind?

“Su—” you choke on his name. You can’t speak past the lump in your throat. Angry that you can’t even manage his name, you ball up your fist and start banging it against your thigh. Like that can make your body cooperate. Or…it’s punishment. It might be that.

“Squid,” Suguru whispers as he reaches out to gently take your wrist. “I know you’re mad at yourself, but don’t do that. Why don’t I tell you about the cursed spirit we saw? We can make a game of it. I try to describe it. You try to draw it.” You shake your head furiously. “You’re stuck in the loop, aren’t you? Don’t you want out?”

The loop, you call it. The way you’re stuck in an endless cycle of berating yourself for being like this. You’ll never stop unless you have a distraction and his presence isn’t enough.

When Suguru hands you your sketchbook and a pencil, you take it.

There are a lot of tear stains on the paper by the time you calm all the way down, but it does the trick.

“Eh? That doesn’t look like it at all,” Suguru mutters when you hand him the finished product. “I didn’t think I was this bad at descriptions,” he remarks with a chuckle. “Still cool, though.” Slowly, he gets to his feet, patting his pants down to get all the dirt off. He turns around and holds out a hand to you. “Ready to go?”

You take his hand as an answer.

You don’t let go.

Suguru’s eyes widen a little when you thread your fingers through his. The two of you stand there for a minute before he’s squeezing your hand and guiding you back out to the main path. A manta ray spirit is waiting there for you both, low enough that you can step on it. You’re forced to let go of his hand, but you don’t want to lose that point of contact. You’re seated behind him, cross legged. You slip your arms around his waist from behind and press your forehead against his back.

Suguru covers his hands with yours and never stops during the whole ride back.

***

You decided that you wouldn’t tell anyone about the details of that meeting until you absolutely had to. The parts of it that you had to agree to, anyway. You won’t talk about them wanting you to spy on Suguru and keep track of his spirits because you’re not doing that. It’s an invasion of privacy that you refuse to be part of. Unlike the higher-ups that see Suguru and Satoru as tools to be kept track of, they’re your best friends.

Eventually, they’ll notice that you’re not marking which spirits are his. You’ve already started to come up with excuse—you forgot, you’re too focused on capturing the spirit on the page, you had it in your mind when you were preparing them to be sent to headquarters but forgot it. They’ll catch on, probably. After that, you’ll just lie. And it kills you inside a little, but you’ll have to stop marking the date on them. It really will make it harder to remember which assignments were with Suguru and which weren’t.

Suguru knows not to ask you about what made you so upset. Maybe he’ll give a half-hearted try in a week or two, but it’s too fresh. You’ll only get upset when you remember all the negative emotions that came with a breakdown. The only smart thing those old bastards did was to have you meet with them on a Friday.

It’s Sunday now and you feel a little better. Your defiance has helped mute your anxiety a little, you guess. After going the rest of Friday and all of yesterday without speaking, you think you can manage it today. Words don’t feel as heavy. It’s not as much a daunting task as it was before. Just like going to spend time with Satoru and Suguru is a little less tiring. That’s the thing, you love to hang out with them, but it still drains your battery. It doesn’t drain as fast or as much as it would if you were around some random strangers, but down goes that metaphorical battery all the same.

Satoru is already at the meeting place—one of the many koi ponds sprinkled around campus. You don’t want to deal with grass against your skin today, so you spread out a spare blanket from your room. Satoru hums before he’s scooting over to sit down on the blanket next to you.

The two of you are side-by-side, watching the occasional koi break the surface with a splash. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Satoru rocks back and forth, fidgeting with the hem of his pant legs. You’re not surprised when he finally asks the question because you’ve been expecting it. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” you answer honestly.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Oh.” From the corner of your eye, you see him frown. “Is it…because it’s me? I know I’m not good with…feelings and stuff. I can just fuck off if you wanted to just spend time with Suguru and talk and stuff…”

You smile. It’s small but sincere. “It’s not that, Satoru. If I wanted to talk about it, I’d feel okay doing it with you, too. But I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to cry again.”

He cringes. “Yeah, I don’t want you to cry, either.” He’s at the edge of the blanket and starts picking at blades of grass. “Is there anything I can do so that doesn’t happen again?”

“No,” you answer honestly. You’re surprised to see him flinch, like you’re hurting his feelings. He usually has thick skin. Ah, but he’s also used to being the answer to everyone’s problems. You don’t think there’s much that he can’t do. “The breakdowns are a part of me. There’s always going to be a potential to have one.” You pause. You’d rather not have him stress over this. “I can try to ask for help before it gets to that point, though. I don’t know—can you extend Infinity to protect others?”

“Ha, no. Not yet.”

“Well…I could use your blackout glasses? Light makes me the most sensitive.”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, same.”

“I won’t use them, then.”

“I can handle it for a little bit if it’ll make you feel better,” he mumbles. “I kinda get what you’re going through. I used to get super overwhelmed when I was a kid, before I could control Infinity. I would get really angry, though. There were a few times that I’d grit my teeth so hard that I’m shocked now that my teeth didn’t get chipped. I guess a part of me was scared to cry in front of tutors, so I’d be angry instead.”

You do the thing that Suguru stopped you from doing when you were in the midst of it—beating a fist against your thigh. “I get mad, too. Just at myself.” Your brows furrow. “Oh. I get angry before that point, I think. Sometimes, when I’ve been by myself, I’ve punched walls.”

Satoru’s shoulders slump. You think…is that a sigh of relief from him? “I don’t feel so bad now,” he admits embarrassedly. “The clan was kind of understanding how sensitive I am with lights because of the Six Eyes, but…they never really got how much everything else built up.” He’s fidgeting even more, uncharacteristically nervous. “I never wore tabi socks with my yukata when I went out, in case there was some water somewhere. I hate how clothes feel on my skin when they’re wet. It’s…clingy.”

It’s slowly dawning on you. Curious, you ask, “How do you feel about cotton balls?”

You watch a shudder roll down his spine. “After my first cavity, I made sure I’d never get another one. I almost sent the dentist across the room with Blue when he put those things in my mouth.”

“Eye contact?”

