#like how do you leave that behind without losing everything you are?

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

An (Almost) Unheard Confession

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: soft fluff

requested: yes

el's thoughts: i hope yall like it!! requests are open, so if you have any, feel free to send 'em my way!

bucky masterlist

Bucky and Y/N’s friendship had been forged in the middle of chaos. She had joined the Avengers a couple of years ago—sharp, capable, with a heart too big for her own good. Unlike most people, she had never looked at him with fear or hesitation, never treated him like a walking weapon.

At first, Bucky had kept his distance. He was used to being on the outskirts, keeping people at arm’s length. But Y/N didn’t let that happen. She had a way of worming into people’s lives, into their hearts, without even trying.

She checked in on him without making a big deal about it—making sure he ate after long missions, dragging him into movie nights with the team, and bringing him coffee exactly the way he liked it. She talked to him like he was just Bucky, not the Winter Soldier, not Steve Rogers’ best friend from the 40s—just Bucky.

And somehow, without realizing it, she had become his best friend.

She was the one who could make him chuckle even on the worst days, the one he trusted with the pieces of himself he still didn’t fully understand. She was the one who saw him—not who he used to be, not who the world thought he was, but who he was actively trying to become.

And somewhere along the way, he had fallen for her.

He had tried to push it down, bury it deep where it couldn’t ruin everything. She deserved better than him. Deserved someone who didn’t come with blood on his hands and ghosts in his head. So he stayed silent, stayed in his place as her friend, even when it hurt more than he’d ever admit.

Because having her in his life—no matter what—was worth everything.

~

The compound was quiet. The kind of quiet that settled in after a mission, when exhaustion weighed too heavy on everyone’s bones to do anything but rest.

Bucky sat on the couch, head tipped back against the cushions, muscles aching from the fight earlier. He should get up, take a shower, maybe even crash in his own bed for once. But Y/N had dozed off beside him, legs tucked under her in a way that was bound to cause her slight pain when she woke up, curled up under a blanket, and he hadn’t moved since.

She looked peaceful, her face relaxed in sleep, her breathing steady with her lips parted. A strand of hair had fallen across her cheek, and Bucky had to resist the urge to brush it back. He clenched his metal hand into a fist instead.

He should leave. Should get up before he did something stupid—like say something he couldn’t take back.

But the weight of his feelings pressed against his ribs, suffocating in the silence.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. “Maybe it was always there. I just refused to let myself see it.”

Y/N didn’t stir. Bucky exhaled, he rested his head on the back of the couch and tilted it so his eyes lingered on her peaceful form.

“You take care of everyone, you know that? Always checking in, always making sure I’m eating, sleeping, not losing myself in my own head.” He huffed a whisper of a laugh. “You probably don’t even realize how much you really mean to me.”

His fingers curled against his thigh. He’d faced enemies, and fought battles most people couldn’t even imagine, but this—this was terrifying.

“I care about you, Y/N. More than I should. More than I know how to handle.” His voice was barely above a whisper now. He finally brought his hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, his cold metal finger dragging across her soft, warm cheek. “But I don’t wanna mess this up. I’d rather have you as my friend than risk losing you completely. But I’ve fallen for you, Y/N. I’m–what did Parker call me?” he muttered to himself. “Down bad. I’m down bad, Y/N. I love you.”

He swallowed, his chest tightening.

“Guess it’s easier to say this when you’re asleep, huh?”

Silence.

Bucky let out a slow breath, shaking his head at himself. He should really get up, and put some space between them before—

“Bucky…”

His entire body went rigid.

Y/N’s voice was groggy, quiet, but there was something else in it too—something careful, something knowing. She lazily reached out and laced their fingers together, the metal bringing her comfort against her hand. She moved closer and softly laid her head on his shoulder.

“I love you too.”

His heart slammed against his ribs.

She had heard everything.

Bucky froze, barely breathing, as Y/N's words settled into his chest.

She loved him too.

For a moment, all he could do was stare down at their intertwined fingers, at the way she had instinctively sought out his touch like it was the most natural thing in the world. He had spent so long convincing himself that his feelings were one-sided, that loving her was something he had to keep buried. But here she was, curling closer, her heartbeat steady against his arm, as if loving him had never been a question.

A shaky breath left his lips.

“You—” He swallowed, shaking his head with a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “You heard all of that?”

Y/N hummed against his shoulder, her voice laced with exhaustion but warm with amusement. “Mhm. Every word.”

Bucky groaned, tipping his head back against the couch. “Great. So you heard me say I was ‘down bad’ too.”

She chuckled, squeezing his fingers. “Oh, definitely. That was my favorite part.”

He glanced down at her, and for the first time in a long, long time, he didn’t feel like running from what he wanted. She was right here, looking up at him with tired, fond eyes, no hesitation, no second-guessing.

Bucky let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I really love you, Y/N.”

Her smile softened, and she shifted, pressing a gentle kiss against his shoulder. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I really love you too.”

He exhaled and the tension in his chest unraveled, replaced with something lighter, something hopeful. Slowly, carefully, he lifted their joined hands and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of hers, letting himself savor the warmth of her skin against his lips as he closed his eyes in contentment.

Y/N sighed blissfully, her grip on him tightening as she settled against him once more. “Can we talk more about this in the morning? ‘Cause I really just wanna fall asleep right here.”

Bucky chuckled, wrapping an arm around her, holding her close. “Yeah, doll. We can talk in the morning.”

And for the first time in years, tomorrow didn’t seem so scary—it felt like the start of something good.

[edward-munson]

don't you give up (i won't give up) | E.M

Summary: Eddie is hanging between life and death during the events in the Upside Down | Modern Hawkins

Pairing: Eddie Munson x f!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, injuries. Smut (p in v) 18+ MDNI, fingering, aftercare. (I thought about the title inspired by "Let Me Love You" by Justin Bieber. I know it's completely random, but trust the process)

°♡•☆

The first few seconds of what just happened before your eyes will forever haunt you. There's something too inexplicable about everything you've been going through the past weeks. While Steve, Nancy and Robin went after Vecna, you stayed behind with Dustin and Eddie.

The latter was thrown on the floor, blood coming out of him nonstop as the demobats fed off his flesh. You could only let out a whisper of horror before you rushed to him, kneeling beside his limp body. He was still breathing, but the amount of red fluid leaving his mouth was shocking. He was almost gargling on it. Your first instinct was to rip off your shirt and start to cover his wounds, carefully moving his head to the side so he wouldn't choke.

I used to believe

We were burnin' on the edge of somethin' beautiful

Somethin' beautiful

Dustin came right next, his voice screaming painfully loud as he seemed petrified at the sight. You don't remember how you were able to speak, but you told him you needed to leave with Eddie right at that moment. He was wheezing, his skin becoming rigid and he was probably beginning to feel shock.

"What the f-fuck is happening? What is happening?" His tone was desperate and aggravating as the minutes went by.

It didn't dawn on you how long you would have to run until you got to the gate in his trailer. And you wouldn't be able to hold him while riding the bike. The longer it took you, the more terrified you felt. The more he was starting to feel his body become unbearable. Dustin had a sprained ankle, he was doing his best to run after you while holding his friend for dear life.

Sellin' a dream

Smoke and mirrors keep us waitin' on a miracle

On a miracle

When you finally made it to the trailer, Jonathan and Hopper were waiting for you to pick him up, as you tied him to the sheet that separated both worlds. They pulled him first, the chief rushing to get him to the hospital, while Jonathan helped you and Dustin next. He drove you afterwards, a dreadful sensation of what could happen to him. The realization that it wouldn't have been enough to save him.

He stayed in the ICU for days, tied to machines and barely breathing from swallowing blood. His lungs were filled with liquid because of that, his wounds ended up being infected.

There wasn't a day that wouldn't go missing without you or your friends visiting him and Max. His Hellfire friends, especially the younger ones, would read comics to him every day. Eleven tried to do telepathy, willing to make sure how he was healing. It was slow, barely any improvement. But no one would lose faith that he would get better, just like Max.

Say, go through the darkest of days

Heaven's a heartbreak away

Never let you go, never let me down

It felt like ages, but it took him nearly two months to recover slightly, until he woke up. You weren't there when it happened, Robin and Steve were there and they both made an entire show about it in the hall. He was still alive, but still hanging on. His skin was paler, his features were skinnier, hollowed cheeks were too evident on his face.

His hair was clearly in need of a good care, and his voice was hoarse from the lack of speaking. There was still a lot to recover, and each time he would have someone visit him, he would never get bored. You were all doing different things with him, making sure he would distract himself from the memories of what had happened.

Whenever you would get in, his face would light up. Brown eyes glinting with joy of seeing you. Eddie would always freeze when asked about how he felt or what he remembers from that day. His mind goes spiraling at the thought of it. He doesn't remember the last few minutes.

He remembers the bats ripping his skin off, the sound of flesh being pulled out of him, too shocked to even react. At times, he swears he can still feel the sensation. He needs to take sleeping pills, otherwise he would never sleep. And even if he does, his brain draws out the event repeatedly.

Oh, it's been a hell of a ride

Driving the edge of a knife

Never let you go, never let me down

Eddie needs to do therapy twice a week. It doesn't get easier with time, it gets more bearable. It gnaws him to the point of him wishing he could shut his mind off from everything. El can't do much for him when he asks for help, she can only see the trauma, the stress and the pain from all of it. You walk through it all with him.

You make him let it all out, you give him comforting words and a reassuring smile that things can get better. A deep sigh always escapes his lips when he's with you. He felt that before everything happened, but when shit went down, he didn't have time to work it out. He almost forgot.

Your feather light touch makes his skin numb, in a good way. The touch almost burns the spot. When you hold his hand, he yearns from the thought of interlacing his fingers with yours. He hates to see himself that skinny, thinking he looks too hideous. You're not focusing on it, not in the slightest. He misses you when you kiss his forehead goodbye, tugging at his bangs when you fix them. He would ask you to stay the night and make him company and you would never refuse it.

Don't you give up, nah, nah, nah

I won't give up, nah, nah, nah

Let me love you

Let me love you

You've seen him growing out of the fear, of the reluctance of being out in the world again. Months later, and he was feeling like himself again. He started working, giving himself a new life. Eddie didn't want to let everything that Vecna did to be a part of his memory.

°♡•☆

You're sitting across from him at the table as you play poker. He taught you how to play during the days he spent in the hospital. You see the way he cages his lower lip between his teeth, fingertips tapping against the cards in his hands. Everyone seems to be enjoying the sunny summer day at the pool at Steve's cabin. A year later, and you all decided to celebrate his rebirth, his life. Somewhere across Hawkins, the teens are celebrating Max as well.

You wait until his next move, but he takes longer than necessary to play. "Oh my God, will you stop fucking bluffing and just play?"

He feigned a gasp and lowered the cards from his face, enough to look at you through his sunglasses.

"Don't interrupt the master, baby. He's focused" You roll your eyes, using your instep to swat his knee under the table. "Ow! Is that really necessary?"

"I should be asking you the same, you moron."

Eddie doesn't take the mocking insult to heart, stalling on purpose this time just to see you become furious at him. Robin keeps delivering small pieces of barbecue to you two, as well as the drinks Nancy has been making to everyone.

He seems to ponder before placing his cards over the table. Three of a kind, which means he got 3 cards of the same value. You try to hold back a smirk, but he notices right away, slumping against his chair.

Don't fall asleep

At the wheel, we've got a million miles ahead of us

Miles ahead of us

"Fuck off. No way!" His voice is loud enough for your friends to suddenly gather around. They like to be the audience whenever you two play, only because they know how competitive he can be. "No, no, no. Nuh-uh"

His denial is almost too adorable. He knows he's about to lose when you playfully push your tongue between your teeth and grin. A shit eating grin.

"Well, well, pretty boy. See for yourself" You display your cards and you hear your friends exclaiming in surprise.

You got a full house. And Eddie isn't surprised. He can be smug all he wants, he knows when he's going to lose. He's a sore loser as well.

You bring your hand over your ear and move your head to the side, mocking him "Master of what now?"

"Shut up" He mumbles in complete denial.

"You're just bad at it, Munson. Just admit it" Jonathan pinches his cheek and shakes it, earning a slap on his forearm.

"Whatever. I'm going for a swim" Eddie straightens up from his chair, lifting his swim shorts as he fixes the straps.

You watch him pick up the cards and organize them into the small box. His lips are curled upwards, but his hair almost covers the way he's trying to smile. He likes to see you winning against him. He swears he doesn't cheat for you to win, he loves seeing you cheer whenever he loses. Truth to his friends' words, he's definitely a sore loser, but he doesn't mind you winning.

Eddie pulled some weight after he left the hospital. He was definitely more fit. Not muscly, but absolutely in shape, just like Steve. You can see his stomach fold just enough. His arms are thicker than before and he has a lot more to grab, even his thighs. He covered his scars with tattoos from things he likes. Your favorite one being the snake wrapped around a sword over his left side.

All that we need

Is a rude awakening to know we're good enough (yeah)

Know we're good enough

"Nice round, love. I'm glad I taught you well" Eddie gives you a sympathetic smile before sprinting to the pool, throwing himself at the water as it almost splashes at Vickie, who's sunbathing.

You watch from your seat as he laughs at the jokes Jonathan makes, at the way he's so unbothered to be shirtless after everything that happened. To his demeanor when he talks with Robin and Nancy. Steve pulls a lounge chair beside yours and sighs deeply, putting his sunglasses on as he runs his fingers through his damp hair.

"He seems pretty happy" He says, taking a swig from his beer and you nod in agreement. "Never thought I would see him smiling ever again after that."

The man next to you also carries scars along his body. His neck has a fading mark from when a demobat choked him, his sides also have bite marks from their teeth. He didn't hide like Eddie did, but he doesn't care they're there, it means he survived.

"It's like nothing ever happened, but I know he has nightmares sometimes. I like to see him this way, like he never lived it."

Steve knows. He knows more than anyone, even more so than Robin, that you carry feelings for his best friend. He’s always known, before things went to shit. And he’s also very aware that the metalhead likes you too. It’s been a few months ever since he gripped your hands and talked off his feelings, asking you to wait. He wanted to heal first, he wanted to feel better before anything could happen between you two, and you agreed to it. You gave him space, you respected his wish and showed him support. You were still waiting, still lingering on the thought of finally being with him. 

Say, go through the darkest of days

Heaven's a heartbreak away

Never let you go, never let me down

“God, birdie. Stop gawking at him, it’s gonna burn holes on his body and it’s not like he doesn’t have scars already” He nudges your elbow playfully and you flip him off, ruffling his hair. 

“Shut up, Harrington.” He’s still chuckling, looking at you with amusement. You frowned, but deep inside you knew you were staring too much at him. 

You’ve spent the entire day by the pool, almost getting sunburnt from how long you’ve all stayed out. You’ve had dinner at the table outside, relishing on the starry sky above you. The moon shined upon you, the pool water reflecting its beauty. You all smoked a joint after eating, sprawled out either on the lounge chair or on the grass around the place. You played Uno before most of your friends decided to go inside and get some rest, leaving just you and Eddie alone. 

He had his Spotify on the big speaker, a faint song by some band he likes playing while you two just enjoyed each other’s company. He was scrolling through his phone, snorting at something random every few minutes. You were just watching him. 

“You’re not being subtle, love. What is it?” He asked all of a sudden, lifting his eyes from his phone to look at you, and you just shrug. “No, don’t start with that thing with me.”

“What, I can’t look? Isn’t that the whole purpose of having eyes?” You play oblivious, resting your chin over your hands, your elbows bent above the table. 

Eddie chuckles at your response and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, smartass. You know what I mean.”

You get up from the lounge chair and walk towards the edge of the pool, sitting down, dropping your feet over the water. He stays behind on the table, watching you with curious eyes and a big question mark over his head. 

“It’s… I love seeing you. I love the idea of having you around, knowing you’re still alive.” You feel him sitting beside you, water almost knee deep. “I love the way you still joke around us and how you enjoy yourself.”

Oh, it's been a hell of a ride

Driving the edge of a knife

Never let you go, never let me down

He smiles. It’s not a sad one, but it’s also not a happy one either. It comes with some kind of pain from the memories of the past event. He ponders for a good minute and something snaps inside of him. The realization of what he’s been witnessing the past few months crashing down on him. Eddie had always seen the way you looked at him, the way you would always take care of him, he knows you’ve talked about feelings before, but he wasn’t sure you would still wait for him after all. And then, right there, sitting next to you, he decides to push aside any fear, and uses one of his hands to slide over your lap, reaching your fingers. He grips your hand, tight, and turns over to look at you. 

You do the same, and you watch the way his eyes sparkle with something you can’t decipher. And then, out of nowhere, he pulls you into the water with him, barely having time to react to his idea. His hand never left yours, even when you almost reach the bottom, trying to swat him away as you make your way to the surface.

You breathe out, heaving for the lack of air. He comes out of the water, breaking in laughter as his hair sticks to his face.

"You motherfuc–" He doesn't let you finish, spitting water towards you, cackling at the way you contort from annoyance. "Eddie! What was that for?"

He places both hands on your waist, still smiling at you with a devilish grin. "And I love the way you look at me. I love the way you've always cared for me, the way you always took care of me"

You soften at his touch and his words, feeling his fingertips against your skin. The led lights from the pool changed colors each second. You feel the hardness of the edge of the pool as he cages you. His hair is still sticking to his face, almost hiding his features, and you lift a hand to move the strands. He purses his lips, that are still curled upwards, taking in your soft touch on his skin. Your palm is spread over his jawline, thumb ghosting over his cheek.

Don't you give up, nah, nah, nah

I won't give up, nah, nah, nah

Let me love you

Let me love you

You watch him tilt his head, eyes frozen at you. "I love the way you look at me too" You almost whisper.

"I... I think I'm ready" He speaks up again, closing the distance between your bodies when his chest hovers over you. He brings one hand over your face as well, his fingertips grazing the nape of your hair.

"Are you sure?" You're feeling your heart rate pick up at the sight of him. Tattoos spread all over his body, small marks of scars peeking out of the ink that don't cover them all.