“Ugh, I hate that stupid shit. My old man meets with people from other countries, and they’re obsessed with it. I’m so lucky I’m in Japan.” He sticks his tongue out in disgust. “I wish I was around you when I was a kid. The sunglasses idea saved my life and my reputation. Now, people can’t figure out where I’m looking.”

“Reputation? You have one of those?”

“Rude,” Satoru complains and pokes you insistently. “People think you’re all sweet, Sketch. You’re as much of an asshole as I am, y’know. People just forgive you because you have that pretty face and cute smile. It’s the same with Suguru, too. You’re both the golden kids!”

Your heart skitters at hearing pretty face and cute smile, but he included Suguru. It’s just an observation. An exaggeration in your case, definitely, but whatever. “It’s not being an asshole. I’m just blunt.”

“So am I!”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, and I’ve also studied other people, so I know what’s too far.” You hesitate. “Usually.” Another pause from you before you finally settle on a reluctant, “Sometimes. But definitely more than you.”

He’s pouting at you. “You could be nice and teach me.”

“You don’t care enough to learn.”

“I care about people!”

“I know that.” Hmm, how do you explain it? “I’ve kinda learned from seeing you interact with Nanami and Haibara that you use that bluntness as a way to help. Put you and, say, Suguru together. You both see the same flaw and point it out. You’re not as nice as Suguru, but you don’t waste time with niceties. They’re there to learn and be critiqued. It’s not a good idea to inflate their egos. That gets people killed.”

Satoru nods enthusiastically. “See? See! You get it!”

You rush to add, “But…you should give them encouragement. It sucks to constantly be told how you’re not doing things right. I know that way too well. Just ask Suguru.”

“You’re way too soft for this line of work, Sketch.”

This day is important, though you won’t realize that until much, much later. But isn’t that how life is? Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that.

Today is the last day that you will see Satoru and Suguru smile genuinely for a very, very long time.

[leupagus]

Gonna be honest, I'm at the "noodling around instead of buckling down to actually write it" so here have another scene of whatever this ends up being

(From my doc which is labeled "sexnanigans lol")

"Why don't we just get it over with?" Crowley asked, a few days later. He was lying in bed, sprawled on his stomach along the top bit of the mattress with Aziraphale using him as a sort of very angular pillow. Every once in a while Aziraphale would rearrange Crowley's limbs into a new configuration to suit himself; at the moment he was contorted into something that most closely resembled a half-melted curly wurly.

"Mm?" said Aziraphale, his familiar I'm not really paying attention to you but I am recording what you're saying for playback in about thirty seconds, at which point I'll decide if anything you've said was worth listening to sort of "mm". He was reading yet another sexual manual; judging by the age of the cover and the deadness of the language contained therein, it was unlikely to be useful. The etchings were fun, though.

"You've been doing all this," he waved vaguely at the book, along with the half-dozen others piled on Aziraphale's nightstand, "For almost a month. Why don't we try something—"

"Get it over with?" Twenty-seven seconds, Crowley thought smugly, but attempted to school his expression into something serious when Aziraphale turned to frown at him. "I don't think this is something we ought to do at all, if you think of it like that. There's a rather good book, in fact, about enthusiastic consent and—" He reached for the nightstand.

Crowley tugged his arm back. "I didn't mean it like that," he said. "I'm all for it. I even invented some of those positions.* I'm just asking," he added, before Aziraphale could start demanding which positions, and with whom, which he was sure to say instead of who because jealousy in Aziraphale always manifested in creakingly correct grammar, "Why all this… research?"

Aziraphale shut his book, which could either go very well or very poorly; either way it meant Crowley was about to get his full attention. But he just sighed and said, "Do you recall the first time I tried food?"

That memory was too precious to deny. "You decimated an entire ox," Crowley said, not even bothering to keep the gloat out of his voice. "Most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

"I think you really ought to be embarrassed about how much you mean that," Aziraphale said musingly, and right, this is why Crowley should have been wary about the closing of the book. "And then three hundred and eighty-seven years after that I tried wine, and got comprehensibly — what's the word?"

"Shitfaced."

"Blotto, thank you, is the word I was actually looking for. I had a hangover for two months."

"Wasn't that at my urging, too?" Crowley asked, reaching out to curl his fingers in Aziraphale's hair. "You really were rubbish at thwarting my wiles."

"Well, I was a rather rubbish angel, as it turned out," Aziraphale said, shutting his eyes and leaning into Crowley's touch. "Thank God for that. But that's my point, dearest. Whenever I've experienced the delights of Earth, it's often been — well, to use the old-fashioned term, gluttonous affair at first. Or if I'm using modern parlance, more gourmand than gourmet. And for this I want—"

"You think the terms 'gourmand' and 'gourmet' are modern parlance? D'you think the term 'modern parlance' is modern parlance?"

"I want," Aziraphale continued, relentless, "To savour it, this time. Savour you."

Crowley said, "Oh," and couldn't think of anything else to say. 

Aziraphale watched him for a few moments, those clever eyes seeing far too much, then made an absentminded tutting noise and maneuvered Crowley's elbow into a truly preposterous position before he resumed reading. 

Crowley let him.

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 156 spoilers and thoughts below the cut yeah yeah yeah

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I DONT KNOW WHY BUT I THINK THE WAY HE SITS BACK HERE IS REALLY SILLY HEEHEE

also if the panels are slightly blurry uuuuuh no they're not dont worry abt it

ok back to the top bc holy shit this chapter made me crazy again

OF ALL THE CHARACTERS I COULD HAVE EXPECTED A RETURN OF. IT WAS NOT LUPELLAN

HOLY FUCKING SHIT I REALLY THOUGHT WE WERE DONE WITH THAT GUY CAUSE YKNOW. DEAD. BUT HERE WE ARE AHHHH ITS ALL COMING TOGETHER

and ohhh god the restoration of fate kicking in alongside all of this is insane ,, , god it might even happen sooner depending on how quickly they kick their plans into gear ,,, also this guy (forgot his name LMFAO) looks downright terrifying

i wonder how they'll go about it actually,,, especially since alicia has already had a dose of that like, dark magic paranoia poison back when she raided targa's castle. will she be able to combat what their planning,,, do they know she had been poisoned before? probably not, right? ooohhh im so curious to know,,,,,,,

ANYWAY AHH LLOYD AND JAVIER AHHHHHH AAAHHHH

LLOYD GETTING. EMOTIONAL OVER FINALLY BEING CLOSE TO GETTING THE ANSWERS HE NEEDS BUT THEN IMMEDIATELY PUSHING PAST IT GGGHHHRRRRR GGGG IM BITING MY HAND IM BITING MY HAND

he's finally so close . he's so close to being able to permanently protect this place that he loves so dearly . ooohhhghhh hhhhh . he's gotta pursue and continue to the end god im shaking him

AND THEN JAVIER BEING FOND OF HIM

im so sorry i dont have a lot of brilliant things to say im just. KICKING MY FEET ROLLING ON THE FLOOR IM. AAAHHHH my singular Analysis braincell hasn't kicked in yet sorry

sorry okay if i just post panels and scream i wont actually get anywhere but i REALLY liked the oneliners/jokes in this episode specifically got me giggling my ass off

AND LLOYD BEING A FUCKING SCHEMER TOO YOU ASSHOLE /AFF

TOP TIER ACTOR WHAT THE HELLL HAHAHAHA HIS SMUG ASS FACE

i remember seeing a post on twt about the episode preview and it was this left frame of lloyd crying and i was like "WTF FULLY EMOTIONAL MOMENT WITH LLOYD??" BUT NO ITS JUST HIM BEING CONNIVING AS USUAL LMAO

and javier's reaction HAHAHAHAHAHAA

OH ANDNDD AND AND MY FAV PART OF THIS EP

shaking crying at the way they look at each other oh my god . javier fully understanding lloyd . that the outcome lloyd wants isnt just one that benefits himself or the estate, but one that satisfies everyone,,, theyre on the same page they want the same thing a good ending for everyone they love im gonna lose my fucking MARBLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE PROTAGONISTS EVERRRRRRRRRRRRRR

AND AND ANDD THE CALLUSES ON LLOYDS HANDS. IM. SHAKING CRYING AND JAVIER'S EXPRESSION AT HIS HANDS AAHHH AAA

lloyd saying this n that about being pragmatic and yet there's this blatant fucking evidence that he's been working so hard and so long for the most idealistic, best results for the people he cares about and the people he comes across no matter what . "pragmatic" and he's going about things in a long, constructive and taxing process all so that he can fight fate while also saving people instead of realistically accepting the permanence of it . this is so poorly worded but i hope u understand HOW INSANE THIS MAKES MEEE and javier catches this for sure the fucker im shaking him

AND THEIR GOD DAMN HIGH FIVE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

"business relationship" I THINK NOT! Y'ALL HIGH FIVE'D!!! AAHHAFDLKJSDFHAHHAHAHAHAHA IM GONNA THROW UP /POS

THIS MADE ME SO FUCKING EMOTIONAL FOR SOME REASON I. GHGHGHHGHGHGHGHH the first high five they share im gonna fall apart into ten billion pieces

i said this on twt but like. if anyone suggests a high five irl i think i'm actually gonna just bawl in front of them i'm so serious llovier is a fucking plague

and their second one about the hellgate was really cute/funny LMFAOOO

this ep had me giggling and wiggling around like a fucking millipede i loved this so much HEHEHEHE

i think this is just abt the beginning of the end of the truth jewel arcs,,, god i wonder what the jewel will say!!! PRAYING that it says fate can be fought bc if it says "lol nah u cant" the devastation and anguish that would follow would be INSANE i wouldnt be able to take it. id stop reading right then and there /j

AND LUPELLAN AND THAT OTHER GUY WHAT ARE THEY GONNA DO TO ALICIA OH GODDDD

anyway that's all for now ,,,, i will see u next week, ,,,, or whenever i make my next shitpost,,,,!!!! end post!!!!!!!!!!

[bonefall]

I’m not sure if you talked about it, but what do you think about A Thief in Thunderclan? I actually liked it, though it definitely had a few ehhh moments

Eh, honestly? Im kinda disappointed that James Barry had to go out on such a low note. I did not like it, it felt like a waste of time.

It wasn't like... offensively bad but I have very little good to say about it. It was fine. If you want to see more ThunderClan you can check it out?

(A lot of Thief in ThunderClan critique below the cut, I didn't like it much)

First of all, the mystery was just bad. I'm sorry. An owl? Swooping in at night for dead animals and leaving perfect scores in the dirt? It felt like a real "running out of ideas" type plot.

Brightheart was NOT fun to follow. She was uncomfortable for most of the story and secondhand embarassment is an emotion I really don't enjoy. Even moments that were supposed to be thought-provoking (like the Brambleclaw name confrontation) just felt like cringe because they were written so poorly.

Like, seriously? "Firestar why did you name Bramble after his father who disfigured me?" "Oh its because i uhhhh wanted to remind ppl of it so they would stop being reminded of it eventually" WHAT? That was a brainless enough choice when it was FIRST made, you can't fucking tell me any cat with a brain cell would go "wao... really makes you think... hngsociety"

I disliked the fact they decided to give Brightheart serious suspicion towards people like Longtail and Brambleclaw, I strongly disagree she would be like that. She feels so much to me like someone who would feel awful for doubting people she logically knows are innocent, and express to Cloudtail that it makes her feel like a bad person, but she CANT help it. She is such a kind, loving, and self doubting sort of cat... or, was, I guess? Or maybe it was never there at all and I'm the fool.

On that note? Her character arc was a mess. As much as I hate Shadow in RiverClan, I can say that Feathertail's arc was a competent *story*. Brightheart is having nightmares, suspects Bramble and Long of treason, is trying to figure out this mystery, trying to help train Rainpaw, the fact she resents not being his mentor is mentioned and dropped, she is pregnant... so much shit is going on and it feels absolutely unfocused.

And even worse, because it's overlapping with the beginning of Firestar's Quest, we end up having to Show Off The Continuity instead of telling a cohesive story. Oop Willowpelt died and Rainpaw is kind of sad about it! But wait we have to say bye to Firestar, make sure to squeeze in the Brambleclaw name confrontation before he goes! GO BACK Longtail has been blinded!! ALSO THE OWL! HERES WHY THE OWL WASNT MENTIONED IN FQ!!