Eddie nods and bites his lower lip, leaving a deep sigh. He brings his forehead to rest against yours, and his mouth is merely inches from touching your mouth.

"God, I've wanted this for as long as I can remember. I just needed time" You can sense the nervousness coating his tone, but his hands are firm on you.

Your other hand holds his wrist for support "I'm so–"

He doesn't waste time letting you finish, finally closing the distance and crashing his lips against yours. Desperate fingers tangle your hair when he lashes out, his tongue touching your ferociously. He can still taste like weed, a faint taste of the wine he had as well, and you whimper against his mouth.

"God, don't do that" He pleads with his mouth still attached to yours. Your free hand goes up to his curls, raking your fingers over them. Your tongues clash against each other in a savoring kiss.

Eddie tries to stay focused on the moment, but he wants to drown in you. He wants to feel you entirely. He pulls your lower lip between his teeth and groans in urgency. You can feel his fingertips digging on your waist, his body almost leaning against you, almost buckling forward to feel you deeper.

You pull out to take a breath, filling your lungs with air as you try to soothe your own heart. "I want more, Eddie."

He's not surprised when you say it out loud. He'd been wanting this too. Especially with you. "Yeah, me too, baby."

He pulls you against him as he walks towards the steps in the pool, reaching for the shallow surface. He walks to the table and grabs the towel for both of you, messily drying himself so fast you bet he's still going to be wet. 

Since you were sharing the bedroom with Robin, you both go to Eddie's bedroom. He didn't want to share a room with Steve and you're glad he didn't. He closes the door behind him, eyes lingering at you, at the way you're eagerly waiting for it to happen as much as he does. He rushes a few steps towards you, cupping your face, moving his lips to yours once more. He kisses you like he needs air, like it's the last thing he wants to do. You feel the back of your knees hitting the foot of the bed, flopping down as you watch him with lust.

You look at his body, at the way his chest rises and falls, at how there's a tattoo peeking out of the hem of his swim shorts. He's quick to pick a condom from his drawer, leaving it to the side, immediately climbing on the bed. His body hovers over you, his hair cascading over his shoulders. He spread sweet, wet kisses along your neck, your collarbones and your chest, between your breasts and under them. He uses his hand to untie the straps of your bikini top, slowly pulling them off, fingertips ghosting against your skin as he starts to reveal your nipple.

The air that leaves his lips touches your sensitive spot and it makes you shiver. You let out a shocked gasp when he flattens his tongue over your hardened nipple, leaving a languish lick. Eddie circles your skin softly, using his free hand to slide over your stomach, reaching your bikini bottom. You don't want to overthink how the fuck he's such an expert at it, so you shut your brain down and focus on him. His fingers slip under the fabric, spreading your cunt, collecting your wetness.

"Oh God, Eddie" You mewled, feeling him humming against your breast. You know you're too far gone at this point and he just got started.

Don't you give up, nah, nah, nah

I won't give up, nah, nah, nah

Let me love you

Let me love you

He strokes your slit up and down, circling your clit almost lightly. It's staggering, it makes your head dizzy. Your eyes roll back to your skull when he sucks your nipple, hollowing his checks when he pulls pressure to it. His ring and middle finger slip inside of you smoothly, ripping a moan out of you. Eddie knows he's not going to last long, because it's been a long time ever since he had sex. And also because the sounds you make are like lullabies to him.

He pumps his fingers and curls them into you, making you roll your hips in reflex. He flicks his tongue over your nipple and it drives you to the edge of sanity. Your hand flies up to his hair, grabbing a fistful of his curls as you pull it back. He loves the way you have no idea how hard you're pulling his hair but he loves it. His fingers leave your cunt and you whine. The feeling of missing his touch is almost unbearable. He brings them to his mouth, sucking them off as he tastes you. It leaves you in awe at the sight of him almost falling apart for you.

Eddie slowly removes your bikini top, not ever leaving his eyes from yours. You clash your lips again, tongues almost interlacing together. He helps you remove the last piece of clothing you have before getting rid of his own shorts. His cock springs free, tip leaking with precum and length pulsing with anticipation. You take your time relishing at the sight, swallowing harshly. You want to gag on him, you want to choke on him. You reach to hold his shaft and he stops you.

"We'll have plenty of time, baby. I want you to have a good time" He rasps, lying on his back. He's waiting for you, holding your hand.

You just nod as you shoot him a smile, grabbing the condom from the nightstand. You crawl back, legs on each side of his outer thighs, a thundering feeling coursing through your veins until it reaches your stomach. You don't know how you don't feel shy or embarrassed of being completely naked for him, but he doesn't either. You hold his cock, stroking him gently a few times, swiping off the liquid from his tip down to his shaft. He buckles his hips upwards in response, cursing through his teeth.

You wrap him and, before you even sit on top of him, you take in his body. The way he lies pretty for you, the way his chest looks good from that angle. Your hands roam through his body, your fingertips slithering over his tattoos. You can see the way he hairs on his skin all stand up from your touch.

"You're so beautiful, Eddie. So gorgeous" You whisper to him, memorizing every inch of his body.

He's mesmerized, he watches you from that position and all he wants to do is spend his life like that. "You're too beautiful, love. You're a sight to sore eyes."

His grin grows wide when you shy away. One of your hands slips down his torso until it reaches his cock again. He throws his hair back and inhales painfully. You line yourself above him, guiding his tip through your folds, rubbing it against your clit. You bite your lower lip from the contact and his hands hold your waist for leverage. You slowly start sinking, your cunt enveloping his hardness entirely until he's deep into your walls.

Your jaw goes slack and you can't hold back the moan that leaves your lips. He can't keep his eyes open, mouth agape as well. "Fuck that's so good, baby." His voice drops an octave and his tone becomes husky, and you clench around him at the sound of it.

You start to move your hips back and forth, eyes trained at him all the time. Your palms are flat against his chest, while he digs his nails on your skin. One thing you've come to love about it, is the way he doesn't care he's being vocal. He praises you the entire time, he keeps his voice low so only you can hear it. Eddie brings you forward, your body leaning against his chest. He snakes both arms around you and holds your waist firmly. It brings you closer to him, it makes you feel different sensations.

He starts pounding on you, ripping off a gasp from you as you bury your face against his shoulder. It muffles your whining and your moaning. He pumps inside of you, the tip of his cock hitting your walls as you clench again. The more you do it, the more excited he gets.

"You're too fucking good, love. Taking me so well, God" He whispers over your ear, one of his hands coming up to grab a fistful of your hair as he pulls it hard just like you did.

You jolt your head back, barely keeping your eyes open, while looking at him through hazy eyes. Your crying fills the air along with the slapping sound of his hip against your ass. "Fuck, Eddie. Just like that."

"I want you to come for me, baby. Please, I'm gonna cum" He's desperate, almost panting. His fingers dig deeper into your skin as his cock is rock hard.

You start to roll your hips around him, your eyes meet the back of your head one more time. Eddie moans your name, heaving sweet nothings as he feels the coil about to snap inside of him. He drops his hands to squeeze your ass, thrusting upwards to meet you in the middle.

You're the first to feel the dizzying apex as your toes curl and your fingers squeeze his chest. Your pussy throbs around his cock, clenching as you feel your blood pressure rise. Your pulse is beating too fast, and you're mumbling incoherent words. Your hips stutter and you can't move as you cum around Eddie, who's about to sputter into his condom.

"Jesus– Fuc– Shit" He curses through the dazed orgasm. His cock twitches inside of you, jolting an electricity that crosses his veins. His eyes flutter shut, while he waits for his high to come down.

You smile at him, even though he doesn't see it. You're both a mess of panting and sweat, trapped into each other. You still ride him out of his orgasm and he jumps with the overstimulation.

"God, don't do that" Eddie whines when you freeze on your spot and giggle at him. "It hurts. Jesus, baby."

You can't get over the pet name. He calls you that 98% of the time and you love it.

You stay sat on him, feeling your body limp. He's becoming soft after a couple of minutes like that and you both hiss when you pull yourself up. He finds the towel to wrap it around his waist and disappears only for a few seconds before walking to the bed with a paper towel. The aftercare makes your heart flutter. It's even more sweet when he glances at you with a lopsided smile. His bangs are tousled and sticking to his forehead. He flops onto the bed close to you, handing you a shirt and your bikini bottom.

When you're finally dressed, he spoons you. His head leans on the crook of your neck and you can feel he's breathing evenly.

"You know" He speaks up, fingers slipping between yours "I knew I loved you when you said you wanted to help Wayne with the steps of the trailer. My old man thought you and I had something going on that day."

You grin widely at the memory. You were at his place just to pick up your phone charger, but Eddie was busy in the bathroom at the same time his uncle had to leave to run a few errands. You helped him walk down the steps because he had issues with them, just like the stairs. His hip problem prevented him from doing simple things like that.

"And then when you wanted to watch us play D&D. After we started spending more time together, I noticed how nervous I would get around you. And one day Steve told me about the difference between being in love and loving someone. You can't have either sometimes, and I realized I had both."

Don't you give up, nah, nah, nah

I won't give up, nah, nah, nah

Let me love you

Let me love you

He scooted even closer to you "I remember that day. When they flew right at me. The look of fear in your eyes. I was afraid of losing you too. I was afraid of you losing me."

You could hear the wavering in his voice "Eddie, I thought I lost you right there."

He squeezed you tighter "I saw the way you ran. The way you tried to make me stay awake. I almost said it, the way I wished I could've always said. Not just a simple 'I love you'."

You move your head to the side, turning over to try and look at him.

"You're it for me, birdie. I love you so much. I've always loved you and always you. And I'm so glad I have met you. You're my angel."

Your stomach twists to a tight knot at the revelation. You loved him too. You were never able to say it the way you should've said long before either. Because you do.

"I love you too, Eds. Love you like I never did before."

"Thank you for showing up in my life. Wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

"I think Eddie and Robin would be very offended if they heard you" You chuckle as you turn on your side to fully face him.

"Think they're going to be pissed at me and you either way after tonight."

You open your mouth and he laughs at the way your features display some sort of desperation "You think they heard us?"

"I think even the trees heard us, sweetheart."

You slap him on the shoulder, watching him hold back the loudest cackle he wanted to let out. "I'm kidding, jeez. You're so mean when you're not riding me."

He shields himself with his pillow when you straighten up to hit him with another slap. "What's wrong with you? We're not fifteen."

"I'm just kidding! God help me when you're in a bad mood."

"I'm never in a bad mood."

"Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror when you're on your period?" You almost choke on your own spit at the statement.

"How did we manage to change the topic so fast?"

He laughs when you giggle and you both share a look.

"We've always shared the same vibe, baby. Dark humor, good taste in music and shit. I just had to recover before I was ready. And I'm glad you waited."

He swipes a strand of hair out of your face, pulling it behind your ear. His fingers slither down, reaching your jawline. Your hand wraps around his wrist, thumb stroking his skin.

"I would always wait for you, Munson."

Eddie blushes. It's one of the most sweet and genuine reactions. He purses his lips when he smiles.

He never believed someone could love him, never believed anyone would see him the way you do. And if you had to save him, you would do it all over again. As many times as you needed.

You two shower - not together - and get on his bed. Legs tangled and lazy kisses. He holds you closer with an arm wrapped around your neck as he holds his phone up for both of you. He scrolls through pictures and videos. They're from before Vecna, and it's the first time he's showing you everything he registered. From moments like those when you would all get together, to dull things like his D&D campaigns, rehearsals with his Corroded Coffin band mates and picnic with your friends at Lovers Lake.

There's one picture you love the most. It's one of you two dressed as Steve and Robin when they used to work at Scoops Ahoy. You were at the halloween party Nancy threw at her house almost two years ago. It made your friends lose their shit and the former employees shared an amused look back in the day.

Don't you give up, nah, nah, nah

I won't give up, nah, nah, nah

Let me love you

Let me love you

He's not afraid to go through the pictures and videos of stuff you found about Vecna. He's not even sure how his phone still survived everything. There was no signal between Upside Down and Hawkins. It didn't even work when it was near a gate.

But now, as he faces his smartphone, feeling your warmth beside him, he can't help but feel good he's still alive. He pressed his lips against your forehead and whispered that he loves you.

He likes to think that, a year ago, things changed for the better.

[veria01]

Shattered Illusions

Gojo Satoru x reader fanfic

Angst?? Arguing between couples

The moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the desolate street where the two of you stood, tension crackling like a live wire between you. Shadows twisted in the cool night air, but none held more weight than the ones cast by Gojo Satoru. His usual playful demeanor was nowhere to be found; instead, it was replaced by a storm brewing in his piercing blue eyes.

“Why can’t you just listen to me for once?” he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty buildings around you. It bounced off the walls, amplifying the hurt beneath the anger.

You crossed your arms protectively, refusing to back down. “Because I refuse to be coddled, Satoru! I won’t just sit back and let you fight my battles for me!” The defiance in your tone matched the fire in your belly. You knew how stubborn he could be, but the thought of being some pawn in his world of sorcery made your blood boil.

His expression turned incredulous, an expression you had seen countless times before. “This isn’t about coddling! This is about survival! You have no idea what’ll happen out there! You think you can just jump into a fight without consequences?”

You took a step forward, lowering your voice as if that would shield the weight of your emotions. “And you think you’re the only one who can protect everyone? I’m tired of being the one on the sidelines, watching you risk everything while I’m kept in the dark!”

The silence that followed was deafening, your breaths mingling with the sound of distant sirens. Satoru’s eyes softened for just a fraction of a moment, but then his brows knitted together, frustration boiling over again. “I’m not keeping you in the dark! I’m trying to keep you safe! I care about you!”

“Care about me?” you scoffed, your heart racing with both anger and pain. “You mean you want to control me! You want me to fit neatly into your idea of what I should be, and it’s suffocating!”

“That’s not fair!” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his voice rising. “You know how dangerous this world is! You think you can handle it on your own? You’re not invincible!”

“And you think you can just decide what I can or cannot do!” Your voice was louder now, the words pouring out like a dam breaking. “You don’t get to dictate my life! You don’t own me!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you’d just listen! I’m trying to protect you from everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve lost!” His eyes were fierce, glimmering with unshed emotions.

“But what about me? What about what I want?” Your voice cracked, the fight in you wavering. “Do I really have to endanger myself for you to recognize that I’m not helpless?”

His silence was deafening, and the hurt on his face caused your stomach to twist painfully. “You’re not helpless,” he finally said, his tone softer, but the frustration still simmers beneath. “But you are reckless. You don’t understand that lives are on the line. Our lives.”

“Then teach me!” you pleaded, desperate for him to see the truth in your eyes. “Stop treating me like a child. I want to learn. I want to stand beside you, not behind you!”

“That’s not how this works!” he shouted, voice raw. “You don’t just get to waltz into danger because you think it’s romantic! This is real! This is life or death!”

“It’s not about romance!” you screamed back, tears blurring the edges of your vision. “It’s about respect! It’s about being seen as an equal! I won’t let you box me in like some fragile object that might break! I’m here, I’m willing to fight, and you refuse to even let me try!”

“You don’t get it!” he yelled, frustration mixing with something you couldn’t quite place—sadness, perhaps. “You think this is just about skill? It’s about losing everything—I’ve already seen it happen to people I’ve cared for. I can’t bear the thought of losing you too.”

“Then stop pushing me away!” you replied, voice trembling as the anger seeped out, leaving only vulnerability. “This isn’t the way to protect me. This only drives us apart.”

His expression softened again, the hardness in his gaze now a reflection of hurt and something deeper—fear. “You think I want this? To fight you instead of alongside you?”

“Then prove it!” you challenged, the fire reigniting within you. “If you care, then show me. Show me that you believe in me as much as I believe in you!”

He stepped closer, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features. “You want me to put you in danger? To let you fight?”

“Not in danger, Satoru—by my side,” you insisted, leaning into your conviction. “But I need you to trust me. Trust that I can handle this, too.”

For a moment, you saw the flicker of hope in his eyes, but it quickly faded, overshadowed by the weight of his doubts. “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted quietly, his voice almost breaking.

“Then you’re the one who doesn’t trust me.” The realization struck like a slap to the face, and the raw pain twisted in your chest. “I am not asking you to let me rush into the fray recklessly; I’m asking you to see me. To see that I can be strong, too.”

The silence hung between you, heavy and fraught with unspoken feelings. Your heart raced as you awaited his response.

Finally, he took a deep breath, rubbing his temples as if trying to push away the encroaching shadows. “I just… I can’t lose you,” he whispered, the quiet anguish exposing the vulnerability he rarely showed.

“And I can’t lose you either. So can we meet in the middle?”

It was a delicate proposal, but the walls surrounding his heart seemed fortified. “I just don’t know if that’s possible,” he murmured, the weight of both rejection and fear evident in his voice.

You swallowed hard, feeling the tears threaten to spill over. “If we don’t try, then we’ll only keep drifting farther apart. Is that what you really want?”

Gojo’s azure gaze locked onto yours, the tempest of emotions swirling within him. You could see the resistance grappling with something softer—something that wanted to believe.

“I… I’ll try,” he finally said, each word a hesitant step toward a compromise. “But you have to promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will,” you vowed, tears welling and spilling down your cheeks in relief. “I promise.”

Taking a step back, he scrubbed at his face in frustration, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his features. “I just…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s complicated.” You tried to lighten the mood, managing a small smile despite the tumultuous feelings swirling between you.

Gojo’s expression softened then, something warm breaking through the remnants of tension. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

“Good,” you quipped, returning to your playful self, “someone needs to keep you grounded.”

“Okay, we’ll figure this out together,” he said with a reluctant grin, the shadows slowly dissipating from his visage. “But no more sneaking around, alright? You have to promise me that.”

“Deal,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread throughout you. It was a long way from a perfect solution, but it was a start—a delicate truce amidst the chaos of your lives intertwined in a dangerous world.

As you stood together beneath the moonlit sky, the weight of your argument lingered, but for the first time in a while, there was also a glimmer of hope—a promise that you could navigate the darkness together, side by side.