And DUDE if there's anything that's a SERIOUS problem, it's Brightheart's stupid ass cutesy "look who's being USEFUL in here!" When blinded Longtail is helping out in the medcat den

First of all fuck you for the wording of that line! Second of all, GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD that disabled people shouldn't have to find a way to be "useful" to belong to their society.

The fact we're getting a book from Bright's perspective as a disabled person and the whole thing is chock full of "useful" language as she struggles with PTSD makes the fact this is COMMON in WC sting so much more.

Anyway back to just, normal critique and not frustration with ableism in wc.

I feel like they really wasted Brightheart's family. I enjoyed finally getting Cinder and Bright hanging out as sisters, but we got a MENTION of Frostfur, and barely anything with her brothers. It's already a mess so why not go the whole way?

Ashfur also has his post-TBC personality retcon which absolutely kills me. Why do we need this shitty "foreshadowing"? Why do we need him to have been so obviously controlling and argumentative? Why are these writers fucking allergic to having a villain that people thought was nice and normal once?

NITPICK: if i have to see another cat gently picked up by a large bird of prey without at LEAST getting a cracked rib I will shapeshift into 10,000 crows and fly away forever

I have some good feelings towards it though, and I have to be clear, this is actually Ambivalent Bones. I'm only mad at the "Usefulness" rhetoric, the rest is just my normal amount of whinging lmao.

I do really like Cinderpelt and Brightheart finally getting some interactions. It's long overdo lmao

I like Cloudtail and Brightheart as a ship so it's nice to see them hang out.

Uhhh this is a bit of a backhanded compliment but I liked how she was upset at not getting one of Whitestorm's children to mentor? I don't like how it bodes for the wider narrative though, because we know this ends in her getting shafted FOR YEARS and unable to get an apprentice. But I liked the plot setup of her having resentment for Cloudtail because of this. I thought that would make a really good plot point for putting a wedge between them to work through. Like, stop being cowards, LEAN INTO Firestar making some very serious, insulting, short-sighted mistakes, and it interfering with Brightheart's ability to heal. Kill your darling.

There were some nice lines. I do remember Ashfur's lame "greedyclaw" insult, which was funny.

I enjoyed the cute moments between the cats in ThunderClan. Ferncloud chasing after her kids, Brightheart convincing people to help her investigate, the Willowkin being upset about their mom. It's a mess but there's some nice stuff in that mess, y'know?

Overall, my memory hasn't been kind to it. I think I was giving it a 6/10 when I first saw it, but it's dropped down to a low 5/10. Not (very) offensive but too messy and pointless to revisit.

[alectricblue]

London was incredible

I was right in thinking England was made for me omg

I'll put everything about my trip (plus more photos) under the cut bc this is gonna be Long:

- First of all: I CAN SEE. Everything is constantly bathed in a dim light so I can open my eyes fully in photos during the day even if the sky is clear. I've never been able to do that!!! The moment I landed back in Spain I had to really shield my eyes from the sun bc of how bright it was, just squinting was useless 😂

- And the weather was perfect 👌. I love it a bit gloomy and miserable and it stays the same weather the whole day, unlike my home town which can have every kind of weather in a day. It did not rain ONCE the whole time I was there, the most it did was like two drops then stopped. But I wouldn't have minded it if it had rained

London isn't as cold as I expected, which was great, it was the same weather as my home town, except a couple degrees colder and bit more humid. The outskirts where colder, but I liked that too

- I don't have to talk to ANYONE there. Everyone minds their own business and almost everything is automated so I can go anywhere and do anything with only a few words at most. I talked in English more with my cousin's dog (he only understands commands in English and I luckily got obsessed w Victoria Stillwell's videos a couple years ago) than any person I had to talk to 😂

- British people are hilarious. I don't understand when people say they're serious and unpleasant or w/e they say. I've only found nice, charming and funny people. Maybe I'm biased bc I love their culture and their humor, but still, seems unfair

- Every big museum is free :D. I only had time to go to the National Gallery and it was so huge and overwhelming that I had to get out early lmao, but it was gorgeous. Now I've seen an actual museum! I say this one bc a British family behind me on the queue complained that in Madrid museums aren't free - I had no idea, and I agree, all museums should be free

- You don't need to have a car!! (At least in most of London). You can go anywhere you want with just a credit card and the Citymapper app. Sure, I spent a fuckload of money going everywhere and buying things (/hyperbole), but I was ready for that

- And oh the expensive suits shops 😍😍🤩 I want to buy everything (I could never, I can't spend £400 on a suit or a coat or a jumper, but I can dream)

- The houses, parks and streets are beautiful 😭. Just my kind of aesthetic. And you can find them everywhere, from the center of London to the outskirts. And most of the plants there are my fave shade of green (dark blue-ish green). I've never seen grass so green 🥹

- My red hair color looks fantastic against the gray sky lmfao. And bc of the high humidity my hair stays wavy and my skin doesn't itch or break ☺️

- Now, British food I can't say much about. I've only tried fish (haddock) and chips and a beef pie at a pub. And a cinnamon roll at another place (not sure if that one is British tho). Everything I tried was delicious and would gladly repeat. That's all I can say for now

- I love the tube. It feels like riding a poorly constructed rollercoaster that needs oil and sounds like it's gonna derail any second. And you REALLY need to hang on. It's so so fun (/not being sarcastic). And it's SO convenient, I used it way more than the bus, which was pretty good too

- There were crows, squirrels and foxes everywhere!!

- I can watch British telly :D. I watched the last episode of Junior Taskmaster and the whole last series of Would I Lie To You on my cousin's smart TV :D

And then I could visit the places I've only seen on TV!!!

- - -

I was there for four days, which made it essentially two days, so I had to make the most of it. My legs are dead now lmfao, but I went to SO many places 🤩 I might be short but I'm gay so I can powerwalk everywhere

My fave places were: 1. the Big Ben, bc it was the first famous place I went to and it's the one that shocked me the most bc, omg, I AM here, I AM in England, Oh my god. And 2. St James park. Sooo beautiful, I had no idea it was a nature reserve for ancient trees and many animal species

But I also went to places younger me would have been ecstatic to go to (and current me lmao)

I went to 221B Baker Street and Scotland Yard. Picadilly and the Gherkin

Ate lunch while sitting on one of the benches at St James park and passed Berkeley Square, the Ritz and Soho

Went to St Paul's Cathedral, where the old woman in Mary Poppins feeds the pigeons

AND WENT TO THE TASKMASTER HOUSE. I only saw the roof... BUT I SAW IT. Now when I watch Taskmaster I can say that I've been there!! :D

It was sooo much fun hunting every place down and I took LOADS of photos

First time on a plane/flying check✅️

First time travelling alone check✅️

First time on the tube and on a double decker bus check✅️

First time on a pub check✅️

First time in London/England check✅️

I can't wait to go back. I would love to live there. Well, maybe not in the center center of London, but in England in general. Such a beautiful place, I knew I would love it

I finally fulfilled my childhood/teenage dream of going to England 🥹😭

Now onto the next adventure 😄

[jellybeanium124]

could you explain to me how gofundme's fundraiser organizing works?

no.

but I can go to their website and check their list of supported countries:

I can also look at their withdrawal requirements by country, which generally include an address in the country, a bank account in the country, one or more forms of ID (sometimes required to be issued by the country, but not always), and a phone number from the country. where and how gazans stuck in gaza are getting these things I do not know.

I am not an expert on gofundme and you sending me this question shows that you are baiting me into poorly explaining gofundme to you so you can prove that I'm an idiot who knows nothing. well guess what buddy! I'm an idiot who knows nothing! I don't know how this works, I just know how to find websites and read the words in front of me and put them together to form meaning! I have actually asked if there is some known way to fool gofundme into thinking you are somewhere you're not. because I don't know if there's a way to do that. maybe there are ways for random gazans to fake all these documents and requirements cheaply, because if they had money they wouldn't be ebegging. I don't know! I do not know! I initially called them all bots and was corrected and told it's more likely a coerced scam ring being run by humans.

so please, explain to me why now, all of a sudden, 10 months into this war, there are suddenly all these accounts flooding our asks boxes. please explain why it didn't happen sooner. please explain to me how a person in gaza can fake the requirements and get gofundme to send them money in gaza while thinking they're in canada. I would love to hear it (hey, if you're gonna ask me questions I'm not qualified to answer, I'm gonna ask that from you back). no but seriously I would love to hear it. I'm dead fucking serious 0 sarcasm please explain to me how it is possible if you know.

I'm not saying there are no real gazans ebegging on tumblr. but you don't find this sudden wave of new accounts suspicious in the least? you don't think it is identical to every other wave of scammers that have ever happened? you don't find their identical asks sus? you don't get the vibe that these are scammers sent by tumblr-savvy people who know y'all see the word "palestine" and suddenly all logic is out the window and y'all're frothing at the mouth to send thousands of dollars to accounts with a single ebegging post???

[chocoplagg]

My thoughts on the Miraculous Seasons!

Yeah, I'll be talking about the Miraculous seasons, including it's specials and movie.

Maybe I'll do another post talking about my thoughts on the sixth season of the series. With the things we have.

Season 1

It's decent. It has it's good episodes (Stormy Weather, The Evillustrator, Bubbler, etc), and bad episodes (Pharaoh, Origins [specially the second part], Kung Food, etc).

The animation it's pretty good, and the characters are good too.

Season 2

The best season indeed!

Here we have the best episodes (The redemption arc of Chloe, Gorizilla, Sandboy and The Heroes' Day).

The characters have been really good, the plot was amazing at this point, etc.

It's funny because Thomas wasn't really involved in this season, Jeremy Zag was.

Season 3

And here the quality started to decrease.

The plot was trying to be more dramatic and serious (like Amphibia did later), but it was like "this show is family friendly, now it's really dramatic!".

The episodes have been mediocre (Oblivio or Feast), bad (Desperada or Bakerix), or garbage (Animaestro, Chat Blanc, Ladybug and the finale).

And of course, the characters have been really bad, especially Marinette and Fu.

Season 4

This season was amazing... I'm lying, in fact, it's really bad.

There was only three good episodes (Mega Leech, Guiltrip and Crocoduel), the rest were going to be bad, to cringey (Wishmaker), to... Qlin (one of the WORST episodes of the entire animation).

And the characters have been really annoying, like Adrien with his stupid "I feel alone" drama with Ladybug and the heroes. It's really stupid and useless.

And don't make me talk about Zoe Lee. I'm just saying that Aurore Beaureal is a character. She would have been more useful with the Bee Miraculous.

Btw, even the animation was horrible here (watch Simpleman, the most unbeta episode, and you'll understand my point).

Season 5

...

What the fuck?!

-Me watching the season 5.

This is the WORST season of the series (and take my words, maybe season 6 is even worse). It's like the pretentious version of Sonichu, but without the creepy instances that wouldn't be family friendly.

This season was so bad, that only ONE episode was pretty decent (Perfection, and it's thanks to Kagami), the rest was really, REALLY terrible (Derision it's a fairly odd parents retcon but even worse, Revelation it's stupid, Collusion it's the worst political episode, Revolution it's the perfect example of Thomas being Chris Chan with Chloe, Representation it's a really bad pretentious fanfic, and the final episodes of the season have been an insult).

Even the animation was horrible here too. The colors have been disgustingly saturated, and didn't help the episodes.

And don't make me talk about its "dramatic" moments... I CAN'T EVEN REFER IT LIKE "DRAMATIC MOMENTS" BECAUSE IT'S AN INSULT.

Bonus: SPECIALS

Miraculous New York

It's garbage, it's only a longer chapter of the series but barely during an hour.

Only one character was good (Sparrow), and it was eliminated just because of the "feminist subplot"...

I'm really missing Chloe's subplot for this special...

And Ladybug was really annoying, of course.

Miraculous Shangai

The best special, but still is bad.

The only good thing about this thing is Fei and the worldbuilding of the special. But the rest was really bad.

And no Thomas, I'm not going to sympathize with Marinette, literally she stalked Adrien going to Shangai and following him with an app...

Miraculous Paris

Here's where I'm going to be dead...