[six-white-venus]

the problem with living in survival mode for all your developmental years is that when it finally does get better, you don't know what the fuck to do with yourself.

"you're still so childish," my mom had chided fondly one day when i was laughing at a crude joke that wasn't all that funny and i had to hold myself back from asking, "really?"

because in all honesty, i don't really know what it means to be a child. i didn't even know happiness before now, and i've never lived a day without the sheer intensity of my emotions crushing me. have i ever been a child? i don't know, because this is how i remember my life so far:

me, aged 6, sitting in front of the TV with my cold plate of food, watching dora the explorer

Sad.

and now

i'm still getting used to the novelty of having a full night's sleep everyday and not waking up wanting to kill myself, what do you mean i have to figure out what to do with my life? i have been handed something that i never wanted, that i never dared to hope for, and i hold this life in my palms with all the care i can muster with my jagged edges and freezing skin.

i'm living life in non-chronological order. i was 37 before i was 15, i am now 13 when i'm supposed to be 20. sometimes i feel older than life and so, so tired. the other day i found myself being hit with a wave of jealousy so large that i couldn't breathe for a second while looking at a 14 year old because i would never be able to have what she does. and it really is a new low, hating a middle schooler just a little because when i was 14 my biggest concern wasn't failing math but keeping myself from breaking my clean streak of two days by reaching for the kitchen knife. it's disorienting to walk around trying to 'act my age' because i feel like i'm in a whole new world than everyone else. everyday i'm made to write a surprise quiz that everyone but me was informed about. not everyone knows how to walk someone down the ledge. barely anyone fists their hands on their lap while listening to lectures on mental health thinking wrong, wrong, wrong that's not how depression works, that's not how children who want to die think, that's not the only reason for a young person to lose themself, that's not how misery feels on your skin, on your tongue. wrong, wrong, WRONG.

no, i don't know my plans for the future but i do know how to carry the weight of the world in my chest and how to hide finger nails bitten till raw and red and how to write with blood and how to cover it all up with a smile and- all of that is useless? oh. oh.

it feels like an elaborate joke, almost; like the universe is having a good laugh at my expense because the world is asking for a sculpture and all i have are my barely healed hands and a broken clay pot that has no hope of being salvaged. it's not about falling behind in the race, it's about being shoved into a goddamn marathon when you haven't even learned to walk yet. and no, dragging myself to the finish line on all fours with scraped knees and palms shredded by gravel is no longer an option.

how the hell do you live when all you know is to survive?

but really, it's not as bad as i'm making it sound, at least not all of it. this liminal space that hangs between childhood and adulthood and everything that comes before and after that, it's not awful. yeah, i'm still not sure if i will get into med school, but i'm falling a little bit in love with the sound of my laugh. i might have a huge void in my head where the last 6 years should be, but i'll never forget the laugh that bubbled out of my chest when my doctor halved my med dosage. i still carry my grief like a cloak over my shoulders but i've been leaving it behind in my house more and more because it's getting too warm for anything more than a t-shirt these days.

and after all that, the question still remains: what the hell do i do now?

laugh with my friends, maybe. make a mean cup of tea. learn everything all over again, from the start. smile till it sits on my face like it always belonged there. go to sleep early, because that's something i like doing these days.

what do i do now? i ask my mom and she tells me to help her with lunch. what do i do now? i ask my sister and she tells me to shut up and listen to the latest gossip from her class. what do i do now? i ask my best friend and he throws me his phone without looking and tells me to order whatever i'm craving.

what do i do now? i ask and they all say, isn't it obvious? you start living.

[kfan04]

I'm so, so glad I caught you. That's a ton of lore, and believe me, I tried my hardest to find out at least half of this information and didn't manage to. You kinda brought me a bag of candies with this one <3

Actually, I think you've suggested the answer to my initial question (the one I had in my head) about what's Romeo's problem. I was trying to find a reason behind his decisions, and "I won't lose anything else" seems the most convincing out of all I could've thought of.

It explains his persistence with Kaito while not contradicting (as far as I know) any plot points. There are some questions left, like: How did they first meet? What happened with Romeo's family? What has changed with the Clash? What is it about Kaito's pendant? What is it about Kaito's family? In what particular way is Kaito's presence valuable/advantageous for Romeo? Or the one I'm very curious about: Is there a way out for Kaito? I just feel sorry for the dude. I study business and constantly feel the urge to get inside the story and help him figure his debts out (possibly by also making him pinky promise me he won't gamble again). Although my beliefs would clash hard with the reality of the absence of law and basically prison of the environment... But for now I'm satisfied.

Just a couple of things I wanted to adress:

- there's definitely some tension, or maybe, competition between Taiga and Jin

That scene in the assembly was so nerve-wracking! With MC's help, Jin just straight up forced Taiga, who is very unstable and self-righteous, to sit still. Taiga's reaction made me think it wasn't the first time it happened? Was Jin using this power on the regular basis before? Taiga's "Jin" could mean he actually respects him, though who knows.

Frostheim and Sinostra, political power and wealth and danger and money, they go well together, but work on the different principles. The relationship between these two has to be very special. That's why Romeo's grudge for Frostheim and Taiga's... how would you call that look he gave Jin? There's more to it, I would say.

- Luca's time in Darkwick

I haven't even considered Luca to be eventually leaving! You know how in anime transfer students usually stay until the very end? I thought it would be the case. Plus, Darkwick is the kind of place nobody can leave ��� I remember realising that and thinking, "Luca is now cooked."

But now that you mention it, yes, Luca might transfer back after all... Again, given the genre of the game, unlikely, but it's not like the characters know they are in the game. Luca for now seems to be the most clueless about Darkwick character. He's doing what he thinks is right... but generally playing by the rules of others. I found it interesting when he was shown to be kinda bloodlusted in chapter 1, slicing that anomalies again and again after they've already died. He is also quite reckless, jumping into action immediately. This is almost the opposite from Kaito, who overthinks everything.

It makes sense Kaito knows a whole lot about Darkwick, having spent a year there already. Even as someone who tries to actively avoid trouble and danger, he seems to know important information. Between Luca and Kaito, Luca is more skilled, but Kaito is more involved. He is more of a player, in every sense, while Luca is interested in outside words, or particularly his goal, demons, than in politics. But it could change! In the case of Vagastrom, Leo was chosen to be vice because of his marks, I think? If Luca doesn't leave, he has a better chance in this case.

- what Kaito is capable of

You've mentioned how Darkwick might know more about Kaito than Kaito does himself, and I lean to this as well! Kaito's stigma has to do with auras — in chapter 13, he saw the mirror's aura without saying any incantation first. Does his stigma work all the time, like Subaru's? Kaito doesn't want to use MC's powers, which makes it very intriguing how they would work. If his stigma allows him to discover more about the person, would strengthening stigma allow him to know even more about the insides of the person? Or maybe influence them somehow?

Kaito's stigma may have to do with his interests. He knows astronomy, and someone mentioned he was shown with Taro cards in the chibi images. In the prologue, he was addressing some higher powers to escape from Romeo, which could be for comic relief, of course, or not. Do you happen to know anything else about it?

- Romeo & Hyde

Hyde is sketchy, period. He also holds a lot of power and participates in the academy's decision-making. But is he on Romeo's side, really?

Romeo mentioned he worked a lot to get the position he has now. It probably refers to what he has gone through after his family's crash. Hyde mentions it is Romeo who is more active in their relationship. This suggests Romeo was the one who approached Hyde first, possibly wanting something from, but if we look at their dynamics now, Hyde is constantly calling Romeo — almost as if he's the one establishing their objectives. Hyde definitely holds power over Romeo in many ways, manipulating him, while also doing stuff behind his back.

I think Hyde is using Romeo to destabilise Darkwick's environment, in return covering for him and Sinostra, and giving him an illusion of advantage over other houses and over everyone else. And Romeo either genuinely believes it will benefit him, or is afraid of Hyde and is too deep... I think. He certainly gives Hyde more respect than he does regarding anyone else.

Linking it back to Kaito, I'm only curious if Hyde had some say in this situation. Did he somehow hinted Kaito would be of use? Or maybe it's just Romeo's individual investment.

Thank you so much for sharing all of this! You're very kind. I hope your computer gets better.

What do you think is going on with Kaito and Romeo?

I've posted this on Reddit and now I'm posting it here so I more people see it and talk to me!

Particularly I'm interested in why Romeo seems to be so clingy with Kaito. I know that there are already some explanations — Kaito's debt and Kaito's pendant — but don't you think Romeo is putting too much effort into this?

Regarding **debt**: does Romeo chase around everyone with debt on the regular basis? Also, the academy is clearly full on well-off students, it would make much more sense to concentrate on them. Kaito doesn't have money and he won't somehow get them out of nowhere (Luca is another discussion).

Regarding **pendant**: have you noticed that Romeo is trying to convince Kaito to give him the pendant, instead of taking it away by force? Throughout the chapters he hasn't really tried to take the pendant away, although I think Romeo's more than capable of it. He is stronger than Kaito and the latter didn't have any protectors before Luca (Tohma and Jin are also not shown to be close enough to Kaito to defend him in the past). Otherwise, there must have been tons of opportunities for Romeo to hurt or kill Kaito and take away the pendant, everyone dies left and right, even when they were on the mission — little accident, minus one ghoul, nobody would've probably suspected anything. Why hasn't Romeo taken the pendant away already?

Regarding **Romeo's time and effort**: despite being the busy man Romeo claims he is, he still finds time to regularly look around for Kaito, calling his name, and with a gun. He asks MC for Kaito's schedule — twice. He spams Kaito with messages. He locks Kaito in the cage in his private office very few people know about — this is just another level, because why. He also takes Kaito on a mission with him, when being told that was his chance to assemble the best possible team — notably, he goes for Kaito before contacting his actual friends, and also has to threaten Kaito to go with him in first place. On the mission, it's Romeo's decision to split, and both times he takes Kaito with him, also physically dragging him and just casually intimidating him along the way.

Who would go that far for the indebted guy? Or even for a pendant? It's more like Romeo's interested in Kaito being constantly around, but also, why?

Regarding **Romeo's attitude**: he's the mix of tenderness and frustration when it comes to Kaito. The phrase he use to call him is *Doko itta no, dete oide?* which translates kinda like *Where have you gone? Come on, come out!* and is often used to talk to animals and kids. He also uses *Fuji-kun*, emphasising on either Kaito being his kouhai, or being on friendly terms with him. He's very touchy when it comes to Kaito — grabbing his hand, his collar, his ear, shaking his shoulders, clamping a hand over his mouth. It's not necessarily tender, but it seems that Romeo finds it absolutely natural to act towards Kaito in such way. Romeo's also often implying Kaito acts unreasonable towards him when not willing to comply, like when Kaito is hiding or running away from him, or when he doesn't want to go on the mission. One time he says something along the lines "there's more on the map than that, so just shut up and do as I say", implying it's in Kaito's interest to listen to him.

**Why does Romeo seem to be convinced that Kaito should be doing as he says without asking questions?**

Regarding **Kaito's attitude**: Kaito isn't shown to be super intimidated by Romeo. Yes, he runs away away from him, and in one voiceline he mentions he started getting chills when someone calls his name because of Romeo — so it's not like Kaito doesn't recognise Romeo as a threat. However, Kaito is constantly talking back and resisting. When talking to Romeo, Kaito openly questions his decisions, mocks him, swears at him, uses *omae*, simply disagrees and Romeo has to put *a lot of* effort to actually get Kaito to do something — and half of the time, Kaito doesn't do what is expected of him anyway. He talks to Romeo almost freely, definitely less scared than with Jin or with Tohma, or even with Ren or Jiro. Interestingly, Kaito uses *Romeo-san*, instead of *-senpai*, like with Tohma and Jin. Kaito also doesn't seem to have a clue about why Romeo is following him, but he's not interesting in figuring it out either, just "weird guy, ugh how annoying, does he ever stop".

Unlike Romeo who perceives his own actions as natural, justified as "Well I'm just collecting debt", Kaito openly talks about how strange Romeo acts towards him. Locked in the cage, he says "shut up, kidnapping creep" and "do you even realise how unhinged you sound" when Romeo says no one would save him from there... When MC says "he has certainly taken a liking to you", Kaito corrects "liking, more like stalking".

For now, no one except Luca and to some degree MC hasn't commented on Romeo's and Kaito's connection — do they know? Or do they don't care? Or both.

Regarding **timeline**: Kaito mentions Romeo has been on his tail for half of the year. Before that, he wasn't even in the gambling den. This lines up with the estimated time of the Clash. Does Romeo's interested in Kaito has something to do with the Clash? Did it just happen in the same time? Kaito says he has somehow avoided the Clash — he himself doesn't connect the Clash with Romeo's interest in him. Kaito doesn't seem to connect Romeo's interest with anything, implying it was sudden. It could be that the determining point of the Romeo's interest was the moment Romeo was looking at Kaito from a distance, if Kaito cannot remember any special confrontation. What doesn't line up is the warding card of Romeo standing above Kaito and looking at his pendant — judging by his expression, for the first time. Who wouldn't have remembered this situation? Another thing, Kaito mentions that he hasn't seen Romeo much before, and he wasn't even in the gambling den. So although Romeo justifies his hobby by collecting debt, he possibly wasn't that interested in collecting this debt initially, before that special point six month ago.

Regarding **paperwork**: Luca repays Kaito's debt in the prologue, another simple solution to Kaito repaying his debt and Romeo not having to go after him ever again. Yet Romeo claims "he still owes rate of interest, so it's not enough to buy his freedom". To which Luca replies "I'd like to see the paperwork then", and Romeo's muttering he "hates men with brain". Other than Kaito commenting on how he didn't know about the rate of interest (which could be written off as ignorance, and not necessarily as Romeo deceiving him), Romeo's comment suggests there might be something unclear with the documentation. Another important paper is the one Romeo threatens to show the MC when telling Kaito to join him on the mission. It is not the debt-related issue — MC already knows about it. It is something that Kaito feels to be embarrassed about, and something that allows Romeo to say "you really think you can say no?". In the prologue, when Romeo demands pendant, Kaito also replies with "this is one thing you will never get from me" — one thing? Does that mean Kaito agrees in some way Romeo can demand anything else? The paper which Romeo threatens to show the MC — which conditions are written there?

Let's assume that Kaito does owe Romeo more than money. What exactly is Romeo gaining in this situation? Why would he need specifically Kaito's compliance in the first place? Why Kaito of all people, of all ghouls. Okay, maybe Romeo thinks it's handy to get a guy who he can threaten to do anything. Why would he put so much energy into keeping Kaito close to him — especially on the occasions that could've used more catered to the situations ghouls, like the mission. Judging by how he addresses Kaito as "plebeian", he doesn't think Kaito's pendant connects him with the powerful family, plus he comments how Kaito doesn't know its true value. So Romeo is not after Kaito's potential prestige.

Romeo's behaviour doesn't make sense. It especially doesn't make sense considering he *is acting rationally* when it comes to missions, or his income, or dealing with others, which means there *is* an explanation for how he acts with Kaito — my guess, it directly or indirectly includes money, or another physical value.

What is notable, is that *Romeo is deliberately keeping Kaito close* and *monitors his actions*.

What are your thoughts? Have I missed something? I'd die to discuss, really. I see all these signs, but I can't really understand what it means. I know we are quite early in the story, but for the 13 chapters the story has been very consistent with the relationship between Romeo and Kaito, and Kaito's pendant. I'm super interested to know what others think!

[leifyposting]

“i will be better than my mother” not as a declaration of spite but as an act of tribute. you know?

not simply “i will be better than my mother because she messed me up and i refuse to be like her”

but instead “i will be better than my mother because she taught me to be, because she instilled these values into me even though she sometimes failed to live up to them”

“i will be better than my mother because she laid the foundation for me, because she shed the wrongs of the past as best as she could even if she could not lose all of them”

“i will be better than my mother because she would want me to be”

[tallykale]

a bit of my postcanon vision

i heart people arguing

[mc-critical]

1.10 / 1.09

[softblesses]

Part 3.

The rhythmic knock at the door meant only one thing… Mozzie had arrived to drop some essentials from Neal’s apartment off at the Burke residence. El went to the door, not surprised to greet a masked up Mozzie, who was holding a box of things in his hands. 

“I can’t stay for long,” he announced, walking in and taking one look at Neal. “You look terrible. Here’s your things!” He set the box down by the coffee table, before taking five, large steps back. 

“Thank you, Mozzie. Neal appreciates you coming.” El stepped in before Neal could retort back at the comment on his appearance, and goes to look through the box for him. She stopped as her hands grasped something, and opened up a glasses case. 

“Are these yours, Mozzie?” El asked, turning to see that their visitor was already lingering by the door. 

“Oh! You’ve unlocked another Neal secret! Good luck, see you when the plague passes!” He smiled, giving a wave, before opening the door and promptly leaving; all before Peter can even come back from where he’d been making more tea in the kitchen. 

Elizabeth just about managed to bid Mozzie ‘goodbye,’ before taking the glasses over to Neal. “Neal Caffrey wears glasses, huh?” She smiled, turning as her husband’s footsteps sounded behind her. 

“. . . You’re wearing your smart undercover disguise?” Peter hummed, carefully handing him his tea, “Did Mozzie rope you into something? El? Are they scheming? Sick people can’t scheme, y’know.”

“You don’t know everything about me, Peter Burke.” Neal muttered in a raspy voice — it sounded like he was about to lose any voice he had left. And, with that, he leaned against his cushion and closed his eyes. 

“That was uncomfortably ominous,” Peter muttered, before turning to kiss his wife. “I’ll see you soon, I’ll stop by the pharmacy and the store to get more supplies.”

“Okay, Hon. I’ll hold down the fort — me and Satch. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Later that day, after Peter had gotten back with supplies from the pharmacy, things seemed to settle a little. El was in the kitchen, making vegetable soup, and Peter was looking over case files at the table. Neal was propped up on the couch, holding the portable nebuliser to his face with one hand, and doodling in a notebook with the other. He seemed content, and the coughing fits had somewhat subsided since earlier on. Drawing helped calm him, gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the aches and pains or tickle in his throat. Peter was just thankful that he was staying put, and doing so quietly… Well, for the most part. 