I think this special is really overated, and for me it's really bad.

At least the animation was pretty decent, but that's the only thing I can say...

But the AU concept was really poor, and it's like "we need to be like the Spiderverse".

And the characters have been poorly executed, especially Gabriel, Adrien and Marinette from the "reverse" AU (I can't define it as a reverse AU when only three characters change to be opposites).

Link to the post in Spanish

[masterwords]

Okay but one of the team accidentally walking into the room while Derek is feeding Hotch ice chips while he's in hospital.

And they're cute

💕💕💕

I've been sitting on this one for a while and wrote up a few different ideas for how this adorable shit happens, but finally the other day it came to me. And now we have this...it's a hot mess, a chaotic image and the writing quality isn't nearly as good as the picture it paints. Apologies for that. (2.7k words / warnings: gunshot wounds, dog bites, hospitals, canon typical unsub stuff, some sex talk)

Starts out intense, ends soft and squishy. Thank you for sending this in and I'm sorry it takes me for-fucking-EVER to write anything these days. I'd say it's going to get better, be optimistic about all the time I might have someday soon but...I think this is just my new speed. &lt;3

He told Hotch to stop, to stay behind and wait for back-up and the medics. They couldn’t be that far out by now. He told him that he and Reid could do this part on their own. That it didn’t take three Agents to run down a pudgy middle aged man in the woods.

But Hotch was coursing with adrenaline and pain, running on the fumes of anger at being shot, and telling him to stay behind was like talking to a brick wall. A brick wall with anger management problems and he wasn’t about to argue too hard – he was bleeding too. He didn’t exactly have the logical high ground.

He keeps Hotch in his sights the best he can. They’re running like a pack of wolves, Hotch dead center, Reid flanking to the right and Derek to the left. The terrain is rough but not too dangerous except where they have to cross a ravine with a rocky bed. That’s where Reid and Morgan gain the advantage, they cross at narrow shallow places while Hotch and the unsub plod through knee deep ice water. On the periphery Derek watches Hotch slip on some rocks halfway through and the look of pain that flashes over his features says he probably wrenched his ankle on a rock but he keeps going, doesn’t skip a beat. If he can run with a bullet hole in his side, a twisted ankle isn’t about to stop him. Derek slows a little to let the unsub choose his path when he reaches the shore and he watches Hotch close on his heels. He's still a little dangerous, he's got a loaded weapon and he's got a girl they need to find. They could just shoot him but they might never find the victim that way. Hotch is calling the shots and he wants a clean take down, no weapons unless necessary. Even though he's already taken a hit, he still says clean. By the book. They're not taking any chances.

A warmth spreads in his groin, poorly timed reaction to his boyfriend being made of steel. Being so fucking intense that it's hard in the field not to find himself turned on by Hotch’s resolve and his refusal to give up. His eyes flick back to the unsub, Tim Connor, and though the throbbing in his injured leg is gaining in strength the further he goes, he speeds up his pursuit.

It’s not that he thinks Hotch is hot because he’s bleeding out or anything, and god if he had to explain this to his therapist she might really have some words for him about what this job has done to him...but something about the way Hotch is running full speed through the damn woods with a bullet in his side is a distraction that Derek can’t afford to indulge. It’s just that...Hotch is hurt and he can't seem to think about anything else with any clarity. For all intents and purposes he is running and dying at the same time, and the latter will catch up to him eventually if they don’t get him help, but right now he is running and showing no signs of stopping. He’s so damn strong, his features set grim and serious. Derek knows it must hurt, he’s been shot before. But Hotch won’t stop until they get their guy or he dies trying and there is something very sexy about that. Something in the way he refuses to give up, to lay down, to even mention that he needs a break. His strength is a beacon and Derek runs toward it. And being turned on by it is a hell of a lot less distracting than being worried about it, which is the only other place to take this mess of feelings.

They've had this talk before. Hotch isn't immune to it, either. Watching Derek kick in a door or run down an unsub has an effect on him...he's only human. Hazard of the job maybe. If he wasn't in incredible pain, he'd probably be thinking the same thing right now watching Derek run down Connor like a lion.

But the wound in Hotch’s side burns, the pain is unrelenting as he runs through the thick underbrush. He’s running and gritting his teeth against the constant barrage of pain. His feet are wet, pants soaked up to the knees with freezing water, but the blood that sticks his shirt to his side is warm.

They’re all gaining on Connor as the man loses steam. He’s not built for this kind of running and his only hope is that the knows these woods better than the three of them and he reaches whatever he’s running for before they reach him. If he manages that, they’re screwed. One of them is bound to reach him in time, before he gets there, before Hotch collapses from blood loss. He’s sure of it.

Derek watches the way Hotch runs, his long strides not deterred in the least by the deep red that blossoms and spreads over the expanse of his suit. He’s going to bitch about that later, this is his favorite suit. Now it’s got holes ripped through it and that stain isn’t ever coming out.

They hadn’t been wearing their vests – this guy was a witness, that’s what they thought. What they were told. Just going to talk to a witness, but then that witness had a dog that ripped into Derek’s shin while its owner tore a hole through Hotch’s abdomen right beneath his ribs with a .38 special. He was a bad shot and Hotch was quick, it didn’t seem like he hit anything major it just hurt like a bitch and bled twice as bad. In and out, Derek watched the bullet smash into a tree not far behind Hotch. At least there was that, he wasn’t running around with molten metal inside of him. Still, it burned. That was the worst part, the hot metal searing through the flesh and the flames that erupted in all of the nearby nerve endings. It was embers embedded in his flesh, smoldering just below his ribs.

It was Reid got there first. He was faster, operating with no injuries will do that for a body. His stride was as long as Hotch’s at least but Hotch had already started to slow some though he didn’t look like he’d realized it yet. Reid saw that he was close enough to take a chance and he slammed into the guy head down shoulder first like a football player, knocking the earth right from beneath his feet. Connor went flying and the force of the impact smashed both he and Reid into the ground. The scuffle that ensued was the part Reid had been concerned about – he wasn’t strong enough to overpower the other man, he just had the element of surprise on his side when he took him down.

“Nice tackle, kid!” Derek shouts, turning on the last reserves of his speed to sprint and help Reid get the guy in cuffs. Connor was realizing quickly that he could overpower Reid easily and was halfway to doing it when Derek finally got there.

Connor was about to understand that while Reid may have lacked some in strength, Derek did not. And when he drops his knee into the small of Connor’s back and wrenches his arms behind him, the guy gives up the fight. Which is smart, because Derek is pissed. His leg aches where the dog had made a chew toy out of him. It made him angry more than it hurt, though, and the way he ground his knee into Connor’s spine made that loud and clear. He’s mad about the dog, and he’s mad about the hole this guy put in his boyfriend. “You really put that shoulder to him. Wish you’d hit him a little harder though, asshole’s still breathin’.”

“Thanks,” Reid gasps with a smile, disarming the unsub while Derek tightens the cuffs. He tosses the gun and knife to the side and watches as Hotch collects them, one hand to grab both of them while the other grips the gaping hole in his chest. Blood pools between his fingers and he barely seems to notice. “You okay Hotch?”

“I’ve been better,” he replies with a heavy sigh. Breathing is taking a little more effort than it should after a run like that. “I’ll make it.” His hands are shaking uncontrollably and his knees are jelly but he plays it off well, stalking toward Derek to take a peek at his leg. “We’ve got to get you to the hospital. That’s an infection waiting to happen.”

“Hope that leg falls off!” Connor spits and Hotch looks away while Derek gives him a heavy kick to the ribs.

“Seems fine to me,” he mumbles and laughs, but it sounds weak to Hotch’s ears. Far away.

“You should sit down,” Hotch says as his vision narrows to a pinprick and he squints as if that’ll help him hear better what Derek says next.

“Yeah. Right. Says the guy with a hole in his damn side.”

Hotch wakes up in a hospital bed in a shared room with an old man who groans and complains of stomach pain attended to by a woman with deep wrinkles and a stern frown. She pulls the privacy curtain around them when she sees Hotch wake, like he’s going to be entertained somehow by their misery. He isn’t interested in the least. He’s a lot more concerned that he doesn’t remember getting to the hospital, and he’s alone. That part is actually okay once the shock of it wears off. He prefers it that way, the team just usually doesn’t. He’s shirtless, his torso exposed though there isn’t much skin that isn’t covered in bandages. His skin feels hot and tight around the wound and a small speck of red sits atop the fresh white gauze. Blood on snow, he thinks. It reminds him of winters in the forest hunting rabbits with his grandfather.

He hears the click of crutches coming closer before he sees Derek enter, his leg bandaged from the knee down. He’d been on the phone with Jessica, letting her know they’d be home late and giving her the low down. It was Jess that insisted he take the ice that’s rattling and clicking in the cup he grips with his teeth so he can operate the damn crutches. As soon as Derek told her what happened she jumped down the WebMD rabbit hole, a part of her personality that grated on Derek’s last nerve. He rarely said anything, it was how she stayed connected while they were out here risking their lives. She couldn’t stop that but she could help put them back together. So while they stitched up the last of his dog bite and bandaged his leg, he listened to her rattle off every bullet point WebMD had about blood loss. She said she’d save the statistics about infection and dog bites for when he got home, but he assured her that Reid would take care of it for her on the plane.

“It says he needs to drink extra water,” she said with an air of superiority Derek doesn’t care for. He’s usually able to smile and nod but the truth was, he was exhausted and in pain and concerned about getting Hotch home. In the field it’s easy enough to ignore this type of thing, when the case is on the line, but now that it’s done they’re just left with recovery and that part gets tricky.

“Reid says they’ve got him on an IV drip,” he points out. “I’m sure that’s for hydration.”

“So he can’t drink water too?”

He assured her that it was taken care of, but she wasn’t placated by that. She kept on nagging until he insisted they were done bandaging him up and he was going to go see Hotch. “We’ll be home soon. Don’t wait up, okay? We’re fine.”

“Give him water.”

“Jess,” Derek groaned with a huff. “I’m gonna show you exactly where you can shove that…” but she hung up before he could finish the sentence. It’s still boiling his blood when he enters the room Hotch is holed up in, the privacy curtain pulled around him now too. When Reid was in there, the room was wide open. Things change quickly and he’s thankful for the small bit of privacy that turquoise curtain would give them.

“You’re awake,” he mumbles, the plastic cup in his teeth shaking and rattling the contents while he tries to talk around it. Ice, a whole cup of ice. He knows Hotch well enough to know he’ll prefer that to water anyway, he probably hasn’t eaten much of anything and if that water hits his empty stomach it’ll make him feel sick. Sicker than he probably already does. “Thought you might be thirsty when you finally decided nap time was over.”

“How long was I out?”

“You passed out in the ambulance and then they sedated you so they could do their business. You got a lot of stitches, you definitely win this time.”

“How long?” he asks again, a little irritated. Derek never answers the part of the question he wants the first time. It’s a small thing but right now it’s grating.

“Three hours, give or take. Connor is booked in, he squealed like a pig once he was chained in the interrogation room. Soon as you’re all fixed up we’re blowin’ this popsicle stand.”

He tosses his crutches to the side and limps toward the empty chair beside Hotch’s bed. “Stop looking at me like that. I don’t need those damn things. They told me I shouldn’t put weight on it or I’ll bust some of the stitches but I’m not hobbling around on them. It’s bullshit. You thirsty?”

Hotch nods and tries to shift in the bed but he’s tangled in the IV tubes and sheets so he doesn’t get far. The movement sends a wave of pain crashing through his rib cage and makes him nauseous. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead into his hand, willing it to pass. Derek just sits and watches, he knows better than to make any sudden moves or to try and touch him when he’s like this.

“Ice,” Derek says after a minute, after Hotch’s features soften and his muscles unfurl. Hotch opens his mouth expectantly and smiles at the feel of the ice on his lip, the way it slides over his warm parched tongue. “More?”

Hotch nods and lets Derek feed him more. He’s got a spoon, a little plastic thing dwarfed by his hands, and he uses it to fish little bits of shaved ice out of the cup and set it against Hotch’s lower lip. Between each bite, Derek kisses him, little pecks and he tastes the icy residue happily. He’s thirsty too. In more ways than one. “You’re gorgeous,” he says, giving him more ice. “Hair all messy, smellin’ like sweat and cedar, sleepy eyes…you look just like when we went on vacation.”