‘hu—ggGKKch. . . kkcHew.’ Shortly followed by a small coughing fit. Peter looked over, with no doubt that Neal’s throat had taken a hit from that. 

Peter stood, momentarily going to the kitchen, before walking over to Neal. Now, he didn’t know how else to make him feel physically better; they’d made him tea, soup, gotten him an array of medicines. But, maybe he could make him feel a little more content, at least. Whenever Peter was sick, he’d watch old baseball games and wear comfortable clothing. He doubted Neal would like that very much, but it’s all he could think of. So, he took a seat beside Neal, watching as he moved his legs for him. 

“It’s alright, stretch out. May I?” He gestured to the remote, very much wanting to sanitize it before picking it up, but deciding not to offend Neal just yet. 

Neal was hesitant, but he stretched out his legs a little more, but eventually rested them atop of Peter’s thighs. He didn’t seem to mind. He nodded at the request for the remote — he’d barely been paying attention to the random show on the screen anyway. He placed the nebuliser mask back upon his face, and leaned back a little.  

“Is that helping?” The agent asked, turning to face him again. 

Neal nodded. Neal without a voice was much more unsettling than Peter thought it would be. “Good, good… do you need anything?” He asked next, still looking at him. 

A shake of his head this time. He hated not being able to talk, but after the amount of times he’d tried to in the past few hours and caused himself to cough, for once he was happy to stay quiet. He was grateful, at least, that Peter wasn’t teasing him about it anymore. It was only a moment until El brought in the tea Peter had requested she make for Neal — extra honey for his throat. He watched as the CI turned off the nebuliser, placed it down and took the tea. He tapped his chin afterwards with the tips of his fingers, before moving his hand towards her almost as if blowing a kiss, and Peter frowned. 

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” El smiled, glancing at her confused husband with a soft chuckle. “Sign language, hon. I had a client last year whose son was deaf — learned a little.” She walked back into the kitchen where soup was simmering away, leaving the pair together on the couch again. 

“Gonna put on a classic,” Peter assured, turning the TV onto a channel that primarily showed old baseball game reruns, delighted as he saw a personal favorite of his that they were just beginning.

“My classics and your classics are two different things,” Neal whispered, sipping at his tea. 

“Yeah, maybe. But give it a shot—maybe you’ll change your tune.”

He, in fact, did not change his tune in the slightest in the next 20 minutes, slumped over against the couch, bored out of his mind so much that it felt like his brain was melting.

“Okay, maybe this isn’t your kind of classic,” Peter admitted, receiving an exasperated eye roll in response to communicate the age-old sentiment of “ya think?” or perhaps even a “no shit, Sherlock.”

“Well… what do you usually binge when you’re sick?” 

That earned a small shrug from Neal. “I don’t,” he eventually whispered, surpassing a cough that was threatening to hurt his throat again. “I just… sleep.” He attempted to continue, but was quickly beaten by a fit of coughing. 

“Alright, no more talking — here.” Peter reached for the nebuliser, turning it on and holding it out for Neal. Maybe he needed to find him a notebook or something similar to write in whenever he had to talk, or he’d end up not being able to speak for days to come. 

Somehow, the coughing led to sneezing, and all Peter could do was awkwardly wait for him to be finished. It didn’t take a genius to see that he was miserable… nor would it need to take an FBI Agent and a very expert caretaker to realize either, because the look on the CI’s face was quite the sight as Peter held out a tissue box toward him. Neal nodded in thanks and blew his nose softly.

Poor guy. Peter got up and sifted through some drawers in his desk, until he returned with a simple, medium-sized navy blue notebook and a black ballpoint pen. “Want to try writing things down for a while since your throat’s too roughed up to talk?” he suggested, holding the items out to him.

Neal raised an eyebrow in hesitation, but relented since it did seem like the best solution and honestly sounded sort of fun anyways. After a few moments of writing, he turned the open page to Peter to show him the elegant, cursive calligraphy, lavished with grand swirls, that read: “[Sure.]”

“Drama king,” Peter scoffed with an amused huff.

Pen returned to paper and scratched softly against it, until a message in an even more intricate script was finished: “[Correct.]” He flashed his handler a winning smile—or, as that handler might interpret it, a shit-eating grin.

“Soup’s ready, Neal,” Elizabeth announced as she brought the meal from the kitchen and set it down on the coffee table, “try to eat as much as you can stomach, okay? Some nutrients and fluids will be good for you.”

Perking up immediately, since her cooking was frankly phenomenal, Neal put his notebook aside for a moment to try a few spoonfuls, savoring the tides of flavors. Then, he wrote, “[Delicious as always, El. You’re the best.]” The notebook was set on the table once more so his hands were free to form a heart. El returned both the gesture and the smile.

“You’re still flipping through channels, Hon?” Elizabeth asked, glancing over at the TV.

“Yeah, well, Neal’s not really a baseball guy—” Peter began.

“Ooh, shocking,” she teased fondly.

“Hey, to me, it is,” he defended, matching her playful tone. “But, yeah, I think we’re both kinda stumped about what to put on.”

“Ooh, let’s seeeee…” Elizabeth hummed, drumming her fingers against the counter in thought. “Oh, how about something like The Princess Bride? I feel like you’d like that movie, Neal.”

“[Haven’t seen that in a while. Sounds good!]” Neal wrote after mulling it over for a moment.

“Works for me,” Peter chimed in, hands raised slightly in surrender as the other two turned their gazes towards him for confirmation.

“Sounds like a plan then,” El announced, starting to search up the movie on the TV.

It was a rather peaceful, cozy atmosphere: hot homemade soup, warm tea with honey, a comfortable couch with a soft blanket, caring friends, and a nice little fantasy comedy with a compelling romance. Their small little corner of the world was only interrupted by the buzzing of a phone, soon followed by Peter having to stand and take the call. Neal’s frown clearly stated that he had indeed ruined that cozy atmosphere they had going on. 

“How’re you feeling, Neal?” El asked gently, ruffling his hair a little as she came to sit down next to him on the couch.

“Lil—” Neal rasped quietly, clearing his throat and coughing wetly a few times into his fist. “Lil better.”

“You don’t really sound it,” she chuckled, “but I’m glad to hear it!”

“I thingk the—” he tried to continue, but his poor voice gave out again, breaking pitifully. After coughing again, he wrote, “[Warm soup & steam’s helping w/ congestion & throat.]”

“Mission accomplished then,” she hummed contentedly. 

“Hh-hehh…”

“Aw, bless!” Elizabeth chirped preemptively.

“Hihhh… hehh!! Hhhihhh! Ihdktschhhhiew!!” After a few seconds of being teased by the sensation waxing and waning, he was able to sneeze—and quite dramatically, to be frank. Not only did it send him doubling over into an open tissue held in both hands, but that sudden motion was enough to knock his glasses off of his face aaaand into his bowl of soup below. Oops. Hearing the clink! and splish! sounds of glasses frame meeting ceramic and homemade soup splashing, he kept his eyes shut for a moment, too embarrassed to meet Elizabeth’s gaze.

“Are you okay?” El giggled.

“Depends,” Neal replied hoarsely, clearing his throat twice and writing down, “[Physically?]” followed by a checkmark. Underneath, he wrote “[My pride?]” followed by an ‘x’ that was then underlined at least five times.

“Awww, it’s okay, dear. Silly moments like this happen sometimes! One of my first events I worked at, I managed to knock over an entire champagne tower. Only reason I didn’t get fired was because it’s Burke Events.”

Neal’s demeanor relaxed and softened, an amused glint in his eyes. “[That definitely sounds like a memorable experience.]”

“Trust me, it was,” El confirmed. “I don’t think I’ll forget it for the rest of my life, though that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I learned to be very vigilant of the physical space at an event. There’s a lot of things that are breathtakingly beautiful, but also very fragile.”

Neal nodded back at her, scrawling something down on the paper. “[Like art!]” he turned the notebook around, just as Peter re-entered the living room, pocketing his cellphone as he did so. 

“Like the art you steal, y’mean?” He questioned jokingly, waiting for Neal to reply with… “[Allegedly.]” 

“That was Diana — there’s been a development in the case,” he explained, taking a seat inbetween Neal and Elizabeth. Neal nudged him with his elbow. 

“And, they need you back at the office?” Elizabeth guessed, from how her husband was acting hesitant all of a sudden. 

He nodded, scratching at the back of his neck; a sheepish sort of guilty look on his face. 

“It’s okay, go get dressed; I’m fine down here.” She smiled, gesturing towards Neal. 

“Fine. But, I’ll try make it quick. I’m sure they can continue without me after and —“

Neal finished scrawling something down, and held it up so that Peter could see. [go get the bad guys. Elizabeth is better in the doctor compartment. No offence. :-)’

His handler chuckled at that, moving to stand. “None taken… you’re right.” He leaned to kiss El’s forehead, before making his way towards the stairs and up to their bedroom. 

•••

“Honey, we’ll be fine. Go. Or you’ll burn a hole in the floor from pacing so much.” Elizabeth stood from her place on the couch, and walked over to her husband. 

“Are y’sure? I can work from here — I can ask Diana to bring some files and —“

“Peter, please go,” a scratchy tone came from underneath the little blanket pile that was Neal Caffrey. “You’re doing the over worrying thing.” 

El reached up on her tiptoes to kiss her husband on the forehead, before straightening up his tie. “We’ll be fine, I promise. I have some work to do, and I’m sure Neal has some napping to do, too.” She chuckled slightly, envisioning the frown from behind her right now. 

“Alright,” Peter eventually muttered, shuffling his feet and fidgeting slightly with his hands. “If you’re sure.” He leans to kiss Elizabeth on the cheek, and then once on the lips just for good measure. 

“I love you,”

“I love you too,” she hummed. “Now, go. Before we make you watch sappy romcoms on TV.” Elizabeth grinned as he kissed her, and made his way to the door. 

She turned to Neal afterward, a hand upon her hip, “I hope that’s okay with you — I mean, you can’t really beat them when you’re sick.” A frown crossed her features as she noticed him rubbing his temples, before trying to sniffle. He sounded uncomfortably stuffed up. 

“Hey, how about I steam the bathroom for you first? You can have a bath, if you want. I’ll set you out some clean clothes.. might help your voice feel even better, but I still don’t think you should talk too much.”

He smiled up at her, giving a small nod. She was right — it would probably help his voice, his throat and his sinuses. And, god knows he needed that right now. 

•••

Elizabeth stood outside of the bathroom door, the sound of the water from the bath she’d drawn up for Neal almost an hour ago finally rinsing away. “You okay, in there?” She called softly, waiting for a moment and busying herself with putting away some laundry whilst Neal blew his nose. 

Upon returning, a freshly bathed Neal wearing Peter’s plaid pyjamas (the ones he’s forced to wear at Christmas with her family, usually) was standing in the doorway before her. 

“Oh, good,” El hummed with a small smile, “I was starting to get a little worried about you.”

“‘Starting to?’” Neal teased, giving her a doubtful yet amused look; both Burkes had been watching over him like mother hens since the moment he first got fairly sick. “Yeah, I’m good, I just was enjoying the…” He trailed off as a prickling sensation in his sinuses caused his eyes to unfocus and his breath to stutter in his chest. After a hesitant sniffle, the feeling intensified and sent him pitching forward into his—or, well, Peter’s—sleeve. “Hihhh… hhKTSCHH!”

“Bless you!”

“Ugh, thanks,” Neal replied, still sniffling a bit. “But, yeah, I was enjoying the steam. It really helps to loosen everything up a bit,” he continued with a sheepish gesture to his face.

“Oh, I can tell, sweetie,” Elizabeth dismissed with a slight chuckle. “Happy to hear it though. Your voice sounds a little better too!”

“It’s… audible at least,” Neal decided hesitantly, only half in agreement, with an amused huff.

“C’mon downstairs, and I’ll get you some DayQuil and a fresh box of tissues. I think you might be needing both.” She smiled, gesturing for him to lead the way. 

It took almost an hour for the DayQuil to set in, and by now Neal was sat with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders on the couch; his eyes half closed, and the tickle in his nose by no means extinguished. In fact, it might’ve even gotten worse. 

The sound of a liquid sniffle came, before he managed to untangle his arm from the blanket just in time to (a little haphazardly) cover his face with his sleeve again. 

“HhHh’tTshhOo! … nghhhh. Snfff.”

“Bless you,” El murmured softly beside him, her gaze concentrated on the notebook she’d been hitting things down in for the past twenty minutes or so. 

She glanced up for a moment, a sympathetic crease in her brow. “You okay, honey?” El hummed, putting her notebook down for a moment, to reach over and feel his forehead — he looked a little flushed, and was clinging to the blanket a little harder than earlier. 

“Yeah, m’just… cold,” Neal mumbled under his breath, a shiver running down his spine as if to validate his words.

“No, you’re pretty warm,” Elizabeth corrected gently. “Fever probably went up again.”

“I think you’re right…”

“When aren’t I?” she joked with a slight shrug.

“… Y’know, I’ll have to get back to you on that,” Neal replied with a grin. Jokes aside, there honestly weren’t many examples that could come to mind, which was impressive. To be fair, his mind was somewhat foggy with fever, but still. Impressive.

“Are you up for checking in on that temperature of yours again?” she offered, already standing up. Receiving a nod in confirmation, she left to grab the thermometer.

A couple of minutes later, she returned, hearing a few coughs from the other room on her way back. “Here,” she hummed, holding out the thermometer.

Neal took it with a slightly shaking hand, tucking the metallic end underneath his tongue.

“Oh, Neal… you’re shaking,” Elizabeth fretted as he shivered again. She reached out to steady his hand with her own, murmuring a soft, “Here, give me.”

Neal only sniffled and let her take the thermometer, glad to be able to envelop himself more fully in his fluffy blanket. Then, more sniffles followed as that passive irritation that had been lingering near constantly in the upper reaches of his nasal passages began to burn a little more actively, like tinder catching a spark. He scrunched up his nose against the brewing itch, but that only seemed to fan the flame. 

“Ihhhh…?”

“Awh, do you have to sneeze again?” El asked with a slight chuckle. The only response she received was a dazed nod and another ticklish stutter of breath. “Do you want me to take the thermometer out for a sec?” She hesitated to believe him when he shook his head, since the way he pressed his knuckles firmly up against his reddened nostrils was not exactly very convincing. Nevertheless, she relented. 

Every second felt practically like a full minute to Neal, his poor sinuses aching with need. He blinked against the sensation, irritated tears welling in his crystal blue eyes.

“Should be almost done, Neal,” Elizabeth reassured, a small smile of amusement still tugging at the corner of her lips. “Let me know if you need me to take it out. It’s really no trouble.”

Stubbornly, Neal shook his head again in dismissal despite the way his eyebrows drew together in a twitchy sort of unsteadiness. Even though his damp eyelashes fluttered shut, he switched to pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger in, frankly, foolish hopes of quelling the prickling tickles that ravaged it.

“Allllllmost there. Should be any second now,” Elizabeth reminded.

Unfortunately, Neal had run out of seconds to spare, and his flu-ridden nostrils flared impatiently, refusing to keep teetering on the precipice any longer. Regardless of his best attempts to keep his poor nose in check, that extraordinarily fragile semblance of control he had barely managed to hold over himself shattered. He sucked in a small, shaky gasp and any pretense of being able to delay the reflex any longer went out the window.

“H-hiehh—! HH’gkkt!” Well, at least he managed to stifle that one quite effectively. He tightened his grip on his nose to prepare for the next sneeze he could feel following close behind. Once the dam was broken, it was nigh impossible to stop the flood.

“Oh, bless you,” Elizabeth offered with sugary sympathy dripping from her voice. 

Neal nodded in thanks before his features crumbled once more. “Ihh’kXXT!” While he succeeded in containing that sneeze as well—unsatisfying, to say the least, doing nothing to alleviate his discomfort—he had a bad feeling that his body wouldn’t allow him to do so again, rebelling against him in search of the much-needed relief he had been denying it. “… Hh… mhhh… hhgk—!” He tried to suppress the risky breaths that his lungs shuddered with, but they grew awfully desperate, and he couldn’t help but—

Beep!

Oh, thank fucking God. Neal’s nose took the beep of the thermometer as permission to let loose entirely, forcing him to suck in an urgent, shivering breath and pitch forward with a fit of overwhelming sneezes. “HehHhHHT—! EHHDKTSHh’uhh!!”

The sudden jerk of movement downwards was more than enough to knock the thermometer out of Elizabeth’s hand and onto his lap. In fact, now that he was sneezing unrestrained—whether he liked it or not—said hand was not safe from being misted slightly with the faint spray that escaped him. Luckily, he was able to bury his face into the crook of his arm before the vast majority of his fit over took him.

“Hah-aahdtschhh! Shit, I’m so s—IHDTSCHhh! —kDTSH! —ihpstch! —ihdtsch! So sorry, I-I—huhhh’KDTSCHhh!”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize,” El insisted gently, a little surprised but mostly unfazed—she had a feeling this might happen. She placed the thermometer down on the table so it wouldn’t end up falling off his lap onto the floor. “You didn’t mean to. Just let it out, sweetie.”

“S-stihhhll—” Neal tried to protest, heart sinking in embarrassment and guilt. “Eihh’kHPTSCH! —IHTSCH! —tschh’ah! Ohgod— EHptschhh’huu!”

“Bless, my goodness. Making up for lost time, I see,” Elizabeth teased.

“Ahh-hahhpparently— IHHGKTSCHh! Ugh… h-huhh… hiiih…! EH’kDTSCHhh!!… Nguhhh…” Sniffling thickly in the aftermath, Neal plucked several tissues—only one would be nowhere near enough—and blew his nose into them.

“Bless you. You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, m’fine, sndff. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.”

“What’s it say?” Neal asked, still tending to his running nose.

“102.3,” Elizabeth announced, worry clear in her voice. “No wonder you’ve been feeling so cold.”

“Yeahh, that sounds about right,” Neal sighed with a clear of his throat. He wrapped himself up more thoroughly in the blanket once more now that he had stopped sneezing.

“Just rest for now and take it easy. You’re gonna feel better soon,” El assured with a click of her tongue.

After a little while, Neal’s eyes were finally beginning to grow heavy with the warmth of the blanket over his body, the TV playing an old crime drama on a low volume, and the scratch of El’s pen on paper as she jotted down notes for work. He was almost asleep… in fact, he’d love to be asleep right now. But, his body had other ideas, clearly. 

“Hhih’tschhh! —Ihdtschh! —kTSCHH!” He just about managed to haphazardly cover into what may have been his arm… or the blanket. Or both? He just wanted a nap. 

“Bless yoooh-hh-hih!” Elizabeth trailed off into sudden, soft hitches, before ducking forward into cupped hands with a sneeze of her own. “Ih’tschieww!” She blinked in surprise and rubbed at her nose to rid it of any residual tickles. “… And me too, apparently,” she joked with a small chuckle.

“Oh, I’m… sorry. You catchin’ this too?” Neal asked with a guilty pout and concern glittering in his eyes.

“No, no, I feel fine, sweetie,” El reassured, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes other people sneezing just tricks my body into joining in, I guess. Trust me, I know how it feels when that happens.”

“Mmmm… okay, if you’re sure,” Neal conceded hesitantly, still looking her over with a wary gaze in case somehow it would reveal her health. “That’s a fun party trick,” he teased with a playful grin.

“Not really,” she giggled, “it’s just a weird thing that happens sometimes.”

“Should I try to not trigger it or…?”

“Oh, no, it’s not a big deal, Neal. It’s just a sneeze here or there, maybe two. It’s nothing to worry about, I promise.”

“Okay. But you’ll tell me if you do start feeling sick though, right?” Neal’s brow was still furrowed, which was shortly followed by a scrunch of his nose; he could already feel his own tickle starting to return, and no matter how much he scrunched or willed it to leave him alone… swiped his knuckles underneath his nose, and sniffled? It just wasn’t going to work. 

“Of course.” Elizabeth’s audible promise drew him out of focusing on his temporary plight, but the lapse in concentration was apparently all his nose needed to act. 

“Hehh! Hihhh’ktschhh!—eh’tISCHH!”

“Hihhh…”

“Hedt’kschhh!”

“Ishhhiew!”

“‘M sorry.” Neal’s voice was muffled by the tissue held as firmly against his nose as his fatigued self could manage, and his watery eyes were also full of guilt. 

“Honey, I told you it’s completely fine. I’m completely fine. Here, look—” With that, she grabbed the thermometer and placed it under her tongue, folding her arms and fixing Neal with an intent look to verify that he was watching her be proven right.

“S-sorry, I think I got one or two more left in m-me,” Neal warned as his head tipped back slightly and his eyelashes fluttered shut once more before his lips parted with a wavering breath. “Hhihh—! Ihdktschh!… Hhkt’tshhh!… Ugh, there we go.” Sniffling, he looked back at her and froze when he saw what she was doing.

After a second or two passed, the thermometer beeped, and Elizabeth brought it up to her eyes to inspect. “Yeah, see? 98.5°! Hell, that’s even a tenth of a degree less than average. I have a negative fever, if anything.”

“El…” Neal sighed simply with a knowing, sympathetic pout etched into his features.

“Hm?” El hummed before her smile drained from her face.  “Oh… I… didn’t clean this…” El murmured slowly through a wincing grimace.

“Nope.”

“… After you used it…”

“Nope.”

“… Did I?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“… Well… shit.”

“Yeahhh,” Neal confirmed with a hissing inhale through his teeth and a few small nods.

“I’ll be right back,” Elizabeth muttered quickly before bolting out of the room without another word.

“Where are y—?” Neal tried to call after her, realizing halfway through that he wouldn’t get a response and giving up. “Okay, never mind, I guess,” he mumbled under his breath, resigning himself to wait for her to return.

His confused frown only deepened as he heard the thundering thuds of footsteps sprinting up the stairs and across the room above him. Then… the sound of a sink running briefly?

Although he wanted to keep listening for signs of what she ran off to do, his attention was demanded elsewhere as his lungs informed him rather cruelly that they didn’t exactly appreciate all the energy-consuming sneezing fits he had, unraveling him into a seemingly never-ending string of coughs so intense that he had to use the nebulizer again.

Ever the punctual man, Peter managed to arrive home with perfectly terrible timing, opening the door to find Neal alternating between hacking his lungs out and taking hits from his nebulizer. A concerned pout flooded his features as he shut the door behind him. Before he could even say anything or move to sit next to his partner in crime(-stopping), his partner in life came hastily running to the top of the stairs holding a bottle of mouthwash with a panicked look on her face.

“Oh, honey, you’re back!” Elizabeth exclaimed, a little out-of-breath. “You got it handled in here with Neal?” she asked.

“Uh, I… guess so?” Peter faltered in confusion.

“Great! I’ll join you guys soon,” she promised, immediately followed by taking a swig of mouthwash that she swished back and forth in her mouth as she ran back out of view, assumedly to spit it out in the bathroom sink.

“… What the fuck happened while I was gone?” Peter asked, almost unsure if he wanted to know the answer. Regardless, he sat down next to Neal on the couch and rubbed soothing circles into his CI’s back as the poor guy struggled to stop coughing.

Once he finally caught his breath, Neal clarified, “It’s fine, just, um. Elizabeth wanted to prove that she wasn’t sick, so she took her temperature with the thermometer I just used. Didn’t realize for a second, trying to disinfect her mouth now I guess.”

Honestly, not the answer he was expecting… although, Peter wasn’t really sure what he was expecting. But, he did know that Neal’s breathing sounded a lot more uncomfortable after that coughing fit, and he was worried about him. Again. 

“Hey, maybe you should use this for a little longer. Don’t give me that look, you sound like you smoke cigarettes on the daily, Neal.” Peter muttered, still holding out the nebuliser towards him, before his attention was momentarily diverted to his wife coming back down the stairs. 

“Sorry about that,” she chuckled sheepishly. “How’d working on the case go? Everything okay?”

“We made some plans, put out some hooks and bait. Just gotta wait and see if we get a bite.”

She turned to Neal after that, a sympathetic pout worn on her face. “Hey, Sneezy.” El teased a little, earning a smile from behind the nebuliser mask. 

“Hi, Sneezy by proxy.” He mumbled, voice a little shot from all that had been happening. 

“Touché,” El hummed with a chuckle, sitting next to her husband on the couch. “I’ll go look for the cough syrup for you… and, prep soup for dinner. Why don’t you lie down, sweetie?”

“I’m good, I’ve been sleeping 12 hours a day or more lately, I really don’t think I need to…” Neal trailed off with an ill-timed yawn into his hand that he couldn’t quite fend off. Before either Burke could comment on it, which they seemed damn ready to based on the way they were trying to pretend that they weren’t grinning or snickering a little, he backpedaled, albeit with an accusatory finger pointed at Elizabeth preemptively. “All right, fine, I’ll lay down for a little bit after downing some cough syrup. But you better wake me for dinner, okay?”

“Oookay, okay. You got it,” El chuckled, putting her hands up in mock surrender. As Neal started coughing and wheezing a bit more heavily again, her smile drained into a sympathetic frown. “Keep that thing on at least until we get that cough syrup in you, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Neal sighed, placing the nebuliser back up to his mouth and pausing for a moment… leaning against Peter’s shoulder with a small huff. Peter wrapped an arm around him, giving his shoulder a little pat. 

“Neal, you gotta sit up for me. Cough syrup!” Elizabeth turned the bottle to read the label. “It’s cherry flavour. Is that okay?”

“I guess,” he murmured, removing the nebuliser and switching it off, making himself sit with a grunt of effort. 

Elizabeth poured some into the cap, carefully handing it to him… only for Neal to just, wordlessly hand it back again. 

“I’m fine, actually. I think I’ll stick with this.” He held up the nebuliser, scrunching his nose at the liquid medicine. Liquid medicine is the worst. 

Peter turned to Neal, thinking for a moment. “I’ll take you to any art museum in the city, even if it’s outside your radius. If — if you take any meds El brings you.”

The offer was clearly too good to even try and negotiate with, as Neal reached for the medicine cap and downed it in one… trying hard not to gag afterwards. He fell sideways after that, landing against Peter’s side with a soft ‘oof’ as the older man steadied him, wrapping an arm around his side. 

It wasn’t surprising to either El or Peter that Neal fell asleep shortly afterwards; his congested snores background noise, as the couple quietly whispered conversation together about what to do next.

What Safe Feels Like.

This fic has been a long time in the making! I have partnered with the talented bean, @rosieknows to create a lovely W/hite Co/llar, N/eal C/affrey centric fic for the winter season <3. The events that take place consist of our favourite conman getting lots of tender care at the B/urke's residence.

Part 1.

Word Count: Just under 5k.

CW: illness, snz (duh), contagion, a little later on in the fic. A tiny bit of mess, medical talk/topics.

Don't reblog to non-kink blogs. 18+ only, thank you! <33

Earlier in the week, Peter Burke had told Neal Caffrey to start wearing a coat outdoors — “weather’s changing,” he’d said, “you’ll catch a cold!” And, obviously, Neal had informed him that fact was merely a myth. Besides, the autumn sun was still shining two days ago and he was only walking a short way to the coffee shop and back. How bad could it really be…?

Perhaps the universe picked favourites that day, and, for once, Neal’s charm couldn’t save him. It could have been much worse, certainly, but as much as Neal tried to focus his mind on that belief, he couldn’t quite get himself to fully deny that it was very, very bad. 

It was as if the second he’d gotten far enough away from the bureau, the heavens had opened above him and soaked him from head to toe before he’d even arrived at the coffee shop door. Which, by the way, was closed for the first time ever. And, so, Neal had to hurry across the street to another. The icing on top of the cake, though, was the taxi that drove through a puddle and splashed him when he finally reached the other side. 

To say Peter got amusement out of all of this later on would’ve been an understatement. 

Neal had been forced to wear some ancient-looking FBI training clothes for the rest of the day, and the scowl on his face didn’t falter for quite some time. He had eventually dried off and warmed up — Peter even started to feel a little bad, and gave him his suit jacket as a blanket at one point. When the day ended, the sun was shining and Neal felt right as rain again. Although, the same couldn’t be said for the morning two days later.

The first sensation that struck him was how utterly cold he felt, even wrapped up in his own bed and blankets, which he sleepily pulled tighter around himself. Perhaps the fickle autumn weather had turned for the worse during the night as it was so prone to do. The next feeling he was able to process was pure weariness like gravity had decided to be particularly insistent that his limbs stay firmly on the bed and lashed out in punishment when they did attempt to move. Perhaps he hadn’t slept well or had worked himself harder the previous day than he realized.

The third — or, well, the third, fourth, fifth, and so on for quite a few — sensations Neal felt were the nail in the proverbial coffin. An urgent, almost burning tickle budded in his upper sinuses, causing him to blink in irritation. Soon enough, the itch found its way to spread through the entire reaches of his nose. His eyebrows knitted together in slants, his breath caught in his throat, and his soft lips fell open before —

“Hihh! Hehhdtschh’uh! Hahh… hiht-ktschhh—tschhh!… Ugh, god,” he sneezed, ducking forward sleepily into his blanket since he had neither the time nor alertness to cover with anything else. Sighing in a mixture of relief and dread, he came to the conclusion that he was likely getting sick. Maybe if he was tired enough, felt cold enough, and pouted long enough, the cold would just take pity on him and leave. Unfortunately, to no one’s surprise, he still felt sick, which meant it was time for Plan B: work through it because it was a busy week and hope it didn’t get any worse. And, most importantly, hide it from Peter. 

The warm shower seemed to help a little, but it didn’t take long for the aches to start creeping back in and for his sinuses to grow irritated again. Once he was dressed, with his hair styled and shoes tied. . . Neal was ready. Ready as he’d ever be, at least. Besides, he felt fine, for the most part. Downing some water should help his throat, and a couple of Tylenol should stave off the headache that he could feel brewing behind his eyes. Peter should be here any minute to pick him up, and Neal placed his hat — one of his favourites, both for comfort and in the hopes that looking well-dressed or put together enough would dissuade any suspicion — upon his head with a sigh. He can do this. 

“Morning, Neal,” Peter greeted in his usual tone, toying with the heating in the car. “‘S cold out. I told you the seasons were changing!”

“Morning,” Neal muttered, climbing into the car and buckling up. “Y’know, you really missed your true calling as a weather boy.”

“That’s funny,” Peter remarked back, beginning to drive now. “But, I think my assets are best settled within the FBI. Criminals are more predictable than the weather if you know what you’re doing.” He chuckled to himself. 

Neal stared out of the window at the passing cars and orange and yellow leaves on the trees that rolled by. He was still tired and quieter than usual, Peter noted mentally, watching him unbeknownst to the criminal consultant himself, who was still focused on their outdoor surroundings. He gave a slow blink, directing his attention to the heating that was uncomfortably too warm all of a sudden. Pushing the vent closed, he glanced sideways. 

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just quiet, that’s all. Quiet usually means up to something.”

“I can be quiet. It’s early. I thought you liked quiet, anyway,” Neal retorted, shifting slightly in his seat. He couldn’t get comfortable despite moving, crossing and uncrossing his legs. 

The rest of the journey was left without questions, and they made it to the parking garage without any more issues. Neal got out of the car, rubbing at his nose whilst Peter couldn’t see him. He paused. This really wasn’t the time, but he’d have to play it off somehow because this discomfort wasn’t going to let up. Reaching down for the leg of his trousers, Neal stifled a well-silenced sneeze.

“Are you coming?” Peter called out, and as Neal raised his head again, he sniffled. 

“Patience is a virtue, Peter! My anklet was stuck in my trouser leg. Appearance matters, you know.” 

“Everyone here knows you’ve got the ankle jewellery, Caffrey. I’m sure you wouldn’t cause mass hysteria with a flash of your leg.”

“You’d be surprised,” Neal grinned mischievously, keeping up with Peter as they made their way toward the elevator. 

The agent only rolled his eyes in response and pressed the button for the elevator, still none the wiser. For now. Neal had let Peter step in first, scrunching up his nose behind him, and then —  somehow and with great difficulty — he managed to resist the urge to sniffle the entire way up to their floor. When the elevator dinged to a stop and Neal exited it, he was immediately hit by everything all at once: the brightness of the lighting, the overlap of voices, and the general sounds of the morning bustle. Usually, it was like white noise to him, but today it hurt his head, and the lighting did nothing to relieve the itch in his sinuses.

He pressed his wrist against his nose, haphazardly managing to prevent another sneeze before he followed quickly behind Peter. “I’ll be right there! Just grabbing something from my desk,” Neal called across the bullpen, ducking down behind his desk as if he were looking for something. 

But, instead. . . “Hh—ushcht!” He buried his face into the crook of his elbow, frozen for a moment longer. “Hheh—htchht!”  Followed by a series of long sniffles.

“Lost something, Caffrey?” Diana’s voice interrupted his small recovery period, and Neal flinched so hard in surprise that he bumped his head underneath his desk with a small thud. Damn it. He paused for just a second before swiping a pen from his pocket. Then, he stood up straight again, flashing the pen in her general direction, with a scowl crossing his features. 

“Dropped my pen. Not a crime, last time I checked,” he muttered, placing it safely back into his pocket. After straightening his hat, Neal moved past her to get to the conference room. 

Peter looked up at the sound of footsteps and silently wondered what Diana had said to the CI to make him look so disgruntled. “Nice of you to finally join us,” he dared to jest, waiting for Neal and Diana to sit before starting his talk for the day; they had to find a new case, as well as complete the paperwork from their last one. Of course, Neal wasn’t exactly amused by the briefing topic. Yet, he didn’t seem to audibly complain for nearly as long as he usually did. Huh. 

Neal simply took the selection of case files that Peter slid towards him across the tabletop and found the one that he had to finish up. He opened the file slowly, tapping his pen against his forehead. He stared at the page for so long that he barely noticed Peter watching him from across the room. 

“Neal. . . You good?” His voice snapped the CI from his daze, who was quick to shake himself out of it and flash a signature smile the agent’s way. 

“Always. You know how much I love paperwork!” Neal responded, sarcasm evident in his tone. 

“Wonderful, you’ll have plenty to enjoy,” Peter retorted with a dry smirk, placing another file in front of his partner. “Focus up; we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“How do you sound so happy when you say that?” the younger man groaned, leaning back in his chair with folded arms.

Still, focusing was easier said than done in this situation. Despite his best attempt at listening attentively, his mind felt fuzzy. Additionally, his nose still itched, causing him to scrunch it up slightly. He rubbed at it with the back of his hand in what he hoped was a casual gesture. Unfortunately, the touch seemed to be ineffective at best and intensifying at worst. Either way, he quickly tipped past the point of no return and crumbled forward into his fist with a sneeze, stifled into near silence as usual.

“Hihh—kKTtsh!” After a few blinks, he dared to peek at his coworkers’ reactions, hoping that the others had been as distracted as he was himself. For a moment, he thought he was lucky enough.

“Bless you, Caffrey,” rang a deep, feminine voice. Damn it. Diana was perceptive even in the most hectic of times, so it was only natural that she would notice a disturbance — slight as it was — during a particularly slow and dull meeting.

“Thanks,” Neal muttered softly, if a bit shyly. He saw Peter’s gaze flick to Diana and back at him. Clearing his throat, he examined the documents in front of him intently to prompt the continuation of the meeting.

Peter continued to talk about the writing they had to do, but Neal stopped listening some time ago and was mostly focused on trying not to sneeze again. He glanced at his handler every now and then to keep up the facade that he was listening, and turned a few pages of the file in front of him. As soon as Peter had finished talking and a small hubbub started up, Neal saw his chance, standing up and using the file as a shield to hide his face. 

‘HnnKxt. . Heh’ngxt.’  Well, at least he’d gotten away with that one. 

He even almost made it to the door without anyone saying anything about it until Peter spoke up from behind him. “You going somewhere?” He questioned, and Neal stopped. So close. 