“Atlantic City?” Hotch asks, greedily accepting more ice. He’s parched. He thinks he could probably guzzle a gallon of water and still feel thirsty.

“Yeah. Napping in that hotel room overlooking the ocean, waking up in the middle of the afternoon not knowing what day or time it is…”

“We should go back. When I have less holes in me.”

“You got it, baby.” They’re due more than a little time off and he knows it. He’ll make it happen.

“How’s your leg?” Hotch asks around a chunk of ice that crunches between his teeth. Derek shrugs.

“It’s okay. It’s not gonna fall off, I’m sure Connor will be disappointed in that.”

Derek digs around for more ice, lost in the repetition of feeding him and kissing him. It’s as good a way to pass the time as anything.

“Ohhhhhh…” Penelope gushes, startling them both. Derek had forgotten that the team said they were going to meet them there, that they’d head right to the airport once Hotch was discharged. Derek turns around to see all of them crowding doorway, peeking around the edge of the curtain. Penelope, JJ, Spencer, Rossi, Blake...they’re all there and they’re all looking at them like they’re watching adorable cat videos on YouTube, not two grown men full of antibiotics, morphine and stitches. It’s more than a little embarrassing. “You guysssssssssssssssssssss.”

“Woman,” Derek warns but Hotch shakes his head and squeezes Derek’s hand, dragging his attention back to where it belongs. He’s the one that got shot, after all. They can all wait their turn.

“Ice?” he asks pitifully and Derek complies. Hotch doesn’t seem to care that the team are watching him. Getting shot softens his edges a little. Derek pokes around in the cup, digs out a spoonful of ice and sets it on Hotch’s tongue before giving him the obligatory kiss and they do their best to ignore all the “awwwwws” that rise to a symphony in the doorway.

Derek, without turning to look, reaches behind him and pulls the curtain closed the rest of the way to block their view. The rest of the show is private.

[azuresins]

I promise this is going somewhere. The Live Action Movie was generally poorly received and we all know this. However, it did in fact foreshadow and pay homage to events in the manga, even before certain events were revealed in-manga. There were character-equivalents within the movie and similar events. The best example I can give I think, was that the movie came out and in it we find out that Shiori was actually not the rightful heir and was crossdressing and posing as her dead brother. This movie came out 2014... YEARS before the in-manga twin reveal. But it still gave us a huge hint that the manga was doing something similar, so I wonder if anything else was paralleled? This movie concludes with Shiori poisoned and having to choose between continuing to pursue revenge and saving her own life or saving the life of the Lizzie-equivalent (and tons of innocent people) by stopping a bomb from going off. They're very torn, and Sebastian coldly tells her in his own words that if she chooses to stop the bomb... that's a breach of contract, and he absolutely will not help her survive, she will die, and she wont get what she wants. She chooses Lizzie and the people. She stops the bomb. ...Sebastian still helps her survive. Both of them are big gigantic frosted flakes. Sebastian's excuse is 'I dont want an uncooked soul!!!!!!' or some bullshit and acts like her comparing him to a fallen angel didn't make him go soft. There's a WIDE open-ending to this movie and it ends with it being anyone's guess what may happen next and if she gets revenge or not. Roll credits. My question is (and please don't think I'm being anti-irish or weird) do you think the manga might also have a similar route in the climax, that a bomb may be involved, but the bomb-in-question could be IRA related? Since. You know... that's kind of what they were infamous for. Bombs, and bomb threats. Do you think Our!Ciel would face some terrible decision like that... and do you think unlike his ancestor he'd actually do something different? What if we get an OPEN ending?

Well... I think anything is possible right now regarding the climax and the ending to this manga, Yana herself said she's not sure how it'll end the last time anyone asked, and no one can say for sure, how it's going to end or what events will make up the climax or anything like that... The movie did have a lot of character-equivalents and manga-parallels within it, as you said, but it was also a stand-alone piece and there was... a lot of odd things happening within it as well. That being said, it would be really, really, really easy for a bomb to be involved, narratively. It wouldn't be the first time weapons, even 'human weapons', and serious mentions of upcoming war were being discussed in the story. Finny. Sieglinde. The bizarre dolls. Much more. If this story is going...where I think, it's going, if the Fenian Brotherhood is in any way shape or form going to be involved in the end for better or for worse when it comes to our!Ciel, even... second-hand, maybe he is only involved because his father was involved... it's not outside the realm of possibilities something happening with similar components might also happen in the manga. However as 'safe' as it is, I don't think an open-ending, would be a good idea. Simply because those are rarely satisfying and the funny thing about this series, is that in a way, Yana has gotten a 'taste' of what other endings look like and has gotten a fan response to them... Some people enjoyed the SI ending where Sebastian wins. Some people enjoyed the SII ending where Ciel wins. The movie wasn't "really" involving our!Ciel (they did every single thing they could to make sure the audience knew AcTuAlLy ThIs IsNt 'our CiEl' tHiS iS sOmEoNe SO sososososos orIginal and NEW) but the point is, I didn't see many people saying "I loved this movie!" or "I thought the ending of this movie was so satisfying!" where they... both didn't get what they wanted but still lived to chase it some more and fight another day. ...It felt lukewarm. Like. Cool, what was the point of all that, actually? It felt like the ending to the movie was written because, specifically, no one knows how it will actually end. I think it would be fun if we got an ending where BOTH Sebastian AND our!Ciel tragically and wickedly got what they wanted but for the worse... both somehow lost, to each of their own doom. No do-overs, no second-chances. Simply because that's the only kind of ending we haven't seen, yet. Revenge, but it's not satisfying. Eating the soul, but it's miserable. I think it would be beautiful if there were a few innocents and people who still benefitted from Sebastian and our!Ciel's meeting, and got to live out the rest of their lives peacefully for having met them... But as far as the two main characters go, I think it would be absurdly funny if they both somehow lost. Also because, I don't know what such an ending would look like. But that doesn't mean that's necessarily what's going to happen. The only one who can decide that is Yana and whatever ending she chooses is one I'll respect.