“To my desk…?” Neal replied, thankful for the fact that his voice barely sounded congested for the moment. “You can’t deny that I’ll get distracted in here.”

Peter frowned slightly before nodding. “Alright, but don’t try and get out of this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Neal murmured, hurrying to his desk; his nose was beginning to run, and he didn’t exactly want anyone to witness that. He pressed his silk handkerchief to his nose after sitting down, keeping his head held low and sniffling quietly. He went to the men’s room a minute later, waiting until it was empty so that he could blow his nose and splash some cold water on his face. This was going to be a damn long day. 

He kept a low profile for as long as possible, dismissing Peter’s questions when he’d come over to see how he was doing and sneaking off to the men’s room whenever he could; by lunchtime, the congestion was worsening, and he had to keep sniffling to stop his nose from running too much. He barely even noticed Diana wandering over. 

“Caffrey?” Her voice made him flinch slightly in surprise, but he managed to pull it off as a stretching motion. 

Neal glanced up, blinking a few times. “Hm?”

“You’ve usually begged Peter five times to go on a coffee run by now… it’s already lunchtime.” Her eyebrows raised. “What gives?”

The CI shrugged, turning back to his papers and picking up his pen. He’d barely done anything yet, but he needed to keep up appearances. 

“So, are you gonna go get some?”

“Huh?” Neal just really wanted her to go away because he wasn’t really listening, and his head was starting to ache. 

“The coffee — Neal, are you okay?”

He plastered on a signature smile, hopping up to his feet. “I’m just messing with you, Diana. The usual drinks?” Neal asked, reaching for his coat on the back of his chair. 

He made his way to the doors, turning when Diana called his name again. “Caffrey, do you want a sandwich? From that place down the block? Jones is buying!” 

“No, thanks! I’ll get something at the coffee place.” Neal called back, only somewhat lying. He was getting something, and that something was coffee. Or maybe tea, actually. 

•••

He was gone for slightly longer than usual, but nobody was going to question it. Neal ensured it didn’t take too long, however, or Peter would start to get antsy and probably call or text him a few times. He got everyone’s drinks and opted for green tea for himself — he could feel the buzzing in his sinuses worsening, not to mention the congestion was starting to properly settle in and clog up his nose now. Going outside hadn't exactly made it any better, either, and he was sniffling in the elevator the entire way up. 

He carried the drinks into the conference room, setting them down on the table and exhaling slowly through his mouth as he stepped away.  Nobody seemed to pay much attention to him — they were all busy eating their food, and Neal had to stop himself from audibly gagging. Did he really feel that bad all of a sudden? His hand reached forward to grab his cup whilst everyone else began helping themselves to their drinks. It wasn’t until he took a sip that he realised he hadn’t taken his own cup at all, and from Peter’s confused expression, he’d gotten the tea. 

“Neal…” his voice started, and the CI wasn’t quite sure what would come next, so he butted in with a quick, haphazard excuse. 

“Hey! You said it yourself, the weather’s changing. Tea will do you good.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed slightly, but the little white lie seemed to satisfy him for now, and everyone got back to what they were doing. To keep up appearances, he sipped the coffee for a while, trying to ignore the way it made his stomach turn. After around five minutes, he snuck out of the door and headed back to sit at his desk; if anyone were to question it, he’d make up the same excuse about needing to concentrate. The coffee was thrown into the trash the second he sat down, and a heavy sigh came afterwards. 

•••

“God damn it,” Peter grumbled under his breath as he looked around the office. “Diana, Jones, have you seen Caffrey anywhere? It doesn’t look like he’s even so much as glanced at any of his work today.”

“Not in a while, no,” Jones answered, looking behind him to verify the absence, though if the CI had simply been standing in the middle of that open hallway, he probably would have been noticed by now. “He seemed kind of tired, though. Maybe he went home early?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. Something feels off. I don’t think he’s just slacking off again,” Peter dismissed, forehead wrinkled in those signature frown lines and lips pressed firmly together in a mixture of concern and disapproval.

“Peter, your blood pressure’s high enough as it is,” Diana deadpanned, earning an offended head tilt from the man in question. “Go back to what you were doing; I’ll find your missing dog,” she reassured, already standing up without waiting for a response.

“I… all right. Thanks, let me know if you find him,” Peter relented.

“You gonna put up fliers?” Jones joked with an entertained smirk as he watched Diana beginning to leave.

“Nah, not yet. If I don’t see him, I think I’ll start with treats to draw him out. Maybe a nice Bordeaux,” she quipped in turn with a thoughtful expression. The clicks of her heels against the firm carpet seemed to echo more than usual as if the room felt emptier and quieter somehow. Though she tried to play it off, she had to admit to herself that she was worried; she’d felt that sour twist in her gut far too many times in her work and personal life to ignore it. She hoped he was all right, particularly since he wasn’t responding to texts or calls, and that she’d be able to find him soon if not.

It took less than 15 minutes, not due to any detective skills as an FBI agent either. While the office was large, it didn’t really take long to traverse, especially if you were familiar with it enough to avoid getting lost. Besides, the floor plan was quite open, and the majority of rooms had large glass panel windows, so they were easy to check. It was an older conference room, though, one without any indoor-facing windows or glass doors, where she found him.

“You good, Caffrey?” Diana asked, the light from the open door illuminating the scene before her just enough to see the CI in question asleep, lying on his back in the centre of the long, rectangular table. Seemingly, to cushion the otherwise flat, hard surface, he had rolled his suit jacket into a makeshift pillow to rest his head on. “Caffrey,” she called again.

“Hmmn?” Neal hummed groggily, stirring at the sudden noise. “‘M sorry… ‘s still on…” he mumbled almost entirely incoherently, fumbling around to pull his left pant leg up enough to reveal his anklet.

“Neal, you’re dreaming,” she offered in a gentler tone, heart twisting in concern. Fortunately, that seemed to bring him past the threshold into the waking world.

“Oh, hey, Diana,” he muttered, rubbing at his bleary eyes and blinking them open.

“We were looking for you,” she began, finally flicking on the ceiling lights of the room. “Are you—”

The sudden influx of light directly above him sparked a buzzing sensation deep in his sinuses that caused him to immediately crumple forward into his elbow. “Ehdt-ktschhh! H-huhh… ihdtsch! Heh’tischhh—dtschhh! Ugh…” Sniffling pitifully, he sat up properly and got off the table.

“Jesus. Bless you?” Diana said, scanning him over with her eyes.

“Thangks. Sorry, it’s, uh, the lights,” he replied sheepishly with another wet sniffle.

After a moment, she pulled out a travel pack of tissues from her pocket and handed them over to her coworker with a soft “here.” He flashed her a grateful smile and blew his nose quietly. “You, uh… get too tired to head home?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You could say that, I guess,” he muttered in embarrassment before the next words caught in his throat, sending him coughing into the tissues in his hand.

“You know you could just go home sick, right?” Diana prompted with folded arms.

“Yeah, sure, if I was sick, but I’m not, and we have work to do. Just needed to rest my head for a minute,” he insisted with his usual winning smile, though it didn’t quite seem to reach his eyes as much as it typically did.

“World’s greatest conman’s off his game, huh?” Diana prompted, folding her arms. “Do you really think that sounds believable?”

His lips opened with a lie about his health on his tongue, but he sighed in defeat instead. “It wasn’t that bad earlier, but it kinda just hit me all at once… sorry for disappearing out of nowhere.”

Diana hummed in acknowledgement before asking, “You have a fever?”

“Uh… probably a mild one? I’m not 100% sure,” he replied, touching his hand to his forehead and neck despite knowing it would be a fruitless examination.

“All right, c’mere,” she beckoned, though she closed most of the gap herself and began to feel his forehead for fever with the front and back of her palm. 

“Heh-hh…” Neal’s breath caught softly, blinking before pressing his knuckles up against his nose.

“If you sneeze on me, I swear to god,” she warned.

“Hh-huhhh… hh!!” The pressure was quite clearly not enough to suppress the reflex any longer, so he turned as far away from her as he could—her taking a step back was likely still a wonderful decision—and ducked into the crook of his arm. “Hihhtschh! Huhhhhkdtsch! Ugh…”

“Bless you.”

“Thangks,” he replied, swiping a tissue under his running nose again and discarding it in a nearby trash can. “So, what’s my prognosis, Doc?”

“You feel warm.”

“If your career in the FBI doesn’t work out, you should really think about going into the medical field.” Neal sniffled, scrunching his nose in a poor attempt to stop it from running. 

“Watch it, Caffrey. One doctor in the house is enough already—not that it would take years of medical training to know you need to go home and rest.” Diana pointed a finger at him, spending a moment assessing the situation. “Don’t move. I’ll be back.” With that, she simply turned around and left.

“Okay? I-I thought we both wanted me to go home right now? Diana?” The confused, half-hearted reply was not granted the slightest form of acknowledgement, except for the door closing behind his coworker.

Neal blinked slowly, unsure of what to do for a moment, before hopping down from the table and, noting how horrible standing up felt, taking refuge in one of the spinny chairs. She said to wait, so… something in him took the instruction to heart. Still, he was impatient to the very end and soon curled up in the chair for comfort, eyes blinking slowly and heavily, and maybe just having them shut for a moment would be nice—

“Did you fall back asleep again?” 

The rhetorical question was from Diana, he was pretty sure, but he only really registered the presence of the words, not processing much else. Regardless, it quickly roused him from his short-lived respite of slumber, prompting him to sit up straight and rub at his drowsy eyes.

“Hmmn?” Neal mumbled with a small yawn, “Um, I might have dozed off a little?” He took another second to think about it. “Probably, yeah.”

“No shit,” Diana monotoned.

“Sleeping on the job, eh, Caffrey?” Peter teased.

“I doubt he’s been getting much work done with whatever plague he picked up from cold and flu season,” Diana shot back.

“Hey, I’m right here, you know?” Neal pouted. “It’s just a little cold, I’m fine.”

“If this is just something little, then I’d hate to see you with a full-blown flu,” Diana muttered, looking from Neal and then to Peter. “Peter’s taking you home.” She added, watching as her Boss’ expression turned to one of confusion. 

“I am?” A pause. A ‘look’ from Diana. “I. . . Am.” He looked at Neal, properly looked this time. He did look pretty awful, and it was doubtful even the best of con men could manage to hide whatever it was he’d managed to hide up until now; his nose was red, he looked exhausted, and his cheeks were starting to flush. Not to mention how uncharacteristically unkempt he was looking. 

“C’mon, Neal.” Peter stepped forward, holding out his hand.

It took them both a lot longer than usual to get downstairs and into the parking garage because a feverish Neal had decided to press multiple elevator buttons at once… and then tried to get into the wrong car once they finally did arrive, but they were eventually buckled in and ready to go. 

“Never a dull day with Neal Caffrey around, huh?” Peter muttered, mostly to himself, as he started up the car engine. 

“Never a dull… day with P’ter Burke… and his car..” Neal mumbled, sniffling and leaning to toy with the radio. 

“Hey, no touching. Sit back and don’t meddle.” He began to drive towards the exit, ensuring to press the child lock button. Just in case. 

No sooner than they were out of the building and driving into the sunshine, Neal shielded his eyes with his wrist and groaned. 

‘Nnn’gxChht… xXchhht—oo.’ He sneezed into the wrist previously used to try and hide his eyes and sniffled thickly. 

“Gesundheit,” Peter muttered, already stopping in a slight queue of traffic. 

Neal didn’t answer, leaning his head against the window with a heavy sigh. Now that he was caught, he couldn’t pretend he was fine, and he hated the sense of looking… weak. Especially to Peter, which was a whole thing to analyse in itself. He just wanted to be alone, but he couldn’t now, and Elizabeth certainly wasn’t going to let him. Of course, he was grateful to have people in his life who cared about him like that, but it was new and it was different, and Neal Caffrey liked it when things went his way. 

“You know you’re allowed to call in sick, right?” Peter spoke up again as the traffic started to move. 

“You’re allowed to call in sick.” Neal sniffled, still leaning his head against the window. 

There was a pause whilst Peter thought about Neal’s behaviour throughout the day. He was pretty good at hiding things. But… 

“Did you even eat anything today?”

“Mhm.”

“And, I’m guessing the tea you brought me was not for me…?”

“Wow, real FBI agent over here,” Neal grumbled, lifting his head slightly to glance at Peter, only to be once again blindsided by the sun. 

His handler sighed as they stopped at another red light. “There’s sunglasses in the dash,” Peter said after a moment, “they’re El’s. Blue eyes are more sensitive, right?” He questioned, watching Neal shrug out of the corner of his eye. The CI placed them on, seemingly relaxing a little more. 

“Thanks,” Neal mumbled, leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes. 

As Peter started driving again, he knew he wasn’t going to take Neal back to June’s. He’d only hide himself away and pretend everything was fine — while making himself worse in the process. Nope. Neal Caffrey was about to experience Elizabeth Burke’s expert bedside manner and Peter’s on-point tea-making skills. 

•••

“Honey, is that you?” Elizabeth’s voice rang out from the kitchen, “You’re home early; it’s only three o’clock! Is everything—” The footsteps came to an abrupt halt as she joined the pair in the living room. “— oh.” The moment she laid eyes on Neal, she immediately understood why her husband had come home so soon. 

Peter gave a sort of glance towards her that clearly said, “Help me,” and El chuckled softly. She pointed at Peter before leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You, kitchen. And you,” she paused to tap Neal’s chest with her index finger. “Upstairs. Let’s get you something comfortable to wear.”

He just sort of looked at her, crystal blue eyes a little glazed over. “Hi, Elizabeth. Peter’s supposed to take me home, but he took a wrong turn,” Neal mumbled, watching his handler walk away. 

“I think he took a very well-planned turn. Come on, honey, upstairs.” She ushered him towards the staircase, following behind. “You go to the bathroom to blow your nose, and I’ll get you some clothes. Neal, don’t give me that look. You sound terrible, and you can’t pretend you don’t.” Elizabeth sighed, reaching to help him with his suit jacket. “All that sniffling will give you a headache,” she chided gently. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She fetched some of Peter’s pyjamas, a blue plaid set he only tended to wear during particularly cold weather, and placed them outside the bathroom door. “I’m going to get you some blankets for the couch, okay? I’ll be downstairs; the clothes are right here. Neal?” Elizabeth frowned, reaching to tap against the bathroom door, awaiting an answer. 

“Mhm,” came the stuffy, sleepy reply. 

It wasn’t long before the CI was curled up on the Burkes’ couch, wrapped in blankets and resting his head against a pillow. He looked exhausted and much more dishevelled than Neal Caffrey would ever dream of looking in front of someone else. Both El and Peter stood by, watching as their house guest snored and exhaled congested breaths; he’d fallen asleep just minutes after resting his head down. Turns out that masking your symptoms all day was pretty tiring work. 

“You can’t deny that he looks adorable like that,” El whispered, resting her head against her husband’s arm. 

“Looks can be deceiving,” Peter muttered back quietly, wrapping an arm around her waist. He sighed.

[6mayhem]

but i would give anything for just one day spent in the life i had when i was 15. it may not have been perfect but i felt like i belonged somewhere. and i didn't worry so goddamn much about the big picture

[chuluoyi]

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bones of his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”

[fawnhart]

bambi and drew when they were in a situationship˚ ᡣ𐭩. 𖥔 ๋࣭

Drew’s breathing is still erratic, the sex you just shared with him has left him gasping for air. You don’t say anything—just slip out from under the covers, the chill of the room hitting your skin. You don’t even look at him when you walk to the bathroom.

The door clicks shut behind you, but you can still hear him shifting in the bed, the soft rustling of sheets. You stare at yourself in the mirror, eyes wide, brows furrowed.

What the fuck am I doing?

You don’t even realize when he starts walking toward you. It’s like he’s always been behind you, looming over you even when you don’t want him to be.

The bathroom door cracks open, and there he is, looking confused.

“baby, what are you doing?”

You don’t even know why you’re still talking to him at all. You came over to talk about how you’re sick and tired of being pushed aside, sick of feeling left out anytime his freinds are around, not fitting in because they view you as young and naive. But like always you gave in and slept with him. You knew the conversation wasn’t happening, so what’s the point in staying?

“I’m leaving,” you say, your voice barely a whisper, but it feels louder than anything you’ve ever said to him.

His face twists into something you can't quite place—disbelief, anger, hurt, all mixed together. “Wh- Are you serious?”

You can’t even look at him. You focus on your reflection in the mirror, the way your shoulders sag, how defeated you feel and look. Mascara and lip liner smeared, your cheeks warm and sweaty.

“I’m serious,” you murmur. “I’m done.”

He takes a step closer, reaching out to touch your arm, but you pull away. His touch, once comforting, feels like a brand now. Like it burns.

“Bambi, you’re being ridiculous” he says, a laugh edging his words, but it doesn’t sound like he’s laughing at all. It sounds like he’s mocking you.

“I’m not being ridiculous!” you snap, spinning around to face him. You feel the words press against your chest, sharp and bitter. “It was a mistake.”

He scoffs. “A mistake? After everything? you’re really telling me this after what we just did?”

You bite your lip, eyes stinging. “Yes. Because you’re always so damn mean to me!”

The words hang in the air, thick with the tension between you both. Drew looks like he’s just been hit, but he’s not giving up.

He raises an eyebrow, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You don’t even know what you want half the time, Bambi. You change your mind like the goddamn wind. One minute, you want to be with me, the next, you’re pushing me away. How am I supposed to keep up with that?”

“You want to know why?” You’re shaking now, the anger bubbling over. “Because you make it impossible. You’re the one who’s always pushing and pulling me in when your little bitch isn’t in town. You make everything about yourself, and then when I need something—anything—there’s nothing, everytime you gain something I’m the one losing everything!”

Drew’s face hardens, and his voice lowers to something dangerous. “I’m not the one who doesn’t know what they are doing. You’re the one who thinks everything’s gonna work out just because you’re here with me. Newsflash! its not. Not everything is as simple as you want it to be. You’re naive to think it is.”

You feel your chest tighten, your throat burning. "Don’t call me that." You say as tears start staining your skin

He looks at you, unblinking. "You don't get it, You can't keep acting like everything's perfect, like we can just keep pretending things are fine when they’re not."

“It’s not fine, Drew," you say, your voice cracking. "That’s why I’m leaving.”

He just stares at you, his face twisted, his eyes dark with frustration. "This is stupid," he mutters, turning away and heading back to bed "I can’t keep doing this shit."

But you’re already over it. Your mind is made up, and you’re not going to let him talk you out of it. Not again. Not this time.

You grab your phone, your purse, and without a second glance, you’re out the door. The air hits you, cold and biting, but it feels better than the heat of the argument.

A cab pulls up, and you don’t hesitate. You climb in without looking back, your hands shaking as you close the door behind you. You don’t even know where you’re going yet, doesn’t matter anyway. You just need space.

The cab pulls away, and you stare out the window, watching the streetlights blur into streaks of yellow and orange.

Drew’s face is still stuck in your mind. His words, the way he made you feel small. He always does that, Makes you feel like you’re the one who doesn’t know what’s real, like you’re the one who’s in the wrong.

But you’re not wrong. Not this time. You know what you need, even if it hurts to walk away.

you wonder if Drew is standing in that dark apartment, staring at the door you just walked through, trying to figure out whether he wants you or not. Whether he’ll ever make up his mind.

Maybe, maybe not. But right now, all you know is that you need to breathe.

© 𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[rindreamery]

like a fever, i ache for you.

how intensely the blue lock men yearn for you. featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, michael kaiser ─ content: suggestive

note. drove myself insane while writing this actually 🧍🏻‍♀️WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

itoshi rin sees you in every daydream.

every time rin closes his eyes, you’re there— it’s as if the image of you is permanently burned into the space behind his eyelids, like a never ending dream. (yet, he never wants to wake up from it.) the mere sight of you makes his heart burn and his head spin, and that desperate feeling of wanting you bleeds into his fingertips that makes him reach for you in his sleep. you trap him in his own mind. it feels as if you consume his every thought and occupy the space of every moment he’s awake. you’re a distraction, but one he can’t seem to get enough of.

when he blinks, you’re there, and everything blurs together. he starts to lose sense of where you end and he begins— you’ve become a part of him.

the concept of you even begins to seep into his passions, into his goals. rin thinks of you when he’s on the field, and he can’t deny the rush of adrenaline that shoots through his body at the thought of you cheering for him. he’s hooked to the feeling, he needs more. the thought that you’re only thinking of him too at that exact moment— watching him, holding his dreams close to your heart— that you’re both thinking of each other. connected. it’s a dream that drives him to try even harder.

because you’re not just a distraction anymore; you’ve become his sole focus.

during his next game, he plays with the image of you patiently waiting for him at the entrance of the tunnel. so when he catches his breath after a hard match, his body on the brink of collapsing and covered in sweat, it’s not the sweet taste of victory that revives him. it’s not the cheers of the crowd, praises of his name falling from their lips, that brings him back to life. no— it’s the thought of you. close and real, hand pressed against his chest as you lean in, with your warm skin pressing against his own as you whisper into his ear, “i knew you could do it.”

he knows he'll dream of that feeling from now on too, of your breath against his ear. he can’t escape you— but he doesn’t think he’ll ever want to.

itoshi sae searches for you in the crowd.

without fail, sae’s eyes will always gravitate towards you— even in the chaos of the stadium, even when you think you’re lost in the blur of the people surrounding you. his eyes always seem to find yours. when he finally catches sight of you in his jersey, it’s hard to miss the way his gaze sharpens with intensity, his eyes darkening in a way you’ve never seen before. it’s electric; the only word that could describe the feeling he gets when he sees that you’re staring back at him with the same intensity.

something about you— the way you proudly wear his jersey, and the look of pride that swims in your eyes as you look at him— awakens something deep in him.

sae feels a satisfaction he's never quite felt before you. it’s a possessive and all-consuming feeling. like his ego is inflated to its limits and makes him uncharacteristically greedy for you. his thoughts become filled with the need to become the center of your world, to stake some sort of claim on you so no one else can. (he wants his teammates to see what he comes home to every night.) this feeling that makes him want to throw away all rationale, and before he realizes it, it's this feeling that has him walking over to you before the match even begins.

he doesn't care for the alarmed look on your face as he rips your (his) ring off your finger. around the two of you, shocked gasps fill the stadium, as he loops your ring into his necklace. but they become lost in the background, and his focus is on you. "look at me," and when he brings his necklace up to his lips, your ring now dangling by the string, his eyes never leave yours. there’s an almost dangerous edge to it now— his eyes gleaming possessively at you.

he wants you to think of this moment, to embed it in your thoughts, and crave for him the same way he craves for you.

nagi seishiro can't stop staring at your lips.

light pink lip gloss looks the best on you. it’s a thought that clouds nagi’s mind every time he sees them. the way its glossiness catches the light, making the soft pink of your lips stand out and give it a subtle, irresistible fullness. they’re so plump, inviting, that it becomes dangerously intoxicating. (it must be on purpose, he often thinks, because you smile every time you're applying it on.) he doesn’t care if you notice the fact that he’s unable to fight the urge when his eyes flicker towards them— like it’s impossible to tear his eyes away from them— he wants you to notice.

they’re just so alluring, yet troubling, the way it gets his heart pumping in excitement.

the jealous part of him wants to be the only one to see you like this. because there’s just something about the way you react to him, something about the look in your eyes when you catch on to his wandering gaze. he’s entirely drawn to the way your breath hitches just a little when his eyes flick down to your lips, and then back to your eyes. and the way the corner of your lips pulls into a little smirk at this, eyes focused on his, as your tongue teasingly drags across the gloss to get a taste. his mind becomes overcome with thoughts of you— what would they taste like? would it be something fruity, like strawberry? or maybe something even sweeter, like birthday cake?

but you never give him the satisfaction of knowing, and it pulls him in even deeper. you push away from him, every time, and it’s maddening. it’s always with the same sweet smile and playful glint in your eyes, that you tell him, “it was nice talking to you.” then you’re turning around, leaving him behind.

nagi’s left wondering what it would be like, to see if that sweetness on your lips tastes as inviting as it looks.

mikage reo thinks of you in every song.

with every beat, every lyric, with every tune that floods reo’s ears— there you are, vivid in his mind, as if you were woven deep into the addicting melody. it’s as if the lyrics were written with you in mind, and he’s forever stuck thinking of you. his heart burns for you in the songs that you send, and he clings to every playlist you share. he imagines you in these lovesick songs— having you in his arms, intertwining his fingers with yours as you dance slowly to the tune— like his mind is desperately trying to tell him something he’s still too afraid to say out loud. it’s a silent confession, words he can never bring himself to say out loud, spilling from the speakers instead.

he plays the same song on repeat; he wants to keep hearing your name in the lyrics, and to feel the ghost of your presence as if you’re right there with him.

but as silent as his affections are, reo doesn’t want his desperate longing to be one-sided. he wants to worm his way into your every thought, invade your mind, the same exact way you had done with his. he wants you to see flashes of him when you hear a familiar tune, to smile to yourself whenever you realize it’s his favorite song playing in the background of a random store.

so reo pours his heart into a playlist for you. "these songs remind me of you," and to him, it’s enough. he hopes you can hear everything he feels in the space between the lyrics, to read between the lines of the words as they dance across your screen. every song is a dedication to his love for you. to him, it’s a love letter he can never bring himself to write but can’t help and send. he doesn’t want to speak it out loud— this playlist, with a strange mix of soft longing and quiet desire, does the work for him.

it’s a playlist of his soul’s quietest confessions, and he hopes you can hear how much his heart longs for you.

michael kaiser is haunted by thoughts of your touch.

kaiser doesn’t know when it started— the obsession, the craving for you, the fervent need to feel your skin on his. maybe it was when your fingertips grazed his hand as you passed him a water bottle, lasting for a second at most, but sending sparks flying across his skin where you touched. or maybe it was when you put your hand against his back, palms pressed firmly into the planes of his muscles, as you guided him out of the way (because he was blocking you, but he chooses to ignore that detail.) you’re his manager; you’re simply doing your job.

but he’s started to find himself stuck in the fantasy of your touch— imagining the way your fingers would trace over his tattoos, or having them run through his hair as you brush it out of his face.

and his breath always catches in his throat as he imagines the sensation, having to swallow at how dry and constricted his throat becomes. he thinks of the warmth of your hands, the way your fingers would subtly dance on his skin, and he shivers. he imagines that you wouldn’t rush—no, you’d take it slow. you would let it linger, and maybe he would press his hands over yours to trap it there. just to savor the feeling.

his fantasies of you could never compare to the real thing, though, he realizes one day.

he’s sat on the bench in front of you, tense with heightened sensitivity. the surface of his skin feels like it's on flames from your words, “your tattoos are so pretty,” and from the way your index finger trace over the inked vines that wrap around his arms. his stomach starts to form tight coils as your fingers travel up and up— at the feeling of your thumbs grazing his jaw as you brush his hair out of the way to look at the blue rose — and he’s sucking in a harsh breath as he tries to keep himself grounded. to keep himself from losing his mind. and when you pull away, he can't ignore the emptiness the washes over him.

his heart is greedy and insatiable; he's never satisfied. now that he’s gotten a taste of what it feels like, he finds himself wanting even more of you.

© rindreamery, 2024

[deathbxnny]

Loved your writing of arcane characters saying things they regret during an argument. Would you be willing to do a version with Jayce, Viktor and Silco? I apologize if you don't prefer to write about these characters, you can ignore this

Arcane men saying things they'll regret during an argument. | Viktor, Jayce, Silco x Gn!Reader

Oh, I absolutely am willing to do that, Anon!! These are going to be pretty irredeemable, though, so there is not going to be a part two to this... anyways, enjoy!!<3

Content: Season 2 spoilers!!, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, break ups, swearing, gaslighting, toxic behavior, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

"This... isn't you anymore, Viktor. A-And I refuse to keep lying to myself like this either!" You hissed out one night, unable to keep it in any longer. You were losing your mind in this compound of his, unable to understand how seemingly no one was able to recognize how wrong everything was. People who were "healed" by him weren't the same after. They turned into robotic and uncanny husks of their old selves.

A terrifying sight that unnerved you deeply. And only you here.

The nail in the coffin was perhaps the skeptical appearance of Councilor Salo. Never in your life had you ever seen him give a damn about anyone but himself. He lived a life of riches and materialism, far from the selfless and minimalistic lifestyle found here. But after your boyfriend healed him of his inability to walk, he suddenly preached the same ideals that everyone else did.

Peace, love, and community.

Those were the important pillars of this idyllic place Viktor had created, and yet you couldn't see past the clear red flags that weaved themselves in their white attire. You were never much of a genius like he was, but it didn't take much brainpower to understand that this was not a great place to be in. No matter how hard he attempted to convince you of that.

"... I'm sorry you feel that way. But I'm afraid I can not follow your reasoning for this claim. I am myself... just someone greater. More meaningful. Isn't that beautiful?" His voice was so gentle and patient in comparison to yours. Something that wasn't unusual to him. But the way he used that tone now made you sick. "Terrifying is a better word, actually... Why can't you see that this is just wrong? You're not healing anyone-" "-But I am. Look around you. Is that not enough for you to finally believe me, my love? I want to create a better world... one in which we can live freely together." Your mind spun, his words ringing in your head dangerously. And you hated every second of it.

This isn't the man you loved anymore. He must have died that fateful day when the sky fell from above, and he covered you with his body to save you. His last act of kindness as your boyfriend and lover before he perished and left behind whoever he was. And you'd be damned if the last good memory got tainted too.

"No. I will not let you play with my mind anymore. I've had enough." You pushed past him, wanting to finally escape this borderline cult. Originally, you had only followed after him because you couldn't bear being without him. Jayce was right, though. He really was different now.

"Hm... it seems like I was right about you after all." You stopped in your tracks yet didn't dare face him. "You truly are not worth saving... you can't grasp the beauty of what I have made. I suppose everyone's claims for your low intelligence were, unfortunately, right. What a shame." How could a devil have such a soothing, loving voice? Why did the monster that now lurked in your shadow have to have your lovers face? The cruelty was too much to bear.

Who would have thought that you'd finally leave him for good after all the years you've taken care of him? This moment felt so surreal and yet ironically freeing as well. The end was near. "Did you... ever even love me?" You asked aimlessly, but didn't wait to hear his answer.

Perhaps if you had, however, you would've seen that sudden spark of surprise in his eyes, as you slipped out of his fingers for good at last.

》JAYCE

You had looked everywhere for him. And after also asking everyone under the sun if they had seen your boyfriend, you had eventually determined that he must've somehow gone missing. Worried sick, it pained you knowing that there wasn't much you could do either, considering that everyone was too busy getting ready for a borderline war and Caitlyn became unreachable as a result. Yet just as you began to lose hope, your dear lover finally returned... but he wasn't the same.

He didn't look the same, nor did he act the same, in fact. He looked so different that it even visibly startled you when you found him rummaging through his once shared laboratory. You had just returned from another wrap around the building in hopes of finding it, and whilst you'd consider yourself lucky this time around, all you now felt was genuine dread.

"Jayce...? What happened to you? I looked for you everywhere and-" You stilled at the intense look he gave you, his face flinching for a moment, as though his mind couldn't comprehend your image. Glancing over at his peculiar weapon of choice, you felt unnerved at how even that looked uncanny. The entire situation was unnerving you deeply, to say the least. "You... You shouldn't be here." He finally muttered, his voice deeper and colder than it ever was. Jayce always had such a fun and warm voice. If you didn't know any better, you would've questioned who he was a while ago.

"Hey... tell me where you were, okay?" You said, trying a more gentle approach as you neared him, eyes focused on his clearly injured leg. Had he been kidnapped? You doubted it. So what made him end up like this? Nothing you could come with explained his appearance. His hair and beard were way longer than they should have gotten in the short span of time he was gone, too.

Reaching down carefully, you tried to inspect his leg, but he seemed less receptive to the idea. Or so you assumed, after he shoved you away roughly and held the hammer to your face at impressive speed. His eyes were glossy, as though he wasn't entirely all there. He was reliving a terrifying moment in his mind, unaware of the horror you were going through. Never could you have ever thought of ending up in this position with him. "Jayce! What the hell are you doing-?" "-Get away! I know what you are... you've been sent by him too, weren't you?" You let out a shriek when he swung the hammer at you, only giving you a fraction of a second to jump out of the way.

Falling onto your behind, you quickly crawled backward and away from him, tears welling up in your eyes. Your scream seemed to at least wake him up, though, as he finally lowered his weapon and blinked at you in surprise. "Fucks sake! What is wrong with you?" You yelled out, yet as fast as his face softened, it hardened again. "... Sorry... I need to leave." Quickly making his way past you, he only barely escaped your presence before you grabbed onto the fabric of his pants. "Why? Where are you going? Why can't you tell me anything?"

The look in his eyes made you shrink away. This wasn't your Jayce anymore. "... The future of everyone in Piltover hinges on me being there on time. Now, make yourself useful for once and get out of my way." Shaking you off harshly, he left you crying on the cold floor of the once lively laboratory, not once looking back.

》SILCO

When you first met Silco, you were both still leading simple lives in the last drop with his brother and all of your other friends in Zaun. The lanes were harsh and, at times, cruel, yet you fought through the agony of it all together. Years down the line later, you find yourself still reminiscing on those heavenly days, particularly those of your lover who had turned for the worst in the time being. And the question of why you didn't listen to Vander's warnings came to mind again then. Perhaps you were just too used to excusing everything his brother did, especially after he had attempted to drown him so horrifically, which left him permanently injured.

But even so... why didn't you just listen? Why did it take so many years for you to finally throw the towel and leave for good? Finally realise that the man you loved was a monster? A disgusting and evil monster who was willing to use the plight of others for his own gain. And for what? Money? Fame? Power? It was all an ego trip you had far more than enough of. Zaun was his playground, and an escape was impossible. You'd be, however damned if you didn't at least try to anyways. Even if just in Vander's honor as a long-awaited apology.

Pushing past the crowd in the stuffy, full Last drop, you finally reached his office upstairs. Not caring about formalities anymore, you knocked and opened the door without awaiting a reply. If death met you behind it, then so be it. "Ah, darling, in a hurry today, aren't you?" "We need to talk. Alone." Short and straight to the point. Raising a brow, he shared a look with Jinx, who was just done giving him his daily "medicine". Oh, how you hated your lover's dearest creation. Shimmer. The exact thing that had ruined your lives for good. But you pushed away your disdain for the task at hand.

Giving Jinx a dismissive wave of his hand, you waited for her to be gone for good before taking a breath to speak. But Silco beat you to it. Always so painfully perceptive. "The answer is no, if you're here asking to leave. I refuse to let you go, dear. You have no one else but me after all. You wouldn't survive on your own." He always underestimated you, so this wasn't an all to surprising response. And if you were just a couple of months younger, you would have maybe agreed and backed off. But you were sick of his games.

"I didn't come here to ask for permission, Silco. I'm here to say goodbye." The slightest, softest crack at the last word gave you away horribly. You certainly didn't expect your feelings for the man to betray you, but even that won't stop you now. Said man just hummed in response as he stood up to face the window. His hands calmly lit a cigar, very much unbothered. But you knew that your sentence had gotten to him anyway with how his hand shook ever so slightly. Out of anger, most likely.

"So you think you can do whatever you want? Leave after you've spent so many years at my side? Your hands aren't as clean as you think they are, darling. Even yours are a bright violet." A reference to the shimmer vials on his desk. He knew how much you hated it, so this felt like a jab. A jab at the deep guilt you felt every day for enabling the death of all of your friends indirectly. If only you had stopped him from the start... then maybe you wouldn't have to feel the dread that ruined you from the inside anymore.

"I've accepted my flaws and sins a long time ago. I may not be better than you... but sometimes, in order to end the cycle, you have to walk away and leave some things behind." You suddenly felt so content, his cold and terrible words not reaching you anymore. You were so close to leaving. So close to leaving Zaun and Piltover like you've always dreamed. But Silco just scoffed in disbelief.

"Hah, don't give me that self-righteous shit... I've been there for you for so many years, dear. I've taken care of you, fed you, and loved you to my best ability for so long. The least you could do is be grateful for my kindness." "So you think I'm a burden?" The silence was deafening, but it was enough to confirm your long-standing suspicions. He had lost his love for you a long time ago. Perhaps the side that loved you so purely drowned in the river with him.

"... Goodbye. I hope one day you can walk away too." You turned and began walking out then, suddenly realising that it's finally over. Shoving your hands into the pocket of your coat, you felt the ticket for the skyship you had to take. "Don't you dare leave. Don't you dare it-" All bark and no bite as usual. There was no stopping you now, and he knew it. He was letting you go after all. You could just hope that one day he'd listen to your words and end the cycle, too.

What a shame that you won't be there at his side to see it, however... maybe in another life then.

[canihaveacalmtime]

Imagine yourself as the neglected youngest prince/princess of a powerful empire, after being deemed for harming the king's favorite child, you were sent to the underground dungeon to have you learn your lesson but that lesson which suppose to only long for 2 weeks turned into 2 years of torture for you.

So when the truth was revealed that it was a duke's family that was behind the attack of the king's favorite child, they remembered about you and realized that it's been two years since they last seen you, it just hits them hard the moment they knew that you were still in the dungeons.

When they arrived at your cell, they were devastated to see how brutally beaten up you are and you look like you haven't had any food for weeks, even months. Quickly, the king order that you be treated immediately and called the royal doctor.

As you lay limp on the bed in your new bedroom, the doctor said that your condition now is even worse than any othet patient the doctor has ever treated, worse than the knights who came back from war even and you are 10, only 10 years old. Your family can only pray for your recovery now while drowning themselves in guilt and regret.

One early morning, when your sister, the king's favorite child yeah, came to check on you and she almost cried when she saw you sitting on the bed, looking outside the window. You're awake and moving, so she immediately go and tell the others.

After that was the beginning days of all the family members to try and attempt to get your attention and fight each other over for who will be the one to pamper and take care of you. You on the other hand just doesn't budge from what they've been doing, it's like you are just a living body without a living soul.

Everyday, you have to hear them apologize to you, tell you sweet things and comfort you, try their best to lessen the wounds on your body and you're becoming sick of those things. You only want to know why they are wasting their time on you while they can just left you back in the maid headquarters where your old room is then left to rot in there, won't it be better?

So as a protest, you did the unthinkable, you tried to unalive yourself by jumping off of the balcony and let's just say they were not happy about that one bit.

At first, you just did it once so they make sure the maids will always have their eyes on you to prevent you from doing such things again until your second attempt comes with you tried to stab yourself with a piece of glass then another, then another and another. They were getting really tired of what you were doing and finally settled down to an agreement.

Make sure to don't be too panic when you wake up the next day to see your hands cuffed and the chain on your leg connect to the bed frame. Even when you tried to refuse to eat, they will just force feed you without making you hurt. Eventually, you snapped and broke down one day just screaming and crying at them, saying that why don't they just kill you already, you are so tired of everything and the pain never fade.

Your mother holds and kiss your face, making you not notice the syringe has been plugged into your neck as you slowly losing consciousness, the only thing you hear before blacking out was-

"You shall never leave our side, sweetheart. Even if the lengths we are going to keep you here is overdose, we just have no option left if you don't cooperate. Sleep tight, we love you."

[aledmorningstar]

╰┈➤Misunderstood

Summary: How the gang finds out about Sukuna's girlfriend in a misunderstanding.

Relationship: Ryomen Sukuna/Reader

Word count: 3.0k

Note: I'm a liar, I know I said this would go up yesterday, in my defense we set very optimistic goals. Please comment and feel free to send me anything to my inbox

-‘๑’-: No curses au, uni au, sfw, humor, fluff, bad english

The house of the twins Yuji and Ryomen seemed more lively than normal, as every weekend they had planned a movie afternoon, the meetings began early after leaving school, buying snacks, preparing comfortable clothes and choosing some games of table.

Yuji's face wrinkled into a displeased grimace at seeing his twin dressing casually to go out for a walk down the street, while he and his friends were already prepared wearing their comical pajamas, it wasn't fair. This time it was Yuji's turn to choose the movie so as not to let his brother get away with it.

“What are you doing?”

Sukuna turned to look for a second indifferently at his brother while he finished fastening the buttons of his dark shirt. How could he take seriously his brother who maintained an irritated pout while wearing those ridiculous tiger-themed full-body pajamas?

"I'm going out, tell mom I'll be late"

Yuji's moan of annoyance echoed throughout the house, drawing the attention of Nobara and Megumi who were stealthily trying to spy on the conversation by hiding behind a wall.

"You said you would watch Human Worm 4 with us today!"

The one with the caramel eyes began to complain about the injustice that was occurring, a perfect time for his faithful friends to take action.

“We already prepared everything, you can't leave us stranded for an afternoon of movies!”

Nobara grumbled as she tried to fix the sleeves of her raccoon pajamas.

"We made a pact, you must suffer with us"

Megumi was supposed to be the most mature of the group, perhaps Sukuna had overestimated him because he never imagined seeing him share the same neuron as his friends while also wearing ridiculous beige dog pajamas.

“It's a shame brats, it'll have to be another day.”

The older twin's hands didn't stop moving trying to find the car keys; he had somehow managed to look appropriately with a hint of elegance, but without losing that menacing aura, a pair of black pants held up by an expensive belt that he had stolen from his father, a dark gray shirt with the first few buttons open showing his collarbones and the sleeves perfectly arranged at his elbows showing his tattooed arms.

"You look like a criminal"

“Who said I'm not?”

Itadori's intentions to plant some blame on his brother for abandoning them on a seemingly important night were noticeable for miles.

"At least have the decency to tell me where the hell you're going."

Sukuna took a while to respond, his eyes straying suspiciously and the trio could see a slight nervousness on his face. Wait, nerves? Sukuna? Those words were naturally contrary, it even seemed strange to put them together in one sentence. Here was definitely another shoe that was taking a while to drop.

"Mind your own business, don't be nosy"

Itadori instantly stood between his brother and the front door, blocking his way, he would get to the bottom of this matter at any cost.

"Are you planning something bad? Mom will be angry if you get into trouble again"

"Yes, yes, yes. I plan to do many bad and illegal things, in fact in this mood I plan to strangle the first person in front of me"

Itadori, Nobara, and Megumi looked at each other before leaving the hallway clear, letting Sukuna walk.

"Behave badly, take good care of yourself and if they discover you, deny everything"

“See you”

Once the so-called evil twin left the house, the hallway was completely silent for a few seconds.

“Don't you feel...? Curiosity?"

An excited Nobara looked at her friends with bright, gossip-hungry eyes.

"No not really"

Megumi's voice was ignored as Itadori pushed the Fushiguro boy's face away with his hand.

"I was hoping you'd ask, Nobara! In fact, my brother has been acting strange lately."

Itadori put on a thoughtful expression as he remembered his brother's unusual behavior in recent weeks.

"What do you mean he's been acting strange?"

At that moment Nobara had taken on a detective attitude, while the previously disinterested Megumi began to listen attentively to his friends.

“He's been coming home late, more than usual.”

“That doesn't seem strange for someone like him.”

An exalted Itadori raises his hands dramatically as he defends his argument.

“But when he is usually late it is always because he is causing problems in the streets and he is not at all careful with his arrival, now it is different!”

Sharing a room with Itadori, Sukuna didn't care how scandalous he could be when he showed up at home after curfew. He didn't pay attention to the fact that the noise of his shoes being thrown to any side of the room or that the sound of his swear words every time he tripped over something could disturb his brother's sleep.

Lately, however, the nights that Sukuna had spent late away from home had become more frequent, and Itadori couldn't help but notice even in the dead of night how messy his twin's clothes were every time he returned with silent footsteps and he also did not overlook the large number of marks that stood out on Sukuna's neck.

“Also, he has been trying hard in all his school subjects, he has turned in all his homework and sometimes he goes out to the library to study. Did you hear what I said? He goes to the library to study!”

“That's definitely not the Sukuna we know, something is happening to him.”

The three teenagers headed to the living room to sit down to discuss more calmly and solve that mystery.

“Do you think someone is bullying him?”

Itadori looked worried for a split second at Nobara's statement until Megumi gave him a strange, brief sarcastic smile.

“Are you serious right now? Do you think Sukuna, the most feared man on campus, could be bothered by someone? Jesus Christ even earned the nickname “The King of Curses”

They didn't need much time to agree with Megumi, it was impossible to imagine Sukuna being submissive to anyone.

“True, it would make more sense for him to be the one who bothered someone… It can't be possible”

“I told him clearly not to get into trouble, but he never listens to me!”

“Wait, Yuji, calm down. Don't you think that if that's the case, he's spending too much time on that person?”

Itadori seemed to think about it for a second and his face transformed into one of much more dramatic horror than before.

"So he really hates that person! Maybe he's planning a murder? Your brother isn't exactly known for being patient"

Nobara's words were the little push Itadori needed to panic.

"Sukuna definitely can't go to the correctional facility again!... Mom was very sad back then..."

Nobara and Megumi looked into each other's eyes, unable to abandon their friend in such a situation.

"Fine! Our mission today is to prevent your brother from becoming a criminal.”

"Are we allowed to use force? I still have to get revenge for the books I lent him."

The brown-haired girl, Kugisaki, was the first to stand up and was followed by Fushiguro. It seemed like a scene worthy of a movie, this was the motivational part because both friends extended their hands to the boy in tiger pajamas.

“Wait, wait, wait… What happened to your books?”

“I'll ask your brother when I see him.”

It had been approximately 30 minutes since the trio of friends had located and followed Sukuna, a difficult mission that had begun with the friends running after the older twin's car. The fatigue was overcome by surprise when seeing the target enter a flower shop.

“We're late, he's already planning the funeral!”

“Wait, give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe… Maybe he's going to visit a friend?”

“Impossible, my brother has no friends”

Nobara and Yuji's brief talk was interrupted when they saw Sukuna leaving that flower shop with a huge and pretty bouquet of yellow carnations.

"You see it? Maybe your brother is not as bad as he seems” Nobara's voice tried to be optimistic, and it also seemed strange to her that a man would buy flowers for no apparent reason.

“Now I'm quite confused” Itadori, for his part, narrowed his eyes, staring at Sukuna, trying to read his brother's mind.

Megumi spoke with a stiff voice drawing the attention of his friends.

"Don't be so surprised, in the language of flowers, carnations of that color mean contempt"

"Is he turning his assassination attempt into a performance? He's getting creative"

"Hey, he's leaving. Hurry up"

The gang quickly got into a taxi and like every chase scene, Itadori and Nobara yelled at the driver to follow the car in front of them, Megumi had to apologize to the driver at the end of the ride.

Sukuna drove his car until he reached the darkest and most dangerous neighborhood that anyone could imagine, clearly that place had an invisible sign indicating that it was better not to be there, there were few passers-by and the streets were cold with graffiti everywhere.

The older twin got out of his car after having entered the area a little, he walked as if that place was his territory, as if he felt at home, he adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, raising them to his elbows, with a bored look he observed the time on his watch and then leaned his back against the wall waiting patiently. Meanwhile, the trio had remained hidden behind a pile of boxes and seemingly useless objects, thinking about Ryomen's intentions.

"There isn't a soul in this place, what is he planning to do?"

Itadori's question was answered when Megumi held his jaw making him look to his right, his eyes widened as he saw a girl with a small frame, transmitting an aura of delicacy and fragility, she was the complete stereotype of a little princess wearing a pink dress and white sneakers, light makeup and a flower crown adorning her hair, she looked out of context walking with a smile and humming a song in that horrible alley.

"It can't be her... There's no way Sukuna..."

Nobara's words were cut off when the red-eyed man put out his cigarette and walked over to where the girl was with a proud smile on his face.

The fear that this small, fragile woman could be hurt by his violent brother made Itadori quickly get up from his hiding place and stand in front of his brother.

"Sukuna! Stop right there, don't do it!"

The sudden entrance of his nosy brother surprised Sukuna who maintained a displeased scowl at his twin's actions.

"What the fuck? Get out of the way brat, I'm on something important right now"

"Don't you dare take another step, don't do something you'll regret!"

Itadori's voice took a drastic change, sounding too threatening compared to his usual cheerful tone.

"What the hell are you talking about? Leave me alone, I don't have time for this."

Sukuna looked at the horrified girl who was just a few meters away from him, he pushed his brother away with one hand with the intention of walking towards where she was, however he was stopped and subdued on the ground by Megumi.

“Don't even try it, you disgusting scoundrel.”

“Leave me alone, you fucking bastards!”

While the three men argued and fought among themselves, Nobara also came out of her hiding place and walked towards the frightened woman, being careful not to exalt her even more, Kugisaki placed his hands on her shoulders trying to calm her down.

"Are you okay? “Did he do something to you?”

The girl's hands remained covering her mouth, completely surprised by the situation. She instantly left Nobara and ran quickly to where Sukuna was lying on the ground.

"What are you doing?! Get your hands off him!"

Megumi and Itadori's movements stopped, still holding Sukuna on the ground, they turned to look completely surprised at the owner of that little voice, their minds went blank as they watched her approach, she put her hands on Fushiguro's chest. making an attempt to push him away from the red-eyed twin.

"What are you doing to my boyfriend?! Leave him alone!"

Still bewildered, Itadori was the first to move away and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder for him to do the same, allowing Sukuna to stand up a little dazed.

"I don't know what 'Kuna did to you, but what you are doing is not right, it is not right to intimidate others, problems are solved by talking"

You stood in front of your boyfriend trying to be the one to defend him this time, you used to be a little shy when talking to strangers, but you weren't going to let your lover be the victim of such an unfair situation.

"Honey, calm down. They are—"

"No, love! They were very mean to you, no matter who they are!"

You knew that Sukuna had a special weakness for you that made him want to protect you from any danger, everyone told you that, obviously he would also want to take control of this situation in his hands. No, this time it was your turn to protect him, to be his knight in shining armor.

On the other hand, there were also the three idiots who had tried to play detective, watching the situation in astonishment.

"She... just called him love"

“Yes, she really did”

"I can't believe it"

Ryomen had tried to calm his girlfriend's little anger by taking her hands and caressing them, it worked for a few seconds until that trio spoke again.

Upon hearing the incredulous voices of those strangers, you let go of Sukuna's hands and walked a few steps close to those you thought were criminals.

"Listen, my parents are very important people, I will make sure you are punished appropriately"

Your acute and sweet angry voice was silenced by Sukuna's lips, one of his large hands finding a place on your waist while the other caressed your soft cheek.

"It's okay, princess"

"No, it's not okay-"

You tried to reply to his deep voice, you would be lying if you said it didn't make you shiver, his voice was only directed at you, only for you to hear, that made you calm down and also lowered the tone of your voice.

"Pretty, this is my stupid brother and his friends."

"...Impossible, it can't be…, they were subduing you"

"Don't worry, I'm sure they have a good explanation for doing all this, right?"

The affectionate look that Sukuna had given his supposed girlfriend had changed drastically when he turned to look at his friends, removed his touch from his beloved and walked towards the frightened trio, cracking the fingers of his fists.

"Last words?"

Approximately 10 minutes had passed after that disastrous encounter, Sukuna had considered himself generous that day so he decided to take his brother and his friends to the house where they should have stayed from the beginning, very kind, it had nothing to do with his girlfriend will look at those three idiots like abandoned puppies.

"How were we supposed to know you were visiting your girlfriend?"

"What kind of dates are you taking her on?"

"Yeah, you looked like you were about to commit a crime!"

Of course Itadori, Megumi and Nobara tested their patience throughout the car ride, complaining from the back seats and trying to alleviate the pain caused by the car owner's blows. Your curious little eyes turned to look at the trio with intrigue.

"Why do you say that?"

None of them knew how to answer your question, the answer was so obvious that they thought you were stupid or blind, of course none of them said that thought out loud, not when they felt Sukuna's psychopathic gaze in the rearview mirror. However, that didn't stop Yuji from continuing the conversation either.

"You were alone in that horrible and dangerous place, it is the perfect opportunity for a madman"

"Oh, that..."

Your calm reaction to that comment only confused them more, you were too sweet to be in those places and even worse to be there with Sukuna for no good reason.

"Her parents are renowned people and they do not agree with our relationship, that is why we must meet in the most discreet places possible"

"Sometimes dad hires people to watch me, so our meeting point for dates is that place."

The older twin's words left the dynamic trio thinking, especially Itadori and Nobara, Megumi didn't really care much, your complementation made them imagine a current version of Romeo and Juliet. The explanations of your strange relationship had clarified most of his doubts regarding the strange day.

"Wait, what about the flowers?"

Nobara's comment made all the attention focus on Ryomen who wrinkled his face in confusion until he remembered the detail that his friend was talking about at the same time that he stopped the car in front of his house.

"What flowers?"

"Oh right, I brought you something"

Sukuna got out of the car and went to the back taking something out of the trunk, a nice big bouquet of flowers appeared in front of you held by your handsome boyfriend.

"Oh, honey, you shouldn't have bothered."

"It's no bother when I can make you happy"

You received the beautiful flowers in your small hands, allowing yourself to smell them, such a fresh smell while you lovingly observed your loved one and he returned the same look, absorbed in that cloying atmosphere.

Of course that beautiful moment was not the most comfortable for everyone present, much less for Yuji Itadori imitating his twin with a shrill and annoying voice, since he had never seen his brother in that silly state.

"It's no bother when I can make you happy"

“I'm going to kick your ass”

Megumi couldn't stay silent for long either, because something kept echoing in her mind.

"But the meaning of flowers..."

"Excuse me?"

You looked at him with a smile so sweet and innocent that he hesitated for a second on his next words.

“Those flowers have a negative meaning…”

"It's funny you think my 'Kuna knows the meaning of flowers"

"We should have assumed that"

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭 master list is